The Storm Protocol (55 page)

They heard a noise on the other side of the building. This time a larger gang approached; eight members all told, each carrying a pistol and pushing one more handcuffed security officer.
Then they heard another bang from behind them, and the alarm klaxon ceased.

Antonio's hand flew under his jacket.

‘I wouldn't do that if I were you.’

The clipped e
astern European request also came from behind them.

Antonio froze and
looked around. Four guys with pistols emerged from the very passageway that the group had transited with Ben just moments earlier. Antonio was brave but he was not foolhardy. His hand dropped.

‘Into a line please with your hands outstretched,’ instructed Pavel.

All the men in the group complied. Pavel indicated one of his men, who stepped forward to do a thorough pat down on each individual in turn. He found two weapons. Antonio unsurprisingly had one. The look he gave his disarmer was implacable. Suffice to say, the gentleman in question was glad there were four or five guns trained on Antonio at the time. The other weapon belonged to the CIA operative, who was more than happy to surrender it.

‘I don’t like
the damn things anyway,’ he responded, as the weapon was handed over. ‘I was always more in danger of shooting myself than anyone else.’

He chuckled, but no one else thought it was funny.

Pavel thumbed the transmit button again, as the captives regarded him dolefully.

‘Targets acquired,’ he said.

‘Casualties?’

The response was static filled.

‘Two guards dead, one of my team also, no other injuries to report.’

‘Okay, we’re coming in,’ said the same static voice.

‘Keep your hands up,’ intoned Pavel brusquely, as Guido started to lower his arms.

‘It’s ok
ay,’ said a voice behind Pavel. ‘Everyone can put them down now.’

As the two guys came into view, there was a sharp intake of breath from Ben. David’s face seemed to collapse in upon itself until he was almost unrecognisable.

‘Hello David,’ said Black Swan softly.

He was strangely subdued and there was not a hint of triumphalism about his attitude or demeanour.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ asked David.

It sounded like he was chewing his way through a mouthful of broken glass.

‘Seems your operation may not have been as clandestine or discrete as you may have first thought,’ answered Black Swan.

‘There are no leaks in my organisation,’ stated David.

‘I think you might be right about that,’ said Black Swan.

He indicated the CIA o
perative.

‘But it appears our friend here may not have had the same level of secrecy surrounding his own affairs.’

The stranger inclined his head in acknowledgement.

‘Guilty, I’m afraid,’ he
nodded sadly. ‘I thought I’d managed to neutralise the threat, but obviously not. Pity about Agent Bruce; he was a nice if misguided man. He really should not have tried to get between me and my fortune.’

He turned to Black Swan.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’

Black Swan nodded.

‘Do you mind me asking how he gave the game away?’

‘He pretty much told me the whole story. He named no names of course
, although there were some thinly veiled hints, but the rest of it was stone cold truth. He was deliberately trying to get me involved. I don’t like being played, but the rewards in this case outweighed the annoyance.’

‘I should hav
e offered him an in,’ said the stranger. ‘I was being too greedy I think. As my dad used to say, fifty percent of something is better than one hundred percent of nothing.’

The s
tranger paused.

‘How did he die?’

‘When we met that first night in the restaurant, I managed to get a tracking device on him,’ said Black Swan. ‘I had someone follow him. When I felt he was no longer useful, I ordered him gone; they ran him down in a car.’

The Mancini’s
snorted in disgust, which the stranger chose to ignore.

‘So, what happens now?’ asked David, focussing his attention directly on Black Swan. ‘Going to finally finish the job you started? Eliminate the entire McCabe family from the face of the earth?’

‘That depends on certain things,’ said Black Swan.

‘Actually that’s almost right,’ said a voice behind Pavel. ‘But I have a few questions that I really need some answers to first.’

23
rd
May 2011 – Thirteen days after the Storm.

Peace is an armistice in a war that is continuously going on. – Thucydides.

I walked out of the tunnel and into the harsh artificial light, keeping the gun extended ahead like a warning beacon. As I approached the point where Pavel was standing, all eyes were on me and I heard a deep intake of breath from both Guido and Ernesto. I felt the familiar twist, deep in the heart of my stomach; I would have to deal with that emotion as best I could. A number of the weapons started to swivel my way, as did one or two bursts of contemptuous laughter. I cleared my throat.

‘Before anyone gets hurt, we all need to relax a little bit, I think,’ I said.

I raised my voice slightly, so they could all hear the next words.

‘Mr Roussel, Mr Foster, would both of
you mind illustrating to these gentleman why compliance would be a good idea.’

There were two short bursts of shatteringly loud machine gun fire. Most of the occupants of the room ducked instinctively, as the debris showered down on them in fragments of ceiling tiles and plaster dust. Dale and Roussel emerged from the shadows on
either side, weapons poised and ready.

‘And let's bear in mind one vital fact,’ I
continued. ‘These guys care for nobody but me, so you gentlemen need to make sure there are no itchy trigger fingers out there. In fact....’

I continued on in a chatty
, upbeat tone.

‘Let's all put our guns on the ground in front of us; we’ll all feel much more comfortable after that.’

I held up my own weapon to show them, and then placed it gently on the ground at my feet. Dale and Roussel gestured with the muzzles of their machine guns; the meaning was clear. You could hear the multiple metallic clunks of cold steel being placed carefully on the painted concrete floor.

‘That’s better,’ I said, when they’d all finished.

‘What about them?’ asked Pavel inscrutably, gesturing at Roussel and Foster.

‘What about them?’ I asked. ‘I think they'll stay exactly where they are, if only to keep the rest of you honest. I’m sure there are a number of heroic
hot heads amongst you. I feel it is only right to try and stop anyone doing something stupid.’

I let my eyes wande
r around the interior of the featureless warehouse. I ignored all the hired hands, the faceless ones, but as I continued to look around, I felt eight pairs of eyes boring into me. I met the gaze of the first; Antonio, my former colleague and friend. There was no antipathy in his stare, no challenge, no outrage, he just shook his head and then smiled sadly; like a headmaster admonishing a repeatedly offending pupil.

I ignored my friend the CIA mole; from his expression
, I could tell he was not best pleased to see me. It was nice to see the smug superiority wiped from his face.

The next brace of eyes told a
very different story altogether. They burned with a special kind of hatred; the kind reserved for embarrassing and irrepressible mistakes.

‘I don't know why you guys are so upset,’ I said dryly. ‘I'm the one you tried to kill.’

‘You broke the code,’ said Ernesto coldly.

‘I think you’ll find
that I didn’t,’ I replied. ‘I was merely defending myself. Give me some credit. If I had gone back to you with the folder as planned, I wouldn’t be standing here now, would I?’

Neither of them replied.

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘That’s all the answer I need.’

I looked at my CIA friend.

‘And besides,’ I said, indicating the agent. ‘Our friend here had left a helpful post-it note on the folder, outlining who he was going to pass it on to. I didn’t know what it was that I had exactly, but from the note, I knew he was giving it to you guys. I knew that you wanted it badly as I’d seen the desire etched on your faces, so I figured it would probably be a good bargaining tool.’

Guido smiled; almost a sickly smile.

‘Look, errors were made on both sides,’ he said, maybe a little too hastily. ‘We’ve come to realise that we made a big mistake trying to forcibly retire you. Can you not do the same for us? Acknowledge that what you did was wrong too, and then we can all get back to the way it used to be.’

I thought about it for a second.

‘You know what, Guido,’ I stated, ‘you’re right.’

He blanched at my use of his given name; the first time I had done so in over twenty years.

‘I did make a mistake, a big one. I should have got out of this game about fifteen years ago, when I still had the chance of a semi-normal life.’

Ernesto’s eyes narrowed.

‘But that's just it, Street,’ he said. ‘You just don’t get it, do you? You're not normal, no more than we are. You’re not capable of walking away; this is what you do and who you are.’

‘I don’t think so,’ I said implacably. ‘Watch me.’

‘Good luck,’ Ernesto said.

His face was unreadable.

I turned to the next two gentlemen. They were obviously together; their physical proximity and shared responses gave it away.

‘And who might you two be?’ I asked.

‘David McCabe,’ said one, indicating himself, ‘and Ben Collins,’ he continued, indicating his companion.

There was not a shred of fear in his response.

‘So you’re the local brains behind this operation,’ I said, gesturing around the large room that we were all standing in.

David smiled without a trace of humour.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘He’s my brother,’ said a soft voice into the silence.

All eyes swivelled towards the speaker, their expressions ranging from mildly surprised to complete astonishment. Of the eight men who mattered in that room, I now at least knew which one of them was my half brother.

Black Swan, the man trying to kill his own flesh and blood.

I studied him and he studied me right back. There was nothing remotely similar from a brief outward glance that would tie us together as brothers. We neither looked alike nor sounded alike. I continued to stare at him with a morbid fascination. There was the sound of bitter laughter. I flicked a glance to see who was speaking; David McCabe.

‘What kind of stunt are you trying to pull here?’ he asked between chuckles. ‘You don't have a brother. What do you take me for?’

I ignored the outburst. I had eyes only for one man.

‘Why?’ I asked him directly.

He in turn was focused entirely on me.

‘Why what?’ he asked.

He was giving nothing away.

‘Why did you go to all
of that trouble; all of that elaborate subterfuge? Why that stupid sting operation you tried to pull with the small time dealer, Scott Mitchell? Trying to pass him off as my son?’

I had an unreasonable urge to show him how much I knew about his little scheme.

‘But the main question, especially as I seem to be all the family you have, is why me in the first place?’

‘Don’t you dare use that word!’ he said.

He was truly affronted.

‘You are not family.’

‘I think you’ll find brothers normally are!’ I responded dryly.

He ignored my response and his voice rose slightly in cadence and shrillness.

‘You ruined my life,’ he stated simply.

I blinked.

‘I didn’t even know who you were until two weeks ago,’ I said. ‘How could I possibly have ruined your life?’

‘You stole my father,’ he said slowly.
‘You and that bitch who called herself your mother.’

I stiffened and bristled.

‘Now hold on a second,’ I said.

‘No, you hold on!’ he shouted
. ‘I've been waiting years for this moment. You’re going to stand there and listen to what I've got to say.’

The spittle was flying from the harshly compressed lips.

‘Your mother had sex with my father; a married man.’

He almost screamed this bit
; as though it was incomprehensible to him.

‘Nine months later, she had a bastard, you.’

Here he jabbed a finger in my direction.

‘But not content with that corruption, she had to seek him out again and steal him away from his legitimate family.’

There were tears in his eyes now.

‘He told me I was the loveless spawn of a loveless marriage. The day he left is the day I died and I’ve been dead ever since.’

‘That’s hardly my fault is it?’ I said quietly.

‘But it is,’ he screamed. ‘He said he
loved you more!’

I felt the familiar emotions bubble over.

‘My father,’ I said, hissing the word
father
and then spitting on the imaginary spot where it landed, ‘left me when I was seven years old. Let me tell you something, he was no father to me.’

‘That’s only because he was blackmailed into it. He'd already made the decision to go and live with the slut and her bastard. So you see,
in my eyes, whether you like it or not, you were effectively responsible for the death of my family.’

‘So all of that detailed planning with false names and documents?’ I asked, still reeling from the onslaught. ‘What was all that about?’

‘I wanted you to suffer the way I've suffered,’ he said. ‘I wanted you to feel the same mental anguish I had to go through.’

He paused for breath, the anger and rage was really taking it out of him.

‘When we were doing the research on you,’ he continued, ‘we found out about Kathleen Murphy and your relationship with her. We then had a complete stroke of luck and managed to track you to the house in Louisiana through one of the Irish genealogy websites.’

‘Yeah I was going to ask you about that?’ asked Roussel suddenly.

‘Thomas Eugene O’Neill is not a common name,’ replied Black Swan, glancing briefly at him. ‘And it is even less common when it surfaces on a sporadic search of deeds to properties in the US. It was easy from there to fake a birth certificate.’

‘But why?’
I asked again.

‘I wanted you to go through what I went through,’ said Eoin. ‘I wanted you to become a father and then have your child cruelly taken away from you. I wanted you to go through all those positive emotions. Thinking you had found a long lost blood relation, finally a son and heir. Then I wanted to be the one to tell you myself, just before I killed you; that it was all lies and you were going to die sad and alone.’

I looked across at Dale; he was shaking his head. It was as he had predicted, but with a less than subtle and frankly quite disturbing twist.

‘So all of that elaborate plotting and scheming was solely for my benefit,’ I said incredulously.

‘I’ve dreamt of nothing else for the past thirty years,’ he said. ‘I can’t tell you how much I hated you. And what's especially gratifying for me? Now that I’ve met you in person, it has not dulled that hatred one iota; in fact, if anything it has amplified it.’

I glanced across at Roussel and Dale. I could tell they were as shocked as I was. The depth and ferocity of the hate was something I had rarely encountered. I looked at his face; at the uncontrollable twitching of the muscles, the tensing and relaxing of the jaw, the maniacal glint in the eyes. I was not a coward
, but at that particular second, I was seriously afraid. He was almost at the point of no return. I could sense that he was just at that crossroads where his subconscious desire for revenge was about to overrule his sane sense of self preservation.

‘How did you find us in Kinsale?’ I asked.

‘That stupid working girl you were trying to protect; she spilled her guts to me first chance she could get. Didn’t think she would betray you that easily did you? Mind you, I did give her a handsome reward.’

His response chilled me
, but I didn’t get a chance to question him further.

‘So this has nothing to do with Storm?’ asked Roussel, suddenly breaking the tension.

Black Swan didn’t even look at him; his stare was unblinkingly focused on me.

‘I didn't even know about it until last week,’ he said.

He pointed his finger at me again.

‘This is all about him,’ he said. ‘Always has been, always will be.’

‘What happened to....’

I was about to say
my father
before another word escaped.

‘....him?’ I finished
.

‘
My
father, you mean?’ he asked, using the possessive word deliberately. ‘I never forgave him. Even though he tried to talk to me, I never spoke another word to him.’

‘Even after he went back?’
I asked.

‘Especially after he came back.’

He spat the words out.

‘After hearing what I'd heard from his own lips and seeing it in his face, I could never forgive him. It remained between us till the end. I never regretted it.’