The Orion Assignment (9 page)

“When it's done right, like this, an egg cream is like angels on the tongue,” Felicity said. Egg creams, as Morgan learned, really involved eggs in Ireland. His plate was covered by thin potato cakes slit open and filled with creamy coddled eggs, and fried brown in butter. This was a tasty breakfast and, even better, the coffee was good and strong and the warm sticky buns were delicious.

After eight or nine minutes of running, he and Felicity had showered and pulled on casual clothing. Now the three of them were sitting around the fireplace. To Morgan, it felt like being with family.

“So, do you have plans for the day?” Sean asked.

“Not really,” Felicity said, shoveling her food with a passion Morgan was not accustomed to. “I would like to take some time after breakfast to go into detail about our approach to taking O'Ryan's money. I don't want you to have any unpleasant surprises, Uncle.”

Morgan watched Sean's face, waiting for him to ask what that meant, but a knock on the door drew everyone's attention. Sean got up to open it but then stepped back, as if he was greeted by an unpleasant sight. In less than a second Morgan moved across the room to get a view of the door. He was taken aback and amused to find Max Grogan standing there, cap in hand, holding the reins to two fine horses.

“Well, this is a bit of a surprise,” Sean said. “I don't see your face hardly enough at mass, Max Grogan. Have you suddenly been taken with a midweek need for the holy spirit then?”

“I know I've strayed, Father,” Max said, his head lowered. “I promise you I'll be there this Sunday. This morning, however, I've come to call upon your niece, with your kind permission. I thought she might enjoy to take a morning ride with me.”

“I'd love to take a morning ride, Maxie.” Felicity had appeared at the door, her face beaming. “Only, right
now we're having our breakfast and, well, I want to spend a little time with my Uncle Sean.” She waited just long enough to see his face fall before adding, “I'd sure be grateful if you'd stop back after lunch. Say…one o'clock?”

The overgrown little boy's face lit up and he mumbled “Sure and I'll be glad to.” Looking flustered, he tried to back away but he became tangled in the horses' reins. Felicity closed the door and bounced back to the living room.

“I didn't think he'd move so fast,” she told Morgan. “We'll go over plans quickly, so I can get into town and back. I'll need riding clothes and some skirts and dresses, the kind he'll like.”

Morgan kept his voice low. “I think you'd better say something to Father Sullivan. You know, to prepare him.”

“You know, I'm thinking we're way too formal,” Sean said. “Son, you saved me life and the lives of all I hold dear. And I've seen enough to know you're a decent man and you're like a big brother to Felicity. Why don't you call me Uncle Sean?”

“Sure,” Morgan said, smiling. “And thanks.”

“Now, what is it I need preparing for?” Sean asked. He looked at Felicity who stayed quiet for a moment, composing her thoughts. Morgan hoped she'd go easy, but saw that she decided on a tough approach.

“Uncle Sean, what I heard last night convinced me this O'Ryan character is really dangerous. Morgan tells me the loyalists killed more people than the Provos, the two years before the cease fire. If O'Ryan sets it all off again, they'll all be back to setting up massacres.”

“And if he starts it, the rest of the IRA might decide to join in,” Morgan added. “I know that publicly there was a big disarmament but believe me, those boys have got enough light weapons and explosives stowed away to equip a couple of combat divisions.”

“You don't have to sell me,” Sean said. “What's your
point?”

“Dear uncle, you haven't been able to beat this devil with angel tactics. Well, Morgan and I can do it, but not by playing like angels. Some of our actions might be as bad as his, but we'll put an end to O'Ryan's power here. Okay?” Sean nodded his head, but still looked unsure.

“To stop O'Ryan, I'll need to get into his home. He's built himself a Georgian mansion by one of the lakes. And I'll have to use Max to get into the house. He lives on the estate. Once I'm in, I can probably handle the whole thing while Max is asleep.”

“You're planning to sleep with him,” Sean said. It was not a question.

“It's not like I'm sacrificing myself. I may well have, anyway. I kind of like the boy. And it's the easiest way in. It's infinitely safer than trying to defeat whatever security O'Ryan's got.”

Morgan suspected that whether or not she liked Grogan didn't matter. Even if she found Grogan repulsive she might still use the same plan as the most rational way to accomplish her goal. Just the same, he hated to see the priest avert his eyes in shame.

“You said something about Paris last night,” Morgan said, in an effort to shift the subject.

“Yes. When is that weapons expo you were talking about?”

“The Paris Air Show you mean? Let's see…is it Thursday today?” Morgan shook his head. “I still have a small touch of jet lag. Yes, the show starts a week from tomorrow.”

“Good. I want you to go.”

“What?” Morgan's eyes widened. “Why?”

“Taking O'Ryan's money is only half the battle. If he's shipping guns in he can sell them to raise more cash. I want you to meet with Raoul Goulait. He'll be there for his own business reasons. He's a professional smuggler and a very close friend of mine.”

“Lord have mercy,” Sean muttered, walking away.
Felicity ignored him.

“I think Raoul can find out when any illegal shipment might be headed this way. We can stop that shipment and cut off his last chance of squaring things with his bosses.”

“Since you know him, wouldn't it be better if you went?”

“It won't work,” Felicity said. “I'll be making my move Friday night. It'll take me a week to get myself invited in for the evening.”

“A week? Losing your touch?”

“No. It's just that the Irish sexual appetite is, eh…”Felicity fished for words, “shall we say, a bit low key?”

A cry of “Lord forgive us” came from the kitchen.

“I'll need your help too, Uncle Sean,” Felicity called.

“And just who must I cheat, rob or kill?” Sean asked, walking back into the front room.

“Don't be silly.” Felicity gave him her charmer's smile and threw her arms around his neck. “What I do need you to do is to take some of my money and open bank accounts in four different banks. The accounts will be in my business' name and I'll set it up so you can sign. We'll need them for the money. Don't worry, we'll give you a chance to rob and cheat later. Now, will you please take me to town so I can be pretty for my date?” She pecked his cheek, and Morgan laughed seeing him melt just as he himself had under similar conditions in the past.

The spot Felicity pointed out for their late afternoon picnic was covered with a bed of clover, but lay just a few feet from the line where the green surrendered to the purple heather.

“It's perfect!” Max said, putting down their picnic basket. In the past week, he had declared everything she said or did to be perfect.

That first day they rode for hours. She astonished him by showing how well she sat a horse. With subtle questions and keen observations she easily learned his tastes and preferences in women and set about becoming his perfect match. She wore her hair down, and never wore pants except while riding. She shied away from makeup, except a touch of lipstick. She did start wearing nail polish, a color he thought very feminine. She figured it was probably his mother's shade.

They took long walks, dined together at Paddy's and drank a lot of stout. As promised, Max attended mass with her, sitting right up front to make sure Sean knew he was there. That was the only time all week Max saw Morgan. They spoke briefly after mass, while Sean was greeting other parishioners.

“I wanted to say I appreciate the fact that you trust me with the girl,” Max had said. “I wouldn't have been surprised if you came along on our dates.”

“You guys need your space,” Morgan had answered. “And I have other business.”

“I figured. I've heard that Father O'Brien doesn't appear in public these days without you being in plain sight. I hear you wear a jacket or blazer every day, and everyone you meet suspects they know what's hanging under it.”

“Really?” Morgan kept his smile light. “Well, they're right, you know. You got a lot of friends around here, right? You can help them stay out of trouble.”

“How's that?”

Just make it clear to everybody that Sean is now my adopted uncle. And make it just as clear that if anyone were to try to hurt Sean, well, I would not wait for the Lord's vengeance. I would personally consign that individual to the lowest pits of hell. Can you carry that message for me?”

But that conversation on Sunday was overshadowed by far more pleasant chats. Wednesday, Max took Felicity fishing and Thursday they went up to Bray so she could play tourist. All week he made tentative passes at her, stealing an occasional kiss or even trying to touch her. She parried his approaches but by keeping her rejections gentle she made it clear that she was interested. Still she was a lady and he would have to show some patience.

Thursday night he took her to a movie show in Wicklow, and there in the dark he got up the courage to put his arm around her. When he bent to her face she accepted his attentions, returning a most passionate kiss. In their embrace she could feel his boyish heart pounding.

Friday morning she drove with her uncle to Dublin to put Morgan on a plane for the continent. When she left for her picnic that afternoon, she told her uncle this was the day she would be in late. He grunted and nodded his head. He accepted, but she knew that was not the same as saying he approved.

So Friday afternoon Max spread a checked tablecloth on the clover for them to sit on. Felicity opened the large woven basket she had stuffed that morning with sandwiches and slices of a cake she had baked. She wore a sky blue shirtdress with the top two buttons open. A breeze fluttered the long skirt when she stretched out on her side to pour iced tea for them.
Grogan sat quite close to her. She could see he was trying to be romantic.

“You have the loveliest big green eyes,” Max said, staring at her cleavage.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.”

“And the most beautiful smile,” Grogan continued. Following his gaze, she wondered if indeed her legs were smiling when the wind flipped her dress, exposing her long thighs.

“Look at that blue sky,” Max said, daring to place his rough hand on her knee. “The heather blowing. What a day. Where will it end?”

“Well,” Felicity replied, moving his hand to the tablecloth between them with a firm but gentle grip, “I'd like it to end with a long drive around the lake. Then, maybe,” she stroked the back of his hand, “maybe with a late snack at your place.”

As Felicity pulled away from Dublin Airport, Morgan experienced a wave of déjà vu. It wasn't a hot LZ. No one was shooting around this landing zone and yet, he felt very alone. Walking through the crowd he was very aware that all of his hardware was secured in his carryon bag and that people sometimes die in Dublin for no good reason.

More than twelve million travelers passed through Dublin's single terminal every year, and Morgan thought that most of them were there that day. In this environment the Irish behaved much like other Europeans, jostling and bumping one another without comment or apology. The density of the crowd also reinforced Morgan's notion that the Irish were halfway between the British and their other European cousins. That was because the stench of body odor in close quarters was only about half what it would have been in Paris or Frankfort or any other airport on the continent.

Morgan spent nearly thirty minutes displaying his passport, identification and various licenses before surrendering his checked luggage. Even the Irish girls at the counters couldn't make that process pleasant. But once it was over Morgan had plenty of time to kill so he decided to settle in one of the airport's many taverns for a pint.