

TARGET

Prendergast Uncovered

IAN G WELCH

A Night Owl Publication

Second Edition

Copyright © Ian G Welch 2014

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Acknowledgements:

Cover design – Laura Shinn Designs

Edit – mdarrowwriting@gmail.com

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### Table of Contents:

About this book

Foreword:

Chapter one: Belfast – Northern Ireland.

Chapter two: Malibu – California.

Chapter Three: A brief stint at teaching

Chapter Four: Break in

Chapter Five: Dangerous Assignment

Chapter Six: Intimidation.

Chapter Seven: Confrontation.

Chapter Eight: The Proposal.

Chapter Nine: Vegas

Chapter Ten: The New Image

Chapter Eleven: Negotiations

Chapter Twelve: Trapped

Chapter Thirteen: Wesley Smith Unmasked

Chapter Fourteen: The Honeymoon Suite

Chapter Fifteen: Acapulco

Chapter Sixteen: A Visit from Liam

Chapter Seventeen: Trouble aboard the El Celeste

Chapter Eighteen: Return to California

Chapter Nineteen: Final Planning

Chapter Twenty: Troubled Times

Chapter Twenty-one: The Attack

A Message from the Author

Other Books by Ian G Welch

### TARGET – Prendergast Uncovered.

We've all read or seen the movies – James Bond or Jason Bourne in action packed adventures. But is it real or more important is it possible? Is it believable?

Ian G Welch wanted to write something different. Brad Prendergast is no super hero, he could be described as a society dropout. His passion is surfing and an accompanying laid back lifestyle. His dad calls him a beach bum. He is seduced by a free offer to surf in Hawaii, but there is a catch, the CIA and then MI6 are involved. It becomes a deadly serious game involving Real IRA terrorists determined to break British involvement in Ireland.

A whirlwind adventure of romance laced with danger unfolds.

COMMENTS

"An intriguing plot and the characters are as equally intriguing."

"What a fun story. A great plot, well written, tense, exciting, suspenseful."

"Nicely paced with strong characters and a great plot. Well-developed characters who grab your attention very early on with a good atmosphere of tension."

FOREWORD

VX was developed in Britain in the 1950s as an agricultural pesticide. It was quickly discovered to be extremely dangerous to handle, making it completely unsuitable for this purpose. It then came to the attention of the British and American military. They further developed it as a chemical weapon. It was discovered that when a high heat was applied a highly lethal colorless, odorless vapor was produced. VX gained the reputation as the most lethal nerve gas ever developed, ten times more lethal than the more common Sarin. Russia and America are known to hold stocks of VX. Iraq's Saddam Hussein was widely believed to have developed it.

CHAPTER 1

BELFAST - NORTHERN IRELAND

Seamus glanced in his rear vision mirror. He looked behind him almost as much as he looked at the road up ahead. It was a fact of life, he was a marked man. All Real IRA operatives were almost certainly under surveillance. Seamus knew his freedom depended on maintaining a constant twenty-four-hour vigilance.

"It looks okay. I can't see any Blowflies." Seamus laughed out loud. Carrick had come up with that name for the British. It was quite appropriate, as blowflies were attracted to meat. Unfortunately, today he was that meat. It wouldn't be British soldiers he needed to be wary of meeting. They were always visible, always obvious. No, the undercover surveillance work was usually left to British Intelligence. They were a totally different proposition, a far more sinister threat. Two of Seamus' close friends had fallen foul of the clandestine MI6 in the past month. They were always lurking in the background. Add in the complicity from the Royal Ulster Constabulary made up almost entirely from the hated protestant loyalist UDA and you had a recipe for disaster. This made life in Belfast extremely dangerous for Seamus and his RIRA friends.

Seamus studied his surroundings. Every passing car, every pedestrian posed a potential threat. He breathed a sigh of relief; he couldn't detect any car tailing him. But that did not necessarily mean he was safe. It just meant he had to go through a repetitive procedure of driving up numerous side streets and keeping close tabs on any car behind him. He had already slipped into the shopping center, exchanged cars, and exited to another car park that would not be known to British Intelligence.

He cruised quietly up Broadhurst Street making a mental note of all the parked cars. He drove slowly past Belfast Central Police Station. This was his target, but he didn't stop. He drove around the block for a second time. Six cars, the same as last time. Seamus coolly and calmly analyzed the situation. He glided to a halt two hundred yards away from the station. His car was just far enough away to not attract attention, but still close enough to provide a good view of all the comings and goings. That was his real purpose, he was waiting for bloody Sean Rainey. Make that Senior Inspector Sean Rainey. Again, Seamus studied his rear-view mirror. He watched every approaching car with intense interest.

Seamus felt the apprehension and nervous excitement hit him in waves. This was a familiar feeling as he always felt this way before a hit. This hit would be different. No bullet in the head, no exploding car as the victim started the ignition. The victim would not even know he had been targeted. It would be quiet and unobtrusive. It might still be an experiment to test the liquid, but Seamus had no doubts. He had the evidence of its ruthless efficiency buried in his back yard: three cats and one dog, all pets of his neighbor's. The liquid sample had been trialled on numerous cats and dogs with the same devastating effect.

Seamus whispered to himself. "Bet the neighbors are wondering where their pets have gone. It'll teach them to let them wander."

The deaths were merely collateral damage, something that had been necessary. He wasn't about to lose any sleep over it. A contented Seamus settled back in his seat to wait. Everything was in place, everything had been meticulously planned. All he needed now was patience, and of course for bloody Inspector Rainey to oblige.

Carrick hand-picked the Inspector as the target, the guinea pig so to speak. Seamus grinned to himself. "This is one hit I'm going to enjoy. Rainey's got RIRA blood on his hands. The man deserves all that's coming."

Seamus glanced at his watch as it read ten to four. It was a waiting game now. Rainey had a seven o'clock appointment. Seamus knew Rainey was scheduled to be the guest speaker at the sports club. Why would they pick a wanker like Sean Rainey to speak? Well, Inspector, I don't think you'll be keeping this appointment. Seamus sat back to wait. It was anyone's guess what Rainey might do between the end of work and seven o'clock. But Seamus had done his homework, and if Rainey stuck to his usual routine he would stop off at the supermarket to buy his groceries.

That's where I'll do it. There are plenty of people around to mingle with, the more people the better.

Seamus' mind wandered as he tried to kill time. A sudden remembrance of his first hit, full of exhilaration and apprehension entered his consciousness. He recalled sitting in the airport reception lounge awaiting the arrival of a British Airways flight from Zurich. He held up a paper pretending to be engrossed in reading as he searched for his target exiting customs. The first assignment is always intimidating, Seamus didn't know his target, and he'd spent hours studying a photograph as he built up a mental picture of the politician. As a backup he had the photograph safely tucked in his inside jacket pocket. Seamus knew that was dangerous, as it provided a link back to the target should he have the misfortune to be apprehended. The moment he had completed the hit he would dispose of the photograph.

Seamus became aware of a young girl, probably only six years old, standing a few feet in front of him. She stared intently at him without speaking. He tried to ignore her; he needed to concentrate on his assignment. He glanced back, she was still there. A sudden rush of anger consumed him. Damn the kid. He desperately needed to blend in, to not attract attention, but this damned girl kept standing there staring him down. Where were her bloody parents? I'd love to tell her to piss off and give her a shove, but that will inevitably attract attention. That's the last thing I need.

"What?" Seamus lowered his paper and glared at the young girl.

"Why are you reading the paper upside down?" Seamus felt a wave of apprehension sweep over him. He nervously glanced around to see if anyone had heard the girl.

"You need to find Mummy, she's looking for you."

"No, she isn't. She's on a plane, I'm waiting for her."

Damn the annoying kid.

"Well, Daddy will be looking for you." The little girl had a pained expression on her face.

"He's on the plane with Mummy."

Seamus was close to losing his cool, he threw the paper onto the seat beside him, jumped to his feet and strode off. He had to stay calm and focused. The last thing he needed was a confrontation with this frustrating damned kid.

"Hey, Mister, you forgot your paper."

Seamus spun around; his anger was nearing a dangerous level. All his pent-up anxiety over doing his first hit now suddenly focused on this annoying kid. He hurried back towards her; he became aware of many sets of eyes following him. Seamus tried his best to suppress his smoldering rage; he couldn't afford a scene. He stopped in front of the young girl and crouched forward bringing his face to within one foot of the expectant small girl. Stay calm, don't attract attention. Seamus lowered his voice and whispered.

"You can read the bloody paper, little Miss Smarty pants."

He spun around and hurried away flashing a contrived smile at the watching faces. He stationed himself on the opposite side of the arrival's lounge sucking in deep breaths trying calm his shattered nerves. Fifteen minutes had passed. The flow of disembarking passengers had become a trickle. Five more minutes, no more arrivals. Bloody brilliant, my first assignment and I stuff it up thanks to that damned kid.

It was obvious to Seamus that while the short exchange had taken place, his target had slipped past him without him noticing. Not a good start to his new career, but it had been a valuable lesson. Stay calm, pay close attention to detail, be patient and above all don't allow yourself to be distracted.

***

Seamus' attention diverted back to the Police Station. He threw the paper he had been reading over onto the passenger seat. He now picked up movement in the Station car park. He watched intently as it could be Rainey. Yes, that silver Ford is Rainey's car, he's on the move and it's only four-fifteen. A wry smile creased Seamus' face. Guess that's one of the perks of the job. When you're the boss, you can go home early. Seamus reached across and again picked up the paper. He held it up to cover most of his face as the silver Ford drove out of the station car park and up the road past him.

A smile of satisfaction spread across his face. That's our man. It's action time. Let's see if Rainey keeps to the usual routine. Seamus waited until the Ford had disappeared and then he made a slow U-turn. He didn't have to hurry. If Rainey didn't keep to his usual routine, he would have to post-pone the hit. This had happened before. Experience had taught him to never rush these jobs. Seamus began repeating a calming message to himself: Be careful, plan meticulously and keep a cool head. He knew mistakes invariably happened when these simple rules were ignored.

Seamus picked out the silver Ford as it maneuvered into the car park closest to the shopping center entrance. He parked one row back and sat quietly observing. Rainey didn't appear to be in a hurry, he stood talking on the phone before walking into the center. Seamus took a deep breath. Showtime. He jumped out of his car and moved to the boot. Everything was neatly laid out for him. Pulling a rubber surgical glove out of its packet, Seamus carefully put it on. He put a second glove on. It paid to be careful, as this liquid was extremely dangerous. Fatally dangerous. Seamus very carefully unscrewed the lid of the plastic bottle containing an opaque liquid. Peering inside the bottle, he examined the opaque liquid that looked so innocuous, yet so lethal. As his hand began to tremor, he knew that one drop of liquid on his skin would be 'goodnight nurse.' Washing it off provided no guarantees, and he struggled to maintain steadiness in his hand.

Seamus moved slowly and methodically. Placing the lid of the bottle to one side, he examined the shiny tip of his black umbrella. It might look slightly odd carrying an umbrella; it was a brilliantly sunny day, but he didn't concern himself with that. If everything went to plan he would be in and out of the center before anyone had even noticed. He ran his finder along the tip of the umbrella that had been sharply filed to a point, perfect for the purpose he had in mind. Seamus dipped the tip into the liquid. He knew from experimenting with the animals it only took a minute amount. Placing the umbrella tip safely away from any accidental contact, Seamus replaced the lid of the bottle. He took off his gloves and placed them in a plastic bag to discard later.

Seamus retrieved the umbrella, closed the car boot and set off towards the shopping center entrance. He knew exactly where the inspector would be, in the supermarket buying groceries.

I wonder if Rainey will recognize me. Seamus was thinking ahead to how he would manage the hit. No doubt my photo will be on their police records. Seamus knew the chances of the inspector passing on the identity of his attacker would be remote. The inspector would be lucky to survive for ten minutes after the attack. And who would he tell? Another shopper who he almost certainly wouldn't know.

It only took a brisk stroll up and down the aisles, for Seamus to locate the inspector. Damn, he's talking to a woman, probably his wife. No doubt that was who he was talking to on the phone. Seamus knew he needed to be patient. If he carried out the attack in front of the wife, she would be an eyewitness. That represented an unnecessary risk, unless he dealt with her as well. After a few moments of deliberation, he quickly discounted that option. That would attract too much attention. He repeated to himself, Stay calm, be patient.

Several minutes later the inspector separated from his wife. She stayed in the vegetable department while the inspector wandered over to the meat section. Seamus smiled, it was time for action. He strolled casually up behind Inspector Rainey. Seamus had one last quick glance around him. No one was paying any particular attention. Seamus raised the umbrella to waist height and stabbed Rainey in the buttocks. Inspector Rainey gasped in pain and swung around and angrily faced Seamus.

"You bloody idiot, you stabbed me with your umbrella."

Seamus hadn't retreated. He stood watching, and a sneer crept onto his face.

"I know, Inspector, wasn't that careless of me. Sorry about the tear in your trousers. Send the bill to Carrick Fitzgerald."

Inspector Rainey's face clouded in shock, as he knew that name. Almost everyone in Belfast knew that name.

"Carrick Fitzgerald? You're not Carrick Fitzgerald."

"No, but he asked me to give you a message. Remember Bloody Sunday."

Rainey froze at the phrase referencing a day etched in Irish history.

"I had no involvement in Bloody Sunday."

"Come on, Inspector, who was passing on information to the Brits? Likewise, when they arrested Carrick, who do you think was passing on information about his movements? You're a traitor, Rainey. You sold out your own people. No doubt that's why you received your promotion. Carrick's message for you is he doesn't forget, and he doesn't forgive." Inspector Rainey was about to reply but he felt a strange sensation creeping through his body. He had trouble catching his breath.

Seamus caught a glimpse of Inspector Rainey's wife approaching. He turned and nonchalantly strolled away. Don't run, be casual, don't draw attention to yourself.

Inspector Rainey didn't understand what was happening, but he knew something was desperately wrong. He suddenly felt decidedly unwell, and he gasped for each breath. His head was swimming; a wave of nausea sweep over him and he had trouble standing. Inspector Rainey's wife picked up immediately on the inspector's distressed demeanor.

"Sean, what's wrong? You look terrible. Are you having a heart attack?"

Inspector Rainey grabbed at the shelving to stop himself from falling, as he peered into his wife's eyes. His whisper was barely audible.

"Carrick Fitzgerald."

His wife didn't understand, and hurriedly looked around her. She knew what Fitzgerald looked like as his photos had often been splashed across the paper. She was certain Carrick Fitzgerald was nowhere nearby or she would have recognized him.

The inspector collapsed to the floor and he immediately started to go into an uncontrollable spasm. His mouth dropped open wide, emitting a frothy foam as he struggled to draw breath. Rainey's wife let out a blood curdling scream, which attracted the attention of nearby shoppers. Some rushed over to the see if they could offer assistance.

Seamus stopped at the end of the aisle, turned and casually watched. He allowed himself a glimmer of a smile, as he knew Inspector bloody Rainey had only seconds left to live. Satisfied, he turned and strolled nonchalantly out of the supermarket. Mission accomplished. Carrick will be delighted. The trial liquid is everything it claimed to be. All they needed now was to get their hands on the rest of the shipment.

***

Carrick's face lit up as Seamus recounted the hit. He now had a plan formulated in his head. The nine-eleven attacks on New York had been the catalyst for his plan. What was needed was to devise a plan with casualties that would be measured in the thousands. He at last saw a way to rid Ireland once and for all of the occupying British and to have a united Ireland, instead of the puppet Government they now had. He had refused to join the IRA and accept the peace agreement. No, it had taken eight years, but it would be worth the wait, their planning could now proceed.

The first step would be to obtain the consignment of this dangerous liquid. It had already proven its worth as a ruthlessly efficient assassination tool, but that wasn't its main purpose. When the liquid changed physical states and became a gas, the result had proven to be even more deadly. It was colorless and odorless making it virtually undetectable. By the time its catastrophic symptoms were detected, it would be too late for the target. Targets were as good as dead. Unfortunately, there were no available supplies of the gas. He would have to make do with the liquid. That meant they would have to experiment on the best way of carrying out the change.

Carrick had studied the documented evidence of the ruthless efficiency of the gas while serving time in Maze prison. Street after street cluttered with dead bodies had been captured on film. These bodies were the evidence of the aftermath of attacks ordered by Saddam Hussein during his reign of terror, as he systematically suppressed dissent by wiping whole villages off the face of the map.

The groundwork had been done, Carrick now needed to get over to the U.S. and arrange finance from some sympathetic backers for the cause. Then he would be in a position to commence negotiations for this dangerous chemical. A warm glow of contentment swept over him, and his mind wandered back to his release from prison eight years ago. That had been when the planning started.

***

It was a bleak windswept winter's morning. A crowd was building outside Her Majesty's Maze prison. Maze prison, nine miles out of Belfast, Northern Ireland, was scheduled to close later that year. The latest batch of prisoners was due to be released at eleven o'clock. There was an air of expectation, apprehension even. Most of the prisoner's friends and family had gathered at the main gates as well as several hundred locals who had come to see history made.

Maze had gained notoriety from some previous high-profile prisoners. It was used to house paramilitary prisoners from the Irish conflict dating back to its first intake in the early 1970s. Maze really came to prominence during the prisoner hunger strikes, which culminated in the death of its best-known inmate, Bobby Sands, in 1981.

The Good Friday Peace Accord saw an almost complete stop in hostilities. All prisoners were to be released. The international media had sent representatives to witness this special day.

The crowd started growing restless; the release was already fifteen minutes late. A police contingent was on hand in case of trouble. The police were wisely staying in the background, keeping a low profile. A hush descended over the crowd as something was happening. The crowd pushed forward. The gates slowly opened, and a huge cheer went up. A group of ten prisoners emerged, smiling, waving enthusiastically to the adoring crowd. A solidly built bearded man, wrapped in a long coat, pulled tight around his neck for protection from the harsh weather strode confidently out in front. He had an aura of authority, and fellow prisoners kept a pace or two behind out of respect.

Carrick Fitzgerald had been incarcerated for almost twenty years. His gnarled face showed his age, or maybe it was just the result of his years in prison. He stopped to address the crowd. Fellow prisoners gathered around him, as he was their chosen spokesperson. Carrick delivered a forceful political speech, berating the British, comparing them to Hitler's Germany. Both had invaded foreign countries, they had the blood of the Irish on their hands. The media hurled a barrage of questions at Carrick.

"How does it feel to be a free man?"

"How would you feel if you had twenty years stolen from your life? I'm happy to be out. I need to reassess my life, or what's left of it."

"What do you think of the Peace Accord?"

"There can be no peace while a single British soldier remains on Irish soil."

"It sounds like you reject the Peace Accord?"

A young girl carrying a microphone had worked her way to the front of the media group. Carrick stared at her menacingly. He noticed the BBC logo on her windbreaker, his face twisted in contempt.

"You run off home and tell your snivelling, meddling Prime Minister to stop interfering in Irish affairs. He's a war criminal, and his hands are soaked in Irish blood. I, for one, will not stand by and see this go unpunished. Tell him to remove all British soldiers from our soil, then maybe I will recognize the Peace Accord."

Undeterred the young reporter continued.

"You complain that the British have blood on their hands. What about all the innocent people who died at your hands. What message do you have for the wives that have no husbands or the children that have no parents?"

Carrick exploded in rage, and he moved menacingly towards the girl. Two minders appeared at his side and hustled him to a waiting car. He continued shouting at the reporter over his shoulder as he was bundled into the car, and it sped away. Murmurings of discontent rose from the crowd: the mood had now changed. Most were Carrick's family or supporters. They were angry at this upstart of a reporter who had the audacity to criticize their beloved crusader for a free Ireland. The BBC film crew quickly picked up on the tension in the air. They grabbed the reporter and made a hurried retreat to the relative safety of a media van. The van sped off as stones crashed against its panels.

***

Eight years had passed since Maze Prison had closed. The IRA had ceased operations. A breakaway splinter group, the Real IRA or RIRA, made up of disaffected IRA members had vowed to continue the fight. Of immediate concern were intelligence reports linking Carrick Fitzgerald with a concerted attempt to carry out a catastrophic attack on Britain on a similar scale to nine-eleven.

Home Secretary James Alexander had requested a meeting at Thames House, MI5 headquarters. Seated at the table was Richard Townsley, director general of MI5. A tall athletic looking man, his age betrayed by his rapidly receding silver hairline. He had gained the top job after fifteen years in the field and now after long service was closing in on retirement. Next to him sat Stuart Wilson, Richard's counterpart in MI6. He oversaw all off-shore operations. Stuart also had served his time in the field, now in his late forties, and in the main stuck behind a desk. He maintained his muscular physical appearance by regular visits to the gym. James looked at the two Intelligence men.

"Now tell me, is this Carrick Fitzgerald really a threat? Or is he just some aging terrorist who won't accept the reality that the world has progressed. I mean, is putting resources into keeping him under surveillance diverting our attention from other more pressing issues?"

Richard leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

"Maybe, but can we afford to ignore him? We've had great success infiltrating the RIRA. We've arrested most of their key members. The word filtering out is Carrick has carried out a major reorganization. He still has hardcore loyal supporters and he's rumored to be planning something big."

Stuart added, "We came close to nabbing Carrick a few months back. Unfortunately, one of our informers suffered a tragic accident and our case against Carrick folded. He's a wily old fox, and I personally believe he's too dangerous to ignore. It's highly likely he'll be plotting something major."

"Very well," sighed James. "I suggest you give Carrick your full attention. Keep me informed of any progress."

***

At a similar time in a three-bedroom house in the Catholic part of Belfast, Carrick Fitzgerald sat at his dining room table surrounded by his loyal fellow RIRA members. Most had served time with Carrick in Maze. They all harbored a deep-seated resentment towards Britain. They all would follow Carrick's leadership without question.

"We have two choices as I see it," said Carrick as his eyes moved around the table looking at each man in turn. "We call it quits, we live out the rest of our lives under the jack boots of the bloody Brits, or we take the fight back to them. We show them we're not a spent force. We give them such a bloody nose they can't ignore our demands." He paused and again looked at each man in turn.

"I know my choice. I didn't spend twenty years of my life rotting in Maze to capitulate like a whimpering puppy dog to the British scum." All the men murmured in agreement.

"Right, we're all in agreement," said Carrick. "Now we need to do some serious planning. We don't want to just explode a few bombs and destroy a few buildings. We need to hit the Brits so hard that they won't have enough body bags. I'm not talking about a few hundred casualties. I'm talking tens of thousands. Think Hiroshima. We will shake the meddling British Government to the core and take the war back London. Give the Brits nowhere to hide and make nowhere safe. We want them so terrified that they will be begging to sit down at the table with us."

_CHAPTER 2_

MALIBU CALIFORNIA

It was a balmy Californian summer's day. A sprinkling of fluffy white clouds meandered across the picture perfect blue sky. They mirrored Brad's approach to life. There was no urgency, and no need to be somewhere. Relax, live for today, tomorrow will look after itself had become Brad's philosophy on life. This was as close to perfection as possible. The only hiccup for Brad was his bank account was in crisis. This represented an ongoing problem, but he didn't lose any sleep over it. Brad sat astride his surf board and gazed out to sea, watching, willing a rising swell. There was barely a ripple on the water. He felt the intense sun singeing his back.

"A great day for getting a tan, but crap for surfing." Wynard was ten yards away sitting on his board looking at Brad with a wide grin on his face. Wynard was an enigma. Brad marveled at his friend's lifestyle with more than a hint of envy. Wynard was born in Australia where he had caught the surfing bug, and he then spent several years roaming the globe searching for the perfect wave. Global pursuits spanned from Bali, Hawaii, to Brazil and now Malibu. He had a curious blend of parentage. His Dad was Italian, and his Mum was of French New Caledonian extraction. He had developed a language of his own.

"It's a waste of space being out here, I've nothing on. Do you want me to have a look at your wheels?"

Wynard had obvious skills as a mechanic, but he preferred to spend his days out on the water. Brad smiled to himself. He couldn't criticize his friend; the same could be said about him. Both their lives revolved around surfing and socializing. They shared the same values in life. Brad felt envious of his friend, he seemed to have a never-ending supply of money. He never seemed to have the need to find a job. Brad just wished he knew Wynard's secret. He could afford to lead his leisurely lifestyle. Brad smiled, he knew he was the opposite, the money never seemed to last long enough.

"When you get a chance, see what it needs. I'm broke at present, so I can't afford to buy parts."

Brad's vehicle had died on him two months ago and it had been parked at Wynard's pad ever since.

"Sure thing, buddy, I'll catch up with you tonight."

Brad waved to his friend. He would give it a few more minutes. There was something relaxing about being out on the water. It gave him time to think and reminisce. Not that he had any great problem to solve. So what if the country's economy was going down the gurgler, and another war had broken out in an unheard of country? Leave that garbage for the politicians to solve. Yet, he knew that all politicians were corrupt and more concerned with feathering their own nests, than looking after other's welfare.

Brad's mind turned to William. Invariably he focused on his dad. Brad's father, William Prendergast, was highly critical of Brad's lifestyle choice. William was a professional, a highly successful heart surgeon. William and Brad had numerous heated arguments on Brad's lifestyle choices.

"What happens when you get to fifty and you're too old for this lifestyle? You'll have no assets, no future prospects; you will have wasted your life."

Brad would grin at his father. "Maybe, Dad, but think of the fun I'll have getting to fifty."

This infuriated William, he would lecture Brad on the importance of having a profession, a qualification to fall back on. William would have loved Brad to follow him into medicine, but Brad was adamant that would never happen. Heather, Brad's mom, stepped in.

"Brad, you don't have to be a doctor, perhaps you could try another profession."

Brad came to a decision, he would be a teacher. It was a compromise; he certainly had no burning desire to be a teacher, but he did it for his Mom's sake. His confrontations with William had reached the point where it threatened to split the family. Brad's ideal job would be a professional surfer and travel the world to all the top surf beaches. His dream job included an endless supply of beautiful beach babes, and on top of that, getting paid to follow his dream. William exploded at the mention of Bradshaw's dream job.

"What kind of job do you call that? You're living in fairy land. For God's sake get a real job."

Brad noticed a gentle breeze on his back. That's all I need, Wynard's right, the surf is crap; the sea's as flat as a pancake. The damned breeze is not helping. It only flattens whatever swells there are. He gazed at the beach, a grin spread across his face. Two girls in skimpy bikinis were sitting next to his towel waving at him. He gave them an acknowledging wave and made an instant decision to call it a day. There's always tomorrow.

Brad paddled into shore. He tucked his board under his arm and strode up the beach. The muscles in his moist body rippled in the sunlight. He never worked out, as he had no need to. He kept in shape the natural way. Brad did go to a gym once because a friend had talked him into it. But thirty minutes of pumping weights was not his idea of fun. If that was what it took to stay in shape, he'd happily settle for carrying a few extra pounds. Besides, that represented an extra unnecessary expense, as he had better things to spend his money on. And he got all the exercise he needed from regular surfing, and of course a little action in the bedroom. He had a body many paid thousands trying to achieve, but for Bradshaw it all came naturally.

The two girls jumped to their feet and raced to meet Brad. Bubbling with excitement, they threw their arms around him. He kissed them both passionately on the lips.

"Chloe, Savannah, great to see you. What's up, no work on today?"

Chloe hung from Brad's neck.

"Nope, it's our day off. Got anything planned for tonight, Brad?"

Brad shrugged. "Nah, I'll see if the other guys are doing anything. I'll catch up with Wynard later."

"There's a party at the surf club tonight, and everyone is going. Will you take us, please, please?"

"Babe, what guy in his right mind would turn down an offer like that?"

"I take it that's a yes," beamed Chloe.

"Of course it's a yes. I'll catch up with you about seven."

Brad dried himself and started to move off.

"Brad, are you leaving? We hoped we could hang out together," pleaded Savannah.

"Sorry, darling, I have to search for a job. I'm nearly broke. I'll be kicked out of my apartment and be sleeping under the stars if I don't find work soon."

"You can always share my bed," whispered Chloe.

Brad laughed. "Sure, great idea. I can just see your dad. He would be over the moon with that arrangement. I'll see you at seven."

As he climbed the steps to the car park Savannah yelled out.

"You might try the Morales. I've heard they have a gardening job going."

Brad bounded back to the girls. "Who are the Morales?"

"They live a couple of miles along the coast road. They have this big flash two storey mansion. Toby used to work there. He thinks they have another enormous pad in Bel Air. He reckons they are loaded."

"Are you sure they have a job?"

"I overheard Mrs. Morale in the grocery store asking if she could advertise her job in his window. Yeah, I'm sure they have a job."

Brad gave Savannah a peck on the cheek and turned to leave.

"Is that all," complained Savannah. "Is that all the thanks I'm going to get? I think I deserve a bit more than that pathetic effort."

Brad laughed. "How about a date tonight with the hottest surfer you are ever likely to meet."

Savannah feigned shock turning to Chloe. "I didn't know Kelly Slater was in town."

Brad swept her off her feet tickling her squirming body.

"I can assure you, Kelly Slater is not a patch on the guy I have in mind. But if you are not interested, I'll have to spread the word."

A giggling Savannah broke free. "I suppose I could lower my standards just this once." Brad hurried off. "See you at seven."

Brad raced back to his apartment. He was in a hurry. This was one job he didn't want to lose to another person. He showered and put on his best dress clothes. This was stretching the imagination, as he didn't own much in the way of clothes. His best clothes amounted to some jeans without any rips and a clean tee shirt. He got out his bike, as he would have to cycle to the Morales. He really missed his pickup being out of action, but he needed to keep on Wynard's back. He certainly couldn't afford to pay for a mechanic, as he was stretched to pay for the gas.

Brad had no trouble locating the house. It would have been very hard to miss. Savannah had been right; it was a sprawling white, lime wash masonry, Spanish styled mansion set back one hundred yards from the beach in beautifully manicured grounds. Brad spent a few minutes gazing in through the imposing steel security gates. He caught a glimpse of an entertainment area, complete with swimming pool nestled among gently swaying palm trees. Most of the expansive property was obscured from his view by the house. He could only see a small corner. He shook his head and murmured to himself.

"Why do people build swimming pools when the ocean is right on their front doorstep? Some people had more money than sense. Looks like the Morales fit that box."

He observed the expansive property covered several acres. A gardener will certainly be kept busy. They should pay well. Brad noticed his loitering at the entrance starting to attract attention inside the house. He spotted the intercom button, 'press for attention'. It reminded him of a fast food drive through. He grinned to himself, and his first thought was to place an order.

"I'll have a jumbo burger, ketchup, jalapenos, the works. A large coke and fries please." But he really needed this job, that would probably blow any chance he had. Brad was brought back to reality when a stern voice boomed through the intercom.

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

Brad stuttered into the intercom. "I've come about the job."

"What job's this?"

Brads heart sank, had Savannah got it wrong?

"The gardening job, I heard there was a gardening job here."

There was silence for a moment.

"Wait a moment, I'll check."

Brad waited. He was surprised at how nervous he suddenly felt. The abruptness of the voice on the intercom had unsettled him. Moments later a softer female voice spoke.

"This is Cristal Morale. Yes, I do have a gardening job. Do you have any experience?" Brad reeled off the names of people he had worked for over the previous two years.

"I can supply their phone numbers. You can ring and check me out."

"Yes, we most certainly will check. You can come in and we can discuss it further."

The large steel gate creaked and groaned as it rumbled open. Brad retrieved his bike and walked in towards the house. The bitumen driveway crunched under his feet. He looked left and right. This was an impressive property; far grander than anywhere he had worked before. His view from the road had been obscured by the eight-foot concrete fence. It had sharpened steel spikes set in on an angle along the top as a deterrent to any uninvited guests. Any person foolish enough to attempt to scale the fence would be risking serious injury. He observed the thoughtfully landscaped grounds that led to a tennis court and entertainment area. Floodlights were strategically scattered around so that darkness did not inhibit the guest's pleasure. Brad reached the front entrance. He was about to prop his bike against the house, but belatedly thought better of it. He laid it down on the edge of the driveway out of traffic's way.

Brad reached out to knock on the front door. It suddenly swung open leaving him fanning fresh air. A solidly built man stood staring at Brad. He never spoke, his eyes moving up and down Brad's body making a critical visual assessment. Brad guessed he was mid-forties, about five foot-eight. He had an 'I take no nonsense' look about him.

"Good morning, Mr. Morale, I'm here about the job."

"It's afternoon," corrected the man, "and I'm not Mr. Morale. I'm Quinton Fletcher, head of security. You can wait in the drawing room. And you can take those off please." Quinton indicated Brad's dilapidated sandals with a disapproving glare.

The grandeur of the entrance lobby immediately grabbed Brad's attention. It had a cathedral like quality. An ornate marble tiled floor led to a wide sweeping staircase giving access to the second level. Hallways diverged in three directions confirming the vast dimensions of the house. A spectacular multi-tiered chandelier with crystal pendants cascading in every direction was suspended on a heavy chain from the center of the high ceiling.

Quinton waited patiently until he caught Brad's eye. He then indicated without speaking for Brad to follow him. The wide hallway wound past several closed doors, and then opened out into an expansive drawing room.

"Mrs. Morale will be along shortly." Quinton again looked Brad up and down without speaking, then spun around and abruptly left. Brad was left in no doubt that Quinton disapproved of him.

Brad patiently waited on his own for nearly ten minutes. He looked around him, again another impressive room. Two deeply buttoned dark brown leather lounge suites were strategically placed in front of an elaborate fireplace. A large window gave an unobstructed view of the beautifully manicured garden outside. Brad's eyes were drawn to a painting hung with pride of place above the sculptured fire mantelpiece. It depicted a family grouping from a bygone era. An important looking spectacled gentleman, his Victorian dressed wife and three young children gazed intently down at Brad.

"That's my grandparents. They were one of the early settlers to California." Cristal Morale glided into the room. She had an air of importance about her. Brad guessed late forties, but still very striking. She was of medium height; short dark hair, an eye catching full figure accentuated by a figure hugging designer dark brown dress. She had expensive looking jewelry to match; a silver neck chain with a diamond studded brooch and matching bangles on both wrists. Brad had to discipline himself not to stare, Cristal was certainly a head turner. Cristal indicated a chair for Brad to sit on. She had a gentle manner about her and he immediately felt relaxed.

"Now, Mr. Prendergast, tell me all about yourself. Your previous jobs, is there any trouble with the law? Don't leave anything out. I'll be getting Quinton to check."

Brad's heart sank. With snooty Quinton doing the checking he could see the job quickly evaporating.

"It's Brad, you can call me Brad." He flashed one of his charming smiles. It never failed to impress the girls.

Cristal remained serious. "Mr. Prendergast is fine, now tell me about yourself."

Brad rattled off a list of previous employers complete with contact phone numbers. He added he was a qualified teacher. He had tried teaching for six months but had given it away in favor of his present lifestyle. And no, he had not had any trouble with the law.

"I'm curious, Mr. Prendergast, why would you give up teaching to be a gardener?"

Brad shrugged. "I just didn't like teaching. I prefer the freedom of my present lifestyle." Cristal gazed thoughtfully at Brad. She questioned and probed Brad's past for a further ten minutes, then smiled at him.

"You sound like the man we're looking for. When can you start?"

Brad felt a surge of euphoria, he really needed this job.

"I can start tomorrow if you like. The sooner the better for me."

"Excellent, we'll see you at nine tomorrow. Report in to Quinton and he'll explain everything. It's subject of course to the usual security checks; they won't take long."

Brad raced back to town on his bike, he was in high spirits. This would be the best job he had ever landed and the pay almost half as much again than what he had ever received before. He hunted down Savannah and Chloe, hugging and kissing them both. He broke the good news, everyone was delighted.

"I think you owe me big time," purred Savannah, "how do you propose to pay me back?" Brad had a grin from ear to ear.

"You'll have to wait for later to see. Tonight we party. In fact, why don't we start right now?"

***

A very efficient Quinton received all the information he had requested about Brad within two hours. He reported in to Cristal.

"Mr. Prendergast checks out fine. All his previous employers have given glowing reports. All report he had been a reliable, conscientious employee. Their only complaint had been he appeared more dedicated to surfing than staying in long term employment. They all were sorry to see him leave."

"Well, that's very good. We'll have to see if we can entice him to stay a bit longer with us," commented Cristal.

Quinton added. "There is one other thing you may wish to consider."

He produced a printed report and handed it to Cristal. She studied it for some time, and then looked up at Quinton with a wry smile.

"It seems our Mr. Prendergast has not been completely honest. I think I had better have a word to him about this. I'm curious to hear his explanation."

CHAPTER 3

A BRIEF STINT AT TEACHING

Brad and the girls partied into the wee small hours. Brad awoke with a splitting headache, regretting the late night. He definitely did not want to be late for his first day at his new job. He felt dead tired; he could have done with a couple more hours of sleep. Unfortunately, the girls had been in no hurry to go home.

He arrived at the Morales front gate with five minutes to spare. He pressed the buzzer and the gate creaked open. He strode confidently towards the house. Quinton intercepted him before he had walked halfway.

"You can put that in the garden shed."

Quinton indicated his bike with a disapproving glare. Quinton proceeded to give Brad an in depth run down on what the job involved. Brad could see he was going to be very busy.

"I expect you to use your initiative. I have posted a list of all the jobs you are required to do on the garden shed wall. If something can't be done, you are to move on to the next assignment on the list. I don't expect you to run back to me with every little problem. Understood?"

"Understood," smiled Brad.

Quinton threw some overalls to Brad then turned and strode away. Brad busied himself, the more he worked, the better he felt. Every two hours Quinton appeared out of nowhere, looked critically at Brad's work, then without a word turned and marched off. He reminded Brad of the Star Trek movies. Quinton's unannounced arrivals bore an uncanny resemblance to the 'beam me up Scotty' sequences. One-minute Brad was busy working on his own, the next Quinton had metamorphosed out of nowhere, and was standing beside him. It began to become unnerving. On the positive side Quinton's visits became less and less frequent. Brad took this as a vote of confidence. He felt sure that if there was a problem, Quinton would not be backward in letting him know.

The next few days passed quickly, Quinton's visits became less frequent. Quinton rarely spoke. If he did, it was usually only to answer a question from Brad. He never commented that a job had been done well, and he still critically analyzed Brad's clothes and appearance. His disapproving stares reminded Brad a lot of his father. Brad had not seen Cristal Morale since the interview; he sometimes sneaked a peek inside the house. Invariably he would see Quinton glaring at him, and he quickly put his mind back into his work.

Friday came; it was the end of Brad's first week. He looked forward to the weekend and socializing with the girls. He had seen a car come in several hours ago and had sneaked a quick look through the bushes. It was Cristal Morale and a male companion. Perhaps he was Mr. Morale. Brad was startled, again Quinton had appeared out of nowhere, and now stood beside him.

"Mrs. Morale would like a word with you."

"What's it about?" enquired Brad.

Quinton completely ignored the question.

"Wait in the foyer, Mrs. Morale will see you when she is ready. Make sure you take off those dirty boots."

Brad waited fifteen minutes. He felt an uneasy apprehension building. He didn't know why; probably it was Quinton, or the uncertainty of the summons. Cristal appeared and ushered him into the lounge. They sat down and chatted about the job. How was Brad coping? Brad started to relax. Cristal produced the report Quinton had given her and handed it to Brad.

"What can you tell me about this?"

Brad looked at it and groaned.

"This is something I've put behind me, something I'm trying to forget."

It was a copy of an article in the Dallas Campus news from six years ago. The headline read 'Bradshaw Prendergast leaves the campus teaching faculty over allegations of sexual misconduct.'

"I'm sure you would like to forget it, but you were not completely honest over your reasons for leaving teaching, were you?"

Cristal stared intensely into Brad's eyes. He felt her scrutiny; he closed his eyes and dropped his head.

"Well, perhaps not completely honest, but it's true I didn't enjoy teaching. And yes, this was a major contributing factor influencing my decision to quit."

Cristal waited for Brad to continue.

"Do you really want to know about this," said Brad forlornly waving the paper.

"I think it's best we clear the air, and you can get it off your chest."

Brad let out a deep sigh; this represented a subject which had tormented him for years. He had finally managed to relegate it to history, and now Cristal was resurrecting the painful memories.

Brad started a sanitized abridged version of events for Cristal, punctuated by long periods of silence as he again became consumed by past memories. It was as if the floodgates had been thrown open, a raging torrent of painful memories surged into his mind as he relived past repressed events in graphic detail. Brad experienced the whole spectrum of emotions all over again. There were the moments of joyful happiness followed by a depressing sadness. There was the exuberant pleasure, the unconditional love, the deep regret, shame, denial, and embarrassing guilt. Brad became silent as he drifted into a trance like state of recollection, only to snap out and add a few lines of explanation to Cristal. Then he again fell silent as his memories again consumed him.

***

Brad had finally succumbed to his father's pressure; he had qualified as a teacher. His first appointment was in Dallas. Not his ideal appointment, if only for the fact it was a long way from a surf beach. It took about a month for him to adjust to the routines, plan his lessons in advance, and to just get used to the daily grind. He proved popular in class; he did not fit into the usual teacher mold. His longish blond hair, casual clothes and laid back carefree attitude to life meant he was always going to stand out. He was only seven or so years older than his students. They shared the same values, the same outlook on life.

Brad quickly gained a reputation around town for hard partying, mixing with the young set that frequented the clubs and bars. This did not fit the usual teacher profile. Brad's reputation for mixing with attractive young girls spread through the classes. The guys were secretly envious; the girls had secret desires to get more personally acquainted.

Charlotte Weinberger, a petite seventeen-year old student in one of Brad's classes, became infatuated with Brad. She stood five foot-five, very pretty with shoulder length light brown hair and rapidly blooming into full womanhood. She had more than a crush on Brad, she adored him. She was in love. Charlotte hung out in a close-knit group of five girls. Their favorite topic of conversation of course was boys. Charlotte wasn't alone in fancying Brad.

Kimberly Taylor had similar intense desires for him. She also had just turned seventeen, five foot-ten, long black hair she had added a hint of red highlights to. Brad often dominated their discussions. A friendly rivalry developed to see who would be first to score a date.

Brad soon noticed the extra attention he was receiving from the girls. They hovered around him after class. He noticed a change in the way they dressed. Brad thought the tops they wore were at least a size too small, the skirts seemed to have shrunk as well. Brad secretly enjoyed the attention, but he knew there could be no future there. He couldn't afford to risk getting involved with any student, as his job would be on the line. Besides, he had plenty of older attractive girls to pick from.

Charlotte and Kimberly left Brad in no doubt of their intentions. They openly flirted; they came out with blatantly suggestive propositions. Brad determined it was time to put a stop to it. He pulled them aside at the end of a class. He waited until the other students had left.

"Charlotte, Kimberly, you're both gorgeous girls. You're very attractive, but you must forget about me. Date some guys your own age. If I even contemplated having a relationship with you girls, the Dean would be handing me my marching orders. So, it's not going to happen."

Charlotte and Kimberly giggled. "We won't tell anyone, it can be our secret."

Brad laughed. "It's not going to happen. Move on."

Friday arrived, the last class of the day had just left, and Brad's attention had already turned to the weekend. He busied himself packing his notes away in his brief case. His thoughts were focused on his plans for that night. He was startled as he raised his head to find his eyes inches away from Charlotte's ample breasts. He thought all the students had left; he had not seen her come back.

Slightly embarrassed Brad stuttered. "Charlotte, sorry, I never saw you. Do you have a problem?"

"Yes, Mr. Prendergast, I do. I'm struggling with our assignment," murmured Charlotte.

"Really, are you? I thought it was straightforward. I can give you a couple of minutes. I'm in a bit of a hurry."

Charlotte shook her head. "I need a lot longer than that. Can I meet you at your place this weekend? I know where you live."

Brad smiled. "Now Charlotte, I don't think that would be very wise. I'll see you next Monday after classes."

Charlotte inched closer. Brad took a step back and collided with his desk. It had the effect of propelling him forward. Charlotte wrapped her arm behind his back, pressed herself against him, and kissed him passionately on the lips. The close encounter aroused Brad, and this had not gone unnoticed by Charlotte. Brad quickly recovered. He stepped away, glancing nervously at the door to see if anyone had seen. Charlotte gave him a seductive smile, spun around, and hurried out of the class room. She hurried down the corridor to where her friends were in a huddle awaiting her. She excitedly related to them her encounter with Brad. They all listened intently, giggling and excitedly discussing the encounter. That is, everyone except Kimberly.

***

Friday night was a relax and unwind night. Brad met his new friends at the corner bar for a quiet drink. They grabbed some takeaways, shot some pool and discussed plans for Saturday night. Brad's routine for Saturday was a sleep in, stroll down for a lazy brunch at the local café, then it was back to do his housekeeping. He tidied the apartment, did his stockpiled weeks washing. Then he had the rest of the weekend free for socializing. He had just finished his chores and turned on the TV. There was a replay of a basketball game he was keen to see. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down on his tiny two seat sofa. It was the only furniture he had in his lounge

He was just relaxing when there was a knock on the door. Brad gave a loud sigh, he felt annoyed. It would probably be someone trying to sell him something he had no possible use for. He jumped to his feet, he would not waste any time giving them their marching orders. Brad swung open the door prepared for a short, sharp confrontation. An attractive young girl stood looking up at him expectantly. For a moment he did not recognize Charlotte. She had a lot more makeup on than he had seen before. She looked several years older than her seventeen years.

Brad's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Charlotte, what on earth are you doing here?" She brushed straight past him and walked into his lounge.

"Charlotte, you can't stay here." Brad put his head outside, and nervously looked up and down the street to see if anyone was watching.

Charlotte ignored the comment, she saw the television on.

"Oh good, the game's on." She sat down on the sofa. "Brad, would you be darling and get me a beer." Brad watched her in stunned silence; he felt unsure how to react. He did know he was missing the game.

"Okay, Charlotte, you can have one beer and watch the game. Then you'll have to go."

It was an exciting game, the lead constantly changed. The LA Lakers sneaked home by one point, they shot a three pointer right on the final buzzer. This was Brad's team, he was ecstatic. He had almost forgotten Charlotte was there. He was reminded when she grabbed his leg when the game got tense. Charlotte threw her arms around Brad when the game ended. They were both excited, she kissed him passionately. Caught up in the euphoria of the game Brad responded to his emotions. The adrenalin high generated during the game transformed into a surge of emotional elation. He reacted without thinking, he held Charlotte against him, her wide hazel colored eyes stared intently back at him.

Brad had always found Charlotte enticingly attractive, but he had shut down his normal male emotions. He just could not afford to get involved. She was off limits; all the students were off limits. It would be suicide for his career to get romantically involved.

Brad held Charlotte closely, neither spoke, their lips were drawn to each other's like magnets. Her beseeching eyes, her soft flowing hair, her enticing perfectly formed mouth. Brad's head was swimming in intoxicated confusion. His mind was sending subtle messages. Walk away, show Charlotte the door. Do it now, quickly. The rest of his body was not listening; no woman had ever been off limits before for Brad. Not the innocent banker's daughter next door, not the frustrated home Mum with her boring mundane structured new life. Everyone had always been fair game. These new restrictions were a foreign concept.

The feel of Charlotte's soft body pressed hard against his, the excitement of knowing she was a forbidden fruit, only fueled his out of control emotions. He had lost the will to fight it. Why should he even try and suppress a perfectly natural emotion? They were locked together as one, kissing, their bodies entwined each other. Their legs wrapping around each other. Their flailing legs sent a half full beer bottle hurtling across the room.

Brad stood up and retrieved the bottle. He stood looking down at Charlotte. He was high on emotion. All he saw was a beautiful angelic creature staring back expectantly. She was breath taking, beautiful beyond words. Without saying a word, he took her hands and pulled Charlotte to her feet. They locked again in a passionate embrace. Any thoughts Brad had of her leaving were long gone. His desire for her was intense. He took her hand and led her to his bedroom. He struggled to remove her clothing, it was body hugging. It looked like she had poured herself into them. Moments later both their clothes lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Her naked body sent his senses soaring into the stratosphere. Their bodies came together in bed, kissing, exploring, entwined as one.

Brad now experienced a rush of emotions that he had never experienced before. He closed his eyes and let his body take him on an emotional roller coaster ride. He was in a dark void with twinkling stars all around him. Slowly the stars started moving. The momentum started building in intensity, until they were shooting off in all directions. The darkness exploded into a kaleidoscope of flashing bright lights. Brad was in Heaven, he never wanted this magic moment to end. He was consumed with excitement, it was sensual, and finally there was ecstasy. They lay together in a tight embrace, not speaking, each immersed in their own private intimate thoughts. Their chests heaving, moist from the frantic exertion.

After a few minutes to catch her breath Charlotte began nibbling at Brad's ear. She whispered to Brad.

"Wait until I tell Kimberly about this."

Brad sat up horrified, he pulled away in alarm.

"You can't do that, you can't tell anyone, you promised."

Charlotte giggled delightedly. "Promised? I don't recall any promises."

Brad and Charlotte's relationship was changed forever. They were no longer teacher and student. They were not even infatuated young adults. Now they were lovers. Brad had always considered himself experienced in bed, but Charlotte had been a revelation. She was loving, she was sensual, and she blew him away. Any thoughts of ending the relationship quickly dissipated. His desire for a repeat performance had become almost uncontrollable.

***

The news of Brad and Charlotte's exploits spread like wildfire through the Campus. Brad became the recipient of snide comments and innuendos in class. It was fast getting out of control. Girls he did not even know would cluster in groups and shout out as he passed.

"I'm free tonight, Mr. Prendergast. What time should I come around?" The comments were inevitably followed by outbursts of laughter. Everyone delighted in poking fun at Brad. Charlotte bathed in delight with all the attention, and her friends were excited. That is, everyone except Kimberly. All she felt was a smoldering resentment.

Brad and Charlotte met on a regular basis. At first discretely at his apartment; later they threw caution to the wind. They were seen in each other's company all around the city. As time passed the students lost interest in ribbing Brad, as he represented old news. They turned their attention to more recent events. Charlotte was never backward in coming forward with up to date graphic accounts of her and Brad's exploits. Kimberly was furious; she had taken all she could stand from Charlotte's gloating. It was time to do something about it.

***

Kimberly approached Brad at the end of the day's classes.

"Hello, Kimberly, how can I help you?" enquired Brad.

Kimberly smiled. "It's how I can help you. My parents are going away this weekend. I want you to come to my place on Friday night. I'll cook us a nice romantic dinner. Bring an overnight bag."

Brad looked horrified. "Don't be silly, Kimberly. You know I can't do that."

Kimberly remained undeterred. "I know all about you and Charlotte. The whole campus knows about you and Charlotte. I think one night is not too much to expect. Who knows, you may prefer to dump Charlotte after a night with me."

Brad shook his head. "It's not going to happen."

"Well that's your choice, Mr. Prendergast. Of course, I'll have no option but to give this to the Dean."

Smiling, Kimberly produced a paper and handed it to Brad. It contained numerous photo shots of Brad and Charlotte kissing, locked in intimate embraces at various locations around the city. The color drained from Brad's face.

"Did you take these?"

"Yep, with my cell phone. Not bad, are they? I'll see you at seven Friday night, don't be late."

Brad was thoughtful. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"Sure am, seven o'clock."

Kimberly laughed and let herself out of the room. Brad wrestled with the problem all week. Every time he saw Kimberly she would give him a charming smile.

"Seven o'clock. Don't be late."

***

Charlotte had her heart set on going clubbing on Friday night. Brad broke the news he couldn't make it, something had cropped up. Charlotte was furious. Brad never said no. What was so important that he could not meet her? Brad fudged around about a mandatory prior appointment. Charlotte stormed off; she would go out without Brad to teach him a lesson.

On the dot of seven Brad sneaked up to Kimberly's door. He had taken great care to make sure no one had seen him. Kimberly opened the door, wrapped her arms around his neck and passionately kissed him. Brad hurried inside. He did not want to linger on the doorstep. Kimberly looked stunning, she had put her hair up, wore a long flowing floral dress with a plunging neckline. It was far more formal than anything Brad had seen Charlotte wear. It looked like she was off to an opera, or perhaps a wedding function. Brad stood back studying her.

"Kimberly, you look absolutely gorgeous, I'm blown away."

Kimberly was delighted, it had been her intention to show Brad something he would never see in Charlotte. She had planned a formal evening, she dimmed the lights and placed candles on the table. The meal reminded Brad of something his mother might cook, it was delightful. Again, it was the complete opposite of what Brad could expect from Charlotte. In fact, he would be extreme lucky for Charlotte to lower herself to even cook a meal. It would have been takeaways.

Kimberly produced a bottle of wine which Brad suspected came from her father's cellar. They retired to the lounge after dinner, sipped on the wine and happily chatted away. Brad soon forgot all about Charlotte, he was really enjoying Kimberly's company.

They were in no hurry to get to the bedroom. They were happy to enjoy an intimate discussion about all sorts of subjects that Brad did not normally talk about. The wine was finished, Kimberly made them coffee with a delicious chocolate on the side. It was well after eleven before they made their way to the bedroom. Brad took charge, he soon had Kimberly aroused and pulling him on top of her.

Brad awoke to find the bed empty, the aroma drifting in told him Kimberly must be cooking breakfast. She soon appeared in the doorway dressed in her dressing gown.

"Breakfast is ready. Do you want it in bed?" Brad jumped out of bed and pulled on his pants, he always found it difficult eating in bed. They had a leisurely breakfast, chatting for an hour. Finally, they both cleared away the dishes. Brad took Kimberly's hand and led her back to the bedroom. He slipped the dressing gown off her shoulders and it fell to the floor. Moments later they were back in bed locked in a passionate embrace, their bodies searching for each other. The pleasure of last night returning with added intensity.

Kimberly, like Charlotte, wasted no time in spreading the word about her and Brad.

***

A furious Charlotte confronted Brad.

"Is it true, you slept with Kimberly? How could you?"

Brad tried to explain that he had no choice.

"Kimberly has taken photos of us together. She was going to take them to the Dean. I would have lost my job. Then you could kiss goodbye to us." Charlotte close to tears, turned in disgust, and stormed off.

Kimberly was delighted. With Charlotte sulking and refusing to have anything to do with Brad, she had him all to herself. She and Brad enjoyed each other's company on numerous occasions. Usually at Brad's apartment, but anywhere the opportunity arose.

After several weeks Charlotte could stand it no more. She had listened to her friends recounting Kimberly's graphic accounts of her encounters with Brad. She arrived on Brad's doorstep at seven mid-week. As a surprised Brad opened the door, she burst in. Moments later they were in the bedroom tearing at each other's clothes. They both relived the passion, the sexual exhilaration they had forsaken out of spite. They lay together breathless, gazing intently into each other's eyes. Not speaking, just savoring the shared pleasure they brought each other.

***

Brad's relationships with the girls now took a new direction. Both girls demanded his time. Neither would step aside in favor of the other. They both used the threat of exposure to ensure that Brad did not consider dropping one in favor of the other. They had become a threesome. This had its advantages for Brad. He enjoyed both girls. Each brought different qualities to the relationships. Charlotte was more the happy go lucky party girl, Kimberly, the refined home loving girl. Brad found them both equally exciting in bed. To avoid arguments, the girls put their heads together and devised a roster to allocate time with Brad. He had no say in this; he was told who he was seeing that night. The arrangement worked well, Brad was unconcerned who he would be taking out.

***

All good things come to an end. Brad noticed Charlotte had been absent from classes for a couple of days. He was curious rather than concerned. Kimberly had not heard from her either. He arrived home at the end of the day to find Charlotte waiting for him on his doorstep. He could see she was distressed; her cheeks were puffy from crying. He wrapped his arms around her to comfort her.

"What on earth is wrong, Charlotte. It can't be that bad? Come in, we can sort it out."

Once inside Charlotte burst into tears. Brad struggled to comprehend what she was saying through her sobs.

"Take a few deep breaths, we can sort it. Now slowly, tell me what's wrong."

Charlotte looked pleadingly up into Brad's eyes. "Brad, we have to get married. I'm pregnant. My parents say I have to have an abortion. They want to murder our baby."

A new flood of tears gushed out. Brad felt stunned. His knees went weak, this had to be the last thing he expected.

"Are you sure it's mine? Charlotte screamed. "Of course, it's yours. You're the only boy I've slept with."

"I had to ask," murmured Brad. He was deep in thought. He had visions of family life. A crying baby, changing diapers, the end of his social life. Probably may as well sell his surfboard, his life as he knew it would be over. He was horrified; he was just not ready for this.

"Do your parents know I'm the father?"

Charlotte nodded. "Yes, they made me tell them."

Brad had a sinking feeling. "You know, maybe your parents are right. Perhaps you should have an abortion. A baby will ruin your life, you're far too young."

Charlotte burst into a new flood of tears. "You're just like them. You want to murder our baby too. You're not worried about me being too young, you're thinking of yourself."

"It's just the sensible choice, Charlotte, for both of us. Think about it."

"I don't need to think about it. You disgust me, Bradshaw Prendergast." She turned and fled from the house.

***

There was a somber mood in the next day's classes. Brad hoped he might be imagining it, but it soon became obvious. Kimberly kept her distance, she never spoke or even made eye contact. There wasn't the usual jovial banter in the classroom. Brad couldn't wait for the day to end. At lunchtime a note was passed to him. He had received a summons to meet the Dean in the staff room at the end of the day. Brad had a foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach. He guessed this must be how prisoners on death row feel as they are about to make the last walk to the electric chair.

All the other teachers had gone home, Brad cautiously entered the staffroom. The Dean and the president of the board of governors were deep in conversation. They looked up and indicated a chair for Brad. The Dean had a face like thunder, Brad was in no doubt of the reason for his abrupt summons.

"We have received some disturbing news. We've had a visit from Mr. and Mrs. Wienburger. Their daughter, Charlotte, is pregnant, and they allege it is you who is responsible. What have you got to say?"

Brad hung his head. "No, I don't deny it. I know it shouldn't have happened, but it did. All I can say is I regret it."

The president spoke. "It's a little late for regret now. What the hell were you thinking? This puts us in an unenviable position. Our credibility as a safe environment for parents to send their children has been severely compromised by your actions. Your position on our teaching faculty has become untenable."

Brad saw what was coming. "It's okay. You can have my resignation, effective immediately."

He stood up and let himself out of the room. He went straight to his classroom, packed his books in his briefcase and left the building. The next day Brad cleared his apartment and left Dallas. His teaching career was over after six short months.

***

Cristal had listened to Brad without interruption; she had a hint of a tear in her eye. She didn't condone his actions, but she did feel for him. Brad sat closely scrutinizing Cristal, waiting for a reaction, waiting for a lecture on his despicable behavior.

Cristal finally smiled. "I hope you've learnt a lesson from all this?"

A confused Brad wasn't sure what that lesson would be. Yes, he had regrets, especially the way he had run off and abandoned his problems. He no doubt would do things differently in future. Perhaps the real lesson would be to keep away from teaching and stick to surfing.

"Do you want me to hand in my notice here as well?" A tentative Brad studied Cristal.

"Heavens no, we all make mistakes when we're young. Thank you for being honest."

Brad was shocked when Cristal produced a bottle of wine and two glasses. They sat quietly chatting away. As soon as Brad had finished his glass, he stood up, thanked Cristal, and left.

CHAPTER 4

BREAK IN

Two weeks had passed since his talk with Cristal. Brad had settled into the routine of having a job to go to each day, but he missed his surfing. Weekends never quite made up for all the time he had to spend working. This was offset to a degree by his rapidly growing bank account. The money he was earning delighted him. It would not take long to have enough to be able to give away the job and get back to the serious business of surfing and socializing, full time.

The gardening was a breeze. He had the best equipment available. Even Quinton had mellowed. He occasionally stopped to speak, and the checks became almost non-existent. He had almost become pleasant. Brad approached Quinton to see if he could arrive a little late the next day as he had to visit the doctor. The sudden doctor visit had been prompted by a recent phone call to his parents. His Mom often became upset if he didn't keep in touch. He was hugely relieved when Heather answered the phone. He knew he would have been in for a grilling if William answered. He knew what William would say. "Gardening is not a proper job, there are no prospects there."

Heather expressed delight he had a job.

"Mrs. Morale sounds a lovely person. Are you eating right? Have you found a nice girlfriend yet?"

Brad answered her questions. In an attempt to make conversation, he mentioned he had come off his board and grazed his knee on the rocks. It was taking a long time to heal. William Prendergast immediately came on the phone. Brad groaned, he must have been listening on another phone.

"You'd better get to a doctor. You can get blood poisoning, you know. You'll need to go on a course of antibiotics. If you can't afford it, I can put some money in your account."

"Hello, Dad. Thanks for your concern, but no, I don't need any money." William moved on to interrogating Brad on the Morales.

"How did you get to know about them? What line of work are they involved in? Is this job likely to lead to something better? Are you only there because they have a daughter you fancy?"

"No, Dad, they don't have a daughter. At least not one that I know of."

Brad was surprised that even Quinton showed a little concern over his small injury. He could take as long as he needed at the doctor.

****

It was almost eleven o'clock before Brad arrived at Morale's front gate. There had been an emergency at the doctor's surgery and he had to wait for hours. He felt nervous that Quinton might think he had taken advantage of his generosity and deliberately taken a long time. Quinton even trusted Brad enough to give him the security code, so he would not have to ring. That surely meant he had gone up in Quinton's estimation.

It surprised Brad to find the security gates wide open. He'd never seen that before. He hurried in; he would put his bike away and with a bit of luck be hard at work before Quinton checked on him. Brad glanced at the house. His eyes were drawn to a dilapidated old car parked at the entrance. It struck Brad as odd, not the usual vehicle he expected to visit the Morale estate.

Brad studied the car. At first it was just a curiosity. Who could possibly be the owner of such a clapped-out vehicle and why would they be visiting? Brad laughed to himself. In actual fact, the vehicle was no worse than his pickup parked at Wynards. Brad peered in the vehicle's window. It was nothing short of a disaster zone. Used takeaway wrappings thrown onto the back seat, the floor covered in all sorts of rubbish. Paper, old drink cans, clothes, even car parts. This was a young person's car. Perhaps the Morales rebellious teenage kids were visiting. No one had mentioned the Morales having kids, but why would they tell the gardener? There was an eerie stillness about the house which felt unsettling. Brad heard raised voices; male voices, definitely coming from the house. Must be a teenage son thought Brad. He shrugged, none of his business, he needed to get to work before Quinton thought to check.

Brad turned and headed for the garden shed. Where is Quinton? He's usually hovering around keeping a close eye on everything going on in the estate. Come to think of it, leaving the security gate open is so unlike Quinton. He's paranoid about security so why leave the gate open so anybody off the street could wander in? Brad's curiosity was aroused, but it was none of his business he told himself. He reached for the garden shed door. Locked. That's weird; it had never been locked before. Brad unlocked the door and went in and turned on the light.

A low groaning noise made Brad jump, something or someone was in the shed. Brad stood perfectly still listening; he was gripped with an uneasy concern as he heard the chilling groan again. His pulse started racing as he cautiously peered around the room. Brad caught his breath as he spotted the prone body of Quinton lying face down behind the lawnmower in a pool of blood. Alarm bells went off in Brad's head. He rushed over to Quinton and rolled him over. Quinton's head and shirt were soaked in blood. Alarmed, Brad propped him up against a wall. Quinton's breathing was labored, his eyes flickered open and gazed hazily back at Brad.

"What's happened, Quinton. Who did this to you?"

Quinton mumbled incoherently. Brad undid his overalls and removed his shirt. He then proceeded to wrap it tightly around Quinton's head. His first priority was to stem the flow of blood. It was obvious Quinton had been struck a heavy blow on the head, this had been no accident. Quinton had become a little more responsive. He stared into Brad's eyes.

"Mrs. Morale." His eyes then glanced in the direction of the house. Brad understood the gesture.

"Mrs. Morale's in trouble. They're in the house with her?"

Quinton nodded.

"Have you got your phone?" asked Brad.

Quinton shook his head. "They took it,"

Brad retrieved his phone from his overalls.

"Can you call the police? I'm going to help Mrs. Morale."

Quinton nodded. "Be careful, they're armed."

Brad was about to disappear. "How many are there?"

"I saw two,'' said Quinton.

Brad grabbed a garden spade and made for a garden across the driveway from the house. The spade was the closest thing to a weapon he found. He cautiously reconnoitered the house, keeping concealed in the shrubbery. He heard a couple of loud bangs, and it sounded like something being dropped or knocked over. Brad moved through the bushes peering into the house, hoping to detect where the direction of the noises. He soon located the two men in the office, making threatening gestures to Cristal, and indicating the safe on the wall. Both had stockings pulled over their heads to hide their identities. One was waving a pistol in front of Cristal's nose and talking in an obviously threatening manner.

Brad was amazed at Cristal's courage. She seemed oblivious to the danger, and she appeared to be giving them a piece of her mind. The intruder who appeared to be in charge suddenly struck Cristal a sickening blow in the face with his fist. She collapsed in a heap on the floor and lay motionless. Brad felt a blind fury building and his first instinct was to charge. He knew he could handle himself; he had been the boxing champion at college. But the gun would be a problem, and there were two to his one. I have to be smart here. Brad paused and sucked in some deep breaths. Adrenalin surged through his veins, but Brad needed to control his emotions. He took a moment to assess the situation. Only one appeared to have a gun. That was a positive.

Brad worked his way around the back of the house and quietly let himself in through a rear door. He crept into the lounge. Separating the intruders was essential. Confronting them together would be a problem. Hearing voices, Brad realized the two were trying to revive Crista for the safe combination. All the time she lay unconscious on the ground, or maybe pretending to be unconscious, it delayed their getaway.

Brad surmised from the raised tone of their voices they were becoming agitated. His eyes glanced around the room. Smokey, the cat lay curled up asleep on a chair. Brad observed a table near a window. He opened the window just wide enough for a cat to jump in. The sea breeze gently buffeted the curtains. He picked up one of Cristal's vases and threw it against the wall. It shattered with a resounding crack. Smokey looked up in alarm. Brad picked up the cat and placed him on the table. He then raced back and concealed himself behind the door. The voices fell silent, he heard whispering.

"What was that? Hey, Missus, who else is here? And don't try any smart-ass nonsense or I'll smack you again."

Brad heard Cristal murmur. "There's only the two of us."

"Check it out, Bro; I'll get the safe open."

After a few moments the door pushed open slowly. One of the intruders crept into the lounge, his gun at the ready. Several paces into the room, the intruder visibly relaxed. Smokey jumped off the table and strolled nonchalantly towards the intruder.

"It's nothing, the cat's broken a vase off the table," he shouted back at his accomplice. He stood for a moment surveying the room and watched as Smokey rubbed against his legs. Brad silently glided up behind the unsuspecting intruder and crashed the flat of the spade blade against the back of the intruder's head. He collapsed forward in a heap, the gun spiralling across the room. Brad pounced on the gun and tucked it in his belt. He hated guns. When you have a gun there's always the temptation to use it. The consequences were invariably serious, but it represented a good insurance policy. The other intruder might be armed too.

"Bro, what was that?"

There was concern in the voice. Brad knew he had little time to respond, he decided to throw caution to the wind. The intruder would be expecting a reply from his accomplice. Brad hoped to surprise the other intruder with the direct approach. He picked up his spade and nonchalantly strolled into the office. Cristal had regained her feet, her eyes immediately focused on Brad.

"Ah, Mrs. Morale, I've been searching everywhere for Quinton." Brad completely ignored the hooded man. He pretended to avoid looking at him, but he monitored him closely from the corner of his eye.

"The lawnmower's out of petrol, where do you keep the petrol? I've looked everywhere, and I can't find Quinton?" Brad moved quickly across the room, concentrating on Cristal, but also moving closer to the intruder. Brad felt a surge of panic; the man also had a gun. Brad leapt into action. He swung his spade crashing it into the intruder's kneecap just as the intruder pulled his gun out of his belt. The man shrieked in pain and fell to the floor clutching his damaged knee. The gun tumbled to the floor.

Brad stood on the gun as the intruder scrambled to retrieve it from the floor. Brad smiled at him and shook his head.

"Not a good idea, friend." He pulled the gun out of his belt and waved it in the intruder's face. "Let's go see how your buddy is doing in the lounge. I think he might have a splitting headache. You can both sit quietly in there until the cops arrive. Brad turned his attention to Cristal.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Morale? Sorry I didn't have time to take my boots off?"

Cristal laughed. "I think I can forgive that indiscretion."

Brad smiled and added. "I have another confession. That vase in the lounge, I hope it wasn't a favorite? Smokey got the blame, but I broke it."

Cristal laughed. "It's present from my mother in law. To tell the truth I hate it, you've done me a favor."

***

When the police arrived fifteen minutes later they found Brad seated in a lounge chair intently studying the gun in his hands. The two intruders were huddled in a group a few yards away, sitting on the floor. With any little movement from them Brad quickly trained the gun on them.

"Be very careful, boys, guns make me extremely nervous. I'd hate for this thing to go off unexpectedly."

The police cautiously entered the room. They immediately trained their guns on Brad shouting terse instructions to drop his gun. He smiled at them and carefully laid his gun on the ground.

"Easy, boys, I'm the good guy here."

An ambulance was called for Quinton despite his protests. Cristal applied ice to her face. Apart from a black eye and a bit of bruising, she assured everyone she would be just fine. After two hours of giving statements, everyone left. Brad and Cristal sat staring at each other.

"Quite a day, Mrs. Morale; that's more excitement than I have had in a long time. If you don't mind I don't feel much like work today."

Cristal smiled, "Call me Cristal. I can't thank you enough for your help today, Brad. You are a man of many talents."

Cristal produced a bottle of wine and they chatted together until it was empty.

CHAPTER 5

DANGEROUS ASSIGNMENT

Quinton stayed in hospital overnight, and he checked himself out the following morning. He was keen to have a review of their security. It hurt his pride that the two men had been able to breach the system apparently so easily. He had come to the conclusion one must have entered from the beach, attacked him, and opened the gate for their vehicle. Brad ribbed Quinton that he owed him a shirt, the one he had used to wrap up his head had been of very high quality.

"Good quality?" Quinton raised his eyebrows. "Maybe, but that would have been ten years ago. The one I'll buy to replace it will put your present wardrobe to shame. Mind you, that won't exactly be a challenging assignment."

Quinton had a new respect for Brad. He accepted that Brad may dress like a beach bum, but as a guy he was okay. Brad in turn decided Quinton wasn't the stuffy, pompous person he first thought. He even offered to teach Quinton to surf, although Quinton had some reservations about taking him up on that. Everything quickly returned to normal, and the intrusion was soon almost forgotten.

****

Several weeks had passed. Brad noticed two cars pull up at the house. They were official looking cars, both black BMWs, tinted windows hiding the identity of their occupants. Four men dressed in smart business-like suits clambered out and were met by Cristal at the door. Brad felt a mild curiosity. They looked like they were here on some official business.

"None of my business," Brad told himself and quickly forgot about them, busying himself in his work. Minutes later he noticed Quinton making his way around the garden looking everywhere.

"Are you looking for me, Quinton? Are you checking to see if I'm having a sleep in the shade?"

Quinton laughed. "I wouldn't put it past you. No, your presence is required inside. Mrs. Morale has asked me to find you."

Brad raised his eyebrows. "What have I done wrong now?"

Quinton smiled and gave a non-committal shrug.

Brad made his way into the house. Everyone was seated in the lounge. There was a silent stillness about the gathering that triggered a hint of concern in Brad. All their eyes were quietly studying him. Cristal jumped up to greet him.

"Brad, I want you to meet my husband. This is Walter."

They exchanged greetings, Cristal moved on. "And this is Jefferson Sainsbury. He is operations manager for the CIA."

"Wow, CIA." Brad studied Jefferson closely.

Jefferson smiled politely, nodded his head, but didn't speak. Cristal moved on with the introductions. This is Stuart Wilson. He's with the MI6, that's the British security service."

"I know about MI6. Aren't you a little out of your jurisdiction over here? This is America you know." Brad laughed. "I'm getting a little concerned here. I'm only a gardener and part time surfer. I can't even imagine why you want to talk to me."

He looked at the men, and no one was laughing. There was a discerning solemn seriousness about them. Brad felt both intrigued and alarmed. He turned to the last man. He was a lot younger than the others. Brad guessed about his age, thirty-one. He held up his hand.

"No, don't tell me. I know, you're from Mossad." Brad burst out laughing.

"No." Cristal smiled. "This is Callum Spencer. He's a field operative with MI6."

Brad was totally bemused; someone had got their wires seriously crossed. He'd been summoned to a meeting with American and British security services.

"Sit down, Brad. I can see you're confused. I'll explain why we've invited you to join us." Stuart Wilson took charge of proceedings. "MI6 has received reliable intelligence that the RIRA are planning a major terrorist act in Britain. We don't know where or how. We do know they are sending people to America. We believe it's to source finance, and possibly to meet with groups who can supply their needs, so they can carry out a terrorist attack. Although we have had great success in the past infiltrating their organization, they now have a new leadership group. They're very aware of their previous shortcomings. It's become extremely difficult, if not impossible, to get reliable intelligence on their activities. We've approached our friends in the CIA, as we tend to collaborate on matters, and after a discussion they have a suggestion. We need to get someone inside the RIRA close-knit group, someone who doesn't set off alarm bells. Someone they would never suspect. Your name was mentioned."

Brad was flustered. "Wait a minute guys, I'm no James Bond. You must be confusing me with someone else."

Jefferson smiled. "Actually, Brad, I thought it was quite ingenious coming up with you. Cristal had talked to Walter about you, and as he and I are close friends, he had mentioned you. And, of course when I heard of Stuart's problem, I thought bingo. What we haven't mentioned is the RIRA guy coming over has a daughter. She's a couple of years younger than you, and by all accounts very attractive. She's very close to her father now that her mother has passed away. Knowing your reputation with the ladies I thought here's an opportunity to infiltrate their tight circle. You could use your immense talents of seduction, and they certainly would not suspect you as a threat. An added bonus is that you're apparently more than capable of looking after yourself in a tight situation."

Brad shot an accusing stare at Cristal. She looked a little guilty.

"Sorry, Brad, I only gave a brief account of your exploits. They do their own investigating. They know more about you than you do."

Brad sat silent for some time.

"But, why me? You must have heaps of guys to call on?"

Stuart smiled. "Sure, we have discussed that. The problem we have is these men we're dealing with are well aware we will be monitoring them. As I mentioned, we have infiltrated their network successfully in the past. It's now virtually impossible to get anyone inside. They're looking for it. Any British or Irish accents would immediately set off alarm bells. We had a stroke of luck when they decided to bring the daughter, and to stop off in Hawaii. Maybe we could have used one of Jefferson's guys, but they would have checked his past movements very carefully. Why is he suddenly in Hawaii? What is his business there? That's why you fit the bill perfectly. No one could possibly suspect you of being a spook. Let's face it; even your dad describes you as a beach bum."

"Now let me get this straight. You want me to befriend this Irish girl, gain her trust, and get up close and personal with her dad. Tap into his secret plans to create mayhem in Britain and report this back to you."

Stuart laughed. "Well, that's one way of putting it. We'll brief you, of course, on how to do things. We wouldn't expect you to take any undue risks. All we require of you is to get close to the daughter. You're definitely not to try any super hero stuff; we have Callum here for that. We're after anything you can learn of their movements, or details of their plans here in America. That is all we want from you. They would obviously check your background, as we have. We're sure they'll be relaxed after doing that. You hardly spring out as a likely undercover agent. They might have concerns for the daughter, but we're sure you can convince them your intentions are honorable."

Brad sat silently as he struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. He gazed at everyone, one at a time. Are these guys for real? They all in turn were watching Brad, waiting for a response.

Jefferson broke the silence. "We know Brad, this is a shock for you. We stress you're under no obligation to do this. These are dangerous men, so there'll be some risk, although you would not be expected to expose yourself to any unnecessary danger. Your job would be to listen to any discussion about their plans in America and pass on any relevant information. That's all."

Stuart spoke, "I can understand if you're reluctant to get involved. I can only stress many innocent lives will be at risk, and of course you will be generously compensated."

Brad sat silently deep in thought.

"How long have I got to decide?"

"Not very long, I'm sorry," said Stuart, "we expect them to arrive in Hawaii within a week. We would need to fly you there before the weekend."

"Can I take my surfboard?" smiled Brad.

"Absolutely, you have a background in surfing, so that's your cover. That's the reason why you're in Hawaii, that's why we think you would be perfect for the job."

"I'll need money to cover expenses."

Stuart nodded. "All will be taken care of."

Brad's mind started racing. Here is a free ticket to surf in Hawaii with all expenses paid. I could try to get acquainted with this Irish girl. But if that fails I can at least enjoy a paid holiday surfing in a place I could only dream of visiting. With my finances I would never be able to afford to go there. Brad looked at Stuart.

"Okay, I'll do it. No promises on being successful, but I'll give it my best shot."

Everyone looked relieved. Stuart jumped up and shook his hand.

"Excellent, I'm extremely grateful. Be at this address tomorrow, nine in the morning. Callum will be your contact man. He'll run through everything with you."

Stuart handed Brad a card with a handwritten address.

***

Everything moved at breakneck speed. Callum gave Brad a detailed assessment of what was required. Brad could expect to come under intense scrutiny once he had been accepted into the daughter's immediate family circle. Brad felt a surreal amazement, Callum never doubted he would be successful befriending the girl. He didn't feel quite so confident as this represented new territory, plus he had never met an Irish girl before. Callum produced a photo, which he passed to Brad.

"Can I have a name, and some background information?" asked Brad as he studied the photo.

"Her name is Cara Fitzgerald. Her father, Carrick, is the newly appointed leader of the RIRA group. Cara had been a baby when Carrick was arrested and sent to Maze prison. She was brought up by her mother, rarely having contact with Carrick until after his release in 2000. Her mother died a year later and the bond between father and daughter blossomed. Carrick is very protective of Cara, so expect intense scrutiny from him. She has not had any long-term relationships with boys. Most Irish lads are totally intimidated by Carrick. They soon lose interest when Carrick starts leaning on them."

"Perhaps I won't be able to stand the heat from Carrick as well," mused Brad still transfixed with the photo. "She's an attractive girl, strange she has no boyfriend."

Callum passed Brad an airline ticket and hotel accommodation details, adding everything was paid. They had deposited several thousand dollars into his bank account. If he needed anything to let him know. Callum would be staying nearby.

"You shouldn't try contacting me except in an emergency. Carrick's suspicions would be aroused if you are seen talking to any British tourists. I'll be the one to make contact. Don't even send a text message; they may check your phone. If you need to contact me, go to reception and ask for the latest surf report from Wilson. That's a code we will use. We have a man working there who will pass it on."

Callum then took Brad to the gym for a sparring session to brush up on basic self-defense skills. After fifteen minutes Callum threw up his hands.

"I don't know who's teaching who here, you've obviously have done this before. That's enough, the plane flies out at eight in the morning. See you in Hawaii."

CHAPTER 6

INTIMIDATION

Cara Fitzgerald could barely contain her excitement; this would be her first visit to America. She had managed to talk her dad into extending their stopover in Hawaii. Carrick tried to stress this is fundamentally a business trip, but he had soon capitulated to persistent pleading from Cara. Why come all this way and not make the most of a once in a lifetime opportunity Dad. We can finally have a proper family holiday.

Carrick carried the burden of guilt; he had missed twenty years out of Cara's life. He never had the chance to be a doting father to Cara when she was growing up. He now needed to make up for lost time. He could never replace those lost years, but he was determined she would not want for anything in the future. At least not for the time he drew breath.

Carrick studied Cara with a barely concealed pride. She took after her mother. She had a tall slim athletic body, long flowing black hair she had enhanced with a light red tint. She never chased the latest fashions with her choice of clothes. She chose sensible neutral colors rather than bold or flowery prints. She blended in; she had no need for attention grabbing garments. She attracted enough second glances from passing males without creating a spectacle. Carrick beamed with pleasure as he studied her. Every time she showed off a new dress she had purchased, she brought back vivid memories of Alannah, his late wife.

Cara had her bag packed and ready two days before they flew out. Her only regret was it would not be just the two of them. Carrick had insisted that Finn, his lifelong friend, going back to his days before Maze prison, must accompany them. Also coming was Liam. He was younger than Carrick, in his early forties Cara guessed. He had an annoying habit of hovering around Cara. She knew he was probably looking out for her, probably following her dad's instructions. He had the effect of upsetting any boy she was dating. For some unknown reason most boys never called again after two or three dates. She had even resorted to ringing some of the boys she really liked, but they all came up with lame excuses for not visiting.

Cara had become despondent; she would soon be twenty-eight, and not getting any younger. She had no regular boyfriend and the likelihood of finding one seemed to be becoming more and more remote. It wasn't that she was unattractive, quite the opposite. She turned heads when she walked into a room, but this never seemed to progress into lasting relationships. Liam appeared to have taken it upon himself to fill this void. He offered to take her out. Dinner, pictures, shows and football games were all suggested. None of this excited Cara. She had relented and accepted Liam's invitation on a couple of occasions. To her, he represented a poor second-best option, especially after Liam had grabbed her and kissed her hard on the lips when saying goodnight. Not content with that Liam had pressed himself against her and his hands started caressing her body. His hand dropped to her thigh and worked up under her dress. Cara had pushed him away in disgust.

"What do you think you're doing, Liam?"

"I'm sorry, I lost control. You're so damned attractive, I hoped you might have similar thoughts."

Cara quickly rebuked Liam, informing him he was just a friend. She put those thoughts out of her mind, she would enjoy herself on this trip and Liam did not feature into her plans.

***

Brad had thrown a few clothes in his suitcase. He had no idea what he would need apart from his board shorts and some tee shirts. How long would he be in Hawaii? Quite a long time he hoped. He cycled out to the Morales and said his goodbyes to Quinton and Cristal. He apologized for leaving after such a short time. He hoped he might be able to work there again sometime in the future.

Cristal smiled. "I'd love to have you back, but don't feel guilty. It was me who set the ball rolling for this new assignment."

They both wished Brad well. Cristal added, "Be careful, don't do anything foolish."

***

It was a hot summer's day; the sun still had a lot of intensity even at five in the afternoon when Brad touched down in Honolulu. His knowledge of Hawaii had been very limited. He knew about the surf beaches, and he had heard of Pearl Harbor. That was about it. Brad resorted to doing a bit of research on the internet. At the top of his agenda was finding the location of the best surf beaches.

Now his surfboard proved to be a headache; no taxi would take it. He resorted to paying for it to be delivered separately to his hotel. Normally this would have been an expense he would have avoided. But today he was flushed with money, now he could afford a few luxuries. He was booked into the Hyatt Regency, Waikiki, right on the beach.

Brad clambered out of his taxi and stared in awe at his hotel. Without setting a foot inside he knew this was luxury accommodation. It was unlike anything he had stayed at before. Brad walked around his room, opened drawers, and inspected the bathroom. He had a grin from ear to ear like an excited schoolboy. He spied the mini bar and immediately wondered if his accommodation allowance covered that. He would check with Callum.

He did not have to wait long, there was a short knock on the door and Callum strode in.

"You've a key as well?" inquired Brad.

Callum grinned. "Of course, now I'll update you. We picked this hotel because Carrick's group is staying here. It makes running into Cara easier. They're due in tomorrow afternoon, so you have until then to yourself. I tried to get an adjoining room, but unfortunately none were available. I'm across the hallway. Cara is sharing a room with her dad one floor up. The other two are three rooms away on the same floor. This will make our meeting much easier, but we still have to be careful. Remember, they will be watching you once you meet up with Cara."

"If I meet up with Cara," reminded Brad.

Callum ginned. "I've complete faith in you. With your history how could you fail? We may as well have dinner together. After today our subjects arrive and we mustn't be seen together."

"Our subjects?" Brad gave Callum a quizzical look.

"It pays to get used to not mentioning their names when out, so it's good practice to start now."

Brad and Callum met in the bar and spent an enjoyable night swapping histories. No mention was made of Carrick. That could wait until tomorrow.

***

Brad lay relaxing by the swimming pool when he caught his first glimpse of Cara. She looked far more stunning in real life. Her photo didn't do her justice. Cara had left the others to check in at reception and wandered out to the swimming pool area. She casually gazed around and then returned to her father at reception. Up to this point, Brad had been unconcerned whether he would be successful in meeting up with the girl. Sure, he would try, but if she showed no interest he would still enjoy his break in Hawaii. Now he had seen her and had a new interest. Something had stirred inside him. Not only was she enticingly attractive, perhaps the element of danger also excited him. He retained a mental picture of her in his head. It surprised him the effect one brief glimpse had on him.

He finished his drink and dove into the pool. He would do a few laps then call it a day. As he struck out on his third lap a body dived in five yards ahead of him. As the person surfaced Brad was surprised to see it was Cara. Their eyes met, they both smiled, and then Cara swam off leaving Brad staring after her. Brad felt mesmerized by her smile; his desire to meet her immediately skyrocketed. Cara swam to the steps and exited the pool. She grabbed her towel and was gone as quickly as she had come, leaving a bemused Brad gazing in the direction she had disappeared. Those long legs, the body hugging black swimsuit and her milky white skin. Cara Fitzgerald was gorgeous.

***

It was a late rise for breakfast. Brad almost had the dining room to himself. Top of his agenda would be to make contact with Cara. He wasn't sure how, but she had dominated his thinking all night. He spent his morning wandering around the hotel checking swimming pools and bars. Then he did a reconnoiter of the beach. There was no sign of Cara. He did notice Carrick and Finn enjoying a coffee and deep in conversation. By midday Brad started to feel frustrated, he saw Callum come strolling in off the street. He bounded up to him, visibly annoying Callum.

"What did I say to you about not making contact?" he hissed.

Brad nervously looked around. "Sorry, no one can see us. I can't find any trace of Cara. I've searched everywhere."

Callum indicated for Brad to follow him. They found a souvenir shop with no one in, and as they pretended to study the merchandise. Callum whispered. "You can't find Cara because you got up too bloody late. She's spent the morning shopping, I've been tailing her. She'll be back any minute. See what you can do this afternoon, and don't walk up to me again. Use our arrangement for making contact. This will be very important once you've met Cara. They'll be watching you."

"Okay, sorry." Brad felt guilty. He had completely forgotten his instructions.

Moments later Brad observed Cara breeze into the hotel. She was laden with shopping bags and obviously excited about her purchases. She was closely followed by Liam who also had all the shopping bags he could carry. Cara skipped up the stairs in the direction of her room with Liam obediently following.

Brad thought to himself. I hope he doesn't follow her everywhere. That will complicate matters.

Waiting for an opportunity to bump into Cara wasn't the way Brad liked to work. He had never had to go to this much trouble to meet a girl before. Often in the past it was the girls doing the chasing. Now he spent a lot of time sitting around waiting. Finally, he spied Cara, this time in a bikini and wrapped in a towel heading for the beach. He casually followed, saw her drop her towel and wade into the water. Brad grabbed his towel and spread it on the sand besides Cara's. He looked around and felt relieved to see no sign of Liam. He sat down and ran an eye over all the young girls sunning themselves. If he had no luck with the Irish girl, at least there was plenty of other talent to choose from. After a few minutes Cara emerged from the water, she shot a disinterested glance at Brad as she picked up her towel to dry herself.

"I hope you don't mind me sitting here, the beach is so crowded it's hard to find a free spot," apologized Brad.

"It's a free country, you can sit where you like. It doesn't bother me," smiled Cara.

"That's a lovely accent, are you British?"

Brad studied Cara; it was his first close-up look. She had a very pale complexion. It looked like she had seen very little sun lately.

"No, I'm not," snapped Cara. She glared at Brad. "I'm Irish."

"Sorry, I'm afraid I'm not very good at placing accents. I've never been outside of America. If I've offended you, please accept my sincere apologies."

"You're forgiven, apologies accepted."

Brad and Cara looked at each other for a moment and then both burst out laughing. They chatted away; Cara worked as a legal secretary in Belfast. Brad had tried teaching but now his life revolved around surfing.

"I don't know much about surfing," confessed Cara. "Can you make a living doing that?"

"Yes, you can if you're good enough. Unfortunately, I don't fit into that category. I have to resort to doing any work I can find, and then I surf until I run short of funds."

Cara studied Brad quizzically.

"Interesting lifestyle choice, what happens when you get too old to surf?"

"Now you're sounding like my father." They both laughed at that.

"So, what are you doing here in Hawaii? Have you come to surf?"

"That's my intention," said Brad. "There are some great surf beaches on the north coast. I plan on getting a rental car and checking them out. Hey, why don't you come with me? I could give you some lessons. We could explore all the tourist places as well. We don't have to surf all day."

Cara was thoughtful. "Maybe."

"Sorry, I'm not trying to push you into anything. After all you have only just met me."

"Stop apologizing, Look I'll think about it," smiled Cara. She lay down on her towel. Brad continued watching her.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I can't help but notice your skin is very fair."

"Yes, I know, it's embarrassing. Everyone is so lovely and brown and I'm lily white. We've not had much sun in Ireland."

"The sun here is very hot, it will burn you in no time. If you plan on staying out in it, I strongly suggest you put on some sunscreen."

"Now you're sounding like my father," Cara mocked Brad. She laughed and applied a liberal coating of sun lotion under Brad's scrutinizing gaze.

"Is that okay, Dad?" teased Cara.

"Almost, if you'll allow me, I will put some on your back." Cara handed the lotion to Brad and dutifully rolled onto her stomach. They spent a leisurely afternoon chatting, swimming and enjoying the sunshine.

"What's on your program for tonight, Cara? I'd love to take you out. I've never had a date with an Irish girl. We could have dinner, then see if we can find some night life."

Cara gazed into Brad's eyes. "If you think you can handle an Irish lass, then I'm up for it," Cara challenged. They agreed to meet in the bar at seven and then head into town.

***

Brad felt in high spirits, he bounded up the stairs taking two steps at a time. He was excited at the prospect of spending the evening with Cara. She had the X factor, stirring something inside him. He let himself into his room and found Callum sitting on his bed.

Brad couldn't suppress his shock. "What if I was bringing Cara back to my room and we open the door and your ugly mug was staring back at us."

Callum laughed. "If you were bringing Cara back to your room I wouldn't have let myself in."

"You were watching us?"

"Of course, how did it go? Have you arranged to see her again?"

Brad relaxed, he gave Callum a detailed account of his afternoon and his future plans with Cara.

"Excellent," smiled Callum. "I knew it would be a breeze for a Casanova like you."

***

Cara arrived at the bar five minutes late. Brad had patiently waited for twenty minutes. He had showered and changed long ago. He sat on his bed watching the time pass. He finally decided he may as well wait in the bar rather than sit alone in his room. He had sorted through his miniscule wardrobe of clothes desperately searching for something appropriate to wear. For the first time in his life he felt totally despondent about his lack of appropriate clothes. For some reason he decided his usual jeans and tee shirt just did not cut it. Unfortunately, that represented all the choice he had, and it was too late to do anything about that now.

His anguish was reinforced when Cara made her elegant entrance. Her long flowing emerald green dress with a plunging neckline hugged her slim body. The dress represented a departure from Cara's normal choice, tonight she did want to stand out. Brad could not take his eyes off her, she radiated elegance. She wore very little makeup, as she had a natural beauty. Cara quickly picked out Brad, her smile of recognition sent tingles through him. He quickly apologized for his lack of suitable attire, as he had come to surf. He had only brought casual clothes.

Cara leant forward and kissed him on the cheek. "You're always apologizing. I like your casual clothes. Now, are you going to buy me a drink?"

Brad soon relaxed, Cara had that ability. They chatted like long lost friends. The night passed quickly, and they ate at a small Asian restaurant. Brad secured an intimate table on the balcony. Then they skipped from Club to Bar. In no time it was past midnight, so they decided to call it a night. They already had plans in place to get a rental car first thing in the morning, take in some surfing, and explore the rest of the island. Brad walked Cara to her room. They stood for a moment gazing into each other's eyes. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her against him. He kissed her passionately on the lips. They held the embrace for several moments, Cara finally pulled back and whispering in his ear, "Thanks for a great evening. I'll see you in the morning." She smiled and let herself into her room.

Brad was still experiencing an exhilarating euphoria when he entered his room. He felt no hint of tiredness. He grabbed a beer from the mini bar and sat on his bed reliving the night in his mind. A noise at the door startled him, as Callum let himself into the room.

"Do you have to do that?" scolded Brad.

"Do what?"

"Come barging in unannounced. It gives me one hell of a fright."

"Sorry," laughed Callum, "I thought you might like to know, you had company tonight. Liam followed you everywhere you went."

Brad looked shocked, as he certainly had not seen Liam, not that he was looking. He only had eyes for Cara.

"Perhaps you should make that Liam and you followed us everywhere." A huge grin spread across Callum's face.

"I'm just doing my job."

***

Brad was up early for breakfast. He saw Cara at a table across the room with her father, Finn and Liam. As he finished and stood, Cara smiled at him. She stood up, crossed to his table and grabbed his hand.

"Come and I'll introduce you to Dad, he's keen to meet you."

Brad wasn't excited at the prospect, but he knew he had no choice. Carrick looked at Brad with an intense stare. There was no hint of a smile, his handshake was firm.

"I hear you're taking my daughter surfing or something. You'd better take good care of her; I'll be holding you personally responsible for her safety."

Brad forced a smile. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of Cara. You have a lovely daughter. I feel very privileged to have the opportunity."

Cara flashed a smile at Brad, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. Brad would have preferred Cara save her affections until they were alone. He observed Carrick tense at the display of affection. Cara introduced Brad to Finn who smiled and Liam, who nodded with a scowl. Cara gave the group a cheery wave. "See you tonight!" Then, with a firm grip on Brad's hand, she led Brad from the dining room.

***

After a little searching Brad located a rental company that hired an older model covered utility. He needed to be able to fit in his surfboard and lock it away. Cara bubbled with excitement as she loaded her provisions into the vehicle. Brad watched in amazement at how much she deemed necessary to take on a one-day outing. But he was not about to comment. Brad was keen to drive straight to the north coastline and the surf beaches, but Cara spotted endless numbers of curio shops or places of interest.

She would suddenly yell out. "Stop, Brad stop," with such urgency that Brad felt sure there must be an emergency. He started to wonder if they would ever make the beaches at all. He marveled at the joy she got from browsing. But if it made Cara happy, then so was he. It was well after midday when they pulled into Turtle beach. Brad's heart was pounding as he observed the waves rolling in. Cara observed his excitement with delight and curiosity. She had never seen anyone so aroused by a few waves. Brad jumped out of the vehicle and in a flash pulled out the surfboard.

"Wait a minute, Brad, it's lunchtime."

Brad watched in amazement as Cara produced from her bag a big pile of sandwiches, slices of cake and a couple of drinks.

"Where did all this come from?" questioned a bemused Brad.

"I had a word with the kitchen at the hotel, and they were most obliging," Cara beamed with obvious delight.

They enjoyed a relaxed lunch and lay on the golden sand beach. Brad was fast learning to curb his impatience to get amongst the waves. Cara had an entirely different set of priorities.

At last it was time for her surfing lesson. Brad ran through the basics on the beach, then he advised her to observe while he caught a couple of waves. He made it look so easy that Cara was eager to try. Brad swam out with her. No matter how hard she tried, she found the theory far easier than the practice. Cara wasn't a quitter and finally hours later she managed to catch a wave and shakily stand up on her board. Brad watched with delight as he observed an ecstatic Cara. After that she advised Brad she was happy to relax on the beach while he indulged in his passion. Brad didn't want to leave Cara alone for too long. He strolled up the beach his board tucked under his arm as Cara intently studied him. As he strode out of the surf; she admired his bronzed muscled body. She had not met anyone at home in Ireland comparable to Brad.

They lay together on the beach. Brad dutifully smothered Cara in suntan lotion, their towels touching. The sun started dipping, and they noticed they now had the beach to themselves. They enjoyed the solitude, and they delighted in each other's company, gravitating closer to each other. Moments later they were locked in a passionate embrace. Emotions soared, their bodies entwined, it was well past the time they should have left the beach. Time was the last thing on their minds.

Cara felt Brad was aroused, and she was experiencing a desire she had never felt before. He untied the string on her bikini top, it slipped to the towel. She pressed her breasts against his chest and nibbled his ear. Emotions soared; his desires were now almost uncontrollable. He feverishly removed her bikini pants as she pulled at his beach shorts. Their bodies came together as one. Their thoughts were consumed with each other, and their desires sought fulfilment. Nothing else mattered. They lay locked together for a further ten minutes, not talking, just kissing, caressing, and enjoying their special time.

Daylight had descended into darkness, and the air had noticeably cooled. Reluctantly they grabbed their towels and made their way to their van. Cara snuggled against Brad on the drive back to the hotel. It was getting late; her dad would be getting worried, but she felt unconcerned. Today had been a special day. She did not want it to end.

Cara spotted Brad as he entered the dining room for breakfast. She gleefully got up and sat at his table.

"Did you get into trouble with your dad for arriving home so late?" asked Brad.

She gave Brad a wicked grin. "Nothing I couldn't handle. What have you got planned for me today?"

"I thought we could explore the rest of the island, as we didn't make it very far yesterday. Perhaps we'd better get home a little earlier this time."

They arranged to meet in the hotel lobby in an hour's time. Brad decided to wander back to his room. Cara had already left the dining room. He had the lift to himself as he pressed his floor number. His thoughts had already jumped ahead to planning their tour of the island. Just before the door could close a man hurriedly jumped in the lift. Brad was surprised to see it was Liam.

"Good morning." Brad greeted Liam with a smile. Liam nodded to Brad and as the lift moved he pressed the emergency stop button. Liam moved menacingly close to Brad, his eyes glaring into Brad's.

"I think it's time you and I had a talk."

A stunned Brad stared blankly back at Liam.

"We don't like you spending all this time with Cara. You're to stay away from her."

"Sorry, what's wrong? Cara and I are doing a tour of the island today." Brad looked squarely into Liam's eyes. He was determined to not be intimidated. Liam moved with lightning speed. He dropped his shoulder and crashed into Brad hurtling him into the back wall of the lift.

"I don't think you're getting the message, Sonny. I'm not asking you to stay away from Cara, I'm bloody well telling you to."

Liam's right hand came up in front of Brad's face. It was holding a flick knife. The blade sprung out, Liam waved it menacingly in front of Brad's eyes.

"If I catch you hanging around Cara again I'll personally cut you up into little pieces and feed you to the sharks. You obviously don't know who you're dealing with. If Carrick knew what you and Cara have been up to, you would already be dead. If you want to make it to your next birthday my suggestion is to check out of this hotel today."

Liam stepped back and cancelled the emergency stop. Brad and Liam glared at each other in silence as the lift moved.

Brad sat on his hotel bed, Liam had shaken him. He had expected something, but the intensity of the confrontation scared him. He sat there for twenty minutes gathering his thoughts. Liam must have followed him yesterday as well. He must have seen Cara and him on the beach. Why hasn't he told Carrick already? Was it really Carrick who would be upset, or is it just Liam? Questions raced through Brad's mind, his pulse raced, but he had a quiet determination Liam would not frighten him off that quickly. Besides Cara and he had shared something magical last night. These moments don't happen every day. He would discuss Liam with Cara.

***

Cara sat patiently waiting for Brad to arrive in the lobby. She bubbled with excitement, just like yesterday. She immediately picked up on Brad's change of mood.

"What's wrong, Brad, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Brad forced a smile. "I'll tell you in the car. Let's go."

They drove the next ten miles in silence. Cara kept glancing at Brad, but he kept his eyes glued on the road ahead. She could take it no more.

"Stop the car, Brad. I want to know what's going on."

Brad saw a roadside diner up ahead. He pulled into the car park and parked at the far end, away from other cars. Brad turned to Cara. "I've had a little run-in with Liam."

Brad related his encounter with Liam in the lift, he left nothing out. The color drained from Cara's face, and she stared horrified into his eyes. She threw her arms around Brad.

"Oh, Brad, I'm so sorry. I need to tell you some of our family's history, but I'm afraid that you won't want anything to do with me after I do. I just want you to know yesterday was the best day of my life. I really do love you."

Brad kissed her passionately and looked intensely into her eyes.

"And I love you too. Yes, yesterday was special, and believe me I've been with lots of women. But you're different, that's why I'm still here. Liam's not going to scare me off that easily." They spent an hour locked in an intimate discussion. Cara related Carrick's IRA and then RIRA history and his years in jail. Brad confessed his troubles in his brief teaching stint. After exhausting revelations of each other's colorful histories, they looked at each other in silence.

Finally, Cara spoke. "So, we both have some unpleasant background, but mine could be dangerous for you. What do you want to do? I don't blame you if you decide to cut and run."

"What I want to do," said Brad thoughtfully, "is carry on with our sightseeing with the most beautiful Irish girl I've ever met. Hopefully tonight I might be able to entice her back to my room and, well, I'll leave the rest to your imagination."

Cara giggled at Brad. "I'm the only Irish girl you've met."

"True," laughed Brad, "but you've set a very high standard."

They continued their trip in high spirits, Liam for the moment forgotten. Their relationship had soared to new heights.

CHAPTER 7

CONFRONTATION

Carrick broke the news to Cara that they were flying to Mexico. He had an important meeting with a business acquaintance.

Cara was furious. "You promised we'd spend some family time in Hawaii."

"Yes, I know, but this appointment has come out of the blue. It's imperative I make contact with this man. That's the main reason for making this trip. Besides, I hardly ever see you. You've been too busy with your fancy American surfer friend."

"Fine, you can go, but I'm staying here in Hawaii, just like you promised."

Carrick sighed; he had to pick which arguments he needed to win with Cara. She was headstrong just like her mother.

"Okay, you can stay, we'll be back in a couple of days. Liam can keep you company."

"No, no I don't want Liam. He can go with you." Cara felt a surge of alarm at the thought of Liam staying.

"No more arguing, Cara. Liam stays, and that's final."

Cara broke the news to a delighted Brad.

"Great, we won't have to sneak around worrying about being seen together by Liam.

"It's not all good news," complained Cara, "Liam's staying as well."

"Oh well, I'll have to be on my guard. If he tries anything, I'll certainly respond next time."

Cara gave him a quizzical look. "Don't do anything stupid, Brad. Liam is dangerous."

Brad laughed. "So am I darling. You should see me when I get agitated."

Brad thought he should contact Callum. He left a message at reception. An hour later Callum let himself into Brad's room. Brad passed on the information that Carrick and Finn were flying to Mexico to meet a mystery person. He might like to follow them.

"I'll stay here in Hawaii. It's a chance to get better acquainted with Cara."

"I thought you two were pretty well acquainted already." Callum grinned and winked at Brad.

***

Carrick flew out in the afternoon. Brad stood with Cara as they waved goodbye outside the hotel. Liam hovered in the background. Brad noticed he kept making furtive glances in his direction. Brad and Cara spent a leisurely afternoon swimming in the pool, drinking at the bar, cuddling, kissing, and dreamily looking into each other's eyes. Other hotel guests could have assumed they were a honeymooning couple, as they only had eyes for each other.

After dining out they returned early to the hotel. Cara retrieved her toiletries and a few clothes and took them to Brad's room. They locked the door behind them and spent an intimate night together, away from prying eyes.

Cara and Brad enjoyed a late breakfast. Liam sat on his own. His cold eyes kept returning and focusing on the besotted couple. A smoldering rage bubbled just below the surface. No-one had ever ignored his blatant warnings before.

Another stint at surfing was on the agenda. Brad carried Cara's bag to the back of the utility to put in the vehicle. He stopped, his face mirrored his concern. The glass in the back window had been shattered. Brad's first thought was someone might have stolen his surfboard. It wasn't that it was valuable; it was just that it was the only one he owned. He peered in and was relieved to see it was still there. His relief quickly turned to horror and then to anger. A big hole had been smashed in the middle of his board. It looked like someone had attacked it with a hammer. Cara joined Brad and followed his gaze into the back of the utility. Nothing appeared to have been stolen, probably because there was nothing of real value to steal.

They both looked at each other; their plans for the day were now in disarray.

"Liam." Brad said what they were both thinking. Brad glanced up at the hotel rooms. He felt sure he saw a curtain move on the third level.

He smiled at Cara. "Let's not let this ruin our plans. I've seen a board shop along the highway. We'll stop and see if they can help us."

The shop owner smiled. "Of course, I can help. Not only can I fix the damage, I have a whole room of boards I can rent you."

Within an hour they were happily on their way. The surf was waiting, and their recent problem almost forgotten.

Brad and Cara arrived back at the hotel late in the afternoon, they were in high spirits. Cara had made real progress with her surfing. The board they had rented was slightly longer than Brad's and more suited to beginners. They walked into the hotel laughing, holding hands and engrossed in each other's company. Liam had not featured in their thoughts once all day. After dinner Cara went up to Brad's room, as she needed to call Carrick. He always expected her to ring and she wanted to know when to expect him back. She would have been delighted if Carrick decided to extend his stay in Mexico. That would mean more intimate time with Brad. Brad watched Cara chatting to Carrick. He knew how long these calls sometimes lasted, he wandered down to the bar, sat on a stool, and ordered a beer. The barman looked at Brad.

"Do you own that white Ford pickup in the car park?"

Brad nodded. "Yes, that's my rental, what's wrong?"

"A guy was in here a minute ago and said the lights had been left on," replied the barman.

"Okay, thanks."

This surprised Brad, but it would pay to check it out. It was dark, he could see from a distance that no lights were on, but he was here so he may as well have a close look. Brad picked up a movement behind him. He turned his head, but fractionally too late. A heavy object caught him a glancing blow on the side of his head. He went sprawling head first onto the hard asphalt car park. His head felt like it was splitting from the force of the blow. He had been lucky, he had moved his head at the last minute, the blow only grazed his temple. The blow was followed in quick succession by several heavy kicks to his ribcage. An excruciating pain pulsed though Brad, he lay groaning on the ground.

"You're one dumb son of a bitch aren't you, Sonny."

Brad recognized the heavy Irish accent.

"I'm going to make you wish you'd never been born."

Brad's mind immediately cleared, adrenalin surged through his body. He tried to react, but his body screamed in pain at the slightest movement. Blood trickled down his forehead stinging his eyes. He could make out a blurred image of Liam standing over him, sneering, enjoying the pain he had inflicted. Brad saw Liam take careful aim and strike out with his boot in the direction of his head. Ignoring the pain Brad rolled away from Liam. The boot sailed inches over his head. Brad's arm shot up and caught Liam's boot as it returned to the ground. With an extreme effort Brad lifted the foot back upwards. Liam lost his balance and toppled backwards to the ground.

"Still got a bit of fight left in us has we, Sonny?" Liam quickly regained his feet; his hand retrieved his flick knife from his pocket. The blade sprang out.

"I did warn you, didn't I?" Brad felt a surge of terror. He staggered to his feet and looked into Liam's hate filled eyes. Running was out of the question, in his condition he couldn't hope to outrun Liam. His only hope was to let Liam think that in he was too groggy to be able to defend himself. Let Liam become overconfident and get him to let his guard down. Brad staggered back and forth on his feet, catching himself before he toppled over. Liam moved forward making slashing movements with his knife. Gloating, sneering, like a cat tormenting a mouse.

Brad watched him, exaggerating his unsteadiness on his feet. After one extravagant swish of the knife Brad sprang forward, ignoring his painful ribs. With all the force he could muster, he crashed a punch into Liam's nose. A stunned surprised Liam staggered backwards into a nearby car. He dropped his knife as he saved himself from falling. He quickly bent to retrieve the knife. Brad swung a kick into the side of Liam's head. He collapsed in a crumpled heap on top of his knife and lay motionless.

Cautiously Brad rolled him off the knife and put it his pocket. He waited for a moment to see if Liam would get to his feet. Liam's nose looked broken, it was bleeding profusely. Brad dragged him to the nearby car and propped him up against it in the sitting position. He could see Liam was breathing. He might have no love for Liam, but he didn't want him to drown in his own blood. Having a father who was a doctor taught Brad about placing people in the recovery position. Satisfied Liam would make a full recovery in time, Brad retreated to his room. He was careful to slip in undetected; his blood-soaked shirt would attract unwanted attention. Cara was still on the phone to Carrick. She glanced at Brad, her mouth dropped open in surprised concern.

"Look, I have to go now, Dad, I'll see you when you get back tomorrow."

Cara rushed to Brad. "Brad, what's happened? Are you alright?"

Brad gave her a grin. "I'll survive. You should see the other guy."

Brad gave a blow by blow description of his encounter with Liam as Cara fussed over his injuries. Cara's eyes glazed over with a simmering anger as she listened. She couldn't believe Liam would resort to such behavior. She knew he was dangerous, and she suspected he would have no compunction resorting to violence, but why with Brad? Cara refused to believe he would be carrying out her dad's wishes. Brad posed no threat to them. No, this was Liam acting on his own. The only possible explanation had to be he was jealous of Brad. But she had already told Liam in no uncertain terms she had no interest in his advances.

***

Brad was keen to see Liam at breakfast, but there was no sign of him. Brad's cheek was swollen from the blow to his head and his ribs were badly bruised. But, everything considered, he believed he had come through the scrap pretty well. A positive for him was the extra attention he received from Cara. She constantly fussed over him, while struggling to contain the fury she held for Liam. With Carrick and Finn due back in the afternoon, Cara returned her toiletries and clothes to her room. That would be the finish of her staying in Brad's room. They spent the day relaxing by the pool. There was still no sign of Liam.

CHAPTER 8

THE PROPOSAL

Carrick and Finn strolled into the hotel a few minutes before five. Cara rushed over to greet them. Brad was about to join her when Callum caught his attention. He was making gesturing motions with his eyes. Brad guessed he wanted him to follow him. Brad gave Callum a few minutes start, then stood up and went to his room. Callum was sitting on his bed having helped himself to a beer from the mini bar.

Callum studied Brad's face. "Have you run into a door, or has your Irish lass smacked you for getting too frisky." He roared with laughter at his own joke. Brad smiled and waited for the laughing to subside.

"No, nothing like that. Liam and I had a little disagreement."

The smile disappeared from Callum's face. "Are you mad? You're supposed to be gaining their trust, not brawling with them."

Brad grabbed a beer and sat beside Callum. He went through his recent encounters with Liam, adding he had not seen Liam since the car park episode. Callum was thoughtful. "Not a good start, we'll have to see how Carrick takes this."

Brad nodded. "At least Cara will be on my side. Did you learn anything in Mexico?"

"A little; Carrick met up with Sanchez Mendoza. He's a shady character, and we believe he's more of a middle man. He can facilitate any number of weapons such as armaments and explosives. If there's enough money, Mendoza can find whatever supplies are needed. I've no idea what Carrick's interest in him is, but you can bet it's for something unpleasant. This is where I'm going to need some help from you. Anything you can learn will be helpful."

Brad and Callum sat talking for a further ten minutes. They were disturbed by a light tap on the door. Callum hurried into the bathroom, as Brad answered the door. Cara walked past Brad and into the room. Brad stood at the door watching. He felt a tremor of apprehension; he didn't want her to see Callum. That might compromise the whole assignment.

"Let's go and have a drink in the bar. It's depressing sitting in the room."

Cara smiled at him with a barely suppressed amusement. "You haven't minded the last couple of nights. Are you scared Dad might find out?"

"Let's not invite trouble. I'm sure Liam will be having a word to him."

Cara laughed. "I can handle Dad, and if Liam wants to cause trouble, he'll have some serious explaining to do."

She joined Brad at the door. They were seated at the bar when Finn walked in.

"Prendergast, Carrick wants a word with you. Come with me."

Brad didn't like the tone of the summons. He glanced nervously at Cara and they both stood up to follow Finn. Finn turned to Cara.

"He only mentioned Prendergast. He doesn't want to see you."

"That's too bad, I'm coming whether Dad likes it or not."

Finn shrugged and led them back to Carrick's room. The first thing to catch their attention as they walked into the room was a sheepish looking Liam sitting in a corner. His face was badly swollen and big black smudges circled his eyes.

Carrick glared at Brad. "You've done a right job on Liam here."

Before Brad had a chance to speak Cara was on the attack. "I don't know what lies Liam's told you, but the truth is he only received a fraction of what he deserves. I only wish I had been the one to do it. He attacked Brad for no reason. He's been trying to terrorize Brad ever since you left. He even broke into our car and smashed Brad's surfboard."

Carrick held up his hand. "Let's all take a deep breath, everyone can have their say. Now, Liam, what's your version of what's been going on?"

Liam claimed he was only looking after Cara's interests; the American had been abusing Cara. He had seen Cara sneaking into his room. Cara immediately sprang onto the attack again.

"What business is this of yours? I'll see who I like, and I'll visit who I like. You're not my bodyguard."

Carrick cut her off and turning to Brad stared intently into his eyes.

"What have you got to say? I don't want to know what went on in your bedroom."

"It's pretty much as Cara said. Liam tried to scare me off in the lift, and my board was then vandalized. Then he gave the barman a bullshit story to lure me out into the car park where he attacked me. I only did what was necessary to defend myself."

Everyone sat in silence, finally Carrick spoke. "This is the last I want to hear about your differences."

He looked from Brad to Liam. "We have important business to see to and I don't need this nonsense."

Carrick begrudgingly allowed Brad to join their table for breakfast, as Cara had insisted. Brad felt uneasy; the conversation from Carrick, Finn and Liam was almost non-existent. Liam shot smoldering glares at Brad while Cara appeared oblivious to the tension as she chattered to everyone. Brad spent more time in Carrick and Cara's room. Cara used every opportunity to place Brad and Carrick together. She appeared determined for Carrick to accept him.

Brad and Cara spent the day shopping. It was not Brad's idea of fun, but she had been willing to join him on several surfing expeditions, so he felt obliged to accompany her. He was amazed at the joy she got from browsing in shops, quite often with no intention of making a purchase.

She met him in the bar late that afternoon. He could tell from the moment she walked in, she was upset. He took her hand.

"Cara, what's wrong. What's happened?" Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Dad's just told me we're leaving. We're going to Las Vegas."

"You can't stay behind like last time?"

"No, we're not coming back here. I knew we would have to be separated at some stage, but I desperately don't want to leave you." A flood of tears poured down her cheeks. Brad put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"I don't want to leave you either. When are you leaving?"

"In two days," sobbed Cara.

They were both in a somber mood, each lost in their own private thoughts. Neither felt in the mood for going out. They spent the night-in watching a movie in Carrick's room. When Brad returned to his room, Callum was lying on his bed watching television. Brad updated him on Carrick's plans.

"You'll have to go to Vegas, too," decided Callum.

"I can't do that. Carrick will be suspicious. He'll know I'm following them."

Callum threw a newspaper to Brad. "Read that."

It was the Irish Times, and it was opened to an inside page. Brad quickly scanned the headlines, then looked up at Callum. "Okay, so what am I supposed to be looking for?"

Callum tapped a news clip near the bottom of the page. 'Two Mysterious, Unexplained Deaths Rock Irish Judicial system.'

Brad looked up. "So, what does that mean?"

Callum explained the significance of the news item. "The Ulster Scots head of police Cullen Murphy collapsed and died on the streets of Belfast last week. The cause of his death was a complete mystery. He was in perfect health, no cardiac problems, and nothing to explain his sudden death. Witnesses say he was walking one minute, then staggering and gasping for air the next. He died within minutes, before emergency help could arrive. A post mortem only revealed a small scratch on the back of his leg. That was the only mark on his entire body. No obvious cause of death could be detected. Witnesses reported he had looked perfectly healthy before he collapsed. Then they noticed his labored breathing and frothing around his mouth. He went into some kind of fit and started thrashing around on the ground. On its own that might have escaped attention. However, the very next day Eamon O'Riordan, a high court judge, suffered a similar fate. He too, collapsed on the street and was dead within minutes. Exactly the same symptoms. Labored breathing, frothing around the mouth and then sudden death. Once again, a scratch or slight skin puncture wound, this time on his thigh. Now the suspicious thing about Eamon's death was he had been the judge who sentenced Carrick to twenty years in Maze Prison. A coincidence, maybe, but MI5 doesn't think so. We're having toxicology tests done on both men, but that's a very slow process. Our medical people tell us in their opinion some kind of nerve gas had been administered to both men. The symptoms fit."

"How would they manage to dose them with a nerve gas while they walk down a street?" queried Brad.

"Quite easily, really," continued Callum. "Say, for example, if someone had managed to obtain VX nerve gas, it exists as a tasteless, odorless liquid which is very stable and easy to transport. It only becomes a gas after heat is applied. All they would need to kill someone is dip a sharp object in the liquid and touch it to, or scratch, the victim's skin. You need less than a thumb nail of the liquid, a minute amount, and it's all over for the victim."

"I've never heard of VX," said Brad, "how do you get hold of it?"

"Well that's an unknown. Russia and America are known to have it. Saddam Hussein was suspected of using it on the Kurds and during the Iran-Iraq war. Five thousand Kurds were supposedly killed by some form of chemical weapon. VX is suspected, but of course none was found when US forces searched for weapons of mass destruction. It was rumored that some of Saddam's Generals spirited stocks of nerve gas out of Iraq, but to date none has been located. These attacks in Belfast may mean some VX has come onto the market. That's a very serious situation. VX is the deadliest nerve gas known to man."

Brad sat quietly digesting everything Callum had said.

"This is not the first time a nerve gas was suspected of causing a suspicious death," added Callum. "A Russian defector died in similar circumstances in London. He told witnesses he had been stabbed with an umbrella tip."

Brad looked at Callum. "So, you suspect Carrick may be behind these Belfast deaths?"

"It's highly likely that the RIRA sanctioned them."

"If Carrick and the RIRA already have VX, what's he trying to source over here?"

"That's what we need to know. Maybe they only obtained limited amounts of VX to test its effectiveness. They could be planning something on a far grander scale. You are our best chance of learning what Carrick is planning."

"But they're going to Vegas," Brad said quietly.

"And so are you," smiled Callum. A bemused Brad looked at Callum who had a wide grin on his face.

"You like Cara, don't you?" asked Callum.

Brad nodded.

"You like her lots, don't you?"

Brad nodded again.

"Well the solution is easy, ask her to marry you. Propose to her. Then you have the perfect excuse to follow her to Vegas."

Brad almost fell off the bed. This was taking things to the extreme. He wasn't the marrying type.

"Look," said Callum, "I'm not saying you go ahead and actually do it. You can break off the engagement when we have our information." Callum sat looking at Brad waiting for a response.

"Supposing she accepted," said Brad thoughtfully, "it would be a pretty lousy trick to break it off after she had got her hopes up."

"Well marry her; she's a very attractive girl. I wouldn't mind marrying her."

Callum was enjoying watching Brad wrestle with the problem. He had not rejected it outright. That, at least, was a good sign.

***

A subdued Cara sat quietly eating her breakfast. She suspected Carrick might be using the trip to Las Vegas to break her and Brad up. It would be their second to last day together. They decided on a quiet day at the beach, maybe a little surfing, although neither felt any great enthusiasm. They just wanted to be together and enjoy each other's company. Talking wasn't a priority either. They spent long periods in silence each lost in their own personal thoughts. Brad watched Cara closely, as she turned and smiled at him.

"I really can't accept that after tomorrow we probably won't ever see each other again," Brad said in a quiet voice. "We had something special, or at least I think we did."

Cara nodded. Sadness clouded her face as her eyes welled up in tears.

"Why should this be our last time together?"

Brad talked quietly, not expecting a reply. "I desperately don't want this to be goodbye. I've only just met you. My heart races every time I see you, and I've fallen in love with you."

Cara wrapped her arms around Brad and kissed him tenderly.

Brad whispered in Cara's ear. "Do you love me, Cara? Do you want this to be goodbye?"

"Of course, I love you. I can't bear the thought of us not seeing each other," Cara whispered.

Brad pulled back and gazed into Cara's eyes. "Then it won't be the last time. What do people do who are in love? They get married."

Cara sat up shocked. "Bradshaw Prendergast, have you just proposed to me?"

Brad gazed intently into Cara's eyes. "Well sort of, yes I have. I mean we need more time together. You can always call it off if you change your mind later."

Cara's face burst into a smile and she smothered Brad in kisses.

"I take it that your answer is yes?"

Cara whispered in Brad's ear between kisses. "Yes, yes, yes, yes."

Cara's mood completely changed. Now she was bubbling, chatting nonstop, laughing, and planning.

"What do you think your dad will say?" Brad asked nervously.

Cara shrugged. "I'm not sure. If he really cares for me, he'll be happy for me."

Brad didn't feel convinced, but Cara's euphoria was contagious. He soon put Carrick out of his mind.

***

Their plans to spend the day on the beach went out the window.

"I suppose we need a ring. I have to warn you, I don't have a lot of money."

Brad was thinking ahead. This had been Callum's idea; he would have to come up with some more money. A ring would almost deplete his bank account. Cara was instantly on her feet. She packed up their towels and headed for the car.

"I don't care about an expensive ring. Any ring will do for me."

Cara spent the rest of the day searching for her ideal ring. She chose a modest sized diamond ring and then she started negotiating the price.

Brad whispered in her ear. "It's okay. I can afford that."

Cara wasn't listening, she was enjoying herself. She haggled, cajoled the store assistant, the owner was called into the negotiations. Cara threatened to walk out of the shop.

"There's a cheaper ring I like at the jewellers up the street."

Brad retreated outside the shop; this was too much for him. Cara finally beckoned for him to come in, as she had struck a deal. The deflated shop owner had succumbed to Cara's persistence. She had negotiated a thirty per cent discount. Cara was elated.

An apprehensive Brad wasn't looking forward to breaking the news to Carrick. Cara was the complete opposite. She bubbled with excitement and could hardly contain herself. She desperately wanted to flash her engagement ring to everyone.

Cara did all the talking as Brad stood quietly in the background. She gaily announced she had some important news. When all eyes were on her, she produced her hand from behind her back and waved her ring finger in Carrick's face.

"Brad and I are getting married; we've just bought a ring."

There was a stony silence from everyone in Carrick's room. Finn eventually stepped forward and congratulated Cara kissing her on the cheek. Liam who had been sitting at the table reading the paper and showing no interest, suddenly dropped the paper to the floor. Liam's mouth dropped open.

Carrick finally recovered from the shock. "Don't be so bloody silly girl, you've only known the Yank for a week." Cara and Carrick became embroiled in a heated discussion.

Brad finally whispered in Cara's ear. "I'll leave you to it, we can catch up later." He then gratefully let himself out of the room under Liam's intense scrutiny.

Brad needed to see Callum, he left a message with reception and lingered around the lobby. He didn't want Callum going to his room in case Cara came visiting. Fifteen minutes later Callum appeared, indicating with eye movements for Brad to follow. Callum popped into a store room and Brad followed moments later. Brad recounted the day's events. Cara and he were now engaged but Carrick wasn't taking the news well. The ring had depleted his funds, so he needed more money.

Callum nodded. "Congratulations."

A huge grin plastered Callum's face. He would organize everything, money, flight tickets to Vegas and of course his accommodations. Just as Brad was about to leave he remembered, "I've just left Carrick's room. I think you're right. Liam was busy reading the Irish Times. The paper was open on the same page with the Belfast poisonings report. He seemed very interested in the article."

CHAPTER 9

VEGAS

Las Vegas proved to be a revelation for Brad. He had heard stories about it but had never been there. He put down the window of the taxi as he drove to his hotel. He wanted to experience the vibrant atmosphere. The glitz, the glamour, the neon signs flashing everywhere. There was an electric buzz in the air. Brad marveled at the unashamed opulence. The city oozed excess. He hadn't yet put a foot on the ground, but he'd already decided that if he ever gave up surfing, this would be where he lived. Las Vegas was like no other city, Vegas looked like a city on steroids. No doubt you could chew through your funds in a blink of an eye. I hope Callum has topped up my bank account; otherwise I'll only be a spectator.

Brad spent the first evening wandering around, popping into some Casinos, but only for a look. He hadn't seen Cara or Carrick, but Callum assured him everyone was staying in the same hotel. Brad spent a quiet evening on his own. No sign of Cara and he had no contact phone number, and he began to think Callum must have the wrong hotel. At nine o'clock curiosity got the better of him, he approached the hotel reception.

"Do you have a Carrick Fitzgerald staying here? I was meant to be meeting him and I've been unable to find him."

"Yes sir, he has two rooms, 421 and 430. Would you like me to give him a message?"

"No thanks," replied Brad, "I'll catch up with him in the morning."

Brad crept up to the doors of the two rooms in turn. He strained to pick up any noise or movement inside. He could hear a television but was unsure which room it came from. Admitting defeat, he turned and made his way to the bar. One quick nightcap and then he would turn in. He may as well have an early night.

***

Liam had not flown to Vegas with the others. He had a few matters to attend to first. Cara's news had rocked him. It was no secret he harbored desires for Cara, that one day they would be together. Cara was beautiful girl. Back home in Belfast she had attracted the attention of numerous young men. A quiet word in the ear of each potential suitor stressing their presence wasn't wanted, if they valued their health, and they would forget their interest in Cara. It never failed to work. Carrick's reputation was well-known, and he was a man to be feared. This damned American was different. He obviously had no knowledge of Carrick's reputation, and Liam's attempts to scare him off had failed dismally. The American had become a real nuisance, but Liam wasn't about to back off. If all else failed he knew how to get rid of the nuisance, permanently.

The small sample bottle of the chemical VX had worked like a charm. His best friend Seamus had been experimenting on ways to deliver it to their targets. They had given it a code name 'home brew,' just in case any conversations were intercepted. That way there would be no link to the VX. It paid to be cautious. They knew the authorities would be doing their damnedest to monitor them. The brew had proven to not only be a very efficient and discreet killing weapon, but it was also extremely dangerous to handle.

Seamus, while experimenting, had gotten careless. Some brew had obviously touched his clothing and he had become the latest victim. He was found dead on his kitchen floor, the home brew bottle open on his table. This had created a problem for disposing of Seamus's body. There had to be a funeral for his family, but any link to the brew would need to be avoided at all cost.

A sympathetic doctor was found. He signed the death certificate with cardiac arrest given as the cause of death. That avoided attracting attention. Liam felt doubly depressed. Seamus' death had shocked him, and the American infuriated him. He started investigating Brad's past in more detail. Previous employers stressed Brad lived day to day. He only worked long enough to support his lifestyle for a few months and seemed to always be short of money. The question Liam had was where would the money be coming from for Brad's trip to Hawaii? Or for that matter an engagement ring? Something did not add up.

Liam contacted Mrs. Morale, and she seemed very defensive. She didn't want to discuss Brad's finances or his reasons for leaving. Cara had let slip in her heated discussions with Carrick that Brad had taken his surf board to a shop along the highway to be repaired. Liam decided to pay them a visit. What had Brad arranged to be done with his board? They were just little questions, but they needed answers.

Liam confronted the surfboard shop owner. He presented a photo of Brad he had taken with his phone.

"My friend dropped his damaged board off a few days ago." The owner studied the photo and smiled.

"Yes, I remember. It's all repaired. I'm very pleased with the job. I would show it to you, but it's gone now."

"Gone, where's it gone?" enquired Liam.

The owner shrugged. "I have sent it back to LA. A man called in, paid for it, and asked me to arrange a courier to deliver it to an address in LA."

"What man? This man?" Liam waved the photo. "No, another guy. I don't have his name."

Liam stared at the surf shop owner deep in thought. He turned to leave, and then spun around. "You don't have the address the courier was to deliver the board to, do you?"

"Yes, somewhere. Give me a minute." The shop owner flicked through his order book, then copied down an address and passed the note to Liam. Liam glanced at the note, then thanked the owner and left. Outside he studied the note again. Cristal Morale, 6 Harbor View Drive, Malibu, California.

***

Carrick and Finn left the hotel early the next morning. They had a meeting to attend. Hopefully Sanchez Mendoza had located some contacts for them. They needed to be extra cautious. You never knew who could be watching them. They took a taxi to the Golden Nugget Casino and mingled for a while on the gaming floor. They then quietly slipped out a side door and exited the hotel through a fire door. A car was waiting to spirit them away.

***

Quinton had a quiet word to Cristal Morale.

"A courier's just delivered Bradshaw Prendergast's surfboard. Were you expecting it, and what do you want me to do with it?" Cristal looked surprised.

"No, I didn't know it was coming. Leave it in the garden shed."

Cristal had been a little unsettled by the phone call from Liam. She knew exactly who he was, but she didn't let on. Why would he be ringing? Was Brad in trouble? She had an uneasy feeling about this turn of events. She felt responsible for Brad getting this assignment. She would be devastated if he suffered at the hands of these men. Cristal immediately rang her husband Walter. He in turn contacted Jefferson at CIA Head Quarters. Jefferson assured Walter he would pass the information on. Walter could tell Cristal not to worry. The reports he had received were Brad was acquitting himself very well.

***

Brad's concern had been steadily growing. He had been in Las Vegas twenty-four hours and still not a trace of Cara. He caught brief glimpses of Carrick and Finn as they jumped into a taxi, but he had not seen Liam at all. He left a message at reception; he needed to talk to Callum. He was confused and didn't know what to do.

Brad waited in his room. Callum arrived after about thirty minutes. While he had waited Brad ran over numerous scenarios for Cara's disappearance in his mind. None made any sense to him. They just had the effect of increasing his anxiety. Brad bombarded Callum with questions the moment he let himself into the room.

"Have you seen Cara? Do you know where Liam is? Do you think he has anything to do with Cara's disappearance?"

"Wow, take it easy," Callum said in a low quiet voice. "No, I don't know where Cara is, but I do have some information about Liam. I've received a message from the CIA. Apparently Liam stayed behind in Honolulu and has been doing a little digging into your past."

Brad looked concerned. "Has he got Cara with him?"

"I Don't know about that. I've no information on her. I just know Liam has rung Cristal Morale asking questions about you."

Brad was unconcerned about Liam asking about him, as he just needed to know where Cara was.

"You really care about her, don't you?" Callum looked questioningly at Brad. "You know they are hardly likely to harm her."

Brad looked downcast. "What should I do about her?"

"What can you do? Nothing. Let's concentrate on Carrick. I followed him this morning from the hotel to a Casino. He wasn't there to gamble. Unfortunately, I lost him, as he must have slipped out another door."

Brad had lost interest in Carrick. What he needed was information on Cara. She was his only concern. Callum continued talking, but Brad's thoughts wandered. He never heard a word being said. Callum could see he was wasting his time and gave up. He let himself out.

After showering, Brad headed to the bar. He had no option but to tackle Carrick. He would wait for his opportunity. Brad sipped on his second beer while seated on a stool at the bar, staring into space and not paying any attention to others in the room. The stool beside him was pulled out and a man sat down. Brad turned casually towards him. Instantly he was on alert, as Liam sat grinning back at him. Not a pretty sight thought Brad. It set off alarm bells in his head.

"Hello, Sonny. I see you're on your own." Liam was obviously enjoying himself. "Oh, by the way, I've a message for you from Cara. The engagement's off. That must just about be a world record, I mean, for the shortest engagement ever." Liam rocked on his stool roaring with laughter. Brad could feel the anger welling up inside him. He had to fight an overpowering urge to punch Liam right on his damaged nose.

He coolly stared into Liam's eyes. "Liam, I don't believe a word you're saying. If Cara wanted to break off the engagement she'd have told me herself. I'll wait to hear from her, thank you."

"Could be a long wait then, Sonny. Unless you're planning a trip to Belfast in the near future." Liam sneered at Brad. He picked up the anger building. "I can give you her address if you like. But I warn you, I have lots of friends back home. One word from me and . . ." Liam shrugged. "Well, let's just say, if I was you, I wouldn't bother purchasing a return ticket." A wide grin spread across Liam's face; he delighted in Brad's very visible anguish. Liam stood up making no attempt to conceal his obvious pleasure. "Let me know, Sonny, if you want Cara's address. I'll be only too happy to oblige."

Liam burst out laughing. He stood for a moment sneering at Brad. He then nonchalantly wandered out of the bar leaving a shell-shocked Brad staring after him.

Liam's words of warning sent a chill through Brad, he stared into his beer. Surely Cara wouldn't have returned to Belfast without getting word to him. No, she wouldn't have left voluntarily; she'd have to be coerced by Carrick. Brad certainly didn't trust Liam to be telling the truth, but not knowing the truth was worrying.

Brad peered into the dining room, he immediately picked out Carrick, Finn and Liam seated at the rear. The smiles radiating from Liam made Brad's blood boil. Brad had come to the conclusion his best chance of getting a truthful answer to Cara's whereabouts would be to tackle Finn on his own. He'd detected a softer side to Finn. He certainly wouldn't be a pushover, but he detected a hint of more compassion, especially, when it came to Cara. Brad knew Finn was a smoker. He had a habit of going outside after meals for a quiet smoke. He hoped this would be his chance for a private word with him.

Brad waited at a discreet distance for Finn to finish dinner and as he hoped Finn headed for the street. Carrick and Liam took the lift back to their rooms. Brad waited a couple of minutes and then followed Finn outside. Finn looked up in surprise as Brad approached him. They both greeted each other with contrived smiles.

"Hello, Finn, I guess you know why I'm here. I'm worried sick about Cara. I just need to know she's okay. I know Carrick was upset about our announcement, but he must realize I would never do anything that would cause problems for Cara. I don't want her to fall out with her dad, I just need to know she's okay."

Brad had a troubled look on his face. He could detect a sad sympathetic frown momentarily flash across Finn's face.

"Look I'm sorry, lad. Cara's fine, and there's no need to worry."

"That's good to hear, has she gone back to Belfast?"

"No, no, Carrick has sent her on a job to San Francisco," disclosed Finn. Then realizing he had probably said too much, he stopped talking and drew a couple of puffs on his cigarette.

"That would be to get away from me as well, I presume?" Brad spoke softly looking down at the pavement.

A hint of a smile flickered across Finn's face. "It's nothing personal, lad. Carrick has his heart set on Cara meeting a nice Irish lad. After all, she hardly knows you."

Brad looked up at Finn and smiled. "You know I understand that, but sometimes we don't have any control over our feelings. I suppose Carrick is hoping I'll give up and leave."

"And are you going to leave?"

Brad smiled. "If Cara asks me to, I will. Is she flying home from San Francisco?"

"No, she'll join us in a few days."

"You mean after I leave, Carrick will tell her to come."

Finn smiled. "Something like that lad."

Brad thanked Finn and turned to leave. He then stopped and asked. "Tell me, Finn, how did Cara take having to disappear to San Francisco?"

A sad expression replaced Finn's smile. "She was heartbroken lad, but Carrick can be very forceful when he is committed to something."

Brad nodded and walked off.

Brad and Callum met that night in a crowded bar well away from the hotel. Brad needed some guidance. What should he do now? Without Cara in Vegas he had lost his chance to get up-to-date information on Carrick's plans and movements. He was probably not going to be of much use any more, and he may as well go home. Brad and Callum put their heads together and hatched a new strategy.

CHAPTER 10

THE NEW IMAGE

Brad checked out of the hotel early the next morning. He noticed Liam standing in the lobby observing him with a smirk on his face. Brad could almost feel him gloating, relishing in the fact that he had won. Brad flashed an angry glance at Liam and then approached a waiting taxi. In a loud voice he instructed the taxi driver, "The airport please."

Brad knew that Liam heard. After the taxi had travelled three blocks, Brad gave the driver a new set of instructions. Before doing so Brad kept a close watch on the following traffic, as he needed to make sure no one would be following him.

"I've changed my mind, driver. Please take me to the Hilton Hotel."

The driver looked at Brad. "Are you sure you've made up your mind this time. You have just wasted ten dollars you know, and I'm going to have to charge you."

Brad smiled. "No worries, I'll even throw in a twenty-dollar tip. If anyone should ask, and I don't think they will, you took me to the airport."

The taxi driver smiled, this was typical of Vegas. A little deception for the benefit of prying eyes. "That's right, sir, I took you to the airport."

Brad checked into a room at the Hilton. He dropped off his suitcase in his room and then stepped out onto the street after asking at reception for directions. It did not take long to locate the hair salon, and a young girl at the counter smiled sweetly at Brad.

"That's no trouble at all, sir. We can fit you in right away. Michele has had a cancellation." Brad sat down as Michele hurried over.

"Now what can I do for you today, sir? Just a trim or maybe something a bit bolder?"

"Definitely a bit bolder," smiled Brad. He gave Michele some detailed instructions of the new style he was looking for.

An hour and a half later he walked out a changed man. His long blond hair had disappeared. He now had close cropped dark, almost black hair. Next on Brad's list to visit was the shopping center. The hotel concierge had told Brad this would be the best place to shop for men's fashions. Brad flitted from menswear shop to menswear shop. He smiled to himself. This was almost enjoyable. He had never been a fan of shopping for clothes. It had been a necessary evil which usually involved grabbing the nearest jeans and a couple of t-shirts off of the closest rack. Today he was shopping for dress clothes. He bought two pairs of dark dress trousers, three shirts to match and a jacket for evenings. He even purchased an item of clothing that was completely foreign to him, and two ties. Brad was out of his comfort zone, and found he needed to resort to following the shop assistant's advice.

Brad stepped out of the shop dressed in his new clothes, his old t-shirt and jeans consigned to a shopping bag. He admired himself in the changing room mirror before he left and was amazed at the transformation, even he could hardly recognize himself. Brad had to admit he really liked his new look. It was a more up market, almost businessman look. The only thing out of place now was his old sneakers. That would be his next stop. Thirty minutes later he stepped out onto the street wearing shiny new black dress shoes. Brad had surprised himself. This shopping is fun, especially when Callum is picking up the bill.

Brad surveyed his reflection in shop windows as he walked down the street. He stopped and studied himself for a moment. Almost perfect, but not quite. His light blue eyes looked out of place. He walked into a sunglasses kiosk and selected some wrap around subtly tinted glasses. Perfect, finally he felt satisfied. Now he needed to test his new image. He rang Callum and arranged to meet at a nearby bar.

Callum had agreed to allow phone calls between them. It would no longer be practical to leave messages at reception now they were staying in different hotels. Brad sat in a corner of the bar observing Callum walk in. He watched with a grin on his face as Callum scanned the bar. His eyes swept straight past Brad, and then started to sweep the bar a second time. This time Brad flashed a big smile and waved. Callum smiled back. He was hugely impressed. The transformation amazed him. It took a really close scrutiny to pick him out as the Brad of old.

***

Callum kept a close watch on Carrick. He figured he would be the one doing all the deals. If Liam or Finn separated Callum decided he would stick with Carrick. He had more luck the next day when Carrick left the hotel. He was aware that Carrick would try to throw off anyone who might be tailing him, but this time the subterfuge didn't work. Carrick led him to a room in another hotel. Unfortunately, that was as close as Callum could get.

It was not until Carrick left that Callum could verify it was Sanchez's room. They came out of the room engrossed in an intense discussion. Callum strained to hear what was being said. He guessed Sanchez may have given a contact to Carrick based on the instructions passing between them. With a curt nod of the head Carrick turned to leave. Sanchez in a louder voice advised he would be meeting with another interested party and then report back. Callum had a dilemma; he could not be in two places at once. He intended to stay with Carrick, but he would also like to know what Sanchez was organizing.

Callum rang Brad. "I've a job for you. Get yourself over to the Sheraton Hotel. Sanchez Mendoza is in room 603. He's just met Carrick. I need you to keep tabs on Sanchez. He's organizing something and I'm on Carrick's case."

Brad responded. "I'll be there in ten minutes. I'm getting bored looking at everyone else gambling and all I can do is watch."

Brad took a little longer than ten minutes. He hurried up to the corridor and stood outside room 603. He found loitering in the corridor waiting for Sanchez to make an appearance, while trying to be inconspicuous, very frustrating. He couldn't be sure Sanchez had not already left his room. Brad looked at his watch. He had waited fifteen minutes, it was very difficult to be inconspicuous when staff members appeared to service rooms. Several stopped to ask if they could be of assistance. Brad fumbled for an excuse. He finally decided to head to reception.

"Could you ring 603 please and tell them their taxi is waiting for them." The receptionist duly rang then turned to Brad.

"They are telling me they haven't ordered a taxi, sir,"

"Oh," said Brad acting surprised. "I must have the wrong room, I'll go and check. Thank you."

Now at least he knew he had not missed Sanchez, he resumed his wait on the sixth floor. Twenty minutes passed before Sanchez emerged. He didn't appear to be in any great hurry. He casually strolled out of the hotel and down the street. Brad followed a discreet thirty yards behind. There were few people on the street so there was little chance of losing him. He stopped, often gazing into shop windows to kill time. Sanchez finally wandered into a Casino and meandered around the floor. He settled on the blackjack table and proceeded to try his luck. After another ten minutes had elapsed, Brad became convinced Sanchez had only come to gamble. He decided to buy some chips and join him. Brad sat down besides Sanchez, gave him a friendly smile then concentrated on the game.

"You do this often? I'm afraid I'm a beginner and I don't really know what I'm doing." Brad struck up a conversation with Sanchez, who offered advice whenever Brad appeared to be in a quandary.

"Are you here to try your luck or have you got business in Vegas?" Brad made polite conversation. Sanchez appeared happy to chat.

"I'm here on business, but that doesn't mean I can't add in a little pleasure."

Another man sat down on the other side of Sanchez. Brad could tell he was from the Middle East. He had dark olive skin and the flowing robes were a giveaway. Sanchez appeared to know the man. They exchanged greetings.

Brad stretched across offering his hand and introduced himself. "I'm Wesley Smith. I'm from New York City." The man looked momentarily confused, first glancing at Sanchez and then back at Brad.

"Mohammad Al Razack, Saudi Arabia. Are you the man interested in my goods?"

"No, no, another man," cut in Sanchez."

Brad leapt in; he may as well push the boundaries. Who knows, he might learn something. "You never know, I could be. I dabble in lots of markets. What are you selling? I pay top dollar for the right product."

Mohammed looked confused, he glanced at Sanchez who shook his head. "Sorry, this is a private sale."

Brad smiled. "Okay, that's fine. Just remember I deal in anything I can make a profit on. Absolutely anything, from soap powder to armaments. Anything. And I pay top dollar. Keep that in mind, I'm always on the lookout for a good deal."

Sanchez turned to Brad. "As a matter of interest, who are your markets for armaments?"

Brad laughed. "Ah, well, that's confidential information. Let's just say anyone from Somali freedom fighters to Afghanistan war lords."

Brad could see a spark of interest in Sanchez. He gave him his mobile number and Sanchez gave his in return. Sanchez then collected his chips, excused himself and left with Mohammed. Brad didn't bother to follow; he had the name, that was all he needed. He would pass it on to Callum and he could follow it up. Besides he was enjoying himself, and he was on a roll. It must have been beginner's luck.

Brad caught up with Callum that night. Callum listened intently to Brad's encounter with Sanchez and Mohammed. He had a look of astonishment, tinged with concern. "I'm not sure that's a good idea for you to be mixing with these guys. They play for high stakes, it could backfire on you."

Brad shrugged. "I don't see how. We need to know what Carrick's interest is in Sanchez and this Mohammed guy is obviously peddling something. I can't think of a better way than offering to buy from him to see if the two are connected."

"Yes, but these will be dangerous people, they play for keeps. They'll do checks on you. His clients would all come through referrals. You're playing a very dangerous game."

Brad remained unconcerned, "He can check on Wesley Smith all he likes. It's a name I plucked out of fresh air." Brad laughed. "Hell, I don't even know what Wesley Smith does, and they already know I don't know what they're pushing."

Callum remained unconvinced.

"Look, Callum, they can sound me out as a potential rival purchaser to Carrick, or they can ignore me. Either way I don't see the problem. Forget that, what did you find out about Carrick?"

Callum laughed. "Not a lot, except I believe they're missing their fish and chips from home because that's what they feasted on for lunch." They both laughed.

"Is that all?"

"I'm afraid so. They returned to the hotel, spent time in the bar, made some phone calls and then went to their rooms."

"And still no sign of Cara?"

"Nope," replied Callum.

CHAPTER 11

NEGOTIATIONS

Cara was still in San Francisco. Carrick rang her regularly, but she was in no mood for prolonged conversations. She would never have left her dad. It was only the veiled threats to harm Brad that had finally convinced her. She knew Carrick, and especially Liam, wouldn't think twice about carrying through with their threats. Liam had taken great delight in showing her news clips of the two mystery deaths on the streets in Belfast. She also knew one of the victims. The high court judge had been responsible for sending her dad to prison. It was too much of a coincidence that Carrick would have no involvement, or at least prior knowledge of the assassinations.

Cara had desperately wanted to say one last goodbye to Brad, but Carrick had been adamant that she leave immediately. At least she could relax now, Brad would be safe. She had word he had left Vegas and she was able to rejoin Carrick. That thought no longer excited her, she felt despondent. She would have preferred to return home to Belfast, but Carrick insisted she join him in Vegas. Cara could recall Brad mentioning he had come from LA. Unfortunately, she could find no telephone listing. Now she had no way of contacting him and apologizing. She would stay in San Francisco one more night; it was her way of protesting. Carrick expected her to return immediately, but she had been manipulated enough. She would make him wait.

***

That evening Brad received a phone call from Sanchez that he would like a meeting. There were things they needed to discuss. Would he be free this evening? They met in a small back street bar. Brad was ushered to a back room. Sanchez was already seated at a table. He had come alone, which put some of Brad's anxiety to rest.

"Mr. Smith, you seem to be a man with no past. I can find no record that you even exist." Sanchez gave Brad a searching look. Brad smiled back.

"I'm very glad to hear that. In my line of business, it's very important that I stay anonymous. The fewer people who know of me the better I like it."

"Maybe, Mr. Smith, but how am I to know you're genuine? Perhaps you work for some law enforcement agency."

"Are you doing something illegal, Sanchez? I thought I would be purchasing products that I would assume are not even in this country. It would just be a business deal. Of course, I would have to travel somewhere to view the product before any money changed hands. But I'm sure we can find a mutually safe location to do that."

Sanchez relaxed at the suggestion and nodded. "What I need to know is what you're selling. Then I'll tell you if I'm interested. That way we waste nobody's time."

Brad looked intensely into Sanchez's eyes. Sanchez sighed. He decided he had nothing to lose, he may as well confide to Wesley Smith the product he was marketing.

"I've obtained a very rare weapon. I'll call it a weapon. It would be highly prized by any group struggling to make a decisive blow for their cause. Consequently, it is very expensive. There is only a limited supply and then there will be no more." He paused to gauge the effect his words were having on Brad. "This weapon could turn the course of any war, it's that lethal. What I'm talking about is what the Americans term a weapon of mass destruction."

He stopped again to watch Brad's reactions. Brad calmly stared back. "Okay, Sanchez, spit it out. What is it?"

"It's classified as a nerve gas, but it is in liquid form. It is quite stable to transport, but very dangerous to handle. And of course, lethal for your target. Saddam Hussein manufactured it in Iraq. Some Generals spirited it out of the country when the American invasion was imminent. I have obtained the only supply available to be purchased. That's what I'm offering, but I warn you, it will be very expensive. You're not the only interested party."

Brad looked thoughtful. If he could find the location of this nerve gas, then Callum could arrange for it to be intercepted before there was any chance of it falling into the wrong hands. Brad smiled. "I have several groups who would love to get their hands on your product. Whatever anyone else offers, I'll beat it. But I do need to see the goods of course."

A large smile spread across Sanchez's face. He now had two buyers, the ideal scenario. This could prove to be his most profitable venture ever. They discussed the nerve gas and its effectiveness for a further thirty minutes. Sanchez would contact Wesley Smith and discuss the price at a later date. First, he had to talk to his supplier and the other party. It was only fair that they be given an option to purchase as well.

***

Cara flew into Las Vegas. Liam was there to meet her at the airport. He greeted her with a wide smile. Cara responded with a sullen frosty glare. She blamed him for a lot of her problems with her dad. The trip to the hotel was made in complete silence. Liam tried to initiate some conversation, but Cara would glare at him then turn her head and stare blankly out the taxi window. She joined Carrick in his hotel bed room. She hated the idea of having to share a room with her dad, plus she hated being in Vegas. She couldn't wait to get home to Belfast.

Carrick seemed preoccupied; after a brief greeting he excused himself and went to Liam's room. Cara unpacked her clothes. With nothing to do she left the hotel and wandered aimlessly up the street. She glanced in a few shop windows, but her heart wasn't in it. She finally strolled into a small bar where a few patrons were propping up the counter. She ordered a drink and found herself a secluded table looking out onto the street. Her thoughts constantly went back to her times with Brad. An overwhelming sense of despair descended over her. This was becoming a habit. Another failed relationship, thanks to Liam and her dad. It was a pattern that kept repeating itself.

***

Brad rang Callum and briefed him on his meeting with Sanchez. At first, Callum expressed concern. He felt unsure Brad appreciated the implications of being involved in this dangerous game he was playing. They had not discussed this. Callum admitted he had no problems with Brad's logic. Intercepting the dangerous chemical before Carrick got his hands on it was highly desirable. However, these people play for high stakes and they would not hesitate to eliminate anyone who got in their way. He was far from convinced Brad would be safe involving himself with these unscrupulous people. Ideally Callum wanted to implicate Carrick. If he was not stopped, Carrick would only move on to another terrorist activity, and they would be back to square one.

Brad appeared unconcerned about the danger. The fact that it involved Carrick, or more to the point Liam, seemed to increase his excitement.

"By the way," added Callum. "Cara's just arrived. I saw her walk into the hotel with Liam."

Brad showed immediate interest. "I'm coming over, I need to see her."

"Do you think that's wise? If they recognize you it will jeopardize the whole operation."

Brad laughed. "Give me some credit, Callum, I'll be especially careful. And this time I will keep a lookout for Liam to see if he's following her."

***

Brad watched from a distance as Cara left the hotel. He waited to see if Liam appeared. When he satisfied himself Cara wasn't under surveillance, he followed her at a distance. He observed her enter a bar. Brad waited and quietly observed. There was still no sign of Liam. He entered the bar, bought a beer and wandered over to Cara's table.

He had walked in moments ago, only a few yards away from Cara and she had not given him a second glance. She seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts as Brad pulled out a chair and sat at her table. "You look like you could do with some company."

Cara looked startled. "If you don't mind I'd rather be on my own."

Cara glanced at Brad, there was no hint of recognition. Brad ignored her comment.

"Would you like to come out with me tonight, honey?"

Cara was furious, she snapped at Brad. "Are you thick or something. I said I don't want company. Get lost, Buster."

Brad suppressed a grin and murmured quietly. "Now that's no way to talk to your fiancé."

Cara sat bolt upright and stared intently at Brad. He took off his sunglasses and recognition swept across Cara's face.

"Brad is that you? Is it really you? You look so different... your hair, your clothes."

Brad laughed. "I'm trialling a new image. What do you think?"

Cara flashed a huge grin and wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh, Brad, I'm so sorry. I thought I would never see you again." She suddenly pulled away. "Brad, this is very dangerous. You shouldn't have come back. I only stayed away because Dad and Liam made threats."

Brad said quietly. "I never left. I just wanted Liam to think I had. Now I need to know what threats were made."

Cara explained her reasons for leaving. She was truly sorry for not explaining, but Carrick refused to let her contact him. She certainly didn't trust Liam; her thoughts were that Liam was a very dangerous man. Brad's life would be in danger if they found out he's made contact with her.

"Well, we'll just have to be super careful how we meet," smiled Brad. They spent fifteen minutes talking. Brad pumped Cara for information on the reasons for Carrick's visit. "It can't be just a vacation."

"Dad's here on business. I don't know what it is. He's very secretive." Cara knew from past history that Carrick and Finn were obsessed with their cause to unify Ireland and break all ties with England. But, Brad didn't need to know that. She hated to think what they might be planning. The truth was she didn't want to know.

"Liam took great delight in showing me a news report on several mysterious deaths in Belfast. I inferred from his words that he had access to the poison used, and he wouldn't hesitate to use it on you."

"Don't worry, I'll be extra vigilant. I've no intention of becoming another unexplained death statistic." They swapped phone numbers; they didn't want to run the risk of being unable to contact each other.

"I'll try and get out this evening. I'll call you if I manage to slip away."

***

Carrick and Finn had a meeting with a financier arranged for that evening. Cara informed Carrick she was going to a show. She had managed to get a ticket to a popular West end production.

"Liam can keep you company. He doesn't have to be with us," Carrick informed Cara.

Cara glared at her father. "I'd rather stay in my room all night and stare at the walls than go out with Liam. I'll go on my own, thank you."

Carrick sighed, Cara was so strong-willed, just like her mother. She obviously still felt incensed at being made to sever her relationship with the Yank. Poor Liam is copping the blame. Carrick knew when to question Cara's motives, and this was not one of those moments.

Cara slipped out of the hotel after dinner. She joined the jostling crowds on the street who were intent on capitalizing on their trip to the entertainment capital of the world. She slipped into a shop and waited. Was Liam following her? She half expected him to be. After waiting ten minutes with no sign of Liam, Cara rang Brad. They arranged to meet in a nearby shopping center in fifteen minutes. Brad saw Cara enter the complex, but he didn't approach her. He waited and watched. Cara had told him she'd checked, and Liam hadn't followed her, but he needed to be doubly certain. Fifteen minutes, Brad had still not made contact. Cara felt a growing anxiety.

She rang Brad. "Where are you? Are you coming, or have you stood me up?"

Brad chuckled. "Sorry, no chance of that. I'm watching you. I want you to keep walking and go into the woman's dress shop on the corner. If there's a side entrance, go out it. Make sure you can't be seen from the main entrance."

Cara agreed; she knew Brad was only being cautious. Ten minutes later Cara walked out a side door and hurried away. She waited around the next corner, not daring to sneak a peek back to the dress shop. Moments later Brad strode around the corner.

"You were followed. Liam is in a shop opposite the entrance. I think we've lost him now."

They quickly left the Center, jumped in a taxi, and drove across town. They settled on a musical, which was about to start. Brad grabbed two tickets for the backrow and they cuddled together enjoying each other's company as much as the show.

***

Callum met Brad for morning coffee. He had followed Carrick and Finn to a hotel room. He persuaded reception to divulge what name the room had been booked under. He then forwarded the name and home address to his contacts in the CIA. He felt sure they would prove to be a financier.

"What did you get up to last night?"

"I had a relaxing night, took in a musical, then went back to my room," smiled Brad.

Callum studied Brad's face for a moment. "You met up with Cara, didn't you? That's your idea of a relaxing night. It wouldn't be too relaxing if Liam had caught up with you."

Brad laughed. "Have a little faith, Callum. I can handle Liam."

Callum studied Brad but didn't comment. He knew it would have been a waste of breath. Brad was so damned cocky, so sure of himself. Callum decided he would need to shadow Liam and try to provide a measure of protection.

***

At breakfast Carrick enquired how Cara had enjoyed the show last night.

Cara smiled. "It was great! Well worth the time." She smiled at Liam who was studying her with a smoldering glare.

"You were late home?" commented Carrick.

Cara shrugged. "I didn't know I had a curfew."

Carrick ignored the comment and turned to Finn to discuss their plans for the day. They had another meeting with Sanchez for later that day. Hopefully they could conclude their business and soon be flying home to Belfast. Cara returned to her room leaving the men to their discussions.

She rang Brad. "What are you up to today? Dad and the guys have another meeting with this Sanchez guy. Perhaps we could meet up?"

"I'd love to see you. Is Liam going to the meeting?"

"I'm not sure."

Brad wasn't overly concerned, but he had to remain vigilant. He gave Cara a place to meet and devised a plan to lose Liam should he be up to his old tricks of following Cara. Once he got off the phone to Cara, Brad rang Callum, and advised him of Carrick's plans.

***

Callum followed Carrick and Finn to Sanchez's room. An hour later they emerged with everyone smiling. Carrick and Finn stopped at a bar. Callum suspected they might be enjoying a celebratory drink. He assumed from their body language the meeting with Sanchez had gone well. It looked like Brad's plan to outbid Carrick may have floundered.

Brad tracked Cara to the shops and again Liam followed at a discrete distance. They put their plan to lose Liam into action. Cara entered a ladies' lingerie shop and approached the receptionist. Her husband was having her followed. Did they have a back exit she could use? The receptionist was very sympathetic, as she had not long gone through a nasty breakup with her boyfriend. Cara was taken out the back and let out a fire door onto a back street.

She quickly walked away. She desperately wanted to return to the front of the shop and confront Liam, but Brad had convinced her to drop that idea. It would only alert Liam to be more cautious, it would never stop him following her. Maybe he was just following Carrick's instructions. They flagged down a taxi and sped across the city well away from a chance meeting with Liam.

After a leisurely lunch Brad's phone rang, Callum's name lit up. He expressed concern that Brad's plan to outbid Carrick might have failed. Carrick looked far too happy for his liking. Twenty minutes later Brad's phone rang again.

Cara screwed up her face. "Who's ringing you now? Is it one of your girlfriends? I thought we might have had some uninterrupted time to ourselves."

"Sorry," Brad apologized. "It's not a girlfriend. I don't know who it is, but I'd better take the call."

Sanchez asked Brad for an urgent meeting. He'd just received a very good offer and he doubted Mr. Smith would be able to better it. If he did not receive a better offer today, he would be going with the other party. Brad finished his call and turned to Cara.

"Look, I'm very sorry but I'm going to have to leave. Something very important has come up, and I have to attend to it urgently."

Cara was visibly annoyed. She found it hard to believe Brad would have any urgent business apart from girls. She was well aware of his past history while teaching in Dallas. His other passion being surfing, hardly a cause for any urgent phone call.

"What's so important that you're prepared to interrupt the only quality time that we can manage to grab?"

Brad had to think fast, he knew Cara would smell a rat if he claimed it was a business deal he was working on. Cara sat staring at Brad, waiting for a response. He could detect the anger growing.

"I'm terribly sorry, Cara, but there are some problems at home. It's not what you're thinking. I need to go back to my room and work out what to do about it."

Cara pressed him for more information, offering to come with him. He could discuss what was on his mind with her. A problem shared is a problem halved. Brad smiled, leaned forward and kissed her.

"Thanks, darling. I do appreciate your concern, but this time I need to be on my own. I have a lot of thinking to do. Sorry, with you there I would find it very hard to concentrate on anything other than the gorgeous girl in the room with me."

Cara watched Brad thoughtfully as he excused himself, and then hurried away.

Brad grabbed a taxi and headed for his appointment with Sanchez. He had politely refused Sanchez's offer to meet in his apartment. He knew Carrick met him there and there would be a possibility they would have the apartment under surveillance to learn who their competition was. As he sat in the back seat of the taxi, Brad rang Callum for instructions. How much could he offer Sanchez, what was the limit?

Callum laughed. "Offer him whatever it takes. We have no intention of parting with the money. We just need to find the location of the VX, and we will learn that when you arrange to inspect it."

Brad kept Sanchez waiting for ten minutes as he reconnoitered the surrounded streets. Once he felt certain that none of Carrick's men were watching he approached Sanchez. They exchanged greetings, then he and Sanchez sat down to business. Sanchez had a few reservations about this Mr. Smith. He had dealt with Carrick before and he knew he could come up with the money. He was skeptical that this Smith could top Carrick's offer. He expected negotiations would be concluded very quickly. He passed a note to Smith and watched intently for the response. It just contained a dollar figure. Brad glanced at it and shrugged.

"The other guys must want it pretty bad." Brad took out a pen and pretended to do a quick calculation on his phone. He then wrote a new figure ten percent higher than Carrick's. He passed the paper back to Sanchez who stared at it, then looked up at Brad.

"Are you sure you can come up with this amount, Mr. Smith?"

Brad leaned back casually in his chair smiling. "Of course, Sanchez. I wouldn't be here wasting both our times if I couldn't. I will transfer the funds immediately once I have a satisfactory inspection of the goods. You'll have your money before I uplift the product."

Brad watched Sanchez's eyes light up. This figure was already twenty percent more than he had ever dreamed of selling for, and both parties were still bidding.

"Very well, Mr. Smith. I'll contact you again tomorrow. Hopefully we can then conclude our business."

***

Cara sat in her room going over and over her recent meeting with Brad. Suddenly she jumped up. She needed to see Brad. If he was having domestic problems she should be there to provide moral support, regardless of whether he asked for it or not. She left her hotel, jumped in a taxi and instructed the driver to drive to Brad's hotel. She knew his room number; she had been there with Brad after last night's show.

She took the lift to the fourth floor and confidently marched up to Brad's door. She had prepared in her head how she would respond to his protestations. It was the proper thing for someone to do. She would share his problems just like she expected him to share hers. After all she was still his fiancée. She knocked loudly on the door and waited expectantly. There was no response. She strained to hear any noises inside. Again, she knocked and waited, again no response. She kept repeating the process for at least five minutes. She couldn't believe that Brad wasn't responding. After ten minutes she turned and stormed off. She was consumed by a simmering anger. Why isn't he in his room like he said he would be? I'll give him a piece of her mind when I see him.

***

Liam followed Cara when she left the hotel. He clambered into the next taxi and instructed the driver to follow the taxi up ahead. "Don't get too close, I don't want them to know I'm following."

The taxi driver gave Liam a knowing grin. He had observed Cara getting into the cab in front and guessed Liam must be a husband or boyfriend keeping tabs on his wife or partner. This was a common occurrence in Vegas.

Liam took extreme care to avoid being seen by Cara. He was determined to not be given the slip like the last two times. He did observe that Cara seemed preoccupied; she made no attempt to avoid being followed. He observed her lift had the fourth-floor button lit up. He headed for the stairs and raced up. He needed to see which room she went to before she disappeared. He was puffing and wheezing as he cautiously exited on the fourth floor. He was out of shape. He made a mental note to get back into an exercise regime once he arrived home. A relieved Liam saw Cara still in the corridor; he had not missed seeing the room.

When Cara turned and approached the lift, he retreated down the stairs and waited. Once he felt sure she was not using the stairs he went back up and walked along the corridor to the room Cara had been outside. Liam noted the number and then took the lift down to reception. "Can you tell me who's in room 414?".

"Sorry sir, we're not allowed to divulge that."

Liam produced his wallet and peeled off a couple of notes. He soon had the name and address of the person room 414 was registered to. Liam glanced at the name. Wesley Smith, not a name he had heard of before, but he would do some checking.

CHAPTER 12

TRAPPED

Carrick and Finn had another meeting with Sanchez, and they were in high spirits. This would just be a formality to seal the deal. When Sanchez produced the counter-offer Carrick exploded. He demanded to know who this other party was. Did they even exist? Or was the sleazy Mexican just trying to ratchet up the price. He warned Sanchez it would be very dangerous to play silly games like that with him. Sanchez assured Carrick it was a genuine offer. While he was wary of Carrick, Sanchez knew he held the trump cards. Two buyers bidding for the product and both were determined to obtain it. He couldn't lose; he could almost smell the money. Carrick glared at Sanchez. He could barely contain his anger and demanded Sanchez disclose the name of the other bidder.

"I can't give out the names of my clients. Would you like me to tell the other party your name? I'm afraid I will have to go with the highest bidder. What I need from you is an answer. Are you prepared to raise your offer? Otherwise, I have no choice; I will have to go with the other party."

Carrick and Finn stepped out of the apartment to discuss their options. They had already exceeded their budget, but their plans all hinged on securing this product. After a hurried consultation Finn suggested they up their bid to keep them in the running. Then they could have a meeting back in their room to find a way to counter this mystery bidder. Carrick nodded. They should increase their bid to stall Sanchez. He had already decided, eliminating the other bidder was imperative. The success of years of planning depended on acquiring this dangerous chemical. There was no way Carrick would stand aside and allow this mystery bidder to steal the product from under their very noses. They returned to Sanchez's room and delivered a revised bid. Sanchez found it difficult to contain his excitement. He couldn't have scripted a more perfect scenario.

***

The anger in Cara slowly subsided. She still had a knot in her stomach, but she couldn't decide whether it was concern for Brad or disappointment that he may not have been completely honest. She just didn't know, and she needed to know. She moped around the hotel all morning desperately expecting a call from Brad. She put off calling him because she felt he owed her a call. Different scenarios flashed through her head. She knew Brad had a reputation with the ladies. Was this his way of giving her the brush off? He had been unusually brusque at their last meeting. Afternoon came, and she still had received no word from Brad. Cara felt depressed. She couldn't stand it, so she called Brad. The phone went straight to voicemail. He must have it switched off. This did nothing to placate her growing anxiety.

***

Liam had not gone with Carrick and Finn. He wanted to keep tabs on Cara's comings and goings, and he needed to do some digging into this mysterious Wesley Smith. He made a few phone calls and contacted some old acquaintances in the law enforcement agencies who promised to delve into Mr. Smith's background. They promised they would get straight back to him. The police computer records would have him on file. Within an hour they all reported back to Liam. No one of that name and that address came up in their records. There were literally hundreds of Smiths, but none matched the information Liam had given them. Was he sure he had the right name and address? Even if he had changed addresses it would have shown up. The Wesley Smith Liam had given them simply did not exist. The computers never lie.

Liam threw down his phone in disgust. He had a fictitious name, a fictitious address, and that was all he had. This bogus Wesley Smith, or whatever his name was, needed some more investigating. Liam sat mulling over the problem in his room awaiting Carrick and Finn's return. He knew immediately when they walked in that their meeting had not gone well. Carrick was in a foul mood. He had slammed the door shut and a kick sent the rubbish tin hurtling across the room. All thoughts of Wesley Smith were forgotten. Carrick summonsed Liam to join them. They had a serious problem that needed their immediate attention.

***

Callum joined Brad in his room. Brad filled him in on progress with the negotiations and they ran through different scenarios on how Carrick might react when his bid kept being topped by Wesley Smith. They both knew he wouldn't take it well. Carrick would have a limit on what he could offer whereas Wesley Smith had no monetary limitations. The intention was to swoop on Sanchez and the goods once Brad had a location for an inspection. But Callum felt an underlying nervousness about Carrick. He had no doubt he wouldn't lie down and accept defeat in any bidding war. As he saw it, Carrick's only option would be to try and eliminate the mystery bidder. Brad faced a very precarious situation, high stakes were involved, and Carrick was very experienced at eliminating opposition.

Brad found the whole scenario exhilarating. The danger, the mystery, and the intrigue set his pulse racing. It gave him an adrenalin high not too dissimilar to speeding across the face of some of Hawaii's enormous waves on his surfboard. Of course, the main difference here was a wipeout on his board wasn't likely to prove fatal, whereas Carrick would be playing for keeps, with no second chances. Callum did his best to dampen Brad's enthusiasm. He suggested perhaps this situation might be too dangerous, and the sensible thing would be to pull out. Brad had done well, go home, and leave Carrick to Callum. Brad wouldn't hear of it, he was on a roll, and he would see it through. The intimidation from Liam had triggered his resolve to see this thing through to the bitter end, especially if it meant putting one across Liam. Brad surprised himself, as well as Callum, with how committed he had become.

Brad's phone rang; he glanced at it. Cara's name lit up. The last thing he needed right now would be to talk to Cara. She would expect to meet up. That would mean finding another excuse and he was running out of plausible options to avoid a meeting. He switched the phone to voicemail. He needed to leave it on; he expected a call from Sanchez.

***

Carrick, Finn and Liam sat at the table. Carrick pointed out that they had already exceeded their available funds with their latest bid. They really did not have time to source more funds. In fact, he doubted that it would be possible to squeeze more from their backers.

Liam was curious. "If we've already exceeded our available funds, how will we be able to meet our offer assuming we're successful?"

Carrick face creased with a wicked smile. "First, it's not a case of if we're successful. We will be successful. How shall we fund it? Well, I have no intention of honoring that bid. The greedy leach Sanchez is sucking us dry, he'll be lucky to receive our initial offer. What we need to do is eliminate this mystery bidder, then with just us bidding we will politely suggest to Sanchez that we intend to renegotiate the price. This time it will be downwards." All three smiled at that suggestion.

"That only leaves us with one problem," said Finn thoughtfully. "How do we locate this mystery bidder?"

Carrick turned to Liam. "This is a job for you. Get yourself over to Sanchez's apartment straight away. He's going to contact this bidder again at some point. Follow the bidder to where he's staying. If the opportunity arises, eliminate him. We have enough VX here to do that discreetly." Carrick tapped a small plastic bottle in the fridge.

***

Cara entered the apartment and interrupted the meeting. The three men immediately stopped talking. They were careful not to discuss matters like this in front of her. Carrick announced they had concluded their business. It was time for Liam to get to work. Carrick then turned to Cara and smiled.

"Not off out anywhere today?"

"No, I might try to get into Engelbert Humperdinck's matinee this afternoon. Why don't you come with me?"

Carrick beamed a smile. It felt like a long time since he had been invited to join Cara. "I'd be delighted to, my dear."

Finn turned to Liam. "Well seeing I'm a loose end, I might tag along with you. Two pairs of eyes are better than one."

***

Brad didn't have to wait long for his call from Sanchez. Again, Brad suggested a location away from the hotel; he now needed to be doubly cautious.

Liam and Finn were keeping watch on Sanchez. Liam hovered around upstairs while Finn circulated around the foyer. "He's leaving his room." Liam spoke to Finn on his phone.

Sanchez climbed into a taxi. Finn had already hailed one and waited for Liam. Sanchez's taxi pulled up outside a backstreet café. He paid his fare and strolled inside. He felt in a buoyant mood, as his profit margin kept increasing with every meeting. Liam and Finn parked well away at the end of the street, which still gave them a clear view of the cafe. The driver turned to them and announced the fare, expecting them to get out. Finn instructed him to stay parked, as they were staying put in the cab for the moment.

"It will cost extra," informed the driver. "I'll have to leave the meter running, time is money you know."

Finn smiled and passed over twenty dollars. "That should cover any inconvenience."

Brad again arrived late for his meeting. He carefully scanned up and down the surrounding streets. Then he waited, as it was better to be sure than sorry. Satisfied there was no one lurking in surrounding shops keeping Sanchez under surveillance he strode purposefully into the cafe. Brad smiled when Sanchez hesitantly showed Brad the revised bid. "These other boys are real keen, aren't they? Okay put another $100k on it and we'll see if that knocks them out of the running."

Sanchez found it hard to control his excitement, he insisted Brad sign the counter offer. Brad felt unsure why; Sanchez would hardly try to enforce anything in a court of law. But he was happy to oblige. He nearly made the mistake of signing his own name instead of Wesley Smith.

Brad left Sanchez and leisurely strolled down the street. He decided to walk back to his hotel, as the exercise would do him good. It took him past Finn and Liam's taxi, although he was on the opposite side of the street. Brad felt in no hurry. He stopped almost opposite Finn and Liam and studied the goods in a sports store window. Finn and Liam in turn studied Brad. Finn had his phone up and busied himself clicking photos.

Liam murmured to Finn. "Something about that guy looks familiar. I feel I've seen him before, but I can't quite place him."

Finn turned to Liam surprised. "Who do you think he is?"

Liam shook his head. "Not sure."

Brad meandered back to his hotel. He gave Cara a call, perhaps they might be able to meet up. This time it was Cara's phone that went straight to voicemail.

Liam and Finn took the leisurely transport option. They stayed in their cab which crept along the streets following Brad taking care to not get too close. When Brad entered his hotel, Liam jumped out and hurried in after him.

Liam recognized the hotel; he had followed Cara there when she had visited the previous day. The lift again headed to the fourth floor. Liam sprinted up the stairs cautiously peering along the corridor. He was just in time to see Brad disappear into room 414. Liam was shocked, he crept along the corridor to room 414 just to double check he had not been mistaken. He then took the lift down to the foyer where Finn was waiting. Finn quizzed Liam on what he had discovered.

"Do we need to get the guy's name from reception?"

Liam shook his head. "I already know the room. I've been here before." They took a taxi back to their hotel. Liam recounted to Finn how he had followed Cara to that very room.

"It's registered to a Wesley Smith, but when he did a little digging I drew a complete blank. My sources inform me there is no Wesley Smith, and the guy doesn't exist."

They sat in silence in their room digesting the day's events. They were keen for Carrick to return so they could discuss it with him.

When Cara and Carrick returned, Cara remembered to check her phone. There was a missed call from Brad. She felt a surge of excitement; she had almost forgotten her earlier anger. She quickly called him. Yes, she could make it tonight. She would rendezvous with him at a nearby Casino and then they could leave for dinner.

Finn asked Carrick to join Liam and him in their room. The three men needed to talk, and it had to be away from Cara. Carrick raised his eyebrows in surprise but followed Finn. Carrick listened intently to Finn and Liam, his rugged face flushed with anger. Cara's involvement concerned him. It was decided Carrick would confront her, and he would demand to know who this Wesley Smith was. Was she undermining their negotiations? Carrick couldn't think of any possible reason for Cara to be meeting this man. He struggled to keep in check his rapidly escalating anger.

Carrick returned to his room. He could hear Cara in the shower. She was singing at the top of her voice, obviously in high spirits. When she finally emerged, she was taken aback at the intense stare she received from Carrick. She soon put it out of her mind, as she was not about to let him put a damper on her high spirits. She duly informed Carrick she would not be dining with him tonight, she would be going out.

"Where are you going and who are you going with?" demanded Carrick.

Cara was momentarily taken aback by the challenging tone of the questions.

"Dad, I'm a big girl now, I'm 28 years old. I don't have to report in to you all my movements."

"Yes, you bloody well do girl. Are you going to meet this Wesley Smith?" snapped Carrick. He sat staring at Cara; his anger obvious. Cara's mouth opened in shock. She had seen Carrick speak to others like this, but never to her.

"Who is Wesley Smith?" murmured a dumbfounded Cara.

"Hilton hotel, room 414," prompted Carrick.

Cara flushed scarlet, her mind started racing. She stalled for time as she desperately searched for a response. "I suppose that creep Liam's been following me again."

"Never mind Liam. What were you doing at that hotel?" demanded Carrick.

"Dad, I have never heard of Wesley Smith. I was given that room number by a dress shop. An area rep is supposed to be in Vegas and they have an exclusive catalogue out. Designer dresses only available by special order. I thought I may as well check them out."

Cara watched Carrick for a reaction. She thought it sounded like a plausible story. It was the best she could think of at short notice. Carrick gave her a searching look as he contemplated her response. Something didn't add up, but he would remain calm and do some more investigating. In the meantime, he didn't want to alarm Cara. His scowl faded into a pleasant smile.

"I don't like you knocking on stranger's doors. You never know what weirdos may be there. Who are you having dinner with?"

"Dad, questions, questions. If you must know, it's just a girl I met in the dress shop. Nothing at all to worry about."

Cara felt guilty lying, but she certainly wasn't about to admit the truth. She felt more concerned that she had let her guard down and she had allowed sleazy Liam to follow her to Brad's room. She had put Brad's life in danger.

Carrick, Finn and Liam studied the photos of Wesley Smith, and exchanged bemused glances. No one recognized the person in the photo. There was a unanimous decision, Wesley Smith, or whatever his real name was, had to be eliminated.

Liam was assigned to the job. He stationed himself in a games arcade across the street and kept a vigil on the hotel entrance. He would follow Wesley Smith when he exited and find some appropriate location to deliver a fatal dose. It had to be discreet, and nothing must implicate them. They certainly didn't want to draw attention to themselves.

***

Soon after six Brad left the Hilton. He made his way to a busy casino and merged into the crowd on the gaming floor. He had a flutter on the roulette table; but wasn't paying a lot of attention to the game. He systematically worked his way around the crowded gaming room, not drawing attention that he was looking for anyone in particular. He spied Cara sitting at a busy table. He worked around the room looking for Liam. He felt confident his disguise would allow him to mingle without fear of being recognized. He detected no sign of Liam and was about to give Cara a signal to slip out to a taxi when his phone rang. Callum's name lit up.

"Not a good time, Callum. I'm about to whisk Cara away for dinner," said Brad.

"You'd better put that on hold, buddy. I think you might have a little trouble on your hands. You have company, Liam's been tailing you. He has a walking stick which is very suspicious. Leave Cara and get out of there. There's too much of a crowd, and it's too easy for him to get close to you."

"How would he have found me? I've been extra careful," murmured Brad.

"These guys are professionals, so don't underestimate them. Now get out quick."

Brad worked his way to the entrance. His eyes peeled for any sign of Liam. It was most disconcerting that he couldn't detect Liam. Moments later Brad was out on the street and walking briskly away. He popped into a bar and found a window seat and observed all the passing foot traffic. He relaxed after a few minutes; again, he detected no sign of Liam. Very few people were walking. Brad noticed a taxi parked fifty yards up the street. The driver was obviously waiting for a client

Brad rang Cara. "I'm having a small problem. Liam's been following me. I don't know how he knew where to find me, but he has. I'll contact you when I lose him."

Cara was silent for a moment, and then she remembered. "Oh Brad, I'm so sorry, I think it's my fault. I went to your room looking for you. He must have followed me. Please be careful."

Brad hung up and swore quietly to himself. Now that Liam knew where he was staying, the danger bells started ringing. Brad gave it twenty minutes; Again there was still no trace of Liam. It was time to move. He hurried to a nearby shopping center. If he still detected no sighting of Liam he would give Cara another ring and set up another rendezvous. He hurried inside and hid himself in a display area. He saw a taxi cruising slowly up and down the street. He would have ignored it, but the driver looked very much like the one he had noticed near the bar. He focused on the taxi which had now found a park. Eventually two men got out. Brad recognized them instantly. Liam and Finn. Only Liam carried a walking cane. Like Callum had said, this looked highly suspicious.

Brad broke cover and retreated into the shopping center. He now he felt safer. He watched Liam enter; Finn must have stayed outside to keep watch. That's okay, thought Brad, I can give Liam the slip and take another exit. He watched Liam head in the wrong direction. Brad doubled back and headed for a car park exit. He was about to enter the car park when he picked up Finn observing everyone exiting. He hurriedly pulled back. He hoped Finn had not seen him. Anyhow, how would Finn recognize me? It crossed his mind to try his luck and walk out straight past Finn. Then he reconsidered. They've followed me to here, so Finn will have a fair idea what I look like.

Brad backtracked into the Center. He needed to find another way out, and quickly. He pushed his way through the crowd and received some indignant comments from annoyed shoppers. But he was in no position to consider their feelings, as he was being stalked by two highly experienced terrorists and they were not here to wish him happy birthday. As he turned a corner Brad picked up a clear reflection in a shop window opposite. Liam was ten yards behind him and closing fast. Finn must have seen me. One hundred yards up a head a horrified Brad saw Carrick, the three of them were now stalking him.

Brad broke out in a cold sweat, fear bordering on outright panic pulsed through his body. What should I do? Run for it? Where is Finn? Brad tried his best to control his emotions. He needed to stay calm, stay focused and not show any fear or alarm.

Easier said than done thought Brad grimly. Brad slowed to a meander; he kept a close watch on Liam's reflection. He saw Liam lift the cane and slide a cover off it. A shiny steel tip protruded from the end. Brad guessed this held the lethal dose intended for him. As Liam raised the cane to just below waist height Brad stepped sideways, turned and grabbing the cane in the middle and wrenched it from Liam's grasp. Liam was preparing to thrust the cane forward at Brad and it easily slipped from his grasp.

Brad turned the tip of the cane towards Liam. A mixture of fear and horror swept Liam's face. He backed away from Brad crashing into irate shoppers, his eyes glued on the cane. Brad glanced behind him, He knew Carrick would be getting close, but he couldn't pick him out in the crowd. He had no idea where Finn would be. He just knew he had to get out of here and fast. Brad advanced towards Liam, who in his hasty retreat collided with a young mother's pram. The pram tipped over and the mother screamed abuse at Liam who went sprawling backwards over top of the pram.

The irate mother pounded Liam with her handbag. A group of shoppers rushed to her assistance lifting the pram and baby back onto its wheels. They then joined the mother in chastising Liam. Brad saw his opportunity, and he didn't hang around. He flashed a smile at a dejected Liam and hurried away.

He decided to avoid the main entrance. There was a fair chance Finn would still be there. Clutching the cane, Brad shot down the first exit. It led to another car park, which was almost devoid of shoppers. Just rows and rows of parked cars spread out as far as the eye could see. Brad had a quick look back down the exit towards the Center. Carrick had just entered the exit. Their eyes momentarily met. Carrick's face contorted with rage, and his eyes were full of menace. Now Brad felt a new surge of panic. There was no mistaking Carrick had a gun in his hand and was talking furiously into a phone.

Brad realized he had no chance of returning to the center. He sprinted into the car park just as a gunshot reverberated through the enclosed concrete structure. The windscreen of a car beside Brad exploded. He dropped to his hands and knees and scrambled between the cars, trying to put as much distance between him and Carrick as possible. Brad lay on the ground peering between the car tires trying to see where the exit might be. He felt sure it was one hundred yards away to his right. He then looked back searching for Carrick's legs. What he saw was two sets of legs. He guessed that Liam had joined Carrick. He watched as they split up, fifty yards apart and approached the parked cars, methodically working their way through them and towards him.

Brad tried to remain calm, clear his head, and come up with a solution to exit the carpark, alive. No easy option sprang to mind, sweat trickled down his forehead and stung his eyes. If he could get to the exit and then make a dash for it, he might have a chance. Brad observed a car enter. Would Carrick risk a shot with people in the car park?

Brad glanced back to the exit to make sure he was heading in the right direction. Horror pulsed through his body, another set of legs had just walked up the exit ramp and was pacing back and forth alongside the rows of parked cars. Brad didn't need to see the face, but he knew it was Finn. He was trapped, entering the car park was about to prove to be a fatal mistake.

Why didn't I stay in the shopping Center amongst the relative safety of the other shoppers? Brad seized his phone. He knew Callum would be nearby. This was an emergency, he needed help.

Callum answered immediately. "Where are you? I've just seen Finn walk up a ramp into a car park."

"I'm in the car park, I'm trapped. I've already been shot at, it's only a matter of time before they find me," whispered Brad.

"Hang in there, buddy, I'm on my way. Can you make it to an outside end of the building; I'll be in a taxi?"

"Can do, I'll be at the south end waiting," whispered Brad

Brad watched Carrick's feet, as he moved in front of a car. Brad immediately scampered on all fours past the row Carrick was about to search. He strained to hear a shout from Carrick, an indication that he had been seen. Again, Brad searched for legs, he observed Carrick moving slowly down the row of cars. Safe for the moment, but for how long?

Brad made it to the south wall of the car park. Cars exiting needed to drive straight past him. He watched and waited. He picked up Finn dropping to his hands and knees. He was looking under the cars like he was. Brad rolled behind a large four-wheel drive tire, it provided some cover. He stayed as still as he could, movement would obviously attract attention.

The minutes dragged by, it felt like hours. Where is Callum? He heard some shouting. Carrick had found the cane. Brad had abandoned that long ago as it was no match when against guns.

Brad heard a vehicle enter the car park, he felt afraid to look in case he was seen. He just hoped and prayed it would be Callum. He guessed Carrick and his assassination squad would have stopped looking while there was a vehicle in the building. They would watch and wait. They knew Brad was trapped. He sneaked a peek over the bonnet. A taxi had stopped at the entrance to the mall and a man had climbed out. Brad's heart sank. It couldn't be Callum. Where is he? Brad sank back to the ground, his phone vibrated, and he had a call.

"Are you ready? I'm nearly there." The taxi had moved from the entrance and slowly crept around the corner to the south end of the building. It stopped alongside Brad. Callum jumped out of the back seat leaving the door open.

"Get in but keep your head down so you're not seen. They'll be watching me." whispered Callum.

Callum then moved to the driver's window and gave the appearance he was having a heated discussion with the driver. He swore loudly, threw his hands in the air, slammed the back door shut, walked in front of the cab and got in the front seat. The car drove off and out the exit. Callum continued his Oscar winning performance pretending to be locked in an animated argument with a very confused driver. Once outside the building Callum looked over at Brad who was still hugging the back floor.

He burst out laughing. "It's safe now. You can get up. You cut that a bit fine didn't you?"

A bemused cab driver shot a critical look at the pair of them. Now he had seen it all. You get all sorts of weirdos in cabs these days.

CHAPTER 13

WESLEY SMITH UNMASKED

Over an hour had passed since Cara had heard from Brad. She had an ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew full well how dangerous Liam could be. She blocked out any negative thoughts about Carrick, although deep down she knew he had been responsible for many horrific happenings in Ireland. But, she refused to accept he was an evil man, he was her dad. He was all the family she had. Cara still had grave fears for Brad's safety. Why would Dad be so obsessed with doing harm to Brad? Her phone rang, and relief flooded through her. Brad's name lit up.

"Brad, darling, Are you okay? Where are you? What happened? How did you get away?" Brad calmed her down. He would meet her at a seafood restaurant they had noticed several days ago. "Go straight there. No need to worry about Liam, he's too busy elsewhere to be following you."

Brad instructed the taxi to drop him off at the restaurant. He arrived ten minutes before Cara and had secured an intimate table near the rear. Cara immediately bombarded Brad with questions. He gave an abridged version of his encounters with Liam. He made no mention of Carrick or his rescue by Callum. Cara continually apologized. She blamed herself for Brad's problems. She had led Liam to his room. There was no doubt that she had caused this problem.

Brad had trouble relaxing. He was still on an adrenalin high from his close encounter with Carrick and his cronies. He knew he couldn't return to his old hotel. Cara and Brad climbed into a taxi and instructed the driver to find them a secluded motel. They wanted one well away from the Casinos, and they wanted to book into the honeymoon suite.

***

Carrick, Finn and Liam eventually returned to their hotel room. They had spent the better part of an hour combing the car park. Wesley Smith had vanished into thin air. Carrick was furious. How could Smith have escaped? Several cars had come and gone from the park, Smith must have escaped in one of them. But they had watched them all so closely.

They ordered room service, as they had things to discuss. Liam would return to the Hilton and keep a vigil on Smith's room. They knew it was highly unlikely that Smith would return to the room, nevertheless Carrick insisted Liam keep watch. If he'd not bungled the hit he would have been able to snuggle up in his bed.

It was decided to have one final meeting with Sanchez and give him an ultimatum. Inform him they knew the other mystery bidder, and he was being duped. The bidder was not genuine. They would keep a watch on Sanchez's comings and goings and make it impossible for Smith to make physical contact. Of course, they couldn't prevent Smith ringing Sanchez. All they could do would be impress upon Sanchez that he was being set up. The guy was operating under an assumed name.

Carrick turned to Liam. "What are you waiting for? Rush to the Hilton."

Liam was circumspect. "There's something familiar about that Wesley Smith. His mannerisms and the way he grinned at me when I fell over the pram reminded me a lot of Bradshaw Prendergast."

Carrick roared with laughter. "He's gone home; did you bang your head on that pram?"

***

Brad and Cara spent an intense night making love. Cara expended her guilt and Brad worked off his adrenalin high. She awoke with a start; it was five in the morning. It would be light soon, and she had slept in. What will Dad say? It's a damn nuisance I have to share a room. She kissed a half-asleep Brad on the cheek and rushed back to her hotel. She sneaked into her room and crawled into bed. Carrick never said a word. Perhaps he hadn't woken. Carrick had accepted her story about meeting a girlfriend for dinner; but staying out all night might prove a little hard to explain.

Carrick and Finn arrived at Sanchez's room at eleven the following day. Carrick was keen to seal the deal. It had already dragged on too long thanks to Wesley Smith. Sanchez was almost apologetic when he produced Smith's revised offer. Carrick sneered at Sanchez. He snatched the paper from Sanchez's hand, ripped it in half, and threw it on the floor.

"You can tear it up, but the offer still stands. You either beat it or withdraw," said Sanchez with an exaggerated sigh.

"I'll tell you what. Shall I give you my revised final offer?" Carrick gave Sanchez a cold icy stare and took out his pen and a piece of paper. He scrawled a figure and passed it to Sanchez. Sanchez eagerly grabbed it. His face clouded with amazement and looked up at Carrick. Carrick smiled menacingly.

"But, this is $300,000 below my last offer. I'm never going to accept that."

"Oh yes, I think you will," smirked Carrick. "You see we know all about your other bidder. Mr. Smith is a fraud. It's a fictitious name. We've checked, and he doesn't exist. The man you have been dealing with is setting you up for a fall."

Sanchez was stunned. He started sweating profusely. "I, too, have done my investigating, I have no reason to believe he's not genuine."

"And you also have no reason to believe he is genuine. Whereas with us; well, we're well-known and proven to be safe, genuine clients."

Sanchez was thinking fast. Was this just a tactic from Carrick to scare him into accepting a reduced offer, or was he telling the truth? He had some misgivings about Wesley Smith, he had never heard of him before. And it was true; he did seem to be a man with no past. Carrick coldly stared at Sanchez as he wrestled with his dilemma. Carrick sent chills through Sanchez. He definitely wasn't a man to cross; but dropping the price by $300,000 was unacceptable. All his anticipated profits had just gone up in smoke. Sanchez came to a decision.

"Okay, Carrick. If my supplier agrees, you can have the product, but not at that price."

He indicated Carrick's scrawled last offer. "I will accept your previous offer."

Carrick sensed victory and smiled evilly at Sanchez. "No, this is my last and final offer."

Sanchez felt despondent. "That's not enough. This is the only product of its type on the market and there's unlikely to be anymore. There will be others who will pay my price. I'll put the word out. I'm afraid I can't accept your offer."

Carrick studied Sanchez. He didn't trust the sleazy Mexican, but he couldn't afford Sanchez to bring in more bidders. That would put negotiations back to square one. He had already wasted enough time. "I need to see the product with my own eyes. I'll only up my bid if I'm satisfied you actually have the genuine product."

Deep down Carrick felt a simmering rage that the scumbag Sanchez had tried to extort an unreasonable price from him. He'd already decided, once he knew the products location he would deal with Sanchez. If the opportunity presented itself, the greedy Mexican would not live long enough to regret this past week.

Sanchez nodded. He needed time to set up a place for the goods to be inspected. It needed to be somewhere safe, and on his turf where no one could surprise him. He still hadn't completely given up on Wesley Smith. As long as he saw the money before the product passed over, how could he lose?

Carrick and Finn let themselves out of Sanchez's room. They would await further instructions from Sanchez.

***

Brad felt a growing restlessness as he hadn't heard any more from Sanchez. He gave him a call. Sanchez's response concerned Brad. He was still considering his offers and hadn't made up his mind. He needed more time. Brad couldn't help feeling Sanchez might be stalling. It was time to exert a little pressure.

"My last offer is not open-ended. I need an answer, or else I'll withdraw it. Can we meet and discuss it?" Sanchez hesitantly agreed, he suggested his room as a meeting place. Again, Brad refused. He gave a cafe as an alternative option.

"What's wrong with my room? Why do you never want to come here?" complained Sanchez.

"No," replied Brad, "and there's a very good reason. The other interested party tried to kill me yesterday. You keep some unsavory company."

"Are you sure it was them? How do you know?" queried Sanchez.

"It's my job to know. Does the name Carrick Fitzgerald ring a bell?"

Sanchez became silent; he knew Carrick could be dangerous. "Okay, I'll be at the cafe in thirty minutes."

Brad was doubly cautious; he could expect Carrick's men to have Sanchez under surveillance. He was taking a calculated risk meeting Sanchez, but Carrick must have got to him. Brad sensed it in his conversation. Sanchez seemed quieter, more circumspect, than in their previous encounters. Brad rang Callum, he had that backup. Liam might be watching Sanchez, but Brad knew Callum would be watching Liam.

Brad went through his usual routine, he organized for Sanchez to go through the cafe's kitchen and slip out the rear door. Brad had picked out Liam mingling with shoppers in a man's outfitters. Liam would have missed Sanchez leaving through the rear. Brad felt confident to join Sanchez. They picked another busy restaurant two blocks away.

Brad pumped Sanchez for information. "Why are you stalling, has Carrick topped my offer? What's Carrick saying about me?"

Sanchez disclosed Carrick's version that he could not be trusted, that Wesley Smith was setting him up.

Brad laughed. "You take the word of this terrorist. Of course, he's trying to discredit me, he wants me gone. I told you he tried to kill me. The answer is simple. Just pick somewhere safe and show me the product. If I'm satisfied, I'll transfer the money into any account of your choosing. Once you have confirmation, you can let me have the goods. What could be safer than that?"

Sanchez thought for a minute. He could see the logic in what Brad said. "Okay, I agree. I'll set up a safe location for inspection. I'll inform you when I have it organized."

Brad's phone was vibrating in his pocket. It was Callum.

"Excuse me, Sanchez I have to take this call."

Sanchez nodded, their business had concluded and he stood up to leave.

Callum was urgent. "Watch out. Liam had Finn around the back of the last café. They have followed you here. They were talking to a young boy and passing money to him. It looked like they gave him something. They were showing him a photo and pointing to the restaurant you're in. They're organizing something and I don't like it."

"What's the boy wearing?" asked Brad.

"A blue windbreaker with a picture of Michael Jordan on the front."

"I see him, he's just come in. He's looking around everywhere. I think he's seen me."

Brad put his phone away. He closely watched the boy, they briefly made eye contact. Brad knew that look of recognition. The boy slowly worked his way towards Brad, while trying to give the impression his attention was elsewhere. Brad felt bemused. What's the boy up to, what has Liam and Finn instructed him to do?

Brad soon had his answer. The boy had removed a small plastic bottle from his pocket and was carefully unscrewing the lid. Every few seconds he sneaked a look in Brad's direction. Brad froze. He guessed what was in the bottle. He quickly looked around the restaurant. There appeared no way out except past the boy. Brad kept his head down playing with his phone. He wanted to give the impression he was distracted, but he was concentrating intently on the bottle. The boy drew almost level with his table. The lid was now off the bottle. Brad seized the salt shaker and threw it at the bottle. The boy was taken completely by surprise. He took evasive action. The liquid in the bottle spilt all over his hand. Brad jumped to his feet and pushed between two tables to the protests of other diners.

"Sorry," Brad apologized, "my wife's having a baby." He waved his phone in the air, snatching a glance at the boy, who had grabbed a tissue and was drying his hand. Brad didn't linger, he raced out the door and hurried down the street. He flagged down a passing taxi and sped away.

Callum was ringing. "Are you okay? What happened in there?"

"I'm fine. I don't know about the boy though. He spilt liquid out of a bottle all over his hand."

"Yes, I can see him. He came staggering out of the restaurant and collapsed on the street. There's a big crowd gathering around him. Don't worry about Liam and Finn. They got the shock of their lives when you came out. They weren't concerned about the boy. They desperately looked for a cab to follow you, but there were none. The swine must have paid that young boy to spill the bottle on you and they would have known he was also likely to get some on himself, which would leave no witnesses to the crime.

Brad returned to his hotel, sat in his room, and quietly drank a beer. He had experienced two narrow escapes in two days, and he needed to keep a low profile.

***

Carrick, Finn and Liam met back in their room. They discussed their failed attempts to kill Wesley Smith.

"Every time we set up a hit, the guy makes a miraculous escape," said Carrick. "It's too much of a coincidence. He seems to always be one step ahead of us. I can't help but wonder if he's not working alone. We're watching him, but is someone watching us?"

"Does Smith really matter? Once Sanchez reveals where he has the goods, we grab them," said Finn thoughtfully. "If Smith's still around he'll have to reveal himself if he wants the goods. Then, we can deal with him."

Carrick was more circumspect. "I don't like not knowing who we're dealing with. We need to be very careful. Smith or whoever he is has no history. That's suspicious, what if he's British intelligence?"

"He's definitely not British. All the people I've questioned, like the hotel staff, say he's American," added Liam.

They decided the best they could do would be to remain vigilant. Smith obviously knew they were targeting him and any future hit had become doubly difficult. Now it became a waiting game, and they could do nothing until Sanchez had set up an inspection rendezvous.

***

Cara deliberately slept late. She wanted to avoid Carrick at breakfast in case he cross-examined her on her whereabouts last night. She rang Brad, but he didn't answer. The phone went to voicemail again. This was becoming a habit which started to infuriate her. Why is he so busy that he can't answer his phone?

Carrick caught up with Cara, and he didn't seem concerned. He seemed preoccupied with other matters. As he turned to leave, he suddenly stopped, as if a thought had just occurred.

"You must have had a good night. You were very late home. What did you get up to?"

It appeared a casual comment, rather than an inquisition, but it still sent a chill through Cara.

"Yes, I had a lovely night. I ended up back at Mel's flat. That's my friend. We watched a bit of TV and had a few drinks. I must have nodded off. I woke up and it was real late. Sorry, were you worried?"

Carrick laughed, "No, like you told me before, you're a big girl now. You can look after yourself."

Cara smiled a weak smile. She felt hugely relieved that Carrick didn't suspect anything.

Her phone rang, and it was Brad. She walked away out of earshot of Carrick and gave Brad an earful. "Why is your phone always turned off? What if I need to contact you urgently?"

Brad listened calmly. "My phone had run low on battery, and it was on the charger. There's no cause for concern. I'm ringing you now."

Cara calmed down. "Can we meet somewhere?

Brad was a little apprehensive. He knew Liam had a nasty habit of following her. It would be taking an unnecessary risk, but he finally relented to an insistent Cara. Cara was delighted; she looked forward to seeing Brad that afternoon. She never noticed Liam lurking in the background studying her reactions with an intense interest.

Liam had a deep suspicious of all the phone calls. He knew they could not all be coming from home. First, there was a major time difference. Cara's calls would have been in the middle of the night if they had been from home. Second, Cara's reactions were too excited for a normal call. She would smile and skip around like a teenager in love. Liam knew there was something fishy, and he intended to discover the mysterious caller.

Carrick joined Finn and Liam in their room. Waiting around for Sanchez to contact them was starting to rile all three men. They were all keen to conclude their business and return home to Belfast. Once the materials were secured, they could begin organizing the next stage of their plan, the critical stage. After they had delivered their decisive attack, they would have real bargaining power to present their demands to the arrogant British Government. The British would ignore them at their peril.

Carrick commented to Finn and Liam. "Cara's off out again. I can't for the life of me understand how she can spend so much time shopping. It would drive me up the wall."

Finn and Carrick laughed at the thought, but Liam was more circumspect. He didn't believe Cara was spending all her time shopping. His thoughts went back to her last phone call. That didn't sound to him like she was setting up a shopping excursion.

"Has Cara left yet?"

"No, she's having a shower first."

"Good," said Liam. "I wanted to ask her something, I'll catch her before she goes."

Liam disappeared down the corridor. He wasn't ready to share his concerns with Carrick just yet. If Cara's still in the shower, that would suit his plan fine. He let himself into Carrick's room with a key he had picked up from reception. He could hear the shower running and Cara singing at the top of her voice. She was obviously in high spirits, far too excited for a simple shopping expedition.

He needed to work fast, so he quickly scanned the room. Her phone sat on the dresser. She hadn't bothered to conceal it, as she hadn't expected company. Liam pounced on the phone and quickly scrolled down her recent calls. They all came from the same number. He then scrolled through her text messages. Brad, Brad, Brad, Brad. Nearly all were coming from Brad. Liam read a couple. They were mainly arrangements to meet. Liam knew Brad Prendergast had left over a week ago, but these were recent messages. Liam's face twisted in rage. The Yank had tricked him. He'd never left. But that didn't make sense. He had kept a close watch on Cara, so if she had met Prendergast he would have known. Liam listened for the shower, it was still running. He rang the last number that had called Cara.

"Hello, Cara, I'm leaving shortly. Is there a problem?" Liam closed the phone, he knew that voice. Definitely Bradshaw Prendergast. Liam heard the shower turn off. He turned off Cara's phone. He didn't want Prendergast calling back asking why she had hung up on him. Liam quickly slipped out of the room, his heart racing. He felt totally confused. How could Prendergast have avoided detection?

***

Cara skipped out of the hotel and jumped into a cab. She was in high spirits; she almost forgot to keep an eye open for Liam. This time Liam kept well back. He stopped his taxi two hundred yards back up the street and stayed in the cab. He had brought some high-powered binoculars and much to the cab driver's amusement, he sat there scanning up and down the street.

"Who are you looking for, Bro? Has your Mrs. found herself a new fancy man?"

Liam ignored the question. He slowly worked his way up and down both sides of the street checking out each shopper. He didn't recognize anyone, and he certainly never saw Bradshaw Prendergast. A growing anger started to build.

"Is there a street at the back of the cafe that woman went in?"

"Sure," grinned the cab driver. "You think your missus might have pulled a swifty and sneaked out the back?"

"Maybe," grunted Liam. "Drive around the back and park well away, but close enough for me to see with these."

Liam waved his binoculars. He swore to himself that he should have brought Finn. He couldn't watch two places at once. He thought for a moment and then made a calculated choice. If Cara followed her previous behavior she would try to sneak out another exit to lose any pursuers. Liam ducked down as the cab rolled forward just in case anyone might be watching. The cab driver thought Liam's antics were hilarious.

"You can look now, Bro. She can't see you from here." Liam sat up just in time to see Cara climb into a waiting taxi and speed away.

"Follow that cab, but don't get too close," instructed Liam. The taxi drove to a busy park. People were out jogging, couples strolling hand in hand, and people walking their dogs around the park. Cara stepped out of the cab, walked into the park and sat on a seat. Liam watched through his binoculars. After ten minutes she stood up and walked further into the park stopping under a stand of trees. Moments later, Liam observed a well-dressed man approach her. They locked in an intimate embrace.

Liam felt frustrated. He was too far away to identify the mystery man. He wished he could get closer without revealing himself. He kept his binoculars trained on the intimate couple. It was hard to get a view of the man's face. They walked with arms draped around each other, deeper into the park, and further away from Liam.

Liam paid his fare and jumped out. Keeping close to the trees, he carefully edged closer. The couple had stopped at a kiosk and bought ice-cream. Liam crept closer. They were so engrossed in each other's company, they had forgotten to take precautions. Liam trained his binoculars on the man. He now had a good view. Liam gave a start,

"Well I'll be a donkey's rear end," he murmured. "Our Wesley Smith is really Bradshaw Prendergast. What sort of game does he think he's playing?" Liam fingered the gun in an inside coat pocket. He would love to put a bullet in Prendergast's head, but that wouldn't be wise in full view of Cara. Liam looked around. There were too many people out and about. Liam tried taking a photo with his phone, but it was a pointless exercise. He was too far away to get a clear picture. Liam turned and left. He couldn't wait to break the news to Carrick.

***

Callum and Brad met that evening. Cara desperately wanted to go out, but Brad convinced her it would be too dangerous. The last thing they need was to trigger Carrick's suspicions. Callum expressed concern that Brad had met Cara again. "You're pushing your luck; don't you remember what had happened last time?"

Callum updated Brad. "I spent my time keeping a close watch on Sanchez. He had several meetings, one with an Arab man who exuded wealth. He had an entourage of about ten people, which included a couple of very attractive European women. I'm guessing he will be the supplier of the VX. I've contacted our embassy and sent a photo. I'm waiting on them for an ID."

****

Carrick listened dubiously to Liam, but then realized his story was plausible. That would be where Cara's been the nights she came home late. But what would Prendergast be thinking bidding for the VX? And how did Prendergast even know of its existence? Is this Prendergast's way of getting back at me? We know nothing about Wesley Smith, but we sure as hell do with Bradshaw Prendergast. He's nothing more than a surfing bum who can't hold down a regular job. I don't believe he has a serious interest in the VX. Prendergast's nothing more than a damned nuisance. Someone who's already caused us considerable grief. He's playing with fire and deserves to be burnt.

The other question Carrick had was who would be working with Prendergast. Someone had to be. It's too much of a coincidence he had managed to elude their attempts to eliminate him. He had to be getting help from someone.

Liam looked at Carrick. "What are you going to do with Cara? Are you going to tackle her about Prendergast?"

Carrick looked thoughtful, a grin spread across his face. "No, I'm not going to mention it. I'll let her think we're blissfully unaware of her liaisons with Prendergast. I intend to use it to our advantage should the situation arise. We know she will be passing information to him. So, what's to stop us feeding her a little inaccurate information. We may be able to use this to our advantage."

Liam sat quietly thinking, his hatred of Prendergast was growing by the minute. The fact Cara seemed infatuated with the American was unacceptable. but even worse, the guy had made him look like a complete idiot. He looked forward to dealing once and for all with the damned Yank.

CHAPTER 14

THE HONEYMOON SUITE

The sun beat down relentlessly with hardly a cloud in the sky. Callum alighted his plane in Mexico City. Vegas had been hot, but here the air had an added intensity. It felt like he was wearing a heavy overcoat on a hot summer's day. The perspiration ran down his forehead and his shirt felt clammy. These temperatures were foreign to Callum. He had a burning desire to head straight to his hotel room and crank up the air conditioning. Unfortunately, sitting in his room would not be an option, as he knew Sanchez had left Vegas. Brad had advised Sanchez was organizing a time and place where the product could be inspected before the final negotiations and sale. He needed to find out more about this meeting, and he needed to be in a position to intercept the product.

This all took time to organize. Being in a foreign country with limited resources, he needed backup, CIA backup. They would need prior warning. His priority was to stop Carrick getting his hands on the VX and nip his clandestine plotting in the bud. Callum was aware Sanchez had booked a flight to Mexico City. This made sense, it was home for Sanchez, it would be the most likely place for a deal to be concluded. Sanchez had business offices in Mexico City where he had an import export business, but analysis of this business left Callum skeptical it could support the Mexican's extravagant lifestyle. The obvious conclusion had to be it would be a front for his more lucrative and secretive business ventures as an armament dealer.

Callum checked into his hotel, he felt the relief of the cool air wafting in from the air conditioning. He rang his embassy contact and asked for an update on Sanchez. Was he still in Mexico City? Sanchez had made a brief visit to his offices and had then driven to his beachside condominium in Acapulco. Callum queried whether any surveillance of Sanchez's communications had been set up, as it was imperative that he learn more of Sanchez's planning. A vehicle with listening devices had been parked in close proximity to the condominium. All Sanchez's phone calls were being monitored as were all his emails. The only problem might be if Sanchez was using a code. Such a code would take time to break. Satisfied that everything possible had been done, Callum jumped in his shower. He had the water turned to cold, and the relief was immediate.

The next morning Callum caught the bus to Acapulco. He decided against hiring a car. He had been warned that the local police targeted tourists, pulling them over and demanding instant payment for supposed traffic offences. He could do without that hassle; that would mean disclosing his true identity. Then, there would be more questions. Why is he in Mexico? What is the real purpose for his visit? Maybe this would filter back to Carrick. No, I need to keep a low profile. Callum checked into his hotel and then rang his embassy contact.

The only communication of note was a call from Sanchez to a Mohammed Al Razack. It didn't reveal anything of consequence, just an agreement to keep in touch. Sanchez had arranged a meeting which would take place in his condominium that afternoon.

Callum then rang Brad. "What's happening in Vegas?"

Brad launched into an extravagant account of his recent movements. He touched on his lunch and dinner dates with Cara. What had been on the menu, the shows they had been to and of course he had been enjoying more success on the gaming tables.

"God, I love this place," exclaimed Brad.

"No trouble with Liam?"

"No, it's strange. He hasn't followed Cara once. He seems to have given up."

"I wouldn't count on it, No word from Sanchez yet?"

"No, nothing. I did try calling but received no reply."

"I know," said Callum.

Brad was stunned. "What do you mean you know?

"Have you heard of wire taps?"

"Why don't you just tap my phone calls, that will save me the trouble of reporting in," said a sarcastic Brad.

"Now that's a thought," laughed Callum.

Callum was eager to hear what the surveillance revealed from Sanchez's meeting with Mohammed.

"Unfortunately," reported his contact, "we haven't heard a lot. I think it's probably because of the concrete construction of the Condo, it muffles the listening devices. The phones are different, and we can hear them alright, but anything spoken inside is challenging to decipher."

"Well what about a tap on Mohammed. Can we tap into his communications?"

"Yes, we're doing that, but of course they are mainly speaking Arabic. We need to translate the communications."

"Well, do it! I need to know." Callum was becoming impatient, events seemed to be meandering aimlessly. He needed some certainty, and he needed to know Sanchez's plans.

Callum was in a quandary. He would have liked to keep Sanchez under surveillance, but he also thought he should be monitoring Mohammed. He couldn't be in two places at once and the embassy people were not really up for that kind of work. He could do with help. His thoughts turned to Brad. He had always been skeptical about involving Prendergast. The guy's resume did not exactly invoke confidence. A failed teacher, and his only successes in life were surfing and his social feats with girls. This hardly qualified as criteria to make a successful intelligence agent.

Right at the beginning Callum had voiced his concerns to Stuart Wilson. Stuart had admitted Prendergast would be a bit of a gamble. But Carrick would be highly suspicious of any person with a British accent after the successes MI6 had enjoyed infiltrating the RIRA over recent years. Prendergast represented a most unlikely agent. He wouldn't trigger any red flags. Prendergast was definitely a risk worth taking. Anyhow it was his decision to make, not Callum's. Callum had accepted this, and he just asked for his reservations to be noted. He pointed out it was highly likely the next Stuart heard of Prendergast would be to read his name in the obituaries column.

Despite his early misgivings, Callum now had to admit Prendergast had surprised him. He had developed an intense relationship with Cara and had worked his way into Carrick's tight knit circle. He had succeeded where most would have failed. Callum still had this niggling concern that Prendergast did not truly appreciate the real danger he faced. In fact, he seemed to delight in it. Perhaps he's seen too many spy movies where the good guy always came through. Real life isn't like that. Callum conceded that Prendergast had shown real aptitude to date, but he'd been lucky. Liam would certainly have terminated him if I hadn't been watching his back. Now Prendergast was alone in Vegas. That had to be a concern, plus his recent phone call to Brad had irritated him. They were paying the guy to socialize and live the high life in Vegas. He wasn't doing anything worthwhile there.

He rang Brad. "Pack your bags and get on the next flight to Mexico City. Then catch the bus to Acapulco."

Brad expressed surprised at the urgency of the request. He was in no hurry to leave.

"What's up? Is something happening? Why the urgency?"

"Just get here. I could do with help. Your holiday in Vegas is over," snapped Callum.

***

Brad had a hurried meeting with Cara. Something had come up and he had to leave. Cara wasn't about to accept that explanation. "Why the hurry, what's come up that's so urgent? Will I ever see you again? Does this mean our engagement is over?"

Brad threw his hands in the air. "Questions, questions. Unfortunately, I've had an urgent call from home. There are problems that need my attention. This day was always going to come. You would eventually be going home to Belfast and I would be going back to LA. We live on opposite sides of the world. Unless one of us is prepared to move this day was inevitable. We can keep in touch."

Brad found saying goodbye a lot harder than he had expected. Cara became quiet. She accepted what Brad had said. Deep down she knew this day probably was inevitable, and that one day they would have to part company. That didn't stop her from feeling annoyed. What had been the point in our engagement if it had to end like this?

An air of despondency enveloped her. She felt a bond with her dad, despite all his faults. She represented the only family he had. But she desperately didn't want this to be goodbye with Brad, as she loved him. She accepted she couldn't leave Carrick, and it would be too much to expect for Brad to move to Ireland. It didn't exactly spring to mind as the world's most desirable surf spot. The plain truth was that there was no desirable solution.

***

Liam felt like he was at a dead end. Waiting for word from Sanchez was frustrating, but they couldn't hurry it. Carrick had tried. He left numerous messages on Sanchez's phone, but he never heard back. As the frustration grew, the fear that Sanchez might have decided to go with Prendergast started to rise. That wasn't logical and definitely unacceptable.

Carrick had instructed Liam to back off his surveillance of Cara. He no longer rated Prendergast as a real threat to the deal. He was more an annoying distraction, someone who liked playing silly games. If Prendergast later got in the way of their deal they would take him out. But for the time being, it was best to ignore him rather than risk a hit in a foreign country.

Liam didn't share this opinion. He didn't know what game Prendergast was playing, but he did intend to keep a close eye on him. If the opportunity presented itself, he intended to take the annoying Yank out. The bum's arrogant self-confidence was irritating.

Liam had time on his hands. He intended to continue his surveillance of Cara and Prendergast. He just had to be a bit smarter. He struck up a conversation with one of the young bar staff. She complained bitterly about the poor pay she received. They were expected to supplement this with tips, but these were shared between the entire bar staff. Even when added to her take home pay, her earnings were pitiful. This would be her last year in Vegas; it just wasn't worth it. As soon as she could organize a job somewhere else she was out of here. Liam sat thinking. He saw an opportunity he could explore. Cara would never expect to be followed by a young girl. She wouldn't have to hide in the background like him, and she could virtually rub shoulders with Cara and not set off any alarm bells.

He put a proposition to the young girl. "Would you like to keep watch on my friend's daughter? I suspect she might be having an affair here in Vegas, while her husband is back home in Ireland struggling to build a business for their future. You would only have to report her movements back to me. I would then come and photograph her indiscretions. Later I would sit down with the daughter, confront her with the evidence, and try to convince her of the error of her ways. I will pay for your time. It will be easy money."

The young girl did not take much convincing. It was for a good cause. She once had a boyfriend who had cheated on her, and she would be glad to help.

Whenever Cara left the hotel, Liam contacted the young bar girl. Then, he sat back and waited for her call. She reported back that Cara had done some strange things. She was always slipping out the back of shops, as if she was trying to lose someone who might be following.

As the week progressed Cara stopped taking so many precautions. She hadn't had any problem with Liam following her for more than a week. Cara became very easy for the young girl to follow. Once Cara had met up with Brad and had settled into a meal at a restaurant or similar, Liam would receive her phone call and take over the surveillance. It worked a treat; the bar girl doubled her income while Cara and Prendergast basked in blissful ignorance that they were under surveillance.

Liam found it very hard to control his fury. At times Prendergast was all over Cara, and she returned his affections with interest. Liam's efforts finally paid off. He tracked Cara and Prendergast back to his motel room. Now he knew where Prendergast was staying, he could put into action a plan to get rid of the annoying Yank once and for all. He knew exactly how he would do it. Carrick need not know what he planned. All he needed was access to the motel room without anyone being able to point the finger at him.

The next morning Liam went to Brad's motel. He knew Cara had gone out, and he assumed to meet Prendergast again. Liam felt an exhilarating excitement, Prendergast would soon be history. Wesley Smith would cease to exist, and the deal with Sanchez could proceed unimpeded. The simplicity of his plan excited him. Now he needed access to the motel room and to make sure Cara never returned with Prendergast. That would be a disaster. Liam could not be sure she would survive if she visited the room. Imagine Carrick's rage if the plan went awry and Cara died as well. It didn't bear thinking about.

Liam hovered around the corridor to Brad's room. He needed to be patient, to wait for an opportunity to access the room without being seen. Liam noticed a maid servicing the room. He observed her throw her swipe key into the service trolley as she took fresh linen into the room. Liam strolled nonchalantly past the trolley, grabbed the swipe key and put it in his pocket. He quickly walked away.

His spirits soared, he had outwitted the Yank, or at least he soon will have. He needed to give the cleaning staff time to finish servicing. He wandered down the street and into a restaurant. He enjoyed a very tasty lunch washed down with some Guinness. He had missed his favorite drink since arriving in America. Very few bars and restaurants stocked it.

An hour had passed before Liam returned to the motel and cautiously let himself into Prendergast's room. He peeled back the bedspread, put on some surgical gloves, unscrewed the cap on a small bottle and poured a few drips of VX onto each pillow of the king bed. He carefully replaced the bedspread, a satisfied smile on his face. He was about to leave; an uneasy thought entered his head. What if the pillows absorb most of the VX, I've never tested this theory? Maybe the dose administered will be too weak to be fatal? I can't afford to miss this opportunity, I need to be sure.

Liam hurried back out onto the street to a confectionary shop and purchased a small box of mints wrapped in tinfoil. Perfect! He allowed himself a smug smile. He returned to the motel room and repeated the process. He again put on surgical gloves. He placed two mints on a saucer, dripped a few drops of VX on each mint, and strategically placed the saucer in the middle of the bed. Liam headed for the door, stopped, and took one final look.

"Sweet dreams, Bradshaw Prendergast," he murmured and let himself out.

The afternoon his euphoria dissipated and a nervous anxiety crept in to replace it. It was imperative he stop Cara returning to Prendergast's room that evening. Liam suggested to Carrick that they all take in a show. At first Carrick was reticent, but to Liam's surprise he had an unexpected ally in Cara. She cajoled Carrick, who soon capitulated. This was easier than Liam had expected, and it capped off a brilliant day.

The next morning Cara seemed very subdued, and she seemed in no hurry to go out. She didn't even seem to be interested in shopping. Liam looked at her suspiciously, his curiosity finally got the better of him.

"What, no shopping today, Cara? That's most unusual. You've been going out every day up until this morning."

Cara smiled a weak smile. "No, I think I'll have a relaxing day inside. Maybe I'll watch a bit of television." She turned on the television and flicked through the channels. She stopped on a local news bulletin. 'A honey-mooning couple has been found dead in their Las Vegas motel room this morning. Police are investigating. It's too soon to say what caused the deaths, but they're being treated as suspicious.'

Liam's face went as white as a ghost; he rushed out to get a paper. He needed to know what motel the deaths occurred at. Liam purchased a paper at reception and sat outside in the sun flicking through the pages. First time through he missed it in his hurry. It was only a tiny article, just a few lines. And yes, it was Prendergast's motel. It was just the one line; no details were included. Obvious it was a breaking news item that had been included at the last minute.

Liam put the paper down and stared into space. How could this have happened? I know I had the right room. I took special care when I followed Prendergast and Cara back to the motel. Liam tried to come up with an explanation. Thinking back, he had not noticed any luggage in the room, not that he had especially looked. He had one thing on his mind when he entered and that was to do the job and leave, without being seen. Cara seemed happy to go to the show with us last night, which was unusual. She usually had plans of her own. Then this morning, she was happy to mooch around the hotel. Again, that's unusual. What if Prendergast has left, but why would he leave? Maybe he's finally run out of money.

Liam knew Prendergast wasn't flushed with money. All his background checks confirmed Prendergast lived day to day supporting his surfing lifestyle. Liam would have loved to return to the motel reception to ask if Prendergast had checked out, but he knew that would be foolhardy. The place would be crawling with cops. One thing was certain; Liam wasn't going to mention a word of this to Carrick. He would just hope Carrick would not put two and two together.

***

It took a week for Sanchez to contact Carrick. Everyone's mood was buoyant, at last something positive was happening. They could seal the deal and get home to Belfast. Even Cara appeared happy to be moving. She had had her fill of Las Vegas. They took the first flight the next day to Mexico City. Cara had booked them onto the coach to Acapulco that afternoon. She would have loved to check out the shopping in Mexico City, but Carrick would not entertain the thought. They were here on business, and she had done enough shopping to last a lifetime.

CHAPTER 15

ACAPULCO

Callum gave Brad the job of watching Mohammed. He was known to Sanchez, so it didn't pay for him to be seen sniffing around. Brad pointed out he had also met Mohammed, although he doubted that he would be remembered.

Brad enjoyed watching Mohammed, or at least the two women in the entourage. They were obviously of Western descent and they didn't wear traditional Arabian robes like everyone else in the party. While their clothes showed Western influences, they were definitely not in the revealing category. They covered all their shoulders and flowed right down to their ankles. Brad could see enough to know they were both strikingly attractive women. His curiosity was aroused, why were they in this entourage? Obviously, Mohammed was rolling in money. Were they there for the money? Brad assumed so. He would love to get close enough to discuss it with them, but he knew that would be extremely difficult. They very rarely ventured out without the men in the group. He was never likely to run into them in any bar. Brad knew Arabs were not permitted to consume alcohol, so no doubt the women would not be permitted. And he doubted they would venture down on the beach. It would not be acceptable to display that much flesh. Brad sighed, it will be a real challenge to have a private word with them.

Brad began to doubt he would have much success in learning anything from Mohammed. Any conversation he picked up was in Arabic, although he heard they were quite fluent in English. He took note of anyone who came into contact with them. He had discrete chats to hotel staff to see if he could learn anything from them. Who were the people who had just visited? Despite the language barrier, Brad could tell something was being organized. The men had all retired to their hotel suite to have a meeting with several other Arabs, who had just arrived.

Brad looked up in surprise, the two women left the group and wandered through the substantial hotel grounds. Brad surmised that the woman being excluded from this meeting and had been instructed to amuse themselves elsewhere. This might be the opportunity he had been waiting for. He raced around the grounds to get ahead of the women, so he could accidently encounter them in the garden. As he approached he overheard them talking. They were speaking English. The tall dark-haired woman seemed to have an American accent, this surprised Brad. The shorter blonde woman sounded European. Brad wasn't sure, maybe Dutch, maybe even Swedish. He had not encountered a lot of women from that part of the world.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, I can't help but notice your accent. It almost sounds American." Brad stepped out in front of them. The woman appeared startled. They anxiously looked around to see if anyone was observing them. Brad flashed his charming smile.

"Don't worry. I saw all the men disappear up to their room."

"We're not supposed to have contact with other men," whispered the dark-haired woman. "And yes, I'm American. I come from Boston, and Ingrid here is German." Ingrid flashed a shy smile.

"I'm Brad and you are?" enquired Brad.

"I'm Danielle. We really shouldn't be talking to you."

Brad grinned. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me, I won't tell them. You have to tell me why you're with Mohammed's party. I'm dying of curiosity."

Danielle again glanced around nervously. She then moved further away from the hotel and into a denser part of the garden, before speaking. "I was down on my luck. Mohammed spotted me waitressing in an adult club and made me an offer I couldn't refuse. I've been with him two years now. Unfortunately, once you're in, it's very hard to leave. He's very controlling. Ingrid has been in even longer. Three years isn't it?"

Ingrid nodded nervously looking back towards the hotel.

"What happens if you try to leave?" enquired Brad.

"They send men out to drag you back. Then you lose all your privileges, and you become a virtual prisoner. And there's a little physical abuse thrown in for good measure."

Ingrid nodded in agreement. "I tried leaving once. I was locked up in solitary confinement for three months. It nearly destroyed me. We're very lucky to be allowed out of Riyadh. That's in Saudi Arabia."

Brad looked shocked. "Do you want me to help you to escape? I could put you on a plane back to the States."

"We have no passports. Mohammed keeps them. We wouldn't be safe there, Mohammed would track us down. He has contacts everywhere, so it's hopeless. You would be putting your life in danger as Mohammed is a dangerous man. Several men who have crossed Mohammed have suffered mysterious deaths. I can't prove it, but I'm sure Mohammed was responsible." Danielle had a despondent look on her face.

"Out of curiosity, did these men who died have no known cause of death? No marks on their bodies and no health complications?"

"Yes, that's right," said Danielle closely studying Brad. "Do you know something about the deaths?"

Brad gave a grim smile. "I know Mohammed has obtained a very dangerous chemical, which causes almost instant death, and he's here to sell it to the highest bidder."

Danielle and Ingrid exchanged horrified glances. Brad desperately wanted to help, but first he had his job to do.

"Look I'll help you. I'm not sure how yet, but first I need some help from you. I need to know what Mohammed's planning, and what is the subject of the meeting held in his room."

Danielle replied. "We don't know much. We do know that he's arranging a shipment of some kind to here. It must be very important, given the amount of trouble and planning on his part. Maybe it's this chemical you're talking about. He doesn't usually travel with all those men. Some are his security goons, and they're especially dangerous."

Danielle was now eager to discuss Mohammed. The women were extremely nervous. They kept snatching furtive glances back in the direction of the hotel. But they saw an opportunity, this was their first venture outside of the Middle East since joining Mohammed. This may be their one and only chance of freedom. Brad wanted to know how he could contact them.

"It's impossible," murmured Ingrid. "We're usually not allowed out without a male minder. We're not allowed phones and we're not allowed to talk to strangers, especially men."

"Nothing is impossible," smiled Brad. "We just have to be smart, make that devious. Can we set up a place here in the garden where we can leave notes for each other? You just need to be able to distract your minders long enough to be able to place and retrieve them without being seen."

Ingrid and Danielle smiled at each other. "I'm sure we can manage that."

A rock besides a water garden was chosen as the drop off point. Brad wasn't overjoyed with the arrangement, but it was the best he could come up with. He stressed he needed information about Mohammed's plans. Even if they thought it trivial and not important, he still wanted to know. The girls agreed, smiled a hurried goodbye, and scuttled away before someone came looking for them.

Brad observed them from a distance. It was just as well they had left when they did. They were intercepted by a burly Arab in flowing robes before they had made it back to the hotel. Brad could tell from the tone of the conversation that they were being reprimanded.

***

Callum studied the intercepted communications from Sanchez. Most seemed to involve other business deals he was working on. It was hard to pinpoint anything relevant to the present negotiations, although Callum felt sure some must be. He noted an email to Captain Rodriquez instructing him to bring El Celeste to Acapulco and await further instructions. This interested Callum. He did some searching and discovered El Celeste was a luxury yacht registered to one of Sanchez's companies. A search in the shipping register revealed El Celeste was a 120-foot luxury yacht with a crew of ten, accommodation for fifteen guests, and boasted a helipad. Callum had a suspicion that the El Celeste might somehow be involved in the deal going down.

***

Carrick's party arrived in Acapulco late in the afternoon. They checked into luxury apartments on the waterfront. This had been Cara's idea. Carrick would have happily settled for cheaper back street accommodation, but Cara was not about to pass up this opportunity. She instantly unpacked and headed for the beach minutes after arriving. The beach still buzzed with activity, and the sun had lost only a little of its intensity.

Brad observed Cara from a distance. He would have loved to surprise her, but it was wise to keep his distance. She believed he had returned home, and it would be difficult to explain turning up in Acapulco. He wasn't supposed to know she had travelled here. He could always approach her if the need arose.

***

Carrick had a niggling concern that Wesley Smith, alias Prendergast, may still be involving himself in the bidding war for the VX. It did not make sense that he would be, and he doubted he would be. Still he felt concerned. Carrick rang Sanchez, "I'm in Acapulco. I need to inspect the product and then we can conclude the deal."

***

Brad strolled through the hotel gardens. All his previous inspections had proved fruitless. Perhaps Danielle and Ingrid had decided it was too dangerous. Maybe they are having difficulty making the drop unobserved, or perhaps they just have nothing to report. Brad nonchalantly sat by the rock pool and discreetly moved the appointed rock. His face lit up when he saw the folded piece of paper. He slipped it into his pocket and strolled away. In the privacy of his room, Brad removed the paper and read the message.

'Overheard Mohammed arranging visit to El Celeste for one o'clock today.'

Brad stared at the paper. He wished he could talk to the girls. He didn't understand what the El Celeste was. For all he knew it may have been a tourist attraction. Brad rang Callum, who moments later arrived at his door.

Callum explained. "The El Celeste is a luxury yacht owned by Sanchez. I believe this may be the inspection site for the product. I've been monitoring the harbor, but no luxury yachts the size of the El Celeste are moored here."

Brad stayed close to the hotel; he wanted to follow Mohammad and his entourage when they left. He became so preoccupied with observing the entrance he almost walked into Finn and Liam. They seemed intent on doing a similar thing to him. They were hovering around the hotel entrance, keeping in the background, observing everyone coming and going. Brad's heart raced. That was a little too close for comfort. He definitely didn't want Liam to know he was here in Acapulco.

Brad withdrew further away. Now he needed to watch Liam, which made following Mohammad twice as difficult. The question racing through Brad's head was what were Finn and Liam up to? Brad soon received his answer. Mohammed and most of his entourage came sweeping out of the hotel and climbed into two waiting cars. Finn and Liam immediately showed interest, commandeered a nearby taxi, and set off after Mohammed.

Brad desperately searched for another cab. His luck was in, as another taxi rolled in dropping off a young couple. Brad jumped into the cab in a flash. Unfortunately, the driver appeared in no hurry. He chatted to the hotel staff, sharing a joke with them. Brad reached over and tooted the horn. The startled driver made comments about impatient Americans, before reluctantly getting back in his cab.

"Follow that taxi that just left," ordered Brad. The driver looked up and down the street bewildered.

"What taxi, Senor? I don't see a taxi." He turned to Brad and wanted to discuss the situation.

"Just drive in that direction," barked Brad, "and be quick about it." After a couple of blocks, it appeared hopeless, there was no sign of the other taxi.

"You took so damned long I've lost them. You may as well let me out and don't expect a tip," growled Brad. The driver seemed unperturbed.

"What color taxi was it?"

"Same as yours," snapped Brad annoyed that he had lost his chance.

"That'll be Miguel, I'll give him a call," said the driver smiling.

"No, I don't want them to know I'm following them."

"No worries," smiled the driver giving Brad a wink. "I'll be very discreet."

Minutes later the driver accelerated away with a big smile on his face.

"Miguel is taking your friends to the port. Maybe they are catching a launch," the driver gaily informed Brad.

"Do you know where the launch is taking them?" inquired Brad. The driver shook his head.

"I have a cousin who has a fast boat. I can give him a call."

"No thanks," said Brad.

Brad instructed the taxi driver to park a discreet distance away. He observed Finn and Liam were also parked several hundred yards from Mohammed's cars. Brad cursed under his breath. Thanks to Finn and Liam he couldn't see what Mahammad was doing.

After ten minutes one of Mohammed's cars drove back past the two taxis. Liam and Finn's cab did a U turn and followed. Brad sunk down in his seat as they both passed. He then instructed his driver to follow, but at a discreet distance.

"Don't worry I won't lose them. I can always ring Miguel."

Brad wasn't convinced continually ringing Miguel would be a good idea, but he made no comment. His thoughts were on Finn and Liam. What were their reasons for following Mohammed's men? Were they trying to find the location of the VX, and if so, what were they planning? Whatever their intentions, Brad didn't like it.

The miles were ticking over. The taxi driver and Brad kept glancing at the trip clock. Brad felt concerned at the mounting cost. He was used to being frugal even though he knew Callum would keep topping up his bank account. The driver obviously thought this was going to turn into a very lucrative day for him.

As they left the city the driver glanced at Brad and said quietly. "I think we're heading for the airport." His assessment turned out to be correct. But instead of turning into the passenger terminal, they drove straight past and into the hangers and maintenance area. Again, Brad instructed the taxi driver to park well away from the other taxi. He had seen Finn and Liam's taxi glide to a halt. He instructed his driver to detour around a large aircraft workshop and park on the other side, well away from Finn and Liam's line of sight.

Brad got out of the taxi and carefully peered around the corner of the workshop. He couldn't see Finn and Liam, but he had a clear view of Mohammed's men. They had parked outside a closed hanger and entered through a small rear door.

Brad started to become impatient. They had been inside the hanger for at least twenty minutes. Finally, Mohammed's men emerged, but this time their numbers had grown. Brad could see there were at least two other Arabs in the group now. They held a short discussion before Mohammed's men climbed back in their car and drove off. The other two men re-entered the hanger closing the door behind them.

Brad decided against following, he wanted to know what was in the hanger. But he also knew there were two men in there. Brad made his way to the other end of the workshop and looked up the road. He was relieved to see Liam and Finn's taxi had gone. Brad returned to his taxi, his driver watched him with a curious stare.

"I have a small job for you," smiled Brad. "I need to know what's inside that hanger. I want you to go and talk to the guys in the workshop and ask them."

The taxi driver looked blankly at Brad. "I'm a taxi driver, not your messenger boy."

Brad smiled and took out his wallet. He peeled off several notes and waved them in front of the driver.

"Senor, I could lose my license. How would I support my family? We have four kids to feed?"

Brad sighed and peeled off two more notes. "My final offer. Take it or leave it." The driver burst into a smile and snatched the notes. "You still have to pay my fare."

"Of course," nodded Brad.

Fifteen minutes later the taxi driver emerged with a wide grin. This had to be the easiest two hundred dollars he had ever earned. He informed Brad that some rich Arab had leased the hanger for three weeks. "He has paid three times the going rate and has parked his private jet in there. No one is allowed into the hanger. Two Arabs stay in the hanger in a campervan and they never leave. Occasionally they have groceries delivered to them, and sometimes some other Arabs visit. It is all very secretive." The driver watched for a reaction from Brad, but there was none. He merely nodded and thanked the driver. He then instructed him to drive him back to his hotel.

***

Brad and Callum ordered room service and had a catch up in Brad's room. Callum thought it the wise place to meet after Brad mentioned nearly running into Finn and Liam. They relaxed with a couple of beers. Brad recounted to Callum his trip to the port and then his visit to the airport.

Callum reported he had lost contact with Sanchez. There were no communications coming from the condo, so he had to assume it would be empty, and he had been unable to locate the El Celeste. It definitely wasn't in the harbor. Callum felt a growing concern that all his enquiries were drawing blanks.

Callum decided to hire a plane and reconnoiter off the coast. It immediately paid dividends; the El Celeste was cruising fifty miles out to sea. He studied it with high powered binoculars but did not learn anything apart from noticing a launch alongside. He guessed that Sanchez may have taken the launch out and would now be staying aboard. This would make it impossible to monitor Sanchez's conversations; he would be well out of range of any listening devices. They could still intercept his phone calls, but they had not revealed any helpful information to date.

The conversation then returned to Carrick. What were his intentions? One had to assume there was a strong possibility the VX may be aboard Mohammad's private jet in the hanger, hence the twenty-four-hour guard. Would Carrick be planning a raid on the hanger? That would be an extremely dangerous and desperate course of action. Callum felt sure that if Carrick thought he might miss out on getting his hands on the VX, he would resort to desperate measures.

CHAPTER 16

A VISIT FROM LIAM

Callum set up surveillance on the aircraft hangar. He arranged for a van to be parked outside the workshop with a camera trained on the building. He left it to his contacts in the embassy to oversee the monitoring. He needed confirmation that the product was in fact in there, and if, and when it was being moved. Callum contacted Jefferson Sainsbury, CIA operations, and enquired about the possibility of the US Coastguard having a vessel on standby to intercept the El Celeste.

Yes, they could help, as long as the yacht remained outside Mexican territorial waters. That's twelve miles, but to be on the safe side make it twenty-four miles. Otherwise the Mexican navy would need to be involved. Callum didn't want any involvement with Mexican authorities, as his investigations needed to remain secret. That would only trigger a pile of awkward questions, plus increasing the risk of his operation leaking back to Carrick. If that should happen months of careful planning would go up in smoke.

The next day Callum received a call from the monitoring team. There was a lot of activity at the aircraft hanger; something was happening. Callum rushed to the monitors to watch. Several vehicles were clustered around the hanger door. Men in Arab robes swarmed in and out the side door. A van arrived and backed up to the large entrance door which had been slid open. It was hard to see everything, but it seemed numerous cylinders were being loaded into the van. Callum replayed the tape over and over. The cylinders resembled gas welding cylinders but appeared to have large screw tops. He guessed they would contain the VX and it was on the move.

He tracked the van to the port. From a distance he studied the activity through binoculars. Several Mexican men had joined them, and they were very carefully loading the cylinders onto a launch. Callum scanned the men for Mohammed and Sanchez but couldn't detect them. He guessed they had delegated this job to their trusted lieutenants. As the launch motored out, Callum searched for its name. A grim smile creased his face. The name on the bridge was El Celeste. "Bingo," Callum whispered to himself. "El Celeste's private launch, something is about to happen."

***

Carrick was becoming fidgety, waiting wasn't something he was good at. He rang Sanchez every day, sometimes twice a day. "What is the delay, how much longer?" Sanchez received several none too subtle warnings. "You had better not be fudging me around. That would be extremely foolish."

At last Carrick received the news he craved, the product had arrived and was now available for inspection. Sanchez would send his launch to ferry him out to the El Celeste at two o'clock. Carrick informed Finn and Liam to be ready for the deal was about to commence.

Liam sat thinking. "You don't really need me. I'll stay behind and check on activity at Mohammed's hotel, just to be on the safe side."

Carrick agreed, he didn't want any surprises.

Liam grinned to himself; he had other plans and no real interest in Mohammad's apartment. The moment Carrick and Finn left, Liam went in search of Cara. He had seen her disappearing in the direction of the beach earlier. He soon picked her out. He studied her from a safe distance. She was in the water up to her waist, dipping under as each wave rolled gently in. The sun glistened on her wet body. Liam was mesmerized, she looked stunningly beautiful. His desires for her had compounded each day as he had watched her frolicking in the surf. Cara strolled up the beach and dried herself. Liam appeared beside her and sat down.

She looked at him surprise. "Liam, what are you doing here? Why haven't you gone with Dad?"

"I thought I'd stay and keep you company. It must be very boring being left on your own. We could do something together."

Cara eyed Liam with suspicion. "Thanks for your concern, but I'm perfectly happy on my own. You should have gone with Dad."

Liam shrugged. "Well I didn't. I'm here, so we may as well make the most of it."

Cara studied Liam for a moment. She picked up her belongings.

"I don't think so. I'm off to have a shower. I suggest if you fancy a swim you put on some appropriate trunks." She grinned as she looked Liam up and down. "You must be the only person on the beach in long trousers."

She turned and headed for the hotel. Cara had just stepped out of the shower when she heard a knock on the door. She wrapped her towel around her and looked through the security peep hole. She gave an exasperated sigh and opened the door just enough to speak.

"Liam, I'm getting dressed, I don't need your company." Liam's eyes moved up and down her body, he pushed the door open and came in.

"Liam, do you mind, I'm getting dressed," complained Cara.

Liam grinned and shut the door behind him. Cara felt an uneasy concern. Liam's behavior was unsettling. He approached Cara and drew her against him and pressed his lips against hers. She wriggled and squirmed and tried to push him away, but he was too strong. They collapsed on the bed with Liam on top of her. In their struggles, Cara's towel fell to the floor. This added to Liam's excitement. She screamed at him to get off of her, she was going to tell Carrick about this. Again, Liam pressed his lips against hers and muffled her cries. Cara felt her energy sapping. He was too strong, too determined, and she lay there whimpering.

Liam whispered in her ear. "Forget the Yank, you need a real man." Liam tore his pants down. Cara had a resurgence of energy and struggled desperately to get away from him. Liam eased himself on top of Cara using his body weight to suppress her struggles. Moments later he was forcing himself deep inside her. She could not fight him anymore, he was too strong. She was resigned to her fate. She lay there exhausted as his desires reached a crescendo.

Minutes later they lay together, neither speaking. Cara was exhausted from her struggles, Liam lay watching her intently. He moved forward to kiss her, but she rolled away and hurried to the bathroom. Liam sat quietly reliving the past few minutes. He heard the shower turn on. A contented smile creased his face. He had fantasized about this moment for so long. He had always hoped an opportunity might present itself ever since this American trip had been booked. It had been worth the wait, Cara was his woman now.

***

Carrick and Finn arrived at the El Celeste to be greeted by a smiling Sanchez. Sanchez looked in amazement as Finn lifted a dog on a lead and hoisted it up on deck. He wasn't an animal lover, and he really didn't approve of animals on his yacht. He thought better of commenting, but he found it hard to believe that Carrick would like animals. It was even stranger that he had acquired one while on an overseas trip. The sooner they concluded their business the sooner that unsavory animal would be off his pristine yacht. Hopefully before it had felt the need to relieve itself.

Sanchez led Carrick and Finn down some stairs to the rear of the yacht. He took a bundle of keys from his pocket and sorted through them. He picked out one, stopped at a heavy wood paneled door and inserted the key in the lock. The door creaked open. The room was obviously used as a storeroom. Eight canisters were neatly stacked against the rear wall, held firmly in place by netting and restraining ropes. Sanchez signaled to one of the crew, and they started removing the netting.

Sanchez looked in disgust as Finn retrieved the dog from the deck and carried it down the stairs. Surely it could have been left on deck to wait for their return. Finn passed the dog lead to Carrick, put on some surgical gloves, and proceeded to unscrew the lid on one of the middle containers. Finn then produced an artist's paintbrush from his pocket and carefully dipped it in the canister. Sanchez took a step back; he didn't want to be anywhere near that paint brush. With extreme care Finn withdrew the brush and tapped it repeatedly on the top of the canister to dislodge any drips. He then moved to the dog and dabbed it on its forehead. Finn carefully removed his gloves turning them inside out and leaving the paint brush inside one. He then put on a further pair of gloves on and screwed the lid back on the canister.

Everyone's attention was diverted to the dog. It had already starting to show signs of distress. Its breathing became labored which quickly turned to frantic gasps. Its mouth frothed before it collapsed to the floor and began thrashing around in an uncontrollably fit. Within two minutes it was dead. Sanchez watched in disgust as the animal in its dying breath defecated on the floor. Carrick turned to Sanchez with a smile.

"Looks like the product is genuine. Could you get one of your men to throw the dog in the sea? Warn them about touching its head, or they'll suffer the same fate. Now we would like to wash our hands and finalize our negotiations upstairs."

Sanchez nodded and barked orders to his crew. He then ushered everyone upstairs. He remained behind briefly to supervise the restraining of the product and securing the door.

In the upstairs lounge Sanchez produced a bottle of tequila and poured three generous glasses. Carrick eyed the tequila suspiciously. It wasn't on his list of favorite drinks, but at this stage he had no wish to offend Sanchez.

The three sat around the table sipping their tequila and negotiating the deal. Sanchez had revised the price back upwards to Wesley Smith's last offer.

Carrick nearly spilt his drink. "I thought we had agreed on a price," he snarled.

Sanchez shrugged. "I relayed your offer to Mohammad. He demanded I accept the best offer and that comes from Wesley Smith."

"Wesley Smith is a fraud," snapped Carrick. "His real name is Bradshaw Prendergast, a surfing bum. He's conning you, and he can never come up with the money."

"Maybe you're right. Then we will come back and accept your offer."

Sanchez appeared undeterred, he placed the blame for the holdups on Mohammad. Carrick sat fuming. Sanchez refused to conclude the deal, he would wait and confer with Mohammad and see if Mr. Smith came up with a genuine offer. Sanchez offered Carrick another drink, but he angrily refused. He stood up and stormed back to the waiting launch. While Carrick and Sanchez had been locked in negotiations, Finn had been observing how many men Sanchez had on board. He analyzed their positions, armaments, and actions. drinks? Before getting into the launch Carrick turned to Sanchez.

"When will I hear from you? Have you seen this Wesley Smith yet?"

"Not yet, I'll be ringing him shortly." Carrick smiled to himself. He knew Prendergast was probably back in America by now. Sanchez was no doubt trying to squeeze the last dollar out of him.

***

Brad visited the gardens at Mohammad's hotel again. Maybe the girls had left a note for him. He had scrawled a quick note to them. He was looking for an opportunity to get them away from Mohammad. Was there any chance of them getting away from their minders? He could rush them to the embassy where they could hide until Mohammad left the country. Brad again sat down by the rock pool and surveyed the garden area. He could see nothing suspicious. His hand worked under the rock. No note this time. He felt a wave of disappointment flow through him. He removed his note from his pocket and placed it under the rock. He stood up and looked all around and then back at the rock. Satisfied his note was hidden from view, he walked off.

***

Liam left his hotel; his thoughts were focused on Cara. Maybe she would tell Carrick of their encounter. He would blame it on mixed signals he had received from her. Liam felt unsure of Carrick's response. But, he did know he couldn't keep on suppressing his feelings for Cara, she stirred something inside him. Cara and he would make the perfect match. After today she must surely realize that she had feelings for him. He had noticed by the end of their love making she had stopped struggling. That had to be a good sign. She surely realized she needed a strong man to care and watch over her.

Liam wandered into the hotel grounds where Mohammad was staying. He would have a quick wander around, and then go back to the hotel. Then he could honestly say to Carrick he had checked out the hotel. Suddenly Liam froze. He had just seen Prendergast leave the garden area. He had to take a second look, but there was no doubt, Prendergast was here in Acapulco.

Liam's thoughts immediately turned to Cara. He felt sure she wasn't meeting Prendergast, as she usually spent her days on the beach and she went out with them at night. She never sneaked off on her own like in Las Vegas. That surely meant she didn't know Prendergast was here in Acapulco, or maybe she had moved on. Her brief infatuation with the Yank must be over.

Liam followed Prendergast back to a hotel bar along the waterfront. He watched for half an hour as Prendergast sat drinking quietly on his own. He noted Prendergast kept to himself and he never talked to anyone apart from a few words of greeting. About all he did was take one phone call, and that was relatively short. Liam knew Carrick would be back by now. He needed to return to the hotel. He started to feel a nervous apprehension, would Cara spill the beans. He needed to be there just in case to give his version of events.

***

Cara was in shock, she couldn't believe what had just happened. Sure, she was aware that Liam had feelings for her, but to force himself on her, that was something else. She stayed soaking in the shower until her skin started to wrinkle; her mind racing. Initially she had been consumed by a shock that this could have happened to her. This rapidly progressed to anger. How dare he? Her mind raced through numerous scenarios on how she should react. Cara finally turned off the water, stepped out and surveyed her image in the mirror. She had been violated, and no man could do that to Cara Fitzgerald and get away with it.

Then her thoughts turned back to Liam. Was he still in the apartment? She cautiously opened the bathroom door and felt instant relief. The room was empty. She decided she needed to discuss Liam with Carrick. She wasn't sure how he would react. He was very protective of her, but Liam was an integral part of his organization and his plans for the future.

***

Brad had called Callum several times during the day, but it always went straight to voicemail. He needed to discuss Danielle and Ingrid with him. Once the deal with the VX had been struck, Mohammad and his entourage would no doubt leave for Saudi Arabia. They had no reason to stay. He only had a short window of opportunity and he desperately wanted to help the girls as he had promised. As Brad sat enjoying his beer he chuckled to himself about how he had changed this past month. In fact, ever since he had taken on this assignment. Prior to this his only concerns were himself and his socializing, and perhaps to a lesser extent the girls he mixed with. Here he was now desperate to rescue Danielle and Ingrid, girls he barely knew. These girls had gotten themselves into a right pickle, but it was of their own making. He couldn't explain it, he just knew he had to help. It was morally wrong what Mohammad was doing. The girls were trapped and if he didn't help it would play on his conscience, perhaps forever. His thoughts were interrupted, his phone was ringing. Callum's name lit up.

"Hi Callum, great to hear from you. I was beginning to think you had abandoned me."

Callum was terse. "I'm outside watching you, you have company. I was about to come in when I saw Liam. He's watching you, too."

Brad felt a surge of apprehension pulse through his body, he had almost forgotten about Liam.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing, carry on as normal. I'll stay here and keep an eye on Liam. I think he needs to be somewhere else. He keeps checking his watch."

Fifteen minutes later Callum entered the bar and sat beside Brad. "He's gone. Let's relocate somewhere else just in case."

***

Carrick stormed into his hotel room, Cara immediately saw he was in a blinding rage. He was never any good at hiding his emotions; he never saw any need to try. Cara gave him a few minutes for the anger to subside. She poured him a stiff whiskey and sat down watching him.

"Things didn't go well I can see," she said quietly.

Carrick shook his head and gulped down the remaining whiskey. She suspected this would probably not be a good time to bring up Liam, but it was weighing on her mind.

"Dad there's something I need to discuss with you. While you were gone Liam came around."

Carrick smiled at Cara. "I'm happy to discuss anything with you, lass, but not just now. I have too much on my mind. We can talk later. Just now I need to have a meeting with Finn and Liam. We can get together later, and you can tell what's on your mind."

Carrick had his suspicions of what Cara wanted to discuss. He was aware Liam held a torch for her. He would have had to be blind not to pick up on that. He suspected Liam may have expressed his true feelings to Cara. She would be looking to him for guidance. She could do a lot worse than Liam. At least she had got that damned Yank out of her system.

***

Sanchez had a brief meeting with Mohammed. He reported on his meeting with Carrick and his warnings about Wesley Smith. Mohammad refused to be bullied. He had been extremely lucky to acquire the VX and he intended to milk the deal for all it was worth. There would never be any more. The more Sanchez could ratchet up the price the more he made. Even allowing for Sanchez's percentage, the deal would exceed his wildest dreams.

"Maybe Carrick is telling the truth and Smith is a fraud. The product won't change hands until the money's in the bank. Where's the risk? Call Smith, get him out to inspect the product. If his price is right, conclude the deal. It's almost certain Carrick has reached his limit, we won't be able to squeeze anymore out of him."

***

Carrick met Finn and Liam in their room. They had serious business to discuss and time was running out. A nervous Liam studied Carrick, had Cara said anything? Gradually he relaxed. The only vibes he picked up was a friendly smile from Carrick. This surprised him, as Carrick was not known for friendly smiles. Carrick outlined his real concerns about Sanchez.

"The sleazy Mexican is using the Wesley Smith thing to try and weasel more money out of us, and this is after we've informed him of the truth about Smith. Action is what is needed."

Liam spoke up. "Wesley Smith, make that Prendergast, is here in Acapulco. I've seen him hanging around Mohammad's hotel. Maybe he is still chasing the VX."

Carrick and Finn were shocked. Everyone sat quietly contemplating the situation.

Finally, Carrick spoke. "That's it. I'm not sitting around here any longer and being stuffed around. Tomorrow we take the VX. We'll teach the tricky Mexican not to play games with us."

Together they discussed their plan. They would need a launch to get out to the El Celeste, Finn was to organize that. Liam was dispatched to get a few small things they would need. They wanted to start early. They needed to strike before Prendergast had an opportunity to go out to the El Celeste.

***

Brad received a call from Sanchez. The product would be available for inspection tomorrow. Be at the port jetty at two o'clock tomorrow. His launch would ferry him out, so he could complete his inspection. Brad relayed the message to Callum who was seated at the bar beside him. Brad's thoughts turned immediately to Danielle and Ingrid. That left him very little time. If he was going to do something it had better be quick. He discussed the girls with Callum.

"Not our concern, we can't afford to get involved in that. We have enough on our plate handling Carrick."

That wasn't the answer Brad was looking for. "What about Jefferson Sainsbury, the CIA guy? Danielle is an American citizen being held hostage; surely he would want to get involved."

"Maybe," shrugged Callum. "I can't afford to be distracted. I can give you his number. You can give him a call and see if he can help."

Brad rang Jefferson while Callum looked on indifferently.

Jefferson was hesitant. "I could provide protection if the girls approach me, but I can't barge into a foreign national's hotel room in a foreign country. Besides, these things take time to organize and we're pretty thin on the ground in Acapulco, or to put it another way, the CIA's presence there is almost nonexistent. Sorry I can't be of further help."

Brad hung up and looked at Callum. "No joy there. Looks like if I want to do anything I'm on my own."

Callum excused himself, he had things to do. Brad sat quietly, a wave of despondency swept over him. How could he get the girls out of the room? It was getting late. He wandered over to Mohammad's hotel hoping for a sudden inspiration to solve his dilemma. He strolled through the garden and checked the rock not really expecting anything. His pulse raced, there was a note. He walked to an isolated spot in the garden and read it.

'Mohammad is preparing to leave, we need help quickly or it will be too late.' This was not the news Brad wanted, it only increased his anxiety level. He felt helpless, as he felt like he would soon be disappointing the women. He probably represented their last hope of freedom.

CHAPTER 17

TROUBLE ABOARD THE EL CELESTE

The sun streaming in his window woke Brad. The temperature was climbing rapidly. It would be a beautiful day for spending time on the golden beaches. He had wrestled with the problem of rescuing the girls all night. It had completely consumed his thoughts, but he was no nearer to a solution. He felt angry with Callum, and he was furious with Jefferson, particularly Jefferson. After all, Danielle is an American citizen who desperately needs help. Brad ate a hurried breakfast. He had no real plan, he just knew he had to try something.

Brad hurried over to the girl's hotel and took the lift to the third floor. A service trolley was parked in the corridor outside a room being serviced. He waited around as the girl exited the room and started to close the door. Brad stepped forward and held the door open with his hand.

"Sorry, I need some things from my room,"

The service girl looked horrified. "No, no. Not your room, new people coming today."

Brad threw caution to the wind and pushed past her into the room. The service girl kept protesting. She then turned and said she would fetch the manager. Brad worked fast; he knew he had very little time. He threw a pile of hotel brochures into the waste paper bucket and lit them with a lighter. He then placed it on a coffee table directly under the smoke alarm. He kept searching for more paper to feed the bucket. The alarm started screaming. Brad hurried out of the room shutting the door behind him. He avoided the lift; he felt he would be less conspicuous if he took the stairs.

The corridors were filling with people. The hotel staff were hurrying along the corridors banging on doors, ordering everyone to exit the hotel. He watched and waited. He saw Mohammad's group enter the lobby arguing fiercely with hotel staff. Danielle and Ingrid wandered off and sat outside on a concrete wall away from the other guests.

Brad strolled over to them trying to catch their eye. Eventually they saw him. He indicated with eye movements he wanted them to move towards the garden. The girls exchanged nervous glances and edged into the garden. Brad raced ahead of the girls to a back street. He was in luck, he spotted a taxi coming. At the speed it was travelling Brad knew it would not stop. He stepped out into the road and spread his arms. The driver screeched to a halt and hurled abuse at Brad.

"Are you crazy, Gringo, you will get yourself killed! I have a fare to pick up. Call another taxi."

"I'll pay you twice as much as your next job," laughed Brad.

He stayed firmly in front of the taxi stopping any attempt by the driver to move. The girls immediately saw what Brad had done and reached for the taxi door. At the same time three Arabs from Mohammad's party sprinted out of the garden and grabbed the girls. They dragged them back towards the hotel screaming abuse at them.

Brad watched in total dismay. Another thirty seconds and they would have made good their escape. Desperate thoughts entered Brad's head. He advanced towards the men who were preoccupied with hustling the girls away. Three more men had arrived; they flashed menacing glances at Brad, and then disappeared back towards the hotel with Danielle and Ingrid. Brad reluctantly stepped aside allowing the horrified taxi driver to speed off, and crept back to the hotel. The girls were surrounded by Mohammad's men. Any chance of staging a rescue now had totally evaporated.

***

By ten o'clock Carrick, Finn and Liam had assembled down at the jetty. Finn had hired a launch for the day. Everyone felt anxious, as it had not arrived. Finn then spotted the launch chugging into view.

"You're fifteen minutes late," reprimanded Finn tapping his watch.

The launch owner, a short, overweight man with a ready-made smile laughed.

"Don't worry, Senor; the fish will still be there. They don't have watches." This comment did not amuse anyone except the owner. He rolled around laughing. Liam had a quick inspection of the launch and nodded to Finn.

"Thank you, Pedro, we can take it from here."

Pedro's expression immediately changed.

"No, no, I come. I don't give my boat to other people, I will take you. I know all the good fishing spots."

"No, you don't understand, Pedro. We have paid you twice the going rate for using your boat for three hours. You're not invited."

Finn glared at Pedro, the menace in his voice was obvious. A confused Pedro backed slowly away. He could not tackle the three of them. He had no choice but to watch in dismay as the three Irishmen loaded their few possessions on board and motor out of the harbor. Liam produced a captain's cap and placed it on his head. It was a long trip to the El Celeste.

Liam had a little trouble locating the El Celeste. With no radar he had to resort to several sweeping runs, but finally she appeared on the horizon. Liam motored alongside. Their sudden appearance created considerable attention aboard the El Celeste. It did not take long for Sanchez to appear at the railing, a worried frown creased his face.

"And what do I owe this unexpected pleasure to?" he demanded.

Carrick did his best to force a congenial smile. "We need to discuss our offer a little further. I was a little abrupt on my last visit. I'm sure we can come to a mutually acceptable arrangement."

***

Cara had no time to dwell on her problems with Liam. Carrick had given her jobs to do. She sensed the urgency in his demeanor. She observed everyone had a similar urgency. There was a nervous energy, very little conversation passed between them. She remained unsure what was happening, but she knew better than to ask. She could guess Carrick's business in Acapulco was about to be concluded. Carrick had instructed her to source a covered van, load all their possessions into it, and check out of the hotel. They were leaving Acapulco. Carrick was at first non-committal on his future plans, he finally relented and responded to her question.

"We're going home. I want you to wait until I call you and then meet us at the jetty with the van. It's most important that you're not late."

Cara listened carefully to Carrick's detailed instructions and nodded. She sensed he was nervous, as he repeated his instructions for a second time. He stressed it was imperative there were no mistakes. She quickly dispelled any thoughts of a final dip in the sea before leaving. Carrick's body language had an unsettling effect on her. Now she too felt nervous, but she wasn't quite sure why.

***

Callum felt concerned that Brad would be going out to the El Celeste on his own. He would not be in a position to offer any assistance should anything go wrong. Again, he was bemused at Brad's laid back, unconcerned attitude. The guy had no appreciation of for danger. Callum had put a call through to Jefferson as soon as he knew the time Brad would be inspecting the VX. He allowed an hour to get Brad aboard and locate the product. The US Coastguard would be standing by out of visual range and would then swoop on the El Celeste. If everything went to plan they would seize the VX and arrest Sanchez and his crew.

Unfortunately, Carrick would not be apprehended in possession of the product. It came down to a choice between removing the most dangerous 'weapon of mass destruction' the world had ever known to stop it from falling into terrorist hands or waiting until Carrick took delivery and then swooping. Callum quickly dismissed the second option. First, there was a possibility that Carrick might slip the VX through their net. He was a wily character and experience taught Callum to expect the unexpected from him. That would be a risk he preferred not to take. Second, they probably had enough circumstantial evidence to bring a case against Carrick with their intercepted communications. Add to that, to make an arrest on Mexican soil inevitably meant involving the Mexican authorities. That was fraught with difficulties and long drawn out extradition procedures. Any half decent lawyer could tie the process up for years plus he was sure Mexican authorities would take a dim view of the operation taking place on their soil without being given any prior warning. No, intercepting the El Celeste outside Mexican territorial waters had to be the best option.

Callum knew that the El Celeste radar would have picked up the coastguard launch, but they would have no reason to suspect it posed a problem. He felt satisfied he had done all he could. Now it was a case of being patient and waiting. Callum checked in on the surveillance team monitoring Mohammad's aircraft in the airport hangar. They reported no suspicious activity. Carrick, Finn and Liam had gone to ground, and he assumed they were holed up in their hotel room awaiting word from Sanchez. Cara had been observed out and about heading into town. He paid her no attention, she would almost certainly be off on another of her shopping expeditions. She posed no problem. Waiting around was the hard part, and he checked his watch. Brad should be heading to the jetty now to rendezvous with Sanchez's launch.

***

Sanchez was both nervous and annoyed. He had Wesley Smith coming in a couple of hours. He didn't want Carrick still on board. He shepherded Carrick and Finn to his office, he would quickly deal with them and send them on their way. If they caused him a problem, he would press his panic button. His security team would descend on them in a flash, and Carrick would be escorted off the ship before Smith arrived.

Liam watched quietly as Carrick and Finn disappeared. He gave the appearance of being disinterested. He yelled to a crew member.

"Beautiful ship! Can I come aboard and have a look around while I wait? I would love to have a word with your Captain."

The crew member smiled, all the crew was immensely proud and very grateful to have landed the plum job of crewing the El Celeste.

"She is state of the art. I'll take you to Captain Rodriquez. He's very proud of her."

Liam grabbed a carry bag and climbed aboard. The crew member eyed the bag suspiciously. Liam grinned and held the bag open.

"A little gift for your Captain."

The crew man looked inside and gave a knowing grin."

"Follow me." Liam climbed the stairs to the bridge. Captain Rodriquez was in conversation with another crew member. Liam introduced himself and proceeded to enthuse over the El Celeste.

"It's a beautiful ship. One day I hope to land a job like you, Captain. You're a very lucky man." Rodriquez' chest swelled with pride. He proceeded to give Liam an in-depth tour of the bridge, explaining all the latest gadgetry of the El Celeste.

"The computer system can virtually run the ship on its own. Just enter your destination and it will take over. If any unexpected vessels or obstructions appeared the computer automatically makes the necessary course correction. It will send a message to the captain and first mate informing us of the changes. It's virtually foolproof, and it takes the possibility of human error out of the equation."

Liam looked impressed. "Oh, I almost forgot. I've brought you a little something." He opened his carry bag very carefully. "Seeing as you don't have to spend much time navigating this ship, you might find the time to enjoy these." Liam gave a knowing grin. Captain Rodriquez peered inside and grinned. He lifted out a bottle of tequila and placed it on the table. "I've added a bottle of the finest Irish whisky for you to try. It's one of my favorites," Liam added.

The Captain lifted out the whiskey, studied it and passed it to the crew man alongside him. He turned the bottle around in his hands studying it before placing it on the table alongside the tequila.

"Have you tried Irish whiskey before?"

Captain Rodriquez shook his head. "I'll sample it tonight."

Liam grinned to himself; his little plan had gone without a hitch. He studied the two men for any change in their demeanor. Captain Rodriquez placed his two hands on the table and hunched over struggling to suck in air. The crew member moments later showed the same distress. Liam stepped back and casually pulled a pair of surgical gloves from his pocket. He put them on and carefully placed the two bottles back in the carry bag. There was no sense in wasting good spirits.

Within minutes both men lay collapsed on the floor, their eyes twitching, looking uncomprehending at an indifferent Liam. Liam had seen many men die. He had in fact been responsible for most of those deaths, and he felt completely unmoved by what was happening before him. It may be unfortunate that innocent men must die, but it is necessary for the success of the mission. It's collateral damage.

Liam took one last look at the two bodies then left the bridge. He carried his carry bag complete with the two bottles of spirits. He went in search of Sanchez's security men. He figured if he kept nosing around they would find him. It didn't take long before a burly Mexican confronted him.

"What are you up to wandering around?"

Liam smiled unconcerned. "Sorry, just been talking to Captain Rodriquez. He invited me to have a look around. Perhaps you could show me."

The security man muttered something Liam didn't catch and indicated for Liam to follow. He had a quick tour of the yacht, the engine room, sleeping quarters, and relaxation areas. "The bridge is up there," indicated the security man and started heading for the steps.

Liam had a flush of panic. "Don't bother, Captain Rodriquez has already shown me that. Where are all these computers he told me about?"

His guide studied Liam as he considered the request. He didn't like the idea of showing that area to the Irishman. It was where all the security monitors were.

Liam noticed him hesitate. "Captain Rodriquez said I should check it out. It's all state of the art equipment."

"Okay, if Captain Rodriquez has approved it, I suppose I can show you." He led Liam to a large room in the center of the yacht. It was manned by two men. A row of monitors lit up, showing various sections of the ship. Liam did a quick scan of the monitors. He felt relieved there were none showing the bridge. They seemed to concentrate on the deck area and views of the surrounding sea. He noticed a clear view of his launch tied alongside the El Celeste. The security man pointed to an adjoining room, it was their accommodation, so they were never far from the monitors.

"Very impressive," enthused Liam. He then produced his carry bag.

"You guys might enjoy these." They took out the bottles and passed them around. Liam took note to see if they all handled them. One crewman sitting at a monitor glanced at them but appeared disinterested.

"It's genuine Irish whiskey, it's really popular in Ireland," said Liam indicating the bottle, enticing the security man to take a closer look.

The burly man showing Liam around laughed. "Carlos doesn't care, he doesn't drink. We will drink his share." Liam saw an immediate problem. The VX smeared on the bottles would account for two of the guards but the last man he needed to deal with directly. Liam eased back against the door and quietly pushed it shut with his foot. His right hand slipped into his pocket.

The two guards standing started to show symptoms of distress while the third disinterested man ignored the other two and their conversation. He kept his eyes on the monitors. The whole event was a bore, and why people worshipped alcohol was beyond him.

The first guard toppled over and crashed into a monitor adjacent to the seated guard. He was quickly followed by the second guard collapsing. The seated guard looked around in alarm, his friends were having what looked like an epileptic fit. He then looked up at Liam. The last thing he saw was the Irishman grinning evilly, and a flash from the gun that was trained at his head.

Liam was annoyed, he wanted to avoid noise. Fancy not liking alcohol! The shot echoed with a resounding crack. He hoped having the door shut would muffle most of the noise. Liam had a quick look at the monitors and was relieved to see no unusual activity. He left the room and closed the door behind him. He had a rough idea where Sanchez had taken Carrick and Finn. He headed in that direction. As he moved closer, he could hear raised voices and recognized Carrick's angry voice. He followed the voices and let himself into Sanchez's office. Sanchez immediately ordered Liam to leave, as this was a private meeting. Liam completely ignored the directive. He looked at Carrick and nodded. "No problems?" enquired Carrick.

"All taken care of," smiled Liam.

Sanchez looked alarmed; he now sensed something was wrong. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew he needed reinforcements. His hand slipped under the desk and he pressed the panic button. He then withdrew his hand and smiled at Carrick, help would only be seconds away.

"Okay Sanchez, here is what's going to happen."

Liam pulled out his gun and trained it on Sanchez. Sanchez swallowed, his mouth felt dry. Where the hell were security? He would give them a piece of his mind when he saw them.

Carrick continued. "I don't appreciate being stuffed around by a greedy Mexican. You had your chance to complete the deal, but your greed got the better of you. So, here's what is going to happen. I'm going to take the goods and your share of the deal is now a big fat zero." Sanchez stared in stunned silence at the three Irishmen, his hand slipped below the desk again. He repeatedly pressed the panic button.

Carrick noticed Sanchez's hand movements, and a malicious smile creased his face. "Forget about summonsing any reinforcements, they are rather indisposed." He indicated Liam, who in turn gave Sanchez a forced smile. "If you want to see the sun rise tomorrow, I suggest you follow my instructions implicitly. We're going to take a walk, so you can organize some of your men to load the canisters onto our launch. Remember at all times three guns will be trained on you. Any false move and it will be the last day on this earth for you. We no longer have any use for you, and your ability to continue to draw breath depends entirely on our goodwill. I strongly suggest you cooperate."

Sanchez felt a despondency envelope him. His men had not responded to the panic alarm. He had to assume the gringos were telling the truth, they had eliminated his security team. He needed to get them off the El Celeste and then reevaluate his options. They still had to get the product out of the country, which would not be easy.

Carrick grinned in delight, the VX was at last in his hands, and he would not be paying. Their bank account would now be overflowing to spend as they saw fit. The canisters were soon safely loaded aboard the launch and lashed down to avoid being buffeted around. Carrick then ordered the crew back to their quarters and locked the door on them. He instructed Liam to dispose of the carry bag with the contaminated liquor. Liam promptly threw it overboard; he was keen to get rid of the bottles. He had first-hand knowledge of how lethal they were.

"Jump aboard, Sanchez! You're coming with us." Sanchez shook his head. There was no way he was getting on that launch. Carrick's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not asking you, Sanchez, I'm bloody telling you. Get aboard. If you think we would leave you here to organize a reception party to meet us back at the docks, you're dreaming. If you insist on refusing, we'll have no option but to splatter your brains all over this lovely ship before we leave."

Sanchez recognized the menace in Carrick's voice. He had no options. He climbed down onto the launch.

They had motored almost half way back to shore when Carrick saw El Celeste's launch motoring in the opposite direction. He assumed it would be Prendergast being taken out to do his inspection. The timing was perfect, everything had fallen into place perfectly. He laughed at the surprise Prendergast would get when he climbed aboard. It would have been good to see his face, but he had more pressing matters to attend. It was imperative that he concentrate on getting the canisters off loaded before the alarm could be raised.

Sanchez was going to be a problem. He signaled for Liam to cut the motors. Sanchez watched him with trepidation. What is the gringo up to now? Carrick grinned and produced a new bottle of tequila and produced some glasses, he poured four glasses.

"Let's drink a toast to a very successful day. I can't say it's been a pleasure, but let's hope there are no hard feelings."

Carrick studied Sanchez's alarmed face with amusement. Sanchez scowled at him.

"There's no way I'm drinking that. No doubt you've laced the bottle with VX or something lethal."

"Come on, Sanchez, it's your favorite drink."

"I'm not stupid, Gringo. I know you will have put something in it. You may as well shoot me and be done with it."

Carrick laughed. "So distrusting, Sanchez. Okay, we'll drink first, just to prove it's quite harmless." He passed the glasses around and all three drank. Carrick then turned to Sanchez.

"See, perfectly safe. It's your turn now. Don't be a party pooper."

Sanchez reluctantly downed his glass.

"Feeling okay?" mocked Carrick. "Want another?" Sanchez shook his head. Carrick whispered in Liam's ear and then turned to Sanchez. "How's your swimming? I estimate it's about twenty, maybe twenty-five miles to shore and a similar distance back to the El Celeste. The tide is coming in, so that should help."

Sanchez had a terrible premonition that this wasn't going to end well. He had no time to dwell on it. Liam seized him from behind and frog marched him to the side of the launch. Liam had a quick glance back at Carrick who gave him a nod. Liam flung Sanchez overboard, and then he then nonchalantly returned to the controls and motored away.

***

El Celeste's launch drew alongside the mother ship. Brad surveyed the decks; there was an eerie stillness about her. No one had come to greet them, there was no sign of life. Brad had an uneasy feeling. He turned to the launch skipper, who also stood staring intently up at the El Celeste.

"No reception committee," commented Brad.

The skipper shrugged and then turned his attention back to the El Celeste. Brad cautiously climbed aboard. He started at the stern and worked his way forward. It reminded him of a death ship you hear about floating in the middle of the ocean, devoid of any human habitation. He came to what he guessed was Sanchez's quarters. They were extremely luxurious. An enormous wall mounted television and music system, with an elaborate bar and kitchen boasting all the latest mod cons. The large bedroom was accessed through a rear door. But again, no sign of life.

Brad felt a growing apprehension, he hurried forward opening doors, looking inside before moving on. He was now expecting empty rooms. He came to what was obviously a communication's room. The wall was lined with monitors focusing on various parts of the ship. His eyes settled on a desk, it appeared to be splattered with blood. He stepped closer and froze. A body lay spread eagled on the floor, the top of its head shattered by what Brad knew was a gunshot.

As he stared at the body, a cold chill ran through him. He had never seen a dead person before. He quickly glanced around the room. Two more bodies lay on the floor partially concealed by a large table. This time there was no blood. He noticed their mouths were open, distorting the faces like in some ghoulish movie. He detected no obvious sign of death, but Brad had no doubt how they had died.

He'd seen enough, he hurried up on deck. He glanced up at the bridge, but no one was visible. He thought about checking it, but all he wanted to do was to get off the yacht. He jumped in the launch and ordered the confused skipper to take him back to shore.

Brad hurriedly rang Callum. He made his way to the rear of the launch away from the skipper and whispered what he had just discovered.

"Get out of there, quick. The coastguard can't be far away. You don't want to get involved in any murder inquiries."

"I'm way ahead of you," whispered Brad. "I'm already heading for shore." Brad glanced back at the El Celeste. He saw the coastguard closing in fast on her. A boarding party with guns at the ready lined the rails. Five minutes later and he would have been too late. He couldn't wait to reach shore.

***

The air was shattered by the howl of sirens as several police cars sped past Mohammad's hotel racing towards the port. Mohammad felt a mild curiosity, but he put it out of his mind. It's probably a traffic accident. He rang Sanchez. The Mexican had not reported on his meeting with Wesley Smith, which was the arrangement. Curiosity started getting the better of him. No answer, that's annoying. The Mexican needs reminding about who is in charge. One of Mohammad's men came hurrying into the hotel grounds.

"The port is swarming with police. I've heard there's been a problem on a boat out at sea. A police launch is on its way to check on it."

Mohammad felt a flutter of anxiety. He rang Sanchez again. The damned Mexican still didn't answer his phone. Mohammad came to a decision; he needed certainty. He needed to know if the El Celeste was involved in the trouble out at sea. After instructing his security to book a helicopter, he decided that seeing El Celeste for himself would be the only way to calm his anxiety.

***

Cara sat waiting with the van at the port when the police started arriving. She had no idea what was happening, but she could see Carrick's launch coming into view. She rang Carrick. "Do you know what's going on out at sea. The place here is crawling with cops?"

Carrick cursed. He couldn't believe Prendergast would have had time to alert the authorities. But, coming back ashore now represented a risk he wasn't prepared to take. He had planned for unexpected problems like this.

"Drive north up the coast to the port at de Lazaro Cardenas, we will do the drop there." Cara agreed. She quietly drove away from the port, careful not to attract any attention.

***

Brad saw a Police launch motoring at high speed out to sea. He guessed the coastguard had alerted Mexican authorities. He didn't particularly want to dock amongst a police contingent, especially in a launch with El Celeste's name on it. He instructed the skipper to head south. He saw his hotel come up into view. He instructed the skipper to move closer to the shore, as close as he felt comfortable with. The skipper gave him a bemused look. What is the gringo thinking now? He soon had his answer. They were a little over two hundred yards from shore. Brad gave the skipper a grin and a wave and dived overboard.

He was a strong swimmer, so it was better coming ashore here away from any inquisitive police. He received some strange looks from other swimmers as he emerged from the sea and strolled up the beach. The only problem now would be he needed a new phone. Brad had a wry grin, phones don't particularly like going for swims. He needed to mention to Callum that his phone would need to be replaced. Brad had rung Callum before he dived overboard, and he was there to greet him as he strolled into the hotel grounds.

***

Mohammad stood waiting impatiently at the airport. The helicopter was waiting for him. It was the pilot who was the holdup. Eventually the pilot drove up. Mohammad glared at him; the damned Mexicans had no respect for being punctual. Mohammad indicated the time and that he was in a hurry. The pilot flashed a smile. He was used to impatient tourists, but he refused to be hurried by anyone, no matter how important they thought they were.

"I will give you the thirty-minute tour. We will head inland, so you can see all of the settlements there. Most of the residents live there. Acapulco is too expensive. Then I will sweep north, cross back towards the coast, and come back down along the coast. That's the usual round trip. That way you get to see everything."

Mohammad snapped at him. "I'm not interested in your tour. Take me out to sea."

The pilot was astonished. There wasn't much to look at out at sea. He shrugged. If that was what he wanted, that was what he would get.

Mohammad soon picked up where all the police activity was. The El Celeste had an American coastguard launch as well as the Mexican police launch tied up alongside. The helicopter circled a couple of times then headed back towards the airport. Mohammad was in a state of shock. He had no idea what had happened, but he did know it would not be good news. His real concern was the VX. Had Sanchez secured it safely? Had a deal been struck? Had it already been delivered to a buyer? He desperately hoped this might be the case. If it was still aboard the El Celeste, then they had real problems. It was inevitable it would be discovered and while they may not initially know what it was, it was bound to attract their attention.

The next question was why were the authorities involved? They must have had a reason to investigate the El Celeste. Mohammad again tried to contact Sanchez with the same result. The call went straight to voicemail. He cursed the Mexican. The pilot glanced a bemused look at Mohammad. Did he require a look at anything else before he returned to the airport? Mohammad snapped, "Get me back on the ground."

***

Callum was concerned. It was obvious Carrick had outwitted him and he already had possession of the VX. A quick check confirmed his suspicions. Carrick and his contingent had checked out of their hotel. He knew Carrick had not docked at the port, as he had been there keeping an eye on developments. He sat with Brad and spread a map on the table. They discussed all possible places Carrick might have brought the VX ashore. Then again, maybe he hadn't brought it ashore. They could have transferred to an ocean going ship out at sea.

"But," said Brad, "if that is the case, why not return to port in the launch. It would not matter if police searched it."

"Maybe, but Carrick probably doesn't want police to place him at sea at the same time as the murders on the El Celeste."

They studied the map. Carrick had several options for coming ashore. A despondent Callum could guess the obvious. Carrick would almost certainly be well clear by now. He could be anywhere.

***

Mohammad was in a dark mood as he discussed with his security team likely scenarios. If the deal had been struck it would most likely be with the American, Smith. He was the last to visit the El Celeste. He needed investigating. He sent men to locate both Smith and Carrick, he needed to keep track of their movements. He was fast losing faith in Sanchez.

Mohammad's man who had been keeping an eye on activities at the port rushed into the room. There had been a development. A fisherman returning to port had pulled a body out of the water. He had managed to have a word with him after he had given a statement to police. The fisherman knew the man, he was definite. It was the man who owned the El Celeste, it was Sanchez. Now Mohammad suspected foul play, as this was too much of a coincidence. The American visits Sanchez and hours later his body is fished out of the sea.

***

Callum needed help, his options were paper thin. The embassy had very few resources he could call on. He rang Jefferson Sainsbury. Jefferson offered to call in a few favors; he had contacts in the Mexican Police. It was soon discovered that Carrick had hired a launch and the distraught owner had reported it as missing. It had not returned to the port. It only took a few hours to discover the launch had been found abandoned at Puerto de Lazaro Cardenas. No further sightings of Carrick had been reported. He could be anywhere. This was not the news Callum wanted to hear. Police investigations found several people with links to Sanchez.

Crew released on the El Celeste confirmed three different parties had visited Sanchez aboard the El Celeste. They were a group of Arabs, several Irishmen and lastly an American who came on his own. The Irishmen and the American came on the day of the murders. Police were interested in talking to all parties.

"I think it would be wise for you to get out of Acapulco, in fact out of Mexico," suggested Callum. "Police investigations could tie you up indefinitely, and I don't want our ongoing investigations into Carrick to become general knowledge."

Brad nodded. He was already thinking it would be wise if he left. Then his mind turned to Danielle and Ingrid.

"I need to help the girls, first. Can you pull a few strings? It may be their last chance."

Callum sighed. "Not my problem, I can't become involved. Thousands of lives are dependent on me, I can't risk that for two foolish girls. If you're so concerned, ring Jefferson. One of the women is an American citizen. He's the person you should be talking to first."

Brad retired to his room and called Jefferson. At first Jefferson seemed reluctant to become involved. Brad was desperate. He wasn't about to take no for an answer. He stressed to Jefferson he would make it known the CIA had abandoned an American citizen in her hour of need. If necessary, he would take it to the media.

Jefferson laughed. "It sounds like you're trying to blackmail me."

"Call it what you like. I intend to try and free them by whatever means I can, with or without your help. But I will make it known that the CIA refused to help."

"All right," conceded Jefferson. "If you can get them away from the Arabs, I'll arrange for our embassy to take it from there. That's the best I can offer. I'll have a word to my counterparts in the German embassy. Together we'll be able to come up with something, but you'll have to get them away from the Arabs. And if it all turns to custard, we know nothing about it. You're on your own."

Brad sat thinking. He had been hoping for a bit more help than that. Getting the girls away from Mohammad was the hard part. His first attempt had been a resounding failure.

***

Mohammad had his security approach a police officer connected to the El Celeste investigation. It took a considerable amount of money changing hands, but he received first-hand information on where the inquiry was headed. The official word was Sanchez had drowned through misadventure. Alcohol had been found to be present in his blood, although not in significant quantities. It was assumed Sanchez probably fell overboard from the El Celeste after a few drinks. Unfortunately, no one on board the yacht had witnessed this happening. It was assumed that the yacht had probably motored away before Sanchez could get back on board.

That was the official version, but no one in the police truly believed that. This was murder. The bodies discovered aboard the El Celeste were the result of foul play. It stood to reason Sanchez's drowning would not be accidental. They intended to interview everyone who was known to have had contact with Sanchez, and this included the Arabs. Mohammad could not allow this to happen. Once the deaths were analyzed, and if a nerve gas was suspected, it would not take long to draw a link back to him. They would have difficulty proving anything, as his men were loyal, but it was attention he could do without. Mohammad ordered his men to have the plane ready. They would be leaving immediately.

***

Brad returned to Mohammad's hotel. He had no plan to free the girls. No matter how hard he racked his brain, he could see no possible way to facilitate it. He checked for a note in the garden. He hadn't heard from the girls since his aborted attempt to whisk them away. He assumed Mohammad's security were keeping a close watch on them. This time there was a note.

'Please help! Mohammad has told everyone we are leaving tonight.' Brad felt devastated, he was about to disappoint the girls again. If Mohammad was leaving, it would surely mean they were all flying out on his personal jet. He rang Callum's surveillance team watching the hangar at the airport.

Yes, there's renewed activity. The main hangar doors had been rolled open. The aircraft appeared to be being readied for a flight. Brad rang Callum. The very least he could do was organize someone to see if Mohammad had filed a flight plan and if so, when was his expected departure. Callum shortly came back to Brad. Four o'clock this afternoon was the departure time.

***

Danielle and Ingrid had received no last-minute note from Brad. That was it; they were resigned to the fact that there would be no last-minute rescue. They harbored no malice toward Brad, as he had tried his best. They always knew it would be an almost impossible task to whisk them away from right under Mohammad's nose.

They noticed a nervousness about Mohammad, which was unusual. He had always been a man completely in control. It was those he dealt with who were usually the nervous ones. Mohammad was more than nervous; he was visibly annoyed. Something had seriously gone wrong. He snapped at anyone who spoke to him. It was wise to keep well in the background. As the girls walked to the taxi taking them to the airport they gazed forlornly around the hotel grounds. A wave of depression descended upon them. There was no knight in shining armor coming to their rescue.

At the airport Mohammad's plane had been wheeled out of the hangar. It had been fueled for the long trip home. The pilots were seated in the cockpit doing their pre-flight checks. The last of the luggage was being ferried aboard and the security men were shepherding everyone aboard.

The high-pitched shriek of sirens shattered the still afternoon air. A convoy of six police cars raced across the tarmac and screeched to a halt in a semi-circle blocking the path of the aircraft. Police poured out of the cars, weapons at the ready. Mohammad watched in stunned disbelief. He didn't comprehend what was unfolding. Moments later two covered police vans rolled up alongside the cars.

Mohammad angrily accosted the officer who appeared to be in charge. "What right do you have to block my aircraft? This is a breach of international protocol. You will be receiving a formal protest from my government."

The officer ignored Mohammad's protests and informed him that he required everyone to accompany him to the police station. They had reason to believe his aircraft may be being used to transport illicit drugs. A detailed search would be conducted, and statements taken from everyone. Mohammad was furious; he had never heard of anything so ridiculous in his life.

"There are no illicit goods aboard my aircraft."

"If that's the case you have nothing to worry about," smiled the arresting officer. "You will then be free to continue your journey."

Mohammad continued protesting vigorously, but he soon resigned himself to its futility, climbing into a police van for the trip to the police station.

Brad sat with his eyes glued on the surveillance monitor, a wide grin on his face. He had twisted Callum's arm to put pressure on Jefferson to slip in the accusation of drug smuggling with Mexican authorities. The Mexican authorities tended to take notice of requests like this, especially when they came from the American Government.

Callum had been harder to convince to involve himself. Brad resorted to threatening to withdraw any further cooperation. He was surprised that his threat had any effect. He felt with Carrick probably well on his way back to Ireland his days of being of any use were well and truly over. Apparently, Callum still wanted to keep Brad on side, to be able to call on him should the need arise.

Brad picked up his phone and called Jefferson.

"The Mexican Police have taken Mohammad's entourage back to the police station. You need to set in motion the second phase of the plan. The two girls need to be separated from the men and held separately, then the American and German embassies told to move in."

Brad raced to the police station where the girls had been taken. The embassy staff arrived soon after. They requested an interview with their citizens who they believed were being detained by Mohammad against their will. Brad convinced the embassy people to allow him to see the girls.

There were squeals of joy when he walked into the interview room. The girls rushed up and joyously embraced him. They couldn't believe he had achieved what they were sure was the impossible. Brad felt slightly embarrassed with the exuberance of the greeting, but he did allow himself a small amount of smug self-satisfaction. It had been an excellent result to an extremely challenging problem.

CHAPTER 18

RETURN TO CALIFORNIA

Brad glanced out the aircraft window as it taxied to the terminal. He was glad to be back on American soil. The last month had been hectic, a complete departure from his normal routine. He had to admit he had enjoyed the excitement, the exhilaration of his confrontations with Liam, and he was going to miss Cara. She had moved him like no other girl.

Surfing would be very mundane compared to his past few weeks. Callum had left for Belfast, and he had promised to keep Brad informed of any developments. He was unsure whether he would require any further help from Brad. He expressed his gratitude for everything that Brad had done to date. Brad looked forward to catching up with old acquaintances. His priority would be to find some accommodation. From now on he would have to get back to a more modest lifestyle with no Callum to pick up his expense tab.

A quick call determined his old apartment was no longer available. His surfing buddy Wynard said he could crash in his pad until he could get sorted. Brad was well aware of the state of Wynard's accommodation. It was stretching the imagination to call it an apartment, more of a converted garden shed. It would mean sleeping on the floor. That is, if he could find a free spot that was not knee deep in Wynard's possessions. Brad knew he was not the tidiest of people, but Wynard was in a class of his own. He used the floor as his wardrobe.

Brad grinned at the thought. Over the past two months he had become used of staying in five-star accommodation. Wynard's shed would be one-star and that was being extremely generous. On the positive side, Wynard was a buddy, a good guy. Brad really enjoyed his company. He just didn't want to live too long under the same roof with him. Brad noticed his Ford utility was still parked outside the apartment, exactly where he had left it. The only change being the bonnet was up.

A grinning Wynard emerged. He slapped Brad on the back and pumped his hand. "Good to see you, buddy. You haven't missed much. The surf's been diabolical." He noticed Brad gazing at the utility. "Yeah, I've had a look. It's definitely fixable. Unfortunately, you'll have to spend a few dollars. I've made a list of what I need. I'll show you inside. You can decide whether you can afford it." Brad grinned, his bank account was flushed. Callum had met all his living expenses this past month.

"Just fix it, Wynard. Give me the list and I'll get the parts." Wynard produced a couple of beers. He wanted to hear what Brad had been up to this past month. Brad felt a little guilty; he had to give a completely false account of his time away. He blamed it all on problems back at home with his parents. He knew Wynard would accept that, as he was used to Brad complaining about his dad.

Next morning Brad cycled out to the Morales. He couldn't get back into surfing without his board. He hoped it had arrived home safely from Hawaii. Brad could see from the Morale's gate that the new gardener was not very particular. He had not trimmed any edges around the gardens. He would enjoy pointing this out to Quinton. Brad pressed the intercom button and waited. It felt like forever before Quinton answered.

"Hello, how can I help you?" Brad noticed the tone was a lot gentler and less confrontational than when he first called there several months ago

"Good morning, Quinton; that took a while. Were you having a sleep?" There was a moment's silence.

"Bradshaw Prendergast, don't be cheeky. It's good to see you." The gates creaked open and Brad strolled up the driveway to the house. He was met at the front door by a beaming Quinton, who had informed Cristal. She brushed past Quinton and gave Brad a hug, then held him at arm's length and studied him.

"You look so different; your hair is shorter, and you've colored it. And your clothes, more up market I guess."

"All part of the new image," grinned Brad. "What do you think?"

"Mm. Not sure. I did like the old casual look, somehow it suited you."

"Well I think it's a big improvement," chimed in Quinton.

"And what secret assignment are you on today?" laughed Cristal.

Brad gave her a wink. "I think I will do some background work on our Quinton here. After all he went back into my past as I recall. Maybe Quinton has some deep, dark secrets locked away. He may not be all we think he is."

Quinton was most indignant. "I have no skeletons in my cupboard. I've led a mundane, boring life; nothing to raise any eyebrows."

Cristal turned to Brad. "Come in, we want to know how everything went. Why are you home? Do you want your job back? The guy we have is not very good." They spent half an hour catching up. Brad gave a much-sanitized version of the past month. He pointed out he was not at liberty to divulge too much detail. Cristal nodded, she was well aware of this.

Brad enquired about his surfboard. "Has it arrived safely? Has Quinton been practicing with it?"

Quinton had a sheepish look. He had to admit he had succumbed to temptation and had a couple of attempts. He had come to the conclusion he wasn't cut out for surfing. Quinton led Brad to the garden shed pointing out the board neatly stored at the back. He gave Brad a bemused look.

"I'm really curious to know how you intend taking that board with you. You surely don't think you can ride your bike and carry the board at the same time."

Brad grinned. "Sure, I've done it before. Watch me."

"That's ridiculous," said Quinton. "If the police see you, they're bound to take a dim view. I'll deliver it in my vehicle."

Brad smiled at Quinton. He could not have imagined him making such an offer two months ago.

Next on Brad's list was to look up Chloe and Savannah. There had been a few new developments. Chloe advised Brad that Savannah was in a relationship with a new surfer who had arrived from somewhere overseas. She couldn't see the attraction, but Savannah was well and truly smitten.

Brad grinned. "Good for her, what about you Chloe? Any hot guys crossed your path lately."

"No one worth mentioning. I've been saving myself for you," purred Chloe. "I hope you're home for good and not planning on tripping off again.

Brad shrugged. "No plans on leaving at present."

Brad settled back into his old routine. He resisted going back to work for the Morales. He was flushed with money at present, maybe in a month or two. He was surprised, for the first time in his life he found surfing rather hum drum. He found his thoughts reliving the past month. He really missed the exhilaration of facing danger, and he really missed Cara. Three weeks had passed, and Brad had given away any thoughts of hearing from Callum. That part of his life had now been consigned to history. The phone rang, it was Heather. She was most anxious.

"It's months since you last called. You know I worry when you don't keep in touch."

Brad apologized. After explaining that life had been very busy lately, he apologized for not ringing lately. "I've been to Hawaii and Las Vegas. I had a new job."

William immediately cut into the conversation. "What job? How can you afford to travel to those places? I hope you're not involved in anything illegal. I know unscrupulous people frequent Las Vegas."

Brad spent several minutes trying to convince William everything was legitimate and the people he worked for had met all his expenses. William would then come up with another torrent of questions. Brad knew he would never convince his father that he had a real job, especially when he couldn't reveal the true nature of the work. Even if he had told the truth Brad doubted his dad would believe him. Finally, out of exasperation, Brad gave his father Cristal Morales' phone number. He could call her. Maybe she would have better luck calming William. Brad hung up from the call, feeling drained. Talking to his dad took more out of him than the past few months of working with Callum.

He poured himself a stiff bourbon. It was not his usual drink. He usually stuck with beer, but tonight he needed something stronger. His phone rang again. Brad groaned, surely that couldn't be William ringing for round two. Brad was shocked to hear Callum's voice. He immediately felt a surge of excitement. He knew it would only be a courtesy call, as Callum had promised to keep him informed. Brad had been skeptical that he would hear from Callum again. He had refused to get any hopes up, but secretly he desperately wanted to receive this call.

"Carrick's returned to Belfast, and MI6 have organized surveillance of all shipping and flights into Ireland and Britain. Any hopes of intercepting the VX are rapidly fading. It's like searching for a needle in a haystack. Intelligence reports increased activity amongst known RIRA operatives, and they're sure something big is being planned. You don't have to be a brain surgeon to deduce it will almost certainly involve the VX. MI6 are desperate for information; that's why I'm calling." Callum was silent for a moment waiting for a response. "Are you still there, Brad?'

"Yeah, I'm listening."

"I'd like you to get over here to Belfast as soon as you can. All efforts to crack Carrick's circle have failed. Maybe you could establish contact with Cara again and learn something. I wouldn't normally ask, but to tell the truth we are desperate."

Brad hung up. A surge of exhilaration surged through his body. A huge grin spread across his face. This was the best news he had received since arriving back from Acapulco. It crossed Brad's mind to ring William and inform him that he was off to Belfast. What would he make of that? He quickly dismissed that idea. That would inevitably lead to another confrontation and he was in no mood for another cross examination, especially when he was handicapped by what he was permitted to divulge about the real reason for making the trip. He did feel guilty not informing his mom. Perhaps he could send her a postcard from Belfast. Brad laughed to himself as he tried to imagine what William would make of that.

CHAPTER 19

FINAL PLANNING

Carrick was relieved to be leaving Mexico. While he had been there he always had that niggling feeling that something might go wrong at the last minute. Some clever police investigator might draw a link between him and Sanchez and put out an alert at the airports and borders. It was inevitable that they would eventually make that link; it was prudent to waste no time arranging the transport for the VX and then getting themselves out of the country. Now the goods were safely stored on the cargo ship, this had all been prearranged. He could at last allow himself the luxury of sitting back and relaxing. Everything had gone like clockwork. His thoughts raced ahead. The plan for the attack on London was in place, and all that was needed now was the fine tuning.

Once they had cleared customs and were in the air, Carrick could breathe easier. Getting safely out of Mexico was the only thing that could have possibly gone wrong. He settled back for the long flight, first to Miami and then on to Heathrow. There was a two hour wait for a connecting flight and then he would be safely back in Belfast. He finally allowed himself a smug smile of satisfaction. It had been an ordeal. The damned Yank, Prendergast had been a fly in the ointment, but the end result was hugely satisfying. Now they had a few weeks to wait until the cargo ship reached Irish waters. The drop would be made at sea, well away from prying eyes. Then the operation could then enter its final phase, there was no point in delaying their attack. The preliminary work had already been done. They had gone over and over the sequence of events leading up to this final act, an attack to the very heart of the accursed British. Regardless of that, he intended for everyone to sit down and once again go through the planning. Each person would be required to outline their part in the plan. There would be no room for error, and no second chances.

Liam sat back and relaxed in his seat in the plane. He too felt a smug satisfaction, but for totally different reasons to Carrick. Almost a week had passed since his passionate liaison with Cara. The memory brought a smile to his face. He had always held strong desires for her but had been reluctant to make a move. She had always been polite and friendly. He believed this meant she truly held deeper feelings for him, but like him, had suppressed her true feelings. Instead she had tried to find satisfaction with others. In the past he resorted to showing these other suitors the error of their ways and it had always worked until the American appeared on the scene. Prendergast seemed oblivious to the reputation of Carrick and refused to put off no matter what threats Liam made. He was obviously very brave or very stupid. Liam preferred to believe it was the latter. Anyhow, Prendergast had been relegated to history. He was now out of the picture.

Liam felt sure Cara had talked to Carrick about him. He had received no negative feedback, in fact, quite the opposite. On one occasion when Cara's name came up Carrick had turned to him with a huge smile and had given him a wink. Liam took this to mean Carrick knew about his feelings for her, and not only that, he approved. Now that he had revealed his true feelings, there was no point in hiding them from her. Although she did not admit it, Liam felt convinced Cara secretly must have enjoyed their bedroom romp as much as he did. She had not complained to Carrick. She would be making him work for her affections, but she was just being a woman and playing hard to get.

The moment the plane flew over the Irish coast Cara felt a flood of nostalgia sweep through her. Maybe the green fields, maybe just the recognizable landmarks. Anyhow, she was home, and it felt good. It had been almost four weeks and it had been a great experience. All the time she had been with Brad time had simply flown by, and it had been the most enjoyable time of her life. God how she missed him. The thought of never seeing him tugged at her heartstrings. The last week in Mexico had dragged by and for the first time her thoughts focused on being home. She longed to be back in familiar surroundings, and to see familiar faces. She was more than ready to once again set foot on Irish soil.

The Liam incident had been pushed that to the back of her mind. She hadn't forgotten, nor had she forgiven, but dwelling on it was like reliving the pain all over again. It played havoc with her emotions and she found herself shaking with a mixture of anger and shame. She refused to continue punishing herself like this, as she was the aggrieved party. It was Liam who should be feeling the embarrassment. Somehow, she hadn't picked up any remorse from him. The first few days after the event he kept a very low profile. He faded into the background whenever she came into the room. As the days passed he became more brazen. Perhaps it was because Carrick had never mentioned the incident. Liam even had the audacity to approach her to ask her out for a welcome home dinner date. Cara didn't bother to give Liam the satisfaction of an answer. She had flashed a frosty glare at him and stormed off

Several times Cara had tried to steer the conversation with Carrick to Liam. She mentioned he had made advances to her. She somehow could not come straight out and say he had raped her, although she tried to lead the conversation in that direction. Carrick liked Liam. He pointed out to Cara she was a very attractive girl. Any red-blooded male could be excused for having desires on her. She should be flattered by his attention and she could do a lot worse than Liam. Cara finally decided telling Carrick would perhaps not be the wise thing to do. It would divide his loyalties between his daughter and jeopardizing his long-held life aspirations. No, she would have to deal with this problem herself.

***

Callum met Brad at Heathrow airport. The first thing Brad noticed was the sharp decrease in temperature. Even though it was summer, he thought it was probably a good ten degrees cooler than Los Angeles. After Vegas and the Acapulco, it was like stepping into a fridge. They caught a connecting flight to Belfast. Brad immediately picked up that Callum was tenser and less talkative than usual.

After doing the formalities at reception and depositing his minimal luggage in his room, Brad and Callum headed for the bar. They sat at table well away from other guests and enjoyed a quiet beer together. Brad pumped Callum for news on Cara. Did he have anything to report? Apart from the fact she had arrived home safe and sound three weeks ago and had returned to her job as a legal secretary, no, he had nothing to report. In fact, as he had mentioned on the phone, they had gathered almost no news about Carrick and his men. That was reason he had requested Brad come on over. They had absolutely no idea where the VX had disappeared. They were monitoring all their movements, but again they were drawing blanks. The truth was none of Carrick's associates had done anything that looked even remotely suspicious. A little bit of shopping had occurred, but mainly everyone stayed at home behind closed doors.

"So, what do you want me to do?" enquired Brad.

"Just make contact with Cara and pump her for information. We know something is being planned. You're our best option at present. As I said before, we're desperate for information."

Brad was thoughtful. "I'll have to have an excuse for suddenly turning up in Ireland."

"Come on," laughed Callum. "You're engaged. You're in love. You had to come and see her."

"That's easy for you to say. Cara knows I live day-to-day. I have no great reserves of funds, and it costs money to fly halfway across the world. How am I going to explain that?"

Again, Callum laughed. "What about your dad? He's a celebrated heart surgeon. We all know he would have tidy nest egg safely locked away in the bank. Just say you swallowed your pride and pleaded with him to help. She will love you all the more for that."

Brad grinned back at Callum. He could see the logic in that. As always, Callum had it all worked out.

***

After work Cara went to her dad's apartment. She often popped in to do a quick tidy up. Carrick often pleaded with her to come and live with him, but she flatly refused. She valued her independence. Besides he had men coming and going all the time and she would only be in the way. Carrick had just concluded a meeting when she arrived. The tiny apartment was overflowing with eight people. Cara only knew Finn and Liam. Several others she had seen before but did not really know them. They were just amongst a number of Carrick's business associates.

Cara busied herself serving everyone cups of tea. She passed around a plate of home baked biscuits. She had really made them for Carrick, but he had insisted everyone share in the delights of his lovely daughter's home baking. Liam sat transfixed with Cara and couldn't take his eyes off her. She was mesmerizingly beautiful as she glided around the apartment with the elegance and the grace of a princess. She had inherited her mother's stunning good looks, tempered by Carrick's pragmatism and courage. God, she would make an excellent wife, and a fantastic mother. He was now forty-two, and it was time he thought about settling down and having a family of his own. Cara was far and away streets ahead of any other girl he had been out with.

Liam's mind drifted back to his romantic liaison with Cara. He had relived that event many times. Just looking at her now aroused him; her subtle smile as she passed him his cup of tea made his blood pressure rise.

Everyone said their goodbyes and filed out onto the street. Carrick added he was popping to the shops, and he was out of groceries. Cara smiled and said her goodbyes to all the men, then closed the door. She turned and was horrified to see Liam had remained behind and was sitting watching her. Cara opened the door again and stood there holding it.

"Goodbye, Liam." Liam slowly got up and walked to the door. He pulled the door from her grasp and closed it but stayed inside the apartment. Cara felt panic surge through her, she was sure she knew what was on Liam's mind.

"I won't ask you again. Goodbye, Liam."

Liam grinned. "Come on, Cara. We both know this is part of the game. We both want the same thing." He advanced towards Cara and reached out to draw her towards him. Cara did not panic, she allowed him to pull her against him and press his lips hard against hers. Liam had been prepared for a little resistance, but all he now experienced was a submissive sensual woman. He immediately relaxed. At last Cara was accepting his advances. His emotions soared. He knew Carrick would be the best part of an hour at the shops. He was totally aroused, and he had been dreaming of this encounter ever since their first love making session in Acapulco.

Her body pressed against his, his hands fumbled at her clothing. Cara eased back a fraction and brought her knee up into Liam's crotch with all the force she could muster. Liam groaned and doubled over in pain, his eyes watering. Cara broke free and retreated to the kitchen searching frantically in the cutlery drawer. She quickly returned clutching an evil looking kitchen knife. She opened the door and prodded Liam with the point of the knife forcing him outside. He stood doubled over in obvious pain staring mystified at an outraged Cara. He tried to speak but the words failed him. Cara gave him a final murderous glare and then slammed the door shut.

She quickly locked the door and retreated to a chair collapsing into it. She sat shaking like a leaf trying hard to comprehend what had just happened. The scary thing, what shocked her the most, was the knowledge that if she had to, she would have used that knife. Any thoughts of cleaning Carrick's flat were now long gone. She just sat in silence firmly clutching the knife, refusing to put it down.

***

Carrick took a drive to see a marine broker whom he had spoken to before. The previous day the broker had rung Carrick. He had acquired a vessel which he believed ticked all the boxes. It was a sturdy vessel, large enough to accommodate several people and still be able to store enough provisions for a long ocean voyage. It had recently undergone a complete refit. It had a new marine certificate and the motor was almost new. All that she lacked was a dedicated new owner.

It was many years since Carrick had done any sailing. In his younger days he had been in the crew of several racing yachts. But that had come to a sudden halt when he had been incarcerated in Maze prison. Carrick felt sure it would be like riding a bike, once learned, never forgotten. It would all soon come back to him.

The broker greeted Carrick like his long-lost friend. He pumped Carrick's hand and gushed with superlatives about the merits of the yacht he had to show him. Carrick gave him a withering stare, which momentarily stopped the sales spin. The broker soon recovered and found another whole list of special features which he proceeded to outline for Carrick in lavish detail.

Carrick climbed aboard the vessel closely followed by the broker. This was too much for Carrick. He spun around and ordered the shocked broker off the yacht. He intended to do the inspection on his own in peace, without someone prattling away in his ear. He could wait for him on the jetty. The broker was about to resist this suggestion but on studying Carrick's face, he decided if he wanted this sale it would be wise to take on board this advice.

Carrick spent a good thirty minutes inspecting the vessel. He poked his head into all the nooks and crannies. He ran a critical eye over all the equipment and finally appeared back on deck.

The broker looked expectantly at Carrick. "You have to admit, sir, she's a fine vessel. We don't get many in such pristine condition as this one. You would be wise to act quickly before someone else snaps her up."

Carrick ignored the sales spin. "I need to take her for a sail in the harbor, then I'll make a decision."

"Absolutely, sir. When would you like to do that?"

"Now," snapped Carrick.

The broker jumped aboard. He sensed a sale. He would help cast-off.

"Hold it," growled Carrick. "I intend to do the test sail on my own. I don't need you on board giving me a running commentary of the vessel's fine points."

The broker reluctantly returned to the jetty and watched as Carrick eased the yacht out into the harbor. He returned to his office, but constantly checked on the yachts whereabouts. He felt a little uneasy leaving a stranger aboard on his own. He had heard horror stories about vessels being taken out to sea and not returning. Two hours later, a relieved broker saw the yacht sailing back to her berth. He was on the jetty in an instant to greet Carrick. He looked at Carrick expectantly.

"How did everything go? She's an absolute corker isn't she sir?"

Carrick showed no emotion, he completely ignored the barrage of questions he was being bombarded with. He strode over to the broker's office. After another hour of haggling, Carrick and a beaming broker emerged. Carrick was now the proud new owner of Dream Weaver. Carrick would have been happy to pay the asking price, but the constant sales pitch he had been subject to had annoyed him. He negotiated the price down out of spite.

***

Now that he was in Belfast, Brad was eager to ring Cara. He knew she would be surprised to hear from him, and even more so when she knew he was in Belfast.

Cara felt annoyed when the phone rang. She had just starting to calm down after dealing with Liam and was not in the mood for talking to anyone. What she really needed was some quiet time on her own to gather her thoughts. She needed to take out the emotions and plan how she would deal with the latest Liam episode. If she ignored the problem, he would likely try again. She could not expect to repel his advances so easily next time. Yet if she did nothing, why wouldn't he try again? Cara was of a mind to ignore the phone. She glanced to see if she could see who was calling. Brad's name lit up, and she was immediately excited. This was one call she did want to receive.

"Hello, Brad. You would be the last person I expected to be calling."

"I'm sorry if I've disappointed you," teased Brad.

"Don't be stupid, there's no one else in the whole wide world I would rather talk to than you. It's such a surprise, a very pleasant surprise, and right now I could do with some cheering up."

Brad immediately quizzed her on why she was feeling so down. Cara downplayed her comments. She was not about to burden Brad with her problems. What could he do about it when he was on the other side of the world?

Cara, for the moment, forgot the Liam episode, and she was now bubbling with excitement. She wanted to know everything Brad had done since returning home.

"Where have you been since we last saw each other?" She then immediately launched into a detailed account of her movements. "You know we went to Acapulco after leaving Vegas. The beach there was absolutely fabulous. You would have loved it there, although there was no surf."

Brad grinned to himself. Little did she know he had been in Acapulco at the same time. He had to be careful not to let that slip. Cara would have been furious that he had not contacted her. Brad had trouble getting a word in while Cara talked furiously, barely stopping to take a breath. He listened politely as he received graphic details of all the bargains she had picked up at the shops, and how she was having trouble settling into the old routine of having to go to work now she was back home.

"And how is your dad? Did he successfully complete all of his business while he was away?"

"Yes, Dad's very happy; everything seemed to go well in the finish. I won't say he sends his love, because you know he doesn't." Cara laughed. "He did not appreciate me getting involved with an American. He would like me to find a nice Irish boy."

"You mean someone like Liam? How is my old mate Liam? Has he taken up following you everywhere again?"

Brad meant it as a light-hearted comment, but all he received from Cara was a stony silence.

"Hello, are you still there? You've gone very quiet all of a sudden?"

A flood of emotions swept over Cara. The mentioning of Liam's name hit her like a sledge hammer. She choked up and couldn't speak.

Brad kept saying, "Hello? Hello?"

Cara took a moment; she needed to regain her composure. The last thing she wanted was to burst into tears. She desperately needed to be strong.

"Are you still there?" enquired Brad.

"Yes," came a muffled reply. She tried to speak but started sobbing uncontrollably.

"Cara, what's wrong? You've had trouble with Liam again, haven't you?"

"Yes," sobbed Cara.

"Take your time. I want to know what Liam's done. It must be something serious for you to react like that."

Cara struggled to regain control of her emotions. "I don't want to talk about Liam. You'll only get angry and you can't do anything about him."

"What's he done Cara? I might be able to help."

Brad waited. Cara finally blurted out.

"He raped me, Brad. Liam pushed his way into my hotel room in Acapulco. I had just come out of the shower. I saw it was him at the door and I only opened it a fraction to ask what he wanted. He pushed his way in."

Brad was shocked, anger welled up inside him. He wanted to teach Liam a lesson. A million thoughts of retribution flashed through his mind.

"I'm alright now, Brad. Forget about Liam. I'll handle him. I shouldn't have mentioned it to you."

"What are you doing for dinner tonight?" enquired Brad.

Cara felt surprised at the question. She expected an angry outburst about Liam.

"Nothing much. I'm not feeling very hungry, and I may skip dinner."

"That's not a good idea. How about we meet up and find a nice Asian restaurant?"

Cara was stunned. "Are you in Belfast, Brad?"

"I sure am. I flew in a few hours ago. I wanted to surprise you."

Cara murmured. "Well you sure as hell have succeeded there. I can't believe it."

They arranged to meet at an Indian restaurant very close to Brad's hotel. Cara said it had very good reviews, although she had never eaten there.

***

Callum had put a man on Carrick. Now that he was back in Ireland, he had more resources he could call on. The report came back that Carrick had spent several hours at a Marina and had taken a yacht for a sail. He may have purchased it, but that had not yet been confirmed. Callum made a note of this. He was unsure if this was a significant development. It may have been a deliberate attempt to confuse them. He was sure Carrick would suspect he was under surveillance.

***

Brad and Cara enjoyed an intimate dinner. Brad was nervous that Liam may have been up to his old tricks and following Cara. He gave Callum a call.

"Do you have anyone keeping an eye on Liam by any chance?"

"Sure have," came the prompt reply. "Liam is spending the evening with a few friends at a popular local club. He's not going to be a problem for you."

Brad thanked Callum and hung up. Now he could relax and enjoy his evening. Cara and Brad had a lot of catching up to do and they needed a bit more privacy than the restaurant offered. Brad suggested they go back to his hotel room, Cara could stay the night. He didn't like the idea of her being alone in her apartment with Liam in his present mood. Cara gave Brad a mischievous look.

"I know I can't trust Liam, but what about Bradshaw Prendergast? Will I be safe staying over in the same room with him?"

Brad grinned. "I'm sure we both share the same desires. After all you are a very sensual woman. The one difference is, of course, you're still my fiancé. I assume you're still my fiancé?"

Cara flashed a flirtatious smile at Brad. "Let's sleep on it. I'll decide in the morning."

Brad ordered a bottle of champagne from room service. Tonight, they were celebrating, and they had so much to discuss. Cara's mood had changed from deep depression to excited exuberance. She snuggled up to Brad and demanded he tell her everything he had been up to. "But first why are you in Belfast?"

"Well, that's a real easy question to answer. Several months ago, I had the good fortune to meet this gorgeous Irish girl. She affected me in a way I've never experienced before. She totally consumed my thoughts and everything I did. Then she was gone, but I couldn't get her out of my head. I knew I had to see her again, but as you know I'm not flushed with excess funds. So, I resorted to swallowing my pride, and going cap in hand to my father. The rest is history, here I am."

Brad smiled a cheeky grin. It was not exactly the whole truth; he couldn't reveal that. At least he couldn't reveal the truth yet.

"I might add," said Brad. "I'm not overly fussed with some of the company this Irish lass keeps."

Cara wrapped her arms around Brad and smothered him in kisses, nearly spilling his champagne. She then demanded to hear what Brad had gotten up to after leaving Las Vegas. Brad recounted a sanitized version of his movements. It was more back to his original lifestyle based around surfing. He deleted any reference to Acapulco. She definitely didn't need to know about that. Cara then took over the conversation. Brad prompted her on Carrick's movements.

"I met Dad at his launch further up the coast north of Acapulco. I can't remember the name of the place. They loaded some canisters aboard. I have no idea what they were for. Then we drove further north to some port and the canisters were off loaded onto a cargo ship. I can't recall the name of the ship; the truth is I'm not interested in those things. That's Dad's business, and I don't want to know about it. Then we all flew home and I'm trying to work back into my old routine."

Brad then asked about her problems with Liam. She had deliberately left them out. A flood of tears came as she relived the ordeal. Brad held her close and comforted her. They lay together locked in an embrace for ten minutes without speaking, each consumed with their own thoughts. The silence progressed to passionate kissing. Their clothes were soon in a crumpled heap on the floor. They pressed their naked bodies against each other, emotions soaring. They had desperately missed this closeness these past few weeks. Their love making reached new heights of passion.

***

The marine broker received a visit from an official looking man. He wanted information about Dream Weaver, the yacht he had just sold.

"Sorry, you're a day too late. I've just sold it yesterday, but I do have several others equally as good I can show you."

The official man wasn't interested in the other boats. He demanded to know who had purchased Dream Weaver. The broker appeared reluctant to divulge personal information like that, but threats of police involvement soon convinced him to cooperate. He retrieved the sale and purchase agreement and showed it to the man.

***

Callum and Brad had a meeting. The news about the cargo ship interested Callum. It would have been helpful to have the name of the ship. It would certainly have made life easier, but he would look into all shipping that travelled from the west coast of America and passed by Ireland. They now knew Carrick had purchased Dream Weaver. They would keep a close watch on her, as well as Carrick and his known associates. He asked Brad to keep pumping Cara for any information on Carrick's plans and movements.

***

Cara had a new spring in her step, even Carrick picked up the change in her mood. She had been quite moody and withdrawn since they had arrived back in Ireland. Now she was bubbly and talkative, a ready smile on her face. He didn't understand what was going on, and he could only surmise it as a woman problem, something no male fully understood. He had heard women were prone to occasional mood swings, but he wouldn't trouble himself to try and make sense of them. It would only be a distraction from more pressing matters.

Cara even showed renewed interest in his plans, but she went strangely silent whenever Liam's name was mentioned. Carrick guessed they may have had words. Cara had even started going out in the evenings. He had been getting concerned that she spent all her free time moping around her apartment. That was not healthy.

Carrick received word the cargo ship would be off the Irish coast in seven days; it was time to make a move. The Dream Weaver needed to be relocated to a more secure location. It was safe to assume his movements would have been monitored. It was therefore logical that British security may know of the yacht purchase. He needed it moved away from prying eyes. A repaint and name change would also be prudent. Carrick made a phone call.

***

Callum received an urgent phone call.

"We've lost the Dream Weaver."

"What do you mean you've lost her?" snapped Callum.

"She's gone. Her berth at the Marina is empty. She's disappeared."

Callum was furious. "I thought you said you had her under surveillance."

"We did. Our man went home at eleven in the evening. The rain was bucketing down and there was a howling gale blowing. He had spent days watching and nothing at all had happened. He was back at five in the morning, but she had gone."

"Send a plane up, search everywhere. I want the Dream Weaver found," ordered Callum. This was all he needed. He suspected the yacht might be part of Carrick's plans and now they had lost her.

***

Carrick received the report he had been waiting for. His man had the yacht safely stored in dry dock ten miles along the coast. She was completely undercover, it would be impossible to see her, even from the air. His man had been very careful to check that no one had been watching when he moved the yacht. The Marina had been completely deserted and it had been a miserable night. No sane person would have been out in that weather. The new paint job was all organized. They would rearrange some of the fittings on the deck to give the appearance it was a different yacht, and of course there was the name change. The Dream Weaver was now Wave Dancer. Carrick allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. Everything was falling nicely into place; it was all coming together exactly as planned.

Cara and Brad met every night. They intended to make up for lost time. Cara wanted to have Brad over for dinner, to give him a home cooked meal.

"It will be a taste of what married life to me will be like," she joked. "That is if you ever have the courage to take the final step."

Brad laughed; "I've already decided on my best man. I'll ask Liam."

Cara glared at him. "I don't think that's very funny."

Brad quickly apologized. He could see Liam had scarred her deeply.

Brad was always wary of Liam and it was very convenient to check in with Callum to get an update on Liam's movements. It took all his worries away when meeting Cara. Cara gave Brad some strange looks when she saw him making these calls.

"Who are you ringing now? I hope you don't have another girl on the go, because Irish girls can be very vindictive when it comes to cheating boyfriends."

"I'll make a mental note of that for future reference," grinned Brad. "No, it's nothing as exciting as that. It's just a guy I met on the plane coming over. I promised to keep in touch."

Brad had to admit, Cara was an excellent cook. She turned the evening into a romantic affair. Candles were lit on the table and the lights were dimmed. Cara floated around the room in a breath-taking, revealing low cut dress. It took all Brad's will power to concentrate on the meal and all the trouble she had gone to preparing it. He was mesmerized by Cara and she sensed it. She hovered around him fussing over him, slapping his hand if he started getting too frisky.

"Later, Tiger. Behave yourself," she would scold him. She would tease him all night, flirtatiously wrapping her arms around his neck and passionately kissing him. Then she would withdraw when he started making advances. Brad had never been so aroused before in his life. Once the dishes were cleared away, Cara took his hand and led him to the bedroom. All his pent-up emotions were released, and the lovemaking had an electrifying intensity. It was an emotionally charged evening, one they both never wanted to end.

***

Carrick had an intense discussion with Liam as they drove to the airport. The big day was drawing nearer, but there was still some groundwork to be done. There were to be no mistakes. It had taken months, if not years, of planning to get to this point and one stupid mistake could ruin everything. Liam nodded in agreement; he knew exactly what he was required to do. He had a list of places to visit and people to see. He would report in when he arrived home.

As Carrick watched Liam's plane disappear into the distance, he felt a nervousness surge through his body. This represented the start of the final phase of their plan. Over his lifetime Carrick had been involved in numerous terrorist attacks, but nothing on the scale of what was about to unfold in the next few weeks.

He had been responsible for bomb blasts that had killed scores of people. He had organized deadly ambushes on British patrols, and the collaborating Irish police. This attack would be very different. The British Government would not be able to ignore it. The nuclear bomb drops on Hiroshima and Nagasaki during the Second World War had brought Japan to her knees; this attack would surely have the same result with Britain. They would have to negotiate a complete withdrawal from Ireland. Northern Ireland and the rest of Ireland would be united, and the puppet government dissolved. All ties with Britain would be severed.

The death toll would be in the thousands, and the threat of further attacks would force the desired result. Carrick realized he would have to go underground after the attack. They may suspect him, but they would have no proof. No doubt tough new laws would be introduced where anyone suspected of a terrorist act could be detained. They would have to find him first.

***

Liam spent a whole day travelling around the usual tourist spots in London. He had been observed taking numerous photos. Callum listened intently to the report. If one didn't know better, it could be assumed Liam was just a normal tourist. Callum sat deep in thought. What if Liam was sorting out a target. It would be logical that he would pick a high population density area to have the maximum effect. Callum cross-examined his man again.

"I want to know exactly where Liam went. Did he spend more time in one location? Did he take more photos at any particular location?"

"Well, he did spend considerable time around the busy London Underground entrance, and yes, he did take more photos there than anywhere else."

Callum understood this area had been targeted by terrorists before. He would see security was stepped up. A list of the places Liam had visited was compiled. They would all receive an upgrade of their security.

"What else did Liam do in London?"

"He did very little things of interest: spent some time in a bar, talked to some locals, and that was about it."

Callum had an uneasy feeling. Was it possible that he was missing something?

CHAPTER 20

TROUBLED TIMES

Eleven o'clock at night, the Wave Dancer made her debut out on the water. Carrick would have loved to be aboard, but he felt it prudent to let others take her out to sea. He almost certainly was being watched. The rendezvous with the cargo ship had been scheduled for one in the morning. Another hour had been allowed for the drop, and the Wave Dancer should be safely back under cover by four. Carrick would be contactable by phone, but only if necessary. Everything had been meticulously planned, nothing could surely go wrong.

It was the perfect night; the weather had obliged. There was a gentle breeze with a slight hint of rain clouds; but that was ideal. The clouds hid the stars, making it a very dark night. The Wave Dancer slid out to sea with no navigation lights displayed on board to avoid any prying eyes. As she approached the drop zone, the prearranged lighting was turned on. Radio contact was forbidden. It paid to be cautious. The drop went like clockwork and the yacht was back and again under cover well before four. Everyone then melted away into the darkness to catch up on some sleep.

Carrick hadn't slept a wink. His heart pounded in his chest. He had received no phone call, which represented good news. A phone call would mean a problem. The phone rang; it was so loud it sounded like a gunshot. Carrick nervously answered. A short matter of fact voice spoke.

"Mission accomplished. I'm off to bed." Then the phone went dead. Carrick smiled. He may as well try and get some sleep as well, although with his heart still racing he knew that would be difficult.

***

Callum visited Brad in his room, his agitation obvious. Things were not going well, did Brad have anything to report? The Dream Weaver yacht seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. They had put planes up two days in a row and found nothing. The local police had scoured the coastline and again, they had drawn a blank. Liam had gone to London and spent the day sightseeing at all the normal tourist attractions. All their investigations were leading to dead ends. This was very worrying; the attack could take place any day now. They were floundering in the dark. Intelligence did not know what Carrick had planned, but they did know something big was about to happen, as all of the evidence pointed to a major terrorist attack.

"I need some help from you, Pal. I need some new information. I didn't bring you all this way just for you to shag your fancy Irish girlfriend."

Brad quietly studied Callum. He could see the pressure had started to consume him; Callum had never spoken to him like this before. This was not like Callum.

"You have to remember, Callum, it's in the bedroom where you can learn all sorts of secrets."

Brad grinned at Callum, who stared blankly back.

"For Christ's sake, Brad, this is deadly serious. People's lives are at stake here! Be serious." Brad nodded and promised to do his best. That was all he could offer.

***

The Hackett Construction office receptionist took a phone call that struck her as odd. Something about it seemed strange. She relayed the call through to her boss's cell phone. He could deal with it. The person wanted to book in a welding job at the Waterloo Underground terminal. The problem was it had to be on Thursday next week and they had to be on site at exactly four in the afternoon.

"That's a very busy time. Surely we can do it earlier. The train commuters will be everywhere and the traffic will be horrendous. That's almost the rush hour."

The caller became agitated. He was adamant; it had to be at exactly four o'clock.

"Is this for the City council? If so, we will need a work order."

"Not necessary," snapped the caller. "We are a private contracting company. We have the contract, but we are stretched, so we are subcontracting the job out. We have all the necessary paperwork. I can give you a work order number. However, I need an answer. Can you do the work?"

At that point the receptionist put the call through to her boss. The caller had a very pronounced Irish accent and was extremely abrupt. She didn't like talking to him. Anyhow, she couldn't make those decisions.

***

Brad had a lot of spare time on his hands. He had to wait until the evenings to see Cara, that left him with the entire day to himself. Mornings were mostly over by the time he woke up. The late nights with Cara were wearing him out. She has to go to work; maybe she has more stamina than me. That thought brought a smile to his face. He wandered aimlessly down the street gazing in shop windows. He had no interest in shopping, he considered that a woman's domain, unless of course it was for something important like a car, or maybe a new surfboard. He chuckled to himself, he suspected he wasn't about to find many shops here stocking surfboards.

He spied a corner bar and figured he could kill some time in there. He might even chat with some locals. He strolled into the bar; he thought he would try a Guinness. After all he was in Ireland and he was always up for trying something new. His American accent immediately attracted attention. A man seated at the bar had his back to him. He immediately spun around. Both Brad and the man's face dropped in surprise.

"Prendergast," snarled the man.

"Liam! Now you're a sight for sore eyes," murmured Brad. I should have been more alert. Liam's the last person I wanted to meet.

"What the hell are you doing here, Prendergast? I thought I'd seen the last of you." Liam stared at Brad with pure venom in his eyes.

Brad forced a smile. "I knew you'd be missing me, so I popped over for a quick visit."

"A word of advice, Yank, I would make it a very quick visit. You're not welcome here. If you value your health, I suggest you get the first flight back to where you came from."

"That's not very friendly, Liam. Luckily not everyone shares your low opinion of me."

Liam's eyes narrowed. "Cara, have you seen Cara?"

Brad could see Liam struggling to control a rapidly building anger. "Of course, she's my fiancée remember, we have a wedding to arrange. I suggested you could be my best man, but Cara didn't seem too impressed with that idea. Then again, could I trust you? You would probably slip some arsenic into my drink?"

Brad suspected he had pushed Liam as far as he could. He didn't want it to degenerate into an all-out brawl. He grabbed his Guinness and moved away. Now all he wanted was to quickly drink it and get out of the bar. But at the same time Brad didn't want Liam to have the satisfaction of thinking he was scaring him off.

Liam sat quietly sending smoldering glares across the room. Brad gulped down his Guinness. It was a struggle. He made a mental note to avoid that drink in the future. He could not see what its attraction was to the Irish. Brad gave Liam a forced smile and a cheery wave, then scuttled out of the bar.

Brad couldn't wait to see Cara. "I've got some bad news."

Cara's face dropped. "You don't have to go home already, do you?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I went into a bar this morning and guess who I ran into? Liam."

"Oh," said Cara.

"Oh, is that all? It doesn't concern you that Liam knows I'm here?" questioned Brad.

"Well, yes it does, but it's not as bad as you having to go home."

Brad and Cara quietly discussed the implications of Liam knowing Brad was in Belfast. It really meant a repeat of the Las Vegas situation. They would have to be vigilant, always watching their back and that would be a right pain. But, Liam wasn't going to stop them from enjoying each other's company.

***

Liam had gone straight from the bar to Carrick's apartment. He blurted out. "Prendergast is in Belfast. I ran into him in a bar."

Carrick stared at Liam for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.

"Who cares? We have more important things to concentrate on."

"Who cares?" asked a horrified Liam. "I care! Guess why he's over here? He told me he and Cara are going to get married."

Carrick laughed. "That's not going to happen; he's winding you up, Liam. Forget Prendergast, Cara hasn't mentioned him to me."

Liam wanted action and Carrick's lack of concern annoyed him.

"I'll take care of him. It will give me great pleasure in getting rid of the annoying Yank."

Carrick sat up, a serious look on his face.

"No, you won't. Forget Prendergast! We have an operation about to start. I don't want you preoccupied with running off on some personal vendetta. You can deal with him after we have successfully completed our London mission."

Liam stared at Carrick. "I can deal with Prendergast without getting distracted. It could be all over in an hour or two."

Carrick was firm. "No, absolutely not. You leave for London in two days. Concentrate on your mission there."

Liam felt utterly dejected. The sneering look on Prendergast's face in the bar kept flashing through his head. He wasn't about to forget that. The Yank would be dealt with, but he would keep it quiet. Carrick needn't know. That meant it couldn't be a bullet in the head. He could imagine those headlines in the paper. 'American tourist shot dead in Belfast.' Carrick would be furious he had disobeyed a directive. No, it had to be subtle and discrete, but that meant he would need to use the VX. Unfortunately, their trial supply had been exhausted, so he would have to raid the canisters in the boat shed.

***

Graham Hackett received another phone call about the underground terminal job.

"Yes, I've received the deposit, thank you. Yes, everything is booked. Yes, you can rely on us to be on time at four o'clock. It's in the workbook."

Graham's first inclination had been to turn down the job. It was a crazy time to be starting. It was the money that swayed him. The aggressive Irishman had no idea of the job's real worth. He told the belligerent Irishman he would only do it if he paid his price. Graham hadn't expected an affirmative response; his quote was double the normal charged rate. He almost fell off his chair when the caller accepted without so much as a quibble.

***

Liam waited until it was dark. He did a quick surveillance to make sure no one was around, and then he sneaked into the boatshed. He didn't want to turn on a light. Working by torchlight proved extremely difficult. He balanced the torch between his legs but found it difficult to keep the beam trained on the top of the canister. It kept slipping down shining on his feet. He cursed under his breath; it would have been so much easier with someone to help him. But that of course was out of the question, no one must know he was doing this.

Adding to his problems, the VX was so damned dangerous that he could not afford a splash, or even a minute drip on his skin. He remembered what had happened to Seamus. Liam finally managed to get a little of the dangerous substance into his small bottle. He took off his surgical protective gloves and looked around for somewhere to dispose of them. He placed the used gloves carefully in a plastic bag and the bottle containing the VX in another bag. He sneaked a cautious look outside. It was pitch black.

He closed the boat shed behind him and hurried away. Liam dropped the plastic bag in a rubbish bin as he passed. The moment he had driven off a shadowy figure emerged from behind a building and retrieved the plastic bag from the bin.

***

Brad and Cara spent a leisurely night inside. They chose Brad's hotel room over Cara's apartment. It wasn't just the threat of Liam; they were both exhausted from a week of hitting Belfast's night spots followed by their romantic liaisons that lasted into the wee small hours.

"You are wearing me out, Tiger. Can we stay in tonight? We could take in a movie perhaps?" suggested Cara. Brad grinned and kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Your wish is my command."

"I'll remember that for future reference," noted Cara.

They ordered room service and later sat together enjoying the solitude, just happy to be in each other's company. They discussed all manner of things. What did the future hold for them? Did they have a future together? There were so many obstacles. They both had totally different lives on the opposite sides of the world. One of them would have to make a big sacrifice. Cara was loath to leave her dad, and Belfast held no real attraction for Brad apart from the fact that it was home to Cara. Conversely, it was also home to Liam. Brad didn't want to live his life continually looking over his shoulder. It was being naive to think that Liam would not be consumed with hatred and hell-bent on revenge.

Brad steered the conversation around to Carrick.

"What was your father's business in Vegas and Acapulco? Is he still active in the RIRA? What about Finn and Liam? They all seemed to have many clandestine meetings together."

Cara tried her best to answer Brad's questions. "I suspect Dad might still have some involvement in the RIRA organization. I know he is very passionate about achieving a united Ireland free from any British influence, but I really have no knowledge of his business dealings. He keeps matters like that very much to himself. I do worry he might do something unlawful and end up back in prison."

Brad listened quietly. He became convinced he wouldn't learn much of interest about Carrick's future plans. She plainly did not know anything.

***

Callum called a hurried meeting of all the operatives involved in the surveillance of Carrick and his associates. He was starting to feel the pressure building and he had nothing of consequence to report to his superiors. They all were expecting progress and he could offer them nothing. He, in turn, would turn the pressure back on the surveillance team. Brad sat at the back of the room. Callum insisted he sit in on the session, as he was part of the team.

Callum started the ball rolling relaying news that had come in from an operative who had infiltrated the RIRA network six months ago. For obvious reasons he was not available for this meeting as he needed to protect his identity. The word coming through was a major operation was taking place in London towards the end of this week. The likely target would be the London underground network. This had not been confirmed, but all intelligence pointed in this direction. The operative who had tracked Liam to London confirmed that Liam had spent considerable time in and around the underground. He had studied timetables and taken numerous photographs.

"Okay," said Callum. "It's safe to assume that the underground is the likely target. We will put in place round the clock surveillance and all vehicles will be subject to intense scrutiny. Anything and anyone suspicious will be stopped. An armed response team will be kept on permanent standby. What about Liam's other movement? What has he been up to since coming back from London?"

"He's run into Brad here, in a bar,' said another operative turning to Brad.

Brad nodded. "We had a few words and he made some threats. It was unfortunate we ran into each other, as it took us both by surprise."

"What else?" asked Callum, turning back to the operative? "He can't have been spending all his time in the bar?"

"No, he went out late at night, but he looked very secretive. He never met anyone, but he visited a boat shed. I say it was secretive because he went to great lengths to avoid detection before he approached the shed, and again when he came out. He never turned on any lights, and he used a torch the whole time. He dropped a plastic bag in a rubbish bin when he came out. I've sent it to the lab for analysis."

"Good," said Callum. "I want that boat shed investigated straight away. Has Liam done anything since then?"

"No, he seems to have vanished. I never saw him leave his apartment, so unless he has been holed up in there for the last twenty-four hours, he's disappeared."

Callum didn't like this. "We need to get inside his apartment. Approach the landlord, the electrician, the plumber or someone and enter his apartment. It is imperative we have a discreet look inside. We need to know all of his movements."

Callum continued. "What about Carrick?"

"Nothing suspicious to report there. He has turned into a model citizen. He attends church, goes to their meetings, and he stands up and has his say on all sorts of things."

"Is this normal?" enquired Callum.

"No, definitely not. He never used to go to church. He used to spend most of his time at home in his apartment. He does have a constant stream of visitors. It seems to me he wants to be seen out and about. I think he may be deliberately building a solid alibi, so he can't be accused of being somewhere else."

"Maybe." Callum was thoughtful. "What about Finn?"

"Nothing extraordinary there. Finn meets with the usual people, and spends a lot of time with Carrick," came the reply. Callum then turned and glared at everyone in the room.

"Something big is about to happen. Everyone needs to be extra vigilant. I don't need to tell you how important this is. Get out there and give me something positive."

Everyone filed out of the room. Brad hung back. When the room had cleared, Brad approached Callum.

"I've had a long chat to Cara. I quizzed her on what she knows of Carrick's activities. I genuinely believe she's completely in the dark. Sure, she suspects he's still involved in RIRA activities, but I don't think she can give us any real worthwhile information."

Callum sighed. "Well, keep trying."

"Sure. I was thinking perhaps it's time I told Cara the real reason I'm here," suggested Brad. "I don't want to; she will probably hate me for it. But if I tell her what Carrick is really up to, it may just unsettle her enough to tackle him and get some worthwhile information."

Callum nodded. "We've nothing to lose. Do it."

***

Carrick was becoming nervous; he always got apprehensive before a big operation. But, this time the stakes were far higher. The next week would change his life forever. Nothing must go wrong. He gave Liam a call and asked him to come over straight away. Liam arrived in Carrick's room thirty minutes later. It distracted him from his plans for Prendergast, but when Carrick requests a meeting he needed to jump to it. "I'm bringing your departure date forward by twenty-four hours. I've checked the weather forecast, there's a cold front approaching the country. It will bring stormy weather and that could disrupt the sea crossing to the English coast. To be on the safe side I want you to set sail tonight. Are you ready?"

Liam nodded, he had been ready for days, and he was keen to at last be making a move. His only regret was he would have to put his plans for Prendergast on hold.

***

At eight in the morning, a squad of police cars descended on the Marina boat shed that Liam had been seen entering. Armed police sealed off the exits and closed the surrounding streets. A few bemused people out for a morning walk were rounded up and detained for further questioning. The padlock securing the door was snapped with bolt cutters and police cautiously entered the shed.

Callum oversaw the operation, he followed the police in. The shed was empty apart from six canisters standing in a corner. Callum approached and studied them. They had Arabic writing stamped on them, he had no doubt they were the VX canisters Carrick had stolen from the El Celeste.

The detained walkers were questioned. Had they seen anyone entering the boat shed? No one had. Their names were recorded, then they were released to continue with their morning exercise. Callum felt pleased with the positive news. They had retrieved the VX. Could they be sure that there had only been six canisters taken from the El Celeste? They still had not located the missing yacht. Was that how Carrick was planning on delivering the VX to London?

***

A man wearing overalls with Telco Servicing stamped on the back, strode up to the front door of Liam's apartment. He held a tool box in his left hand. He knocked loudly on the door with his free hand. He waited for a minute and knocked loudly again. There was no response. He looked up and down the street, then opened his tool box and removed a tool and inserted it in the lock. He fiddled with it for a few minutes before he heard the lock click open. Another quick check up and down the street, and he then slipped inside the apartment.

Five minutes later he emerged through the door, carefully relocked it and strode back to his waiting van. He sat behind the steering wheel and made a phone call. Callum answered and listened without speaking.

"Liam's not home. I have to assume he hasn't not been home all night. The electric jug is cold, so it hasn't been used this morning. A quick look around revealed no clues to Liam's whereabouts. His fridge is almost empty. It has no food, all it contains is a couple of beer cans and another small plastic bottle. I've no idea what's in the bottle. Liam obviously isn't planning on eating at home unless he makes a trip to the supermarket sometime soon. The bed was cold, so I don't believe it had been slept in last night."

Callum was thoughtful. The obvious question, where would Liam be? Callum cursed. How the hell had Liam managed to slip away undetected?

***

Carrick was furious; he had just received word of the raid on the boat shed. How did the police know about it? On the positive side the Wave Dancer had gotten safely away. She was well out to sea. Liam had two canisters of the VX stowed on board, so the mission is still on target. Still, losing the remaining canisters was a major setback. Now we've lost the ability to stage a similar follow-up attack, but the authorities won't know that. Maybe it's not all bad. After this first attack, under the threat of further strikes, can the authorities afford to ignore us? I don't think so.

***

Brad rang Cara at work. He wanted to meet her somewhere private, as he had something to discuss. She was surprised that he had rung her in the middle of the day. The couple had already arranged to meet in the evening. She detected an urgency in his voice, and her mind started racing. Is it another problem with Liam? Maybe Brad has come up with a plan for our future? She now looked forward to the meeting Brad with eager anticipation.

***

Callum received a message from the MI6 informer inside the RIRA. It was exciting news; this was the breakthrough he had been so desperately seeking. There was now positive confirmation that the target for the attack was indeed the London underground. Not only that, he had a date and a time. This coming Thursday at four in the afternoon. This made sense, it would be rush hour and the station would be crawling with commuters. If Carrick wanted maximum damage, this would be the time to pick. Callum made a few calls; this took all the uncertainty away. They could now concentrate their resources in the one area. Carrick and his conspirators were in for one hell of a surprise.

***

Brad met Cara at her apartment; her excitement had been building all day. She put on a special dress for the occasion. She had suggested she prepare another home cooked meal, but Brad insisted he didn't want her to go to that much trouble.

"You've worked all day. It wouldn't be fair. You shouldn't have to turn around and prepare a meal when you come home. Whereas I've mooched around Belfast all day with free time on my hands. I'll organize some takeaways to be delivered, and I'll bring a bottle of wine. You can come home and put your feet up."

Cara reluctantly agreed. She could see the logic in what Brad said, and she loved him for his thoughtfulness. She loved him for just being who he was. It was an excited Cara who opened the door to Brad. She threw her arms around him and kissed him passionately. She had a feeling that tonight would be a special night. They sat close together and sipped their wine, she was bursting with anticipation.

"Come on, Brad, what is it you have you to tell me? The suspense is killing me!"

Brad remained reserved; he desperately didn't want to reveal the real reason for his phone call. He suspected their relationship would quickly dissolve once she heard his story. "Let's be patient. We can enjoy our meal, then we can talk."

Cara looked intensely at Brad. "Bradshaw Prendergast, you're such a tease."

She snuggled closer and smothered him with kisses, almost spilling his wine. The takeaways arrived while Cara struggled to control her exuberance; she chatted excitedly nonstop. Brad was unusually reserved, but she didn't notice. She quickly tidied up and turned expectantly to Brad.

"Okay, Brad, I've been patient long enough. What's this important matter you want to discuss?"

Brad sighed. He couldn't put it off any longer. He took Cara's hand and looked into her eyes. "Cara, you are a beautiful, lovely girl. You know I love you intensely. My life has changed completely since I met you. I desperately don't want to ever lose you, but I really fear after I say what I have to say, you may want nothing more to do with me."

"Brad, now you're starting to scare me," murmured Cara.

"Cara, I haven't been completely honest with you. After I met you in Hawaii, I was approached by British Intelligence. They wanted me to find information from you about your dad."

This wasn't completely truthful, but Brad wasn't about to admit he had been approached by MI6 long before he had set eyes on Cara. That would be one step too far. Cara stared at Brad not speaking, trying to digest what he had just said.

He continued. "They sent me to Vegas to learn of Carrick's plans. They believed I could learn from you."

"But I don't know what Dad's plans are. I don't even know the real reason for the trip. I had no information to pass on. And even if I did, why would I risk telling you or anyone? Why would I risk Dad going back to prison?"

Brad nodded. "I need to tell you something about what your father is planning. You may well hate me, but you need to know. All I know has come direct from MI6. You will find some things hard to believe, but I assure you they are true."

Brad continued to give a detailed account of Carrick's quest to obtain the highly dangerous nerve gas VX.

"Carrick met up with Sanchez in Vegas to arrange for the purchase of the VX. He then went to Acapulco to complete the deal. Sanchez and several of his men were murdered on their yacht out at sea, and that was when Carrick acquired the VX. He loaded it into the vehicle you met him in up the coast. The VX was shipped back to Ireland. Now Carrick is planning an attack on London and it is due to happen in a few days."

"Why are you telling me? I have no knowledge of any of this! It could be lies for all I know," Cara said quietly.

Brad continued. "This morning a marina was raided and some of this VX was recovered, but MI6 suspect not all of it. Liam has been visiting London, and now he has disappeared. MI6 have received word of a major attack. Hundreds, no, thousands of innocent lives will be lost if this attack is successful. I'm telling you all of this and appealing to you. Can you stand by and let this happen? How will you sleep at night knowing you could have saved thousands of lives? You said you could not bear the thought of Carrick going back to prison. That's exactly where he's heading if this attack goes ahead."

Cara sat silently as she tried to make sense of what Brad had just said. "If what you have said is true, what can I do?"

"You can tackle Carrick and tell him you know what he's planning. Try and talk some sense into him. Maybe you can't do anything but remember, thousands of people are going to die. These people are innocent. You have to try!"

"And how do I explain how I know all this?"

"Tell him the truth. It came from me. I've been working for MI6. It may well put my life in danger, but we all need to look at the bigger picture. We have to put that ahead of our personal concerns."

They sat in silence, both lost in their own private thoughts. Cara made a decision. "I'll tackle Dad about it. I know he's a determined man, and if it's as true as you say, I very much doubt I will be able to change his mind."

They continued talking quietly. Brad mentioned the mysterious deaths of the head of police and the high court judge who had presided over Carrick's sentencing. There was also a report of the mysterious deaths of a honeymooning couple in Vegas. What was concerning about that was they died in the same motel room he had been staying in and on the same day he had left. Cara gasped in horror. If nothing else had convinced her, this certainly hit home. She stood up to leave, then promptly sat down.

"So, when you asked me to marry you, was that a sham too? Were you following MI6 instructions then too?"

Brad sat silently as they stared into each other's eyes. "I admit they did suggest it, but I really do love you. I honestly do want to marry you." Brad reached to embrace Cara. She immediately pulled away from him. His revelations had hit her like a sledgehammer. She was overcome with emotions. A mixture of shock and anger consumed her, and she felt totally deceived.

"Leave me, Brad. I need time on my own. I don't know what I'm going to do. Please, leave."

***

The Wave Dancer approached the English coastline; it had been an uneventful trip. The weather was just starting to break. The wind had increased in intensity and dark clouds were starting to gather. Liam caste a watchful eye at the weather, and then at the coastline. It had proven to be a wise decision to sail when he did. A few hours later it would have been decidedly unpleasant out at sea.

There was no sign of any customs' launch. It would have been rotten luck to stumble upon one of them now. The sooner the canisters were safely ashore the better he would like it. He scanned the shore for his rendezvous point. A small private jetty lay dead ahead, and he was right on target.

He picked out a small van on the jetty. He allowed himself a smug smile of satisfaction. Everything was going according to plan. The men would quickly load the canisters aboard and make them secure, and then he could steer clear of the coast. The sooner they were away from there, the safer he would feel. He would then drive to a secluded property he had rented on the outskirts of London.

He had an extra day now. He could take his time setting up the van. It was merely a case of planting an incendiary device in the back of the van alongside the canisters. The plan was to trigger a small fire, nothing too large to scare anyone away. The heat generated would turn the liquid VX into a gas. The gas was ten times more lethal than the liquid. It was colorless and odorless, and it took considerable time to dissipate, which lengthened its kill time.

The drop off point was a densely populated part of London. The crowds would no doubt be attracted to a small fire in a van. A terrorist attack would never be suspected. It was important no alarm be triggered precipitating the authorities moving to clear the streets. The death toll would almost certainly run into the thousands. By the time any danger was detected, it would be too late. One sniff of the gas and it was all over.

The last job before leaving the van would be to unscrew the canister lids, leave the windows down a little so the gas could escape and provide ventilation to feed the fire. Finally, he would need to disable the van. He didn't want any opportunist thinking it was an easy target to steal.

Liam felt confident he had covered all the bases and there had been nothing left to chance. The Wave Dancer was gently docked at the jetty. Once the canisters were unloaded, his contact would sail her back to Ireland. Carrick didn't want any evidence that could implicate them left in England. Liam smiled. He was glad he would be flying home after dropping off the van. He didn't fancy a rough passage back on the yacht. As he motored away from the coast he allowed himself to finally relax. Provided he didn't crash the van, it was all plain sailing from now on.

***

Cara couldn't relax at work. She felt sick in her stomach. Her talk with Brad had really upset her. She didn't take the time to dwell on how he had deceived her, Carrick and his plans were her major cause for concern. She couldn't stand it, and she reported in sick. She needed to go home. Cara didn't go to her apartment. Instead, she went straight to Carrick. He was shocked to see her at the door. He saw from the look on her face she was distressed.

Cara didn't beat around the bush; she came straight out with it. "You're planning a terrorist attack on London. You're going to murder thousands of innocent people."

Carrick's mouth dropped open in stunned surprise. His first reaction was to deny it. "What a ridiculous statement. Who on earth has been filling your head with this nonsense?"

Cara refused to be put off. She launched into a detailed account of how he had acquired the VX, how people had been murdered, and now he planned a horrendous attack in London. Carrick's eyes narrowed. He demanded to know where she was getting her information. "Where I got the information is irrelevant, do you deny it?"

Carrick studied Cara. "No, I don't deny it. Of course, it's regrettable that amount of innocent lives will be lost, but the end result justifies the collateral damage."

Cara exploded. "Collateral damage. You mean wholesale bloody murder, don't you?" Carrick and Cara exchanged heated points of view for thirty minutes. His attempts to justify his course of action failed to convince her. They both finally calmed down and the discussion became more conciliatory. Cara couldn't bear the thought of Carrick going back to prison.

Carrick tried to console her. "I've no intention of going to prison. Once the attack has been completed, pressure will mount on the British to leave Ireland. I will be remembered as a true patriot, someone who achieved what scores of years of fighting failed to deliver: a unified Ireland."

Cara became silent; she knew nothing she could say would sway Carrick from his lifetime mission. It was a goal that he had sought since before his days in prison. An achievement he would pursue until death.

Carrick sat studying Cara. He realized she wasn't likely to understand his motives. At least not yet. Maybe in years to come she would see this attack had been a necessary act. But it troubled him that Cara knew so much. He returned to questioning her. "Who is your source of information? "

"It's Brad; he was recruited by MI6. They know all about you, Dad. They'll be waiting for the attack and you will go back to prison."

Carrick laughed. "They will be waiting, but in the wrong place. The supposed attack at the Waterloo underground is a decoy. We deliberately let that leak out to put them off our trail. By the time they realize their mistake, Liam will have hit the real target, Oxford Street Shopping Center."

Cara listened quietly. She made another attempt to get Carrick to call off the attack. When he refused she whispered, "Be careful, Dad. I couldn't stand you returning to prison."

Carrick gave her a comforting hug and kissed her on the forehead. Cara let herself out and returned to her apartment. She wasn't seeing Brad tonight; their relationship had hit troubled waters. She told him she needed time out on her own.

She went over and over her discussions with Carrick in her head. She tried hard to see his point of view. She forgot to have dinner and ended up falling asleep in her chair. She awoke at two in the morning with a start. Cara had been dreaming and all she could see were bodies, hundreds of bodies, all piled on top of each other. She rose and made herself a sandwich and a coffee, but her mind refused to move on from the attack her dad was planning.

Cara replayed over and over her conversation with Carrick. Then her thoughts moved to her conversation with Brad. Yes, he had deceived her, but did he really have a choice? He was an American; this wasn't his problem. And yet he had been unable to avoid involvement. This wasn't the picture she had formed of Brad, laid back, carefree and certainly not political.

Cara agonized over the decision she had to make. If I tell Brad about the real target, I will be selling out Dad. I will destroy the cause he has devoted his life to, and I will have sent him back to prison. This time he will die there. But then again, if I do nothing, it will be as if I am the one murdering all those innocent people. I certainly have the power to save them.

Cara spent a restless few hours back in bed trying to get some sleep. She would finally nod off only to awaken with a start engrossed in another dream. This time Liam featured in her dreams. He was grinning fiendishly as bodies fell all around him. Then she saw Brad, he was amongst the bodies, dying before her very eyes. She woke with a start and sat up in bed. It was a waste of time trying to sleep. She staggered to the shower and had a good long soak.

Cara prepared some breakfast. She was ravenous. This time she had a cooked breakfast. She usually grabbed something light like a bowl of cereal, or some yogurt, but she hadn't had eaten dinner last night. She couldn't face work; she phoned in and reported she was still sick. After making a strong coffee her anxiety started all over again. She desperately needed to decide on a course of action, and time was running out.

***

Brad also had a restless night. His discussions with Cara kept replaying in his mind. He needed to speak to her. He grabbed his phone and keyed in her number. At the last minute he disconnected. He felt guilty pressurizing her. Next minute his phone rang, and Cara's name lit up. She needed to see him. She hadn't been up to going to work. Could they meet somewhere? Brad suggested an early lunch, but Cara declined. She would call around to his apartment.

CHAPTER 21

THE ATTACK

Liam was up early, everything had been prepared yesterday. Carrick had given detailed instructions. He had already carefully wiped away any fingerprints that could link him to the vehicle. He had washed the whole van paying particular attention to the door handles, steering wheel and the automatic shift. He would wear gloves all day, no DNA evidence must be left for police to find.

A thought occurred to Liam, if the police want DNA, he would help them out. He walked a couple of blocks to a fast food outlet. He rummaged in the rubbish bin in the park across the road. He pulled out a plastic bag crammed with burger wrappings and a couple of drink bottles. Liam smiled, this would be perfect. He took the bag back and placed it in the front passenger side of the van.

He did one final check. He opened the rear door of the van and inspected everything. The two canisters were secure in the middle, cardboard boxes were strategically packed tight all around them. The boxes were stuffed with flammable material. Some with paper, some piled high with firewood and a few with coal. He had the makings of a bonfire all in the back of a van. He grabbed a plastic container filled with diesel and carefully splashed it over the boxes and the canisters. He then worked his way around the boxes pushing small detonators with long fuses attached in amongst them. This would not cause an explosion and frighten people away. More a gentle firecracker, to ignite the boxes around it. He knew he had about two minutes to move clear before the fuses met the detonators. They had experimented with some test burns. They had carefully documented the time it took to ignite the detonators, the temperature of a burn in an enclosed space with only limited air flow to feed the fire, and a slightly opened side window for the gas to escape through. Everything had been repeated over and over. Carrick was adamant, there were to be no stuff-ups. They only had one shot at this.

Liam took one last look. Satisfied, he closed the van door. He would have a bite to eat and be on the road at one. He did not have far to travel, but it was best to leave early. He knew about London's traffic problems. He finally pulled on a beanie and some dark glasses just in case he might be snapped on a CCTV camera. Carrick was particular in his planning; he tried to think of every eventuality.

As Liam motored towards central London he repeated his routine after parking the van, in his mind. Finding a suitable park might be a problem. Carrick had come up with a map of all the disability parking around the target area. The van now proudly displayed a disability sticker on its windscreen. If by some chance Liam could not find a suitable park, Carrick had instructed him to stop in any no parking area. It would take a minimum of fifteen minutes for authorities to arrange for towing of the van. That would provide plenty of time for Liam to activate the detonators, so the van would be well a blaze by then. Any nosey pedestrians who approached the van at that late stage would inevitably inhale the odorless gas that would be emitting from the canisters. The gas would be fatal; no one could possibly survive breathing in even a minute amount.

Liam only had three things to do after parking the van. Lock the doors, loosen the rear tire valves to make moving the van more difficult and light the fuses to the detonators. Of course, the rear door would need locking. They didn't want any diligent passerby putting out the fire. Liam could then grab a taxi to the airfield. A private plane would be standing by to fly him back to Ireland. He would be home in time to see the fallout from the attack in the evening news. Liam grinned; this is going to be a stroll in the park.

***

Brad let Cara into his apartment. There was no passionate greeting this time. The dark smudges under her eyes were tell-tale signs of lack of sleep. Brad noticed her serious expression. He sat down quietly waiting for her to speak.

"I've had a long talk to Dad. We discussed the attack in London. I did my best to talk him out of it, but he's adamant. It will move ahead."

"Did you tell him MI6 know all about it, and they will be waiting to arrest them at the underground station."

"Yes, I did. Dad just laughed. He said that's not where the attack will take place. The underground is just a decoy to confuse the police."

Brad looked blankly at Cara. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, the police will be in the wrong place. Liam is going to Oxford Street. By the time they realize their mistake, it will be too late."

Brad glanced at his watch. It may already be too late to stop Liam.

Cara stood up. "I hope you realize how hard this has been for me. My Dad will hate me for this."

Brad approached Cara to give her a hug, but she pulled away. "I have given you the information you want. What you do is your business. I now have to go and try and protect Dad."

Cara let herself out. Brad immediately phoned to Callum. "Hello, Brad. Everything is in place. We have the situation under control."

"No, you haven't, Callum," shouted a terse Brad. "I've just spoken to Cara. The underground is a decoy. The real attack is on Oxford Street. You need to act fast. Liam is on his way there now."

They had a short discussion and then Callum hung up. Time was the enemy now.

***

Hackett Construction's van turned into the road leading to Waterloo Station. It was perfect timing, ten minutes to four. Graham Hackett looked at the crowded streets and shook his head. This is madness, doing a job at the busiest station in London right in rush hour. It should have been scheduled for later in the evening when things were quieter or at the weekend.

He replayed in his head the numerous heated discussions he had with the belligerent Irishman trying to talk some sense into him. Graham tried to convince him of the logic in doing the job at a quieter time of day. Paddy O'Flynn was a typical pig-headed Irishman. He refused to listen to reason; in fact, he had become increasingly agitated with Graham. The air had become laced with profanities the longer the conversation lasted. Graham finally accepted Paddy would never accept a change in the timing of the job. He is a typical bloody-minded Irishman.

On the positive side he was being well compensated. Graham gave a sigh of relief. There was a gap in the taxi rank where he could park. No doubt the taxi drivers would object but that would be too bad. He would place road cones around their van and cordon it off.

He eased the van into the park, and his son Terry jumped out and retrieved the cones from the back. Terry had to take evasive action, a car travelling at high speed raced past and suddenly swung in front of the work van. Graham was annoyed. Bloody idiots! Just because they are running late is no excuse. He was dumbfounded when another car screeched to a halt alongside the van hemming them in.

The car doors were flung open and men in full riot dress, carrying menacing weapons piled out and surrounded Graham and his van. The weapons were trained on Graham and Terry, and urgent orders were shouted for them to lie on the ground. Graham tried to comprehend what was happening. It was like a scene from an action movie. It was all surreal. Before Graham could respond, he was hit hard from behind and sent sprawling onto the hard asphalt. He lifted his head cautiously and glanced over at Terry. He could see Terry had received identical treatment. They both exchanged worried looks. This wasn't making sense.

***

One minute past four o'clock Liam turned onto Oxford Street, the streets were buzzing with shoppers. Liam grinned to himself. Perfect, now all he had to do was find his park. He crept up the street slowly taking note of each side street. He noticed a sprinkling of police cars. That was a little unsettling, but they were well spread out, nothing to cause concern. What Liam didn't know was the number of plain clothed police on the street.

Callum had deduced that to carry the VX the vehicle would probably not be a car. A police officer had been stationed every one-hundred yards, the entire length of Oxford Street. Each vehicle of interest was radioed ahead for special surveillance. The moment any vehicle found a park it was discreetly inspected.

Liam's van immediately attracted attention; it could easily conceal the canisters from view. The moment it parked a plain clothed police officer approached. He studied the driver and then took another look at the photo of Liam which had been sent to each officer's phone. The officer immediately made an urgent call on his radio telephone. As Liam climbed out of the van the officer approached him.

"This is a disabled park, sir. You do not appear to be suffering from any disability."

This was a delaying tactic as back-up was on its way. Liam and the officer engaged in a discussion, which frustrated an anxious Liam. It was just his luck that some civic minded individual had taken it upon himself to police disabled car parking. Liam had become too involved in his discussion to notice all traffic had stopped using the street. The only vehicles now using the road were two large vans which came to a halt on either side of the street. Armed men poured out of these vans and trained their guns on a bewildered Liam.

***

Armed police cautiously approached Carrick's apartment in Belfast. No response had been received to the knocks on the door. They stood to one side as the door was smashed open. They then poured into the apartment, guns at the ready. Minutes later, Callum received a phone call. "Carrick's apartment is empty."

The police net spread out through Belfast, and all the likely places Carrick could be hiding were raided. As all the reports trickled in, Callum became increasingly agitated. Carrick had disappeared, and no trace of him could be found. Callum turned his attention to Cara. The reports radioed in had the same result. "Her apartment's empty and she's not been to work."

Simultaneous raids were made throughout Belfast on all Carrick's known associates. A bewildered Finn was about to open his front door when it was smashed open and heavily armed security forces poured into his living room. They were dressed in full riot dress, their weapons trained immediately on Finn, and terse instructions ordered him to lie on the floor. Within an hour, all Carrick's close circle of friends had been placed under arrest.

***

Wave Dancer had made only a brief stopover on the Irish coast. She was loaded with provisions, enough for a long ocean voyage. Two passengers came aboard and stowed their possessions below deck, then she immediately set sail. This would be the last time Wave Dancer would be seen in Irish waters.

***

Carrick wrapped his arm around Cara as they stood in silence and gazed back at the receding Irish coastline. They said nothing; each immersed in their own private thoughts. Carrick's emotions were confused. Of course, he felt sad to be leaving Ireland, sad to be leaving his lifelong friend Finn, but he also felt a confusing wave of relief. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was no longer a young man and he just did not have any more energy for the struggle.

He was confused how everything had gone so wrong. How did British intelligence learn about the VX in the boat shed? How had they guessed the real target in London? Liam had missed his prearranged call to report the success of the mission. That only meant one thing, something had gone terribly wrong.

Another agent had done a cautious reconnoiter of the target zone and reported that Oxford street was crawling with security forces. It was obvious to Carrick Liam had failed in his mission. Liam's van remained intact, the immediate street around the van had been cordoned off; no-one was allowed access. Security forces were in complete control of the van.

Carrick was initially furious. All his years of planning and now, all for nothing. It just did not make sense. How had MI6 learned of the real target? They seemed to have been one step ahead of him. His anger slowly dissipated into resigned acceptance. His lifelong mission was over. Carrick stared back at the mist shrouded coastline and shrugged. He felt tired, and he was beyond caring now.

At first, he had argued with Cara over leaving, and it was only her pointing out the obvious that convinced him. His campaign was over. Staying meant an inevitable return to prison and he couldn't handle the tears and sadness on Cara's face. He couldn't impose that on her again. Carrick glanced at Cara. God, she reminded him of Allanah. He squeezed her tight and kissed her on the forehead. She gazed up at him and smiled, and Carrick knew he had made the right decision.

A drizzly rain swept over them, within minutes completely obliterating the receding Irish coastline. Carrick sighed and turned to recheck their course settings. He knew he had seen his beloved Ireland for the last time. This chapter of his life was over, and he was closing that book. Now it was time to start a new life. The thought filled him with a strange sensation of exhilaration. His future would be a new home, a new beginning, and a new identity in a far warmer climate. Plus, he would live his remaining years with the most important person in his life. Cara.

Cara remained gazing into the swirling mist that had obliterated the receding Irish coastline. She too experienced mixed emotions. She was grateful her dad had relented and listened to reason. He would be able to live his remaining years well away from Ireland's troubled past. To stay would mean he would die in prison. She felt no remorse at the news of Liam's arrest. In fact, that was a positive to counteract her guilt for divulging the truth about the real target. Her dad had not guessed how the British had thwarted the attack, and she was grateful for that.

Brad had never been far from her thoughts these past twenty-four hours. Her anger at being deceived had finally subsided. To be perfectly honest his actions should probably be commended. It showed a real compassion for complete strangers, and she could hardly quibble at that. The real question she had was were Brad's expressions of love for her genuine? The more she thought about it the more convinced she became. Yes, they had shared something special.

Cara wasn't too upset to be leaving Ireland. Deep down she knew there could be no future for her and Brad in Ireland. But in a new destination and with no Liam to complicate the issue, who knew what the future would hold. Carrick over time might also learn to accept Brad. Anyhow, she had made a decision, and she hadn't given up on Brad. She would give it a little time and then maybe she would make contact with him. She had his phone number.

The End

### A Message From The Author

I hope you enjoyed TARGET. If so be sure to download **ONLY THE GOOD GO TO HEAVEN.** It's free.

The second Prendergast adventure, Firestrike, is available from most eBook distributers.

"Oh, what a can of worms is opened"

"The author's writing style mixes blisteringly funny moments with unexpectedly touching scenes all under the constant and I mean constant danger of various threats to Prendergast, his "allies", and to the world . Something was always about to go south. Hello, tension!"

Books Other by Ian G Welch

:

CONSPIRACY

BROKEN WINGS

CIRCUMSTANTIAL TRUTH

And Three ELECTRIC ECLECTIC novelettes

CHANTILLY LACE

OPERTION DEBT RECOVERY

PHANTOM FOOTPRINTS

For further information about the author and books go to the author's website

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