Egyptian Eyes and Irish Lies

By Frank Zafiro

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Note: “Egyptian Eyes and Irish Lies” is the final story in a quartet about the characters Shae and Laddie. The stories explore the dangerous nature of love and attraction, as well as whether we can avoid our own destinies. The story arc is told in reverse chronological order, with the events in “Egyptian Eyes and Irish Lies” being the first to occur. Shae is the narrator.

The trip out to the deserted farmhouse was bumpy and silent. The bumps came from the dirt road that tossed Niall's small car about. The car lurched left and right and in and out of the deep ruts, rattling my teeth. The rust bucket creaked in protest with each jolt. I wondered again if the bottom would fall out before we reached our destination.

The silence was because I didn't entirely trust the fucker Niall.

The car lurched to a stop at the end of the lane. Niall killed the engine and beamed over at me. “Are ye ready to see something grand?”

“If ye're only trying to impress me to get into my knickers, save yerself the trouble,” I told him. “That's not happening.”

He gave me a sly smile and said nothing.

I sighed. I wanted to tell him that one time—a drunken mistake, at that—doesn't mean a pile of shite, but it wouldn't do any good. He'd only smile wider.

“Why are we here?” I asked instead.

“Ye'll see,” he said, pulling the keys from the ignition. Without a word, he opened the car door and got out.

I cursed in old Irish and followed him.

Niall strode to the front door of the faded, leaning farmhouse with confidence, his swagger more pronounced than usual. I walked behind him, more cautious. I didn't think he'd be fool enough to take a girl out into the country and rape her, but with some lads, you never know. He'd have a surprise coming if he tried, though.

The windows to the farmhouse were all either broken or boarded over. The roof had fallen into disrepair. I wondered briefly how much of the interior remained dry when the rains came.

At the door, Niall paused. He gave a knock, paused again, then gave another series of knocks.

“Secret Agent Man,” I whispered sarcastically.

Niall shot a hard glance over his shoulder at me. “Mind yer tongue. This is serious business.”

“Oh, really? But a moment ago, ye were giddy like a schoolboy. Now, suddenly, it's serious business?”

His eyes narrowed. “It's for the Cause, lass. Now shut yer gob.”

“Go feck yerself.”

He turned around and took a step toward me. “Don't think ye're above getting yer pretty little arse beat.”

The door cracked open and a voice filtered out. “Brian?”

Niall's jaw clenched. He pointed his finger at me and jabbed it in the air. Then he raised his eyebrows to ask if I understood his warning.

I figured the man takes himself far too seriously, but I nodded back to him all the same. It was more out of curiosity than anything. That and being in the middle of the nowheres with him and now a second man, too.

“Brian?” The voice behind the door repeated. The question was followed by a metallic click.

My ears pricked up at that. I'd heard enough gun hammers cocked to know the sound.

“No, lad,” Niall said, turning away from me. “It's me. Niall.”

There was a pause, then the door swung open. “Get in here. Quickly.”

Niall walked through the door. I hesitated.

“Ah, feckin' Jaysus. Ye brought her ?”

I recognized Sean's voice then. I'd have sighed again, except I knew that while I couldn't always trust Niall, Sean was off his nut. And he had a gun, the plonker. I didn't figure it wise to provoke him.

“Well, get yer arse in here, then,” he snapped at me. He waved his empty hand in my direction. Then he looked over my shoulder at Niall's car. “Aw, fer Christ's sake, Niall. Why don't ye jes' put out a feckin' sign that says ‘Here Be Rebels?' What're ye thinking, parking right out in the open like that?”

“Dry up, Sean, and let Shae in.”

Sean rolled his eyes and waved me inside. I stepped through the door and into a musty living room. A lantern glowed on the mantel of the old stone fireplace. In the corner, I spotted a wooden box full of groceries and a sleeping bag. That wasn't nearly so interesting as the coffin covered in a sheet next to it.

“Ah, Jaysus,” I murmured, a small spike of fear cutting through my stomach. “Don't be telling me that the two of ye went and killed someone.”

“What if we did?” Niall said.

I motioned at the covered coffin. “Then I'd say it was right grand of ye to provide him with all he needs for a proper burial.”

Niall smirked.

I didn't know why he'd asked me out to this farmhouse, but I decided it was time to get to the core of it. “If ye did kill someone,” I told him, “then that's yer own feckin' business. Ye don't need to be bringing me into it.”

Niall said nothing.

I stepped closer to him. “And further, ye can drop the tough man o' Sinn Fein pose. I'm not impressed.”

“No?”

I shook my head. “No, nor scared, neither.”

I gave him a hard stare. When you're twelve and see your own father gunned down in the street outside his own house, it takes a lot more than some dramatic posing by a couple of pub-spawned patriots to shake a girl.

“She's got a hard neck, this one,” Brian said. “And all this time, I just thought she was just some ride from the pub.”

“Shut yer gob,” I snapped, without looking at him. I continued to stare at Niall. “Now, do ye want to tell me why we're here?”

Niall smiled the same goofy grin he'd flashed out in the car. “I'll go ye one better. I'll show ye the reason.”

With a flourish, he pulled the sheet from the coffin.

Only, it wasn't a coffin.

“Oh, God,” I whispered, shocked.

“Beautiful, isn't she?” Sean whispered.

I glanced over at him. He de-cocked the pistol and tucked it into his belt. Then he nodded toward the golden sarcophagus. “That there is a woman inside. Ahwere is her name.”

I turned back to the sarcophagus. The lantern light played off the intricate hieroglyphics painted upon golden exterior. The regal, stoic face of an ancient Egyptian woman stared up at the deteriorating farmhouse roof. Her black eyes spoke of ages gone by.

“How...?”

Niall pointed at Sean. “He's the hero, lass.”

Sean smiled proudly. “All I did was see an opportunity for the Cause and take it,” he said.

My mind whirred. I tried to push aside the wonder that came with the beauty of this relic. I had to know what these two eejits were getting me into. With an effort, I tore my gaze away from all that lovely gold.

“Ye took it from a museum?” I asked. “Jaysus, lads, the Peelers will be looking for it high and low.”

Sean shook his head. “Feckin' thing was hidden in the old Hunt estate. Goddamn Yank found it. We took it from there.”

“Still, won't the Hunts report it missing?”

“Not likely,” Sean snorted. “They didn't even know it was there. Feckin' English pillaged so much treasure in the world, they forget where they hide it all.”

“That doesn't seem right. Who forgets something like this?” I glanced back down at the deep dark eyes of the woman's face.

Ahwere, Sean had called her.

“Look,” Sean told me. “The Yank said that one of them hid it there seventy-some years ago. I don't think anyone else knew about it. He figured it out from some of the old papers the pillager left behind.”

“Who?”

“Randal Hunt. The Yank was studying the entire family –”

“The graduate student? The one from the pub?”

“Aye. Dex. He figured it out. He found it in a secret room behind a wall in the basement.”

“He tore down a wall?”

“ I tore down the feckin' wall,” Sean corrected. “Skinny bastard watched and played the boss. We found the mummy and hauled it out.”

“Who saw you?”

“No one that wasn't involved.”

“What'd you do with the hole in the wall?”

“Hung a tapestry over it.” Sean smiled at his own ingenuity. “Then we stacked storage items in front of that.”

I nodded. That was good. If the family didn't know about it, they might not discover for years that there was even a secret room in the basement, much less what had been inside. “Who all knows about this, then?”

Sean looked at Niall. I followed his gaze.

Niall motioned around the room with a twirling finger. “All of us. And Brian.”

“That's it?”

“That's it.”

“No one else?”

“Aye, that's what I said.”

“What about the Yank, then?”

Niall glanced over at Sean, then back at me. He shook his head. “Just us four, Shae. No one else.”

I felt a stab of pity for the young American scholar. I'd seen him at the pub once in a while. He was one of the few men that hadn't tried to come onto me. I allowed a moment of silence for him, then moved closer to the golden coffin. My fingertips snaked out and touched the cool metal. “It's beautiful,” I whispered.

I sensed Sean at my side. “The Yank said it was cursed.”

“I'm sure.”

“Ye don't believe in curses, lass?”

I shook my head.

Sean chuckled. “Dex, he said the same thing. After I took care of his business, I asked him about it again.”

I barely listened to him. Instead, I ran my hand across the golden surface. The incredible smoothness glided beneath my fingertips. Realizing that it was crafted thousands of years ago set my mind racing.

“I said to him,” Sean continued, “Ye might not believe in Egyptian curses, Yank, but I'll bet ye damn well believe in Irish ones now, don't ye?”

He chuckled harder. When neither Niall nor I joined him, his laughter tapered off. He cleared his throat. “So what do ye think?”

I swallowed. “I think it must be worth millions.”

“It's worth,” Sean said, “whatever someone will pay for it.”

“And that's where ye come in, lass,” Niall added.

After he laid out the plan, we huddled around the fireplace, each of us trying to draw warmth from the pitiful flames.

“If it gets any colder, lass, we might have to get naked and share body warmth,” Sean said.

I shot him a hard stare.

“To avoid dyin' from the cold,” he added.

“I'd rather die,” I told him.

“Aw, come on,” Sean said. “It's not like Niall here hasn't seen you in the nip –”

My hand flashed out and grabbed him by the balls. I squeezed.

Sean gasped. His eyes filled with pain and surprise.

“Get this straight,” I told him. “This is going to be a business arrangement. Nothing more. We do a bit of business for the Cause and maybe make a touch of coin ourselves. But I won't be putting up with any of this. Ye hear me, lad?”

Sean nodded frantically, his mouth hanging open.

I glanced over at Niall. “Same for you.”

Niall gave me a barely perceptible nod.

I let go of Sean's yockers.

He drew in a ragged breath. “You bitch!” he grunted. He put his hand on the butt of his pistol to draw it.

Niall reached out and touched his shoulder.

“Let it lie, lad,” he said calmly. “Ye should na' have said what you did.”

Sean glowered at me, but obeyed.

I looked back into the small fire. Now they knew where things stood with me. And I knew who was in charge.

We sat on the park bench, each pretending to read a copy of The Irish Times in the dim light of the streetlamp. I glanced up at the clock tower a block away. It showed five minutes of nine. I was due in the pub at nine.

The small tremble of fear and anticipation hovered in the pit of my stomach, just like it always did. I'd been on the fringe of Sinn Fein for years. I'd done small favors. Passed messages. Delivered a few packages. Once, I'd even hidden a lad on the lam. But I knew this was much more serious.

“That's why I can't do it,” Niall had said back at the farmhouse those few days ago. “I'm known . The man you'll be meeting is known . If we're seen together, someone will figure out that there's something afoot. You're not known. If ye're seen with him, no one will think a thing.”

“They'll think I'm just some pretty,” I said.

“Exactly. That's why it has to be you.”

“I ken ye.”

“The contact's name is Conor,” said Niall.

Hardly an uncommon name, I thought, but surely not the man's real name, either.

“Just tell him we want to donate the mummy to the Cause. All we're asking is a small finder's fee,” Niall instructed.

“How small?”

When he told me, I almost laughed. Niall was such a poser, but he set his sights way too low.

“What're ye grinning about?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Just thinking about all the pints that'll buy.”

He smiled. “Aye. A year's worth, at least.”

I smiled back at him.

Feckin' eejit.

The clock struck nine. I rose and made my way to the pub.

Conor looked much younger than I expected. Only the scar across his chin and the beginnings of crow's feet gave any hint to his true mileage.

He smiled at me when I sat next to him. We chatted about nothing over a couple of pints. He pawed at me playfully. I let him, laughing. We played the fools, but quietly. Within the hour, no one was looking at us any differently than anyone else in the place. The steady buzz of noise provided all the camouflage we needed.

He nuzzled my ear with his lips. “I hear ye might have something for me mates,” he whispered.

I let out a girlish giggle and nodded.

“Is it really a mummy?” he asked.

I nodded again.

“What's it in?”

I turned my face to his. “She's in a beautiful gold casket,” I whispered.

His eyebrows rose at that.

I leaned forward and kiss the side of his neck. “It's worth millions,” I said in a low, husky voice. “And the best part is, no one is even looking for it.”

“How's that?”

I pulled back from him and took another drink from my pint. Then I told him a fanciful story about a woman who went shopping for a dress. He listened carefully and picked out all the clues. He was a clever lad, this Conor. A few minutes later, he understood.

“I'm not much for dresses,” he said.

“That's good.”

“Aye, ‘tis.” He smiled. “But I'd love to buy myself a fine cottage one day. Something outside of Belfast , in the country somewhere. Do ye know anything about real estate, lass?”

“A thing or two,” I said.

“What do ye suppose a cottage like that would cost?”

I pretended to consider. Then I gave him a sum that was ten times what Niall proposed.

He listened, nodding his head. “That's reasonable, but I wasn't thinking quite so extravagant. Say about a third less? Could a man find a cottage for that sum?”

“I'm certain he could,” I said.

And just like that, the deal was struck.

Later, I told Niall. He whooped for joy, reached out and pulled me into an embrace. “Thank Christ!” he shouted.

I pushed him away in disgust. “Get control of yerself!” I hissed at him.

He was so ecstatic, my sharp words didn't even dent his enthusiasm. He started the car and drove, grinning and shaking his head like the dumfounded, thrilled fool he was.

But my mind started working again. I didn't mind the idea of sharing a bit of the money with Niall and his eejit friends. They found the damn thing, after all. But I knew they'd never keep their mouths shut. As time passed, they'd start to tell tales at the pub and word would get out. Hell, Niall couldn't even keep one drunken bounce with me to himself. After a while, the law would hear tell of it and then it was anybody's guess how much they could prove or manufacture.

And as for the Cause? Did I believe in it? For a long time, I thought I did, but I wasn't so sure anymore. The Troubles were confusing enough as it was. For all I knew, it was the IRA that killed my father. Of course, if he'd fallen in with Sinn Fein, then it could've been the English that shot him. Then again, for all I knew, it was something else entirely. Maybe he owed someone money. I didn't know. I'd never known.

What I did know was that with the millions that Sinn Fein might make off of Ahwere, I could expect a renewed push to get the English out of Northern Ireland . What weaponry might they buy with the money? What kind of damage would they do?

I tried to tell myself it was all in the name of freedom, but I wondered at the one, too. There were families in country that went back hundreds of years. Were they any less Irish? Did they even want to be free of the English government?

But Ireland should be for the Irish, right?

My head hurt. I rubbed my temples.

The reality of the Troubles was that people who were just trying to live their lives got caught up in the cross-fire. I was tired of seeing it. And if I went through with this sale, I knew I'd see more of it.

But now if I didn't go through with it, I'd have the Irish Republican Army gunning for me. Not to mention Niall and his boys. Which wasn't quite the same thing, no matter how much they wished it so.

Maybe I should go ahead and make the sale. Take the money. Give Niall the pittance he thought he had coming and just go. I had an uncle in Canada that no one knew about. I could just leave forever.

“Ye all right, lass?” Niall asked me from behind the wheel of the car.

I watched the tall, green grass flit by outside my window.

“Fine,” I told him. It wasn't my first lie and it far from my last.

The Inspector's eyes were cool and appraising. His fixed stare regarded me not as a woman, but as a criminal. Or perhaps merely as Irish. Who knew with the goddamn Peelers?

“And why should I believe a word of what you're telling me, missy?” he asked. “Given the crowd you've always run with?”

“It doesn't matter what ye believe,” I told him. “What matters is that what I just told ye is going to happen, will happen.”

He continued to stare at me, but I could see his mind working behind those eyes. “Perhaps I should just roust your entire crew right now. Find myself a pretty prize.”

“Oh, that's right smart,” I snapped. “And give up a chance to put away a major player in the IRA? Good career move, that. Now ye're thinking.”

He didn't reply.

“Besides,” I said, “I didn't tell ye where that prize is hidden.”

He shrugged. “I think we both know that if I rounded up Niall and his boys, one of ‘em would crack.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But ye'd still miss out on the Sinn Fein part of this situation. And that's where the real score is, now isn't it?”

He continued to stare at me, his eyes like a pair of searchlights looking for the break in the prison wall. “I'm still wondering why you're here,” he said softly.

“Look,” I said. “It's simple. I want out. I want a new life. This is my way out.”

“Selling out the lot of them to be free, is it?”

“Call it whatever,” I said. “Do ye want to arrest these fecks or not?”

A touch of a smile lighted on his lips. “Oh, yes. I do.”

“Fine, then,” I said, handing him a slip of paper. “Here's where I'll meet ye. It's a lighthouse. I'll have the merchandise and the IRA boys will be right behind me.”

“What about Niall and his crew?”

“Their fingerprints are all over the casket. Even an eejit from London should be able to make that stick.”

His smile didn't fade. “Very well. Don't be late.”

Three days later, I was in a small van with Sean, headed for the meet. Ahwere was wrapped in blankets and strapped into the back of the van with heavy chains hooked to huge eyelets on the floor. It'd taken the three of them two hours to get the golden casket loaded and another half hour to wrap and strap her. She wasn't moving.

I made a show of glancing down at my watch.

“We're a bit early yet,” I said.

“Better early than late,” Sean said back.

“Aye, but if we get there too early, it'll be our nerves that eats us both up before the others even show.”

“So what do ye want me to do? Drive slower?”

I shook my head. “There's a pub in the next town. Let's stop for a brief pint.”

Sean hesitated. “Well...”

“Come on,” I cajoled. “It'll take a bit of the edge off.”

“I don't know,” Sean said. “If Niall knew we stopped –”

“Niall isn't here, the feck. It's yer arse and mine on the line tonight. I'd say that makes it our decision whether to have a pint or not.”

Sean nodded slowly. “Aye, I suppose yer right about that.”

“It's settled then.”

“'Tis.” Sean eyed me for a moment. “I thought ye had something going on with Niall, ye know?”

I shook my head. “In his dreams, perhaps.”

“No?”

“Not at all.” I looked away. “Besides, it isn't Niall I fancy. Never was.”

I glanced back in time to see his eyes bug out. I smiled shyly and directed him to the pub. He smiled back and rested his hand on my knee.

Christ, men were so feckin' stupid at times.

The pub was smaller than most in the city, but just as full. I made sure we found a table that was far from the loo but close to the door. Sean didn't pay any attention. He was much more interested in pressing his knees against mine once we'd sat down and ordered a pint.

We drank our pint and talked about nothing at all. I played my move carefully. Sean may have always seemed to me to be the biggest pretender of all of Niall's crew, but the reality was that he'd put the Yank to his dirt nap, so he wasn't fooling about. I let him paw at me a bit under the table and feigned some excitement at his brusque, clumsy touches.

After a bit, he slid his jacket off his shoulders. I felt for the keys to the van in the pocket nearest me.

Empty.

“Are ye warm, then?” I asked him.

He smiled lustfully. “Aye. A bit.”

“I'm a bit chilled myself,” I said. I pointed at his coat. “Do ye mind?”

His smile grew. He draped the coat over my shoulders. It reeked of cigarette smoke, spilled Guiness and his body odor.

The keys were in the right pocket.

I smiled back at him.

As we neared the bottom of our pint, he glanced at his own watch. “It's about time we headed onward.”

“Aye, ‘tis.” I dipped my chin and looked up at him with as lustful a gaze as I could muster, given the stench that surrounded me. “But I'm afraid this pint hasn't quite taken the edge off.”

“No?” he asked.

I shook my head slowly. “No,” I replied in a husky whisper.

His eyes widened with understanding. “Well, perhaps in the van –”

“No,” I whispered. I moved my eyes toward the door to the loo, then back to him. “In there.”

His eyes went even wider. “Are ye crazy, lass?”

I shook my head. “No. Unless, of course, ye'd rather not –”

He stood. “No, no, no. In there will be fine.”

I smiled. “You go first. Give me a couple of minutes and I'll be in.”

He grinned stupidly. “I always knew ye fancied me, Shae.”

“Get on in there, ye eejit.” I gave him a playful smack on the shoulder. “And stop grinning like that. The entire pub will know what's up.”

He tried to suppress his grin, but couldn't. I watched as he ambled over to the loo and walked inside.

I waited three seconds, then grabbed his keys. I shrugged the stinky coat from my shoulders and went straight for the door without looking back.

The van started immediately. I pulled out onto the lane and drove away, leaving Grinning Sean and his hard on behind.

The meet was in a field about a half kilometer from the coast. As I rolled to a stop, I spied a single car already parked at the edge of the meadow. Two men stood smoking cigarettes and waiting.

I was late.

I turned off the van's engine. A cherry coal from one of the men's cigarettes flared in the darkness. My stomach fluttered. I took a deep breath. Suddenly, my whole plan seemed foolhardy. And to try to pull it off without a gun?

Stupid.

But it was too late.

And I wanted a new life.

Go with the flow, I told myself.

I drew in another deep breath and got out of the van.

My footfalls sounded as loud as stamping elephants as I made my way toward the two men. When I approached, they eyed me in much the same arrogant fashion that the British Inspector had done. For a moment, I felt like a monarch butterfly, stuck to a board and wriggling on a pin.

A cloud passed over the half-moon, darkening their faces.

A small surge of anger flickered in my belly.

I smiled at them.

“Hello, lads,” I said in my sweetest tone. I'd been expecting Conor again, but I guess it made sense that he wouldn't do the dirty work himself.

One of the men was sitting on the car's bonnet. His expression didn't change, but he gave a small wave to the other man. The second man, much larger, flicked away his cigarette. He stepped forward.

“Raise yer arms, lass,” he grunted at me.

I held my arms straight out to the side. He ran his heavy hands over me, squeezing at every pocket. He didn't linger, but he made sure to touch everywhere. The anger in my belly grew warmer.

“Jes' the keys, Cap'n,” he told the seated man when he'd finished.

“Captain, is it?” I asked him.

He ignored me and nodded at his number two again. Number Two trundled off toward the van.

“Ye should go look yerself,” I told the Captain. “She's beautiful.”

He said nothing.

“Especially in the eyes,” I added, giving him a sultry stare.

He returned my stare with a flat gaze.

“What's the matter?” I asked him in the same voice that sent Sean to the loo. “Are ye mute?”

A small smile curled up on his lips. “No. I can talk.”

“All business, then?”

He shrugged. “Aye, I suppose that's it. Orders, ye know.”

“And yer a good soldier, right?”

His jaw set a little bit. “Aye, I am. Are ye mocking me there, lass? Because –”

“Not at all,” I assured him. “I admire what yer doing. I wish there was more that I could do for the Cause.”

He looked me up and down. “A fine looking woman like you? There's a lot you could do.”

I shook my head. “Nah, not like that. I don't want to be someone's plaything.”

“No, no,” he sputtered. “I didn't mean that. I meant that –”

“That I could be some sort of operator, perhaps?”

He sighed in relief. “Exactly.”

“Do ye suppose ye could, I don't know...tell yer people about me? That I'd like to help? With something real, not the small errands Niall passes off to me.”

“Niall?” He snorted. “That fecking poser.”

“Aye, he is. So you'll pass on the word?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

I smiled. “Good. Who knows? Perhaps we could work together, ye and I.”

He smiled back. “Perhaps.”

Number Two appeared at my side. “It's there, Cap'n. And...” he trailed off.

Captain turned his eyes to Number Two. “And what, lad?”

Number Two shrugged. “It's beautiful. I never saw nothing like it before.”

“I told you,” I said to Captain. “And now, do ye have something for me?”

There was a brief silent moment. I could almost hear Captain's internal argument as he decided whether to go through with the deal or simply kill me. I gazed at him with the most enigmatic look I could muster, given that my heart was pounding like a trip hammer.

“Did ye see her eyes, lad?” Captain asked Number Two while staring back at me.

“Aye. That's the end I unstrapped and pulled back.”

“What did they look like?”

Number Two was quiet for a moment. He took several breaths while he thought about the question. Finally, he said in a reverent voice, “They'll haunt me for the rest of my days, those eyes.”

Surprise registered in Captain's eyes. He glanced at Number Two as if amazed that he was capable of such deep thoughts, but the larger man wasn't looking at him. I followed Captain's gaze and saw that Number Two's eyes were glazed in thought as he stared off into the night.

Captain and I locked eyes again. I saw in his that he'd made his decision.

I waited.

“Get the bag for the lady,” Captain ordered.

Number Two shook himself from his reverie and went to the trunk of the car. I imagined for a moment that he might emerge with a shotgun, blazing away at me. But he closed the trunk and returned with a small travelling bag. He set it on the bonnet next to Captain.

Captain unzipped it and held it open for me. Stacks of wrapped pound notes were inside.

“Ye want to count it?”

I shook my head. “If I can't trust ye at this point, what is the point?”

He smiled. “True that.”

He tossed the bag to me. I caught it deftly.

“We'll trade,” Captain told me. He motioned to the car he sat on. “The keys are in it.”

“That's fine,” I said. Then I frowned. “But I forgot my bag in the van. I'll just grab it if ye don't mind?”

Suspicion darkened his face. “What bag?”

“My handbag,” I said. “With woman things, ye know? My ID, too. I'll be needing it.”

He turned to Number Two. “Did ye see a bag in the van?”

The lantern-jawed man thought a moment. Then he nodded. “I think so.”

Captain returned his gaze to me, still suspicious. “Hurry it, then. And he goes with ye.”

I shrugged. “I'll only be a second.”

I turned and walked toward the van, hoping that Captain wasn't bright enough to ask for the keys before I got close enough to run for it. Number Two's heavy footsteps fell in several paces behind me.

By my best estimate, once I made my move, I had less than two seconds. All of my life came down to those brief seconds. I took a long, lingering breath. I could smell the sea salt on the air. In that moment, it was the most beautiful scent I'd ever experienced.

I slipped my hand into my pocket and prepared the ignition key, gripping it tightly between my thumb and forefinger.

I heard Number Two's steady footfalls behind me. Quieter still, I could hear the wind moving lightly through the treetops and the thick grass of the meadow.

At the van, I swung open the driver's door and tossed the bag of money onto the passenger's side. Then I vaulted into the driver's seat. I slammed the door shut and hit the lock.

Number Two was at the window immediately. He clawed at the door handle, pulling at the door. The van rocked wildly as I jammed the key into the ignition and turned it.

The engine turned over, caught and failed.

Number Two raised his meaty palm in the air.

I realized I'd let go of the ignition key too soon. I cranked it again. The engine caught and roared to life. I gunned the accelerator.

Number Two's open hand crashed into the window, shattering it.

I suppressed a scream. I jerked it into gear and punched the gas. The van lurched forward. Number Two's clutching hands swept past me. He grasped at my shoulder but only grazed me with the tips of his fingers.

I pointed the van on the road toward the lighthouse.

I gripped the wheel and drove.

Headlights sprang to life in the rearview mirror.

I clenched my jaw.

A few moments later, those lights glared at me at my rear bumper, hounding me.

Just lead them to the Inspector . And ye get yer new life.

The road turned sharply to the right and dropped onto the coastal road. I made the acute turn and headed for the lighthouse, less than a kilometer away. Like a fox chasing a rabbit, Captain and Number Two barreled after me in the car.

I allowed myself to smile.

That was when they hit me.

The van jumped and lurched from the force of it. I struggled with the wheel and managed to keep it straight. They were only trying to scare me. That was all. Bump into the little girl and make her so scared that she stops.

Well, I wasn't going to stop. And with Ahwere on board, the van outweighed the car. A little bump wasn't going to—

The bump came again, this time near my rear wheel. The car didn't pull away. I wondered for a moment if our bumpers were locked.

Then my world began to spin.

I struggled to right the van, but couldn't. The screech of rubber tires on the asphalt filled the air and then there was silence.

I felt my stomach fall out from under me.

Fear lanced through my limbs.

They'd pushed me right off the edge of the road.

I was falling. Falling into the –

The splash created a deep woofing sound and then there was blackness.

I am dead.

But I could hear the glugging rush of water as it found its way into the van.

And I felt the warm trickle of blood on my forehead.

No, I'm still alive.

But sinking into the ocean!

The chilly water was up to my waist already. The brackish smell of salt filled the air inside the van. Dim yellow spears of light from the headlights gave me the only reference point in the world. I reached for the seatbelt and felt nothing. I hadn't strapped myself in.

Okay. How to get out?

I fumbled around for the door handle and found it. I pulled on it and drove my shoulder into the door. It didn't budge.

Still locked?

I scrambled for the lock and located the small nub. I pulled it up until I felt a definite click. Then I felt around for the door handle again. Once I found it, I pulled on it and used my shoulder to push against the door.

No movement.

The water! I wouldn't be able to open the door until the inside of the van filled with water.

I glanced around in the near darkness of the van's interior. I couldn't see my handbag or the bag full of money. Ahwere's casket was barely a dull shadow behind me.

Water continued to rush in through the shattered window.

The headlights flickered once, then winked out.

The window. Of course.

I tilted my head back and sucked in a deep breath of air from near the top of the cabin. Without pausing, I dropped below the cold waters. I kept my eyes open, though I couldn't see anything in the darkness. I felt around for the steering wheel and when I'd located it, I pulled myself toward it. From there, I made my best guess at the open window. As I slid through the opening, I felt my shoulder catch a corner. A jolt of pain shot down my arm, but I adjusted and kicked forward. There was a slice at my knee as I passed through the opening, followed by a trickle of warmth, but I ignored it.

Once free of the van, I paddled and kicked toward the surface. When my head broke through, I took several deep breaths of fresh air.

Small, wavering lights combed the surface of the water nearby.

They must have had torches with them. Goddamn soldiers. Always prepared.

I glanced left and right, choosing a point on the shoreline. Then I took a deep breath and went under again.

Deep breath by deep breath, I made way to the shore. I don't believe that their damnable torch lights ever swept over me while I was above water. The further I got from the crash point, the less I worried they'd see me.

Of course, they'd be looking for me later. They all would. Niall and his crew. The IRA. The Peelers. All of them.

Eventually, I stayed above water, drawing in ragged breaths and stroking relentlessly toward the shoreline. My shoulder ached. My head throbbed. My muscles ached.

I stared ahead and stroked.

Behind me, Ahwere sank into the bay along with all my money and my old self.

Before me lay the shore line. Beyond that shore was Canada . My uncle Terry. A new life.

My muscles burned like melting rubber.

I stroked forward.