Private Dublin

Chapter 51

We’d joined the M3 near Garlow Cross and were on it with the first of the early-morning commuters as the sun rose over the horizon and brought color to the half-tones of night. I turned off the motorway just past Blanchardstown, and Andi directed me toward a neighborhood called Castleknock on the northern edge of Dublin. She took me to a residential street called Beechpark Avenue, and we left the BMW parked in front of a double-fronted redbrick house with white chimneys.

I could see Andi was on edge. She kept scanning our surroundings as we walked away from the stolen car, and I wasn’t any more at ease.

“We’d know by now if they were following us,” I said, trying to calm myself as much as her.

The pursuit had sent my adrenalin levels into overdrive, and my fight-or-flight response was on a hair trigger. I startled at an early-morning jogger who slammed her front door shut as she left home. Combat veterans know that fear is part of the experience of conflict. The key is to know how to manage it. Right now I just wanted all those stimulating hormones to dissipate so I could settle. I watched the jogger stride away and caught Andi’s eye. She smiled awkwardly as we went north.

Walking helped to settle us. We moved quickly toward the junction with Navan Road, a major thoroughfare where we could catch a taxi. It was too early for schoolchildren and the roads weren’t crowded. A few eager commuters steered their cars along the quiet street.

Andi and I reached a parade of stores that were set back from the road: a pharmacy, an estate agent, and a cafe, which was filling the air with the scent of bacon, coffee and freshly baked pastries.

I realized I was famished.

“Want some breakfast?” I asked, and Andi looked at me incredulously.

“Seriously? Now?” she asked.

“Why not?”

She opened her mouth as if to reply but thought better of it and shrugged.

“Why not?” she agreed.

We walked toward the cafe, which was at the northern end of the parade. There were a few outside tables beneath a black awning that advertised it as the Silver Spoon, but it was too cold to breakfast al fresco, so we headed inside where the air was thick with appetizing smells and warmth.

There were a couple of people ahead of us, so we joined the line and placed an order for two farmhouse breakfasts with coffee. The friendly cashier told us to take our seats at one of the wooden tables for two. We chose one by the postcard rack, and Andi sat on a painted green bench while I took a wooden chair. We were too early for the morning rush and our fellow customers were taking their orders to go, so we watched a steady stream of people coming in for coffees, pastries and cakes while we waited for our food.

“Intense,” I remarked.

Andi’s eyes widened and she sighed. “Tell me about it. Good driving.”

“Good navigating,” I said.

“Who do I send my chiropractor’s bill to?” she said with a smile, and I chuckled.

The waitress brought our orders with a cheerful greeting and a warm smile. The farmhouse breakfast turned out to be bacon, sausages, eggs, grilled tomato and something called black-and-white pudding, served with toast.

“What is black-and-white pudding?” I asked, staring down at a slice of something that looked like a square sausage.

“It’s better you don’t know,” Andi replied. “Ignorance is bliss.”

I tucked in and thought it reminded me of haggis, a spicy Scottish meat dish I’d once had. It was delicious.

“Good food,” Andi said. “Good for the soul.”

She took a swig of coffee.

“So, drugs?”

I nodded. “It gives us a new line of inquiry,” I said between mouthfuls. “Can I borrow your phone?”

As she pulled her cell from her pocket and unlocked it, I made a mental note to buy myself a new one.

“What do you need?” she asked.

“Mo-bot,” I replied. “Maureen Roth.”

“Now?” she remarked.

“Mo keeps odd hours,” I assured her.

She dialed the number before handing the phone across the table.

“Andi,” Mo-bot said when she answered. “How’s Jack?”

“He’s okay,” I replied.

“You get everywhere, Jack Morgan,” Mo-bot scoffed. “What can I do for you?”

“We found what looked like a drugs lab tonight. Andi will send you the location. I’d like you to see if the property is connected to Noah Kearney, Lawrence Finch, Longshore Holdings or anyone else associated with the investigation so far,” I replied. “I’d also like to know if Sam Farrell ever worked narcotics when he was a cop. See if he has any prior connection to the drugs trade. A lead we might be able to exploit.”

“Sounds like things are getting heavy,” Mo-bot remarked. “You need support on the ground?”

“No. We’re okay. We’re fast and nimble. An effective team.” I looked across the table at Andi, who nodded as she took a bite of toast. “But if that changes, I’ll let you know. For now, I want you with Justine.”

“Got it,” Mo-bot replied.

“And in any case, I’m planning to ask the cops to run interference. As soon as I get off this call, I’m going to report the lab to the Garda,” I told her.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Mo-bot said. “I’ll report back as soon as I’ve got anything.”

She hung up.

“You really think you’ll find a connection in Farrell’s past cases?” Andi asked, as I used her phone to call the Garda.

“There might be something,” I replied, before turning my attention to the call I’d placed. The operator asked me the nature of my emergency, and I told her, “I’d like to report a serious crime.”