Private Dublin

Chapter 62

My heart thundered with fear and adrenalin as the masked horde approached, brandishing weapons. I’d rarely faced such poor odds and felt strangely calm as I realized these were likely to be my last moments. I was heartbroken at the prospect of losing Justine, and the pain of impending loss filled me with sorrow. It was goodbye to Mo-bot and Sci too, and all the other people I considered my friends. But there was no panic, just the clarity and peace of knowing I would face the end on my own terms.

Sorrow turned to relief when I heard sirens close by, and the klaxons of the emergency services.

I glanced behind me to see twin beams of light. There were two Irish police officers, leaning over the top of the wall, shining their flashlights toward me. I had no idea what they were standing on. It could have been air for all I cared. They were joined by Adel, who pointed at me.

“That’s him,” he said. “That’s the man who saved us, and those are the men who tried to kill us.”

Machete man hesitated. Behind him, the advance of the baying mob slowed to a halt.

“Stand where you are!” one of the Gardai commanded.

Machete man dropped his blade and turned and ran. The whole gang of masked men did likewise, fleeing as emergency vehicles flooded the scene.

I watched the gangsters sprint away and jogged after them, to see them surging through the gate and scattering into the night. Police cars and fire engines pulled up and the three vans were surrounded, but from what I saw, most of the men got away, running into adjacent properties or down side streets and alleyways, lost to the shadows and the night. The Gardai and firefighters had a more urgent issue to address: the blaze that was rapidly consuming the building. I watched for a moment as firefighters prepared themselves and their gear to combat the flames, and then I hurried out through the gate to the perimeter where the chain-link fence adjoined the high side wall. As I ran alongside it, into an empty lot, I saw the refugees huddled together in a large group, and found Adel being interviewed by the two Gardai who’d parked their patrol car by the wall. The trio fell silent as I approached.

“You saved my life,” I said, nodding to the two officers. “You all did,” I added, acknowledging Adel.

“Then we are even,” he replied. “My family are safe because of you. You got us out of there.”

He nodded toward the burning buildings, which had turned the night sky a hellish orange color.

“Jack Morgan.”

I recognized the voice and turned to see Conor Roche emerging from an unmarked vehicle he’d driven into the vacant lot. The passenger door opened and Andi got out and hurried over.

“I managed to convince him the threat was serious,” she said.

“Trouble seems to follow you around,” Conor remarked, eyeing the flames engulfing the refugee center.

“We are alive because of him,” Adel said.

“I’m sure,” Conor replied. “You’ve done good work here, Mr. Morgan.”

“You said you were going for a new phone and a pint of milk,” Andi challenged me.

I brandished my cell. “I got the phone, but not the milk.”

“How did you end up here?” she asked. “I know you don’t trust me, and I understand why, Jack, but this is too dangerous to tackle alone.”

I wasn’t going to apologize, but I knew she was right. This was too dangerous for one person to take on, but without a team behind me that I could completely trust, I didn’t see any other way.

“I want to get him home,” Andi told Conor. “It’s not safe for him here.”

“Understood,” Conor replied. “But my colleagues will want a statement. Won’t you, fellas?” he asked the two Gardai who had resumed taking Adel’s account of events.

“Yes, we’ll need his statement,” one of the cops replied.

“Fine with me,” I said.

“Okay,” Andi conceded. “But I want it done quickly, and when it’s over we’re going home.”