Assassin 3 - The Wrong Man (Assassin Series) Read online

  ASSASSIN 3

  The Wrong Man

  A Jake Harrigan Thriller (Book 3)

  By

  Bryan Murray

  Copyright © 2014 Bryan Murray

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  The characters, events and company names in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to known persons, living or dead, or to private companies is coincidental and not intended by the author

  Books in the 'Assassin' Series of Jake Harrigan Political Thrillers

  Book 1 - 'Assassin'

  Book 2 - 'Assassin 2 - Sleeping Dogs'

  Book 3 - 'Assassin 3 - The Wrong Man'

  Book 4 - 'Assassin 4 - First Son'

  AND NOW

  Book 5 - 'Assassin 5 - Sitting Ducks'

  It is suggested that for much more enjoyable reading, each of the separate stories above should be read in sequence.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Epilogue

  PROLOGUE

  Of all the various paramilitary organizations over the years in Northern Ireland, who have been the most bitterly opposed to rule by the British, the Real Irish Republican Army are perhaps still the current, most violent terrorist group of them all.

  The organization has been designated as a very dangerous terrorist group by the British, Irish and American Governments since way back prior to 2001.

  With around two hundred and fifty loyal, fanatical and active members, all extremely low profile, it is run by a seven man Army Council who control a number of covert cells of terrorists, all dedicated to ending British rule in Northern Ireland by whatever violent means at their disposal.

  Although in recent years there have been repeated protests from all the communities in Northern Ireland, to stop the violence and live in peace, the RIRA have remained adamant that they would continue to do whatever it took to drive the British out of Northern Ireland. Further shootings and indiscriminate bombings against a wide range of targets have subsequently continued.

  As an intended deterrent to existing members of the RIRA, who may be captured and identified, a punishment of up to 10 years imprisonment is given under UK law. Much more severe punishments would of course follow if such members were caught actually committing a terrorist act. The RIRA is also designated as a Foreign Terrorist Organization by the US Government making it illegal for Americans to provide material support to the RIRA

  Each covert cell is led by a fanatical, deeply committed leader, fully supported by the Army Council, with independent funding from many sympathetic sources around the world.

  Such a cell leader was Sean Quinn, a well-built, dark-haired, tough-looking Northern Irishman, running a covert RIRA cell outside Belfast and his bitter hatred of the British and Americans dated back to two distinctly different reasons involving his family.

  Having seen his father Brendan, an extremely militant and strong proponent of ending British rule in Northern Ireland, shot by British soldiers in a border skirmish back in the 1990’s, Quinn’s hatred had been targeted at the very top of the British hierarchy, particularly after he had watched his mother, already riddled with cancer, virtually wither away with grief and sickness following the death of his father.

  Quinn was a simplistic man and in his opinion the ruling monarch was the ultimate person responsible for what a country’s parliament and military forces propagated. Consequently, in his violent, fanatical, and militant mind, his solution to ending British rule in Northern Ireland, was simply to terminate the figurehead, the current ruler herself!

  Needless to say, such a violent act was not condoned by his bosses, the Army Council, but that hadn’t deterred Quinn from sticking to the outrageously, audacious plan that had been consuming his mind over the past few weeks.

  A plan that was being funded by the Army Council without their knowledge or approval, a plan using the funds allotted to Quinn’s covert cell to carry out their other planned activities. Hence the fact that the words ‘rogue cell’ tended to fall freely from the lips of the members of the Army Council, each time that Quinn and his cell were mentioned.

  * * *

  As Quinn drove north along the east side of Lough Neagh outside Belfast, the sun was slowly setting across the Lough and his mind was currently focussed on one other person, a man, his hatred for whom, even pre-empted his long standing hatred for the current resident of Buckingham Palace - The American!

  His mind went back as if it were yesterday to that morning three years earlier when he and his two younger brothers Rory and Liam were involved as mercenaries out in Colombia, working for the drug lord Juan Camposito. They were helping to ship large volumes of cocaine through an established pipeline into the lucrative markets of the USA. In return for their services Quinn and his brothers were paid handsomely by the drug lord in Cali.

  On that morning in question, Quinn and his brothers had been helping to load yet another large consignment of drugs into a seaplane in a secluded inlet along the coast of Colombia.

  Unknown to them, however, their activities had been monitored by an attack force of US Navy Seals, assisted by a CIA special ops guy, Jake Harrigan, a tough Irish/American in his 30’s.

  When the last packages of cocaine had finally been loaded into the plane, the Seals had blown up the plane and its valuable cargo with underwater explosives as well as taking out the trucks that delivered the drugs using RPG’s. The attack force then attacked the Colombians and the other mercenaries who were helping them.

  In the firefight that followed, Quinn’s two brothers were shot and killed by Jake Harrigan and the rest of the Colombians and the other mercenaries were also killed, all with the exception of Quinn himself, who had feigned death, lying next to his two dead brothers.

  Jake and the Seal Leader had checked out the scene before leaving, which was when Quinn had heard the Seal Leader refer to Jake as Agent Harrigan, leading Quinn to the assumption that Jake was CIA. Quinn had also managed to get a good look at Jake’s face before the attack force had been picked up on the beach by a fast Zodiac assault cr
aft.

  He had then retrieved a rifle from one of the dead Colombians and taken a shot at Jake as he left, but the shot had missed Jake and hit the man next to him, Jake’s best friend Dave. The assault team had rushed the injured Dave out to the submarine moored around the point, but by the time they got him there he had already died in Jake’s arms.

  Quinn had sworn revenge on Jake from that devastated attack scene, not realizing that although he had missed Jake, he had killed Jake’s best friend and that this had resulted in a disillusioned Jake finally resigning after his tour of duty had finished in Colombia.

  CHAPTER 1

  Now, as Quinn drove towards the meeting with his RIRA cell in the secluded pub along the beach of Lough Neagh, visions and hatred were still uppermost in his mind.

  The job of tracking Jake Harrigan down after the incident in Colombia, had been much more difficult than he had expected. He had felt confident that knowing the man’s name and that he was with the CIA would have been easy, but he was wrong.

  He had quickly realized that CIA operatives working in deep cover, seemed to disappear off the map and trying to check out a CIA operative in the USA from Belfast, when he himself was under the microscope of the Brits and the Americans, had also been non-productive.

  However, his promise of revenge to his dead brothers had still been his daily conviction and it had only been very recently that Jake Harrigan had reappeared on the scene and under the strangest of circumstances.

  It had been when Quinn was watching CNN one day and the face of Jake Harrigan had appeared momentarily on the screen, but long enough for Quinn to make a positive ID.

  The report had mentioned that Harrigan had been instrumental with his partner, an Israeli woman, in foiling a Neo-Nazi attack in Jerusalem in Israel and it was then that he had realized that Jake was no longer with the CIA and that he was now working independently as a private security contractor.

  This had then made the job considerably easier to track him down. Using a private investigator in the US, he had used some of the RIRA funds at his disposal to pay for the PI to not only find Harrigan and all his family, but also to get what Quinn needed the most to make his current, crazy plan work - a color photograph of Jake!

  * * *

  As Quinn pulled into the pub parking lot, the sun had almost disappeared in the west across the Lough and on a balmy night, as he got out of the car,he could hear from inside the pub the sounds of the locals in the bar singing the final bars of ‘Danny Boy’.

  The night had an almost eerie calm about it as he locked the car and entered the bar. The Bartender, also a member of RIRA, nodded imperceptibly at Quinn, looking across to a staircase at the back of the bar leading up to a private room upstairs. Quinn nodded back in confirmation.

  When the patrons in the bar finished the song, accompanied by the pianist, they applauded themselves and in true Northern Ireland fashion, ordered themselves another drink, as Quinn looked around the bar and immediately saw the two people he was looking for.

  The first was Mickey Hennessey, slim, long, dark hair, unshaven, dangerous-looking. He was chatting to a sexy-looking, dark-haired girl at the bar. He looked up, saw Quinn and immediately started to politely exit his conversation and head towards the staircase behind the bar.

  The second person that Quinn spotted was Colleen Miller, dark-haired, green-eyed and attractive. She was chatting closely to a pretty redhead and they looked considerably more than just friends. The two women were holding hands suggestively. When Colleen spotted Quinn, she politely said goodbye to her friend, kissing her on the cheek and headed discreetly to the staircase behind the bar to follow Mickey.

  Quinn looked around, made sure that no one in the bar was taking particular notice of him before he also headed up the staircase to the room above.

  In the room at the top of the stairs, Quinn entered and Mickey and Colleen were waiting for him. He closed the door behind him and acknowledged them, a scowl on his face.

  “God bless all here,” he began before confronting Mickey. “I tought I told you to come alone for Christ’s sake!”

  Mickey looked sheepish. “We did, Sean.”

  Quinn was angry. “Right, so who was dat you was salivatin’ over at de bar?”

  “I only just met her.” Mickey replied.

  Quinn was still angry. “Dat better be de case, you an’ dat goddamned zipper of yours!” he then looked angrily at Colleen. “An’ what de hell was you doin’, holdin’ hands wid yer little playmate?”

  Colleen also looked sheepish. “Dis is her pub too, ya know.”

  Quinn held up both hands, facing outwards. “Okay, dat’s it, all right? No more of dis fraternisin’ shit till it’s over, understand?”

  They both nodded sullenly. Mickey was the first to speak. “So, is it on den, Sean?”

  Quinn smiled. “Dat it is, me boy!”

  Colleen was curious. “So, when do we leave?”

  “On de afternoon tide, day after tomorrow.” Quinn replied.

  Mickey looked nervous. “Jaysus, dis is by far de most dangerous one yet, Sean!”

  “Aye, it be dat all right, an’ watch de world sit up an’ take notice dis time!” Quinn replied.

  “Dat dey will,” Colleen added. “Are de rest of de team ready?”

  Quinn smiled malevolently. “To de man, me darling. Dis is gonna make Lee Harvey Oswald look like a fuckin’ choirboy!”

  Mickey looked concerned. “An’ de cost of de operation, Sean? We spent a lotta money already dat wasn’t autorized?”

  Colleen nodded. “How we gonna cover it, Sean?”

  Quinn looked at them, suddenly angry. “Screw de boys in Belfast. Dis is a Sean Quinn operation. Stop worryin’!”

  They both nodded in agreement.

  CHAPTER 2

  In a small village just outside Cheltenham in Gloucestershire, England, on a dark evening, the local church choir were practicing inside the church in the beautiful, tree-shrouded setting.

  They were finishing the last verse of the final hymn that they were running through in readiness for the coming Sunday evening service.

  Among the ladies present was Edith Donovan, Jake Harrigan’s maternal grandmother, a kindly-looking, grey-haired lady with a pleasant face. They finished the hymn and the choirmaster Bill Evans, in his sixties, thanked them all.

  “That was excellent, ladies, see you all on Sunday, goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.” Was the chorus in reply. Edith put on her cardigan and headed for the door. Her friend Emma, about Edith’s age, called after her,

  “Not staying for a cuppa, Edith?” Emma asked.

  Edith smiled. “Afraid not, Coronation Street is on in fifteen minutes!”

  Emma nodded knowingly. “I know, I know. See you later, love, and drive carefully.”

  Edith nodded. “Bye.” she left as the rest of the ladies were busy chatting among themselves. Outside the church, Edith pulled her thin cardigan around her, the night felt chilly as she headed over to her car in a dark corner of the small, tree-shrouded parking area.

  She opened the door of the unlocked car, climbed in and fumbled in her purse for her car key. Suddenly, she was grabbed from behind by a man in the shadows, hiding in the back seat. He held one hand over her mouth and with the other grabbed a syringe next to him and injected her in the arm as the old lady fainted in shock.

  The attacker, just a dark shape in the back of the car, wiped the syringe and left it on the seat next to her before he quickly exited the car and disappeared into the night, closing the car door gently behind him.

  * * *

  Twenty or so minutes later, Edith’s friend Emma and two other ladies emerged from the church for the short walk home. Emma looked across the parking lot to see Edith’s car still parked in the corner.

  She turned to her friends. “That’s odd!”

  Mary, an older woman with white hair looked at her. “What is?”

  Emma pointed across the parking lot. “That’s Edith’s ca
r over there. She left ages ago!”

  Another lady looked closer. “Looks like she’s still in it. We’d better see if she’s okay.”

  They all walked over to the car and Emma looked in the window before tapping on it. There was no movement from inside the car. She opened the door and looked inside to see Edith slumped at the wheel.

  “Edith, are you all right?” Emma asked. When Edith didn’t reply, Emma reaching out timidly and touched Edith’s neck, feeling for a pulse. She suddenly recoiled in shock. “Oh, my God! Call for an ambulance, right now!” she gasped.

  CHAPTER 3

  The pale, golden sand and the turquoise, peaceful ocean at the beach in Antigua, under a warm, caressing sun, had a soothing effect on both Jake Harrigan and his business partner and now his girlfriend, Sarah Schaumberg, a dark-haired, attractive, former Israeli, now a US citizen.

  They were two people who had first met as government agents, Jake with the CIA and Sarah with the FBI. After a series of hair-raising missions behind them, firstly while they were still with the government and later after they had formed their own security firm, they were now relaxing, away from the fast-paced action that had been their life in recent months.

  After Jake’s wife had been murdered by rogue CIA agents, simply because she overheard details of illegal arms dealing that the CIA were involved in, Jake, who at the time had been working as a ‘black-ops’ assassin for the CIA, had then gone in search of the men who had killed the wife he adored. He had been helped by Sarah, who had also been on a separate mission at the time for the FBI to expose the illegal arms dealing within the CIA.

  After bringing the villains to justice, both Jake and Sarah had left their respective agencies and formed their own security company. Their first major contract had been to work with the Israeli Mossad Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations, to try and stop a group of Neo-Nazis from destroying the Israeli economy.

  They had concluded the assignment very successfully by stopping the Neo-Nazis from exploding a briefcase nuclear device in the center of Jerusalem during Easter week. However, in the aftermath, when they returned to the US, they were still having problems with the CIA, who were trying to bolster their image following the illegal arms deal disgrace, and also as a result of one of their ‘black-ops’ assassins having terminated further innocent civilians, just to cover their tracks. Jake had then taken over as a one-man vigilante force and terminated the assassin in question, Zoltan ‘Mad Dog’ Koslov, a man who Jake knew well from his days with the CIA. The CIA were furious that they could not prove that Jake was the assassin who took out their man.