Assassin 3 - The Wrong Man (Assassin Series) Page 2

  During the past nine months since his wife’s death, working together with Sarah, Jake had finally come to terms with the death of his wife, once he had terminated all the people involved in her death and as time had passed, the new respect and attraction between himself and Sarah had slowly developed. She had been both patient and understanding until finally, under the warm sun of Antigua, what had been a slowly blossoming romance had finally been consummated.

  Their eventual lovemaking had been both soft and gentle and at no time did Sarah expect Jake to stop loving the memory of his wife Nancy.

  Now, for the first time in months, both Jake and Sarah were able to approach each new day with loving anticipation of what tender, new memories they would be able to create with the world of violence forgotten for a while.

  On another idyllic day in paradise, Jake and Sarah had just finished breakfast on the patio of their beachfront cabana, when Jake’s cell phone rang.

  Jake answered. “This is Jake?”

  The voice on the other end of the phone was instantly familiar to Jake. It was his maternal grandfather Jake Donovan, calling from the UK.

  “Jake, this is Gramps.” Jake Sr. began.

  Jake was instantly alert. “Hi, Gramps, what’s wrong?” Jake had known his grandfather long enough to know that when he called, something was going on.

  Jake Sr. in his late seventies, slim with white hair, spoke sadly into the phone. “I’ve got some very sad news, Jake.” he replied.

  Jake was instantly alert. “What happened, Gramps?”

  “I’m afraid it’s your Nan!”

  Jake covered the phone, looked at Sarah and grimaced as Jake Sr. continued.

  “She, she’s gone, Jake!” the old man gasped.

  Jake was in shock. “Oh, jeez, you mean...?”

  Back in the UK, Jake Sr. was in tears. “I’m afraid so, son. They found her dead in her car, outside the church after choir practice!”

  Jake tried to console his grandfather. “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry, Gramps. When’s the funeral?”

  “Friday, three days from now.” Jake Sr. replied. Jake was already looking at Sarah who was nodding as if to say they should attend.

  “In that case we’ll be there, Gramps.” Jake replied.

  “Look, son, that’s not necessary.”

  Jake was nevertheless determined. “Look, Gramps, since my folks died, Nan was both a mother and a grandmother and nothing is more important than paying our respects in the proper way,” he looked across at Sarah who was nodding in agreement. “Besides, it’ll give you the chance to meet Sarah.”

  Jake Sr. sounded a little more upbeat. “Well, in that case, son, we’ll all be so glad you can make it.”

  “Don’t worry, Gramps, we’ll both be there.”

  Jake Sr. suddenly sounded sad. “There’s something else you ought to know, Jake.”

  “I’m listening?” Jake replied.

  “There’s something not right here.”

  “How d’you mean?”

  “I just got the copy of the coroner’s report and they say the cause of Nan’s death was a massive cocaine overdose!”

  Jake was incredulous. “You’re joking. There must be some mistake. I mean she was a diabetic for God’s sake, not an addict!”

  Jake Sr. was in agreement. “That’s what I mean, Jake. What the heck’s goin’ on?”

  Jake was now pacing up and down, the phone to his ear and Sarah was looking on, a concerned look on her face. “I don’t know, Gramps,” Jake replied. “But we’re sure gonna find out. So, sit tight, we’ll be there before you know it and we’ll talk about it more then, okay?”

  “Okay, see you soon, son. Bye.” Jake Sr. rang off.

  “Bye,” Jake clicked the phone shut and looked at Sarah. “Cocaine, what the hell’s going on?” he then proceeded to give Sarah all the details of the sad phone call.

  When he had finished, she looked at him with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jake, no matter what we do, death of our loved ones seems to be following us around.”

  He nodded in agreement as he was already dialling the phone number of the airlines.

  * * *

  After a hectic flight back to DC, so that they could pack for their trip to the UK, Jake and Sarah settled in for the transatlantic night flight from DC into Heathrow.

  Following a mediocre dinner and prior to trying to grab some sleep, Jake and Sarah were discussing the events surrounding the death of Jake’s grandmother, totally unaware of what had really happened. Jake was the first to comment.

  “One thing’s for sure, Sarah, Nan didn’t take the cocaine knowing she was taking it.”

  “How do you mean?” Sarah asked.

  “Because she was totally against drugs, always was!”

  Sarah was thinking out loud. “So, what you’re saying is that she either took it by mistake, thinking it was her insulin....?”

  Jake finished the sentence for her. “Or someone gave it to her by force!”

  Sarah was in shock. “D’you think that’s likely. She was just a sweet, old lady?”

  Jake shook his head sadly. “Yeah, but a sweet, old lady, whose grandson has been hounded by all kinds of bad guys in the last few weeks!”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “My God! You mean the CIA could still be targeting you and your family? Surely not?”

  “Who knows?” he began. “I guess we’ll have to play it by ear.”

  Hours later, after a restless night’s sleep with the ghosts of the past few weeks drifting in and out of his subconscious, Jake was still gritty-eyed as he stood in line in UK Immigration, following Sarah who had just gone through.

  He approached the Immigration Officer and handed over his documents. The Officer read them and went back and re-read Jake’s passport. He eventually looked up. “And the purpose of your visit, Mr. Harrigan?”

  “I’m here for my grandmother’s funeral.” Jake replied.

  The Officer took another look at him and then back at his passport, flicking through the pages. His face changed. “Would you excuse me a second, sir?”

  Jake nodded, a confused look on his face. “Sure, no problem.”

  The Officer went over to talk to a colleague, Jake’s passport in his hand. After a minute or so, he came back and looked at Jake, a serious look on his face. “Would you mind following me, please sir?”

  Jake started to follow him. “Is there a problem, officer?” he asked.

  The Officer spoke over his shoulder as they walked to another room. “No, Mr. Harrigan, it’s just that we have to follow protocol.”

  “Protocol?” Jake inquired.

  “Yes, sir,” the Officer replied. “There are some controversial country’s stamps in your passport, I’m sure they are perfectly in order, but new Home Office protocol demands that we photograph and fingerprint all individuals entering the UK who have visited these countries, before allowing entry. Just a precaution, you understand?”

  Jake nodded. “No problem.”

  Thinking back to some of the questionable countries that he had travelled to since his current passport had been issued, he could quite understand the caution of the Brits.

  The Officer guided him over to a camera unit. “This way, please.” Jake stepped in front of the camera and then after his fingerprints had been taken, he was offered a damp wipe for his hands.

  * * *

  Outside in the baggage claim area, Sarah had already commandeered a trolley and grabbed their bags when Jake finally joined her.

  “What was all that about?” she inquired.

  Jake shrugged. “Just some new security bullshit. My passport flagged up countries on their nervous list and all passengers having visited those countries have to be photographed and fingerprinted, just as a precaution.”

  “Better safe than sorry.” Sarah added as they merged with the other travellers into the main terminal to pick up their rental car.

  They eventually headed out of Heathrow and onto the M4 motorway west a
nd then onto the A40 towards Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, where Jake Sr. lived,

  Jake was not looking forward to the sad reunion awaiting them. He looked across at Sarah who was enjoying her first view of the English countryside.

  “What do you say to a man who just lost his whole world?” he asked.

  “Does he have other family around him?”

  “Yes, he lives with Aunt Winnie and her son Stephen. They moved in when Uncle Bill died because Gramps and Nan were getting to the stage where they needed help.” he replied.

  Sarah was totally sympathetic. “Well, at least your grandfather will have someone around who can comfort him.”

  Jake nodded. “Yes, they’re good people.”

  They finally drove up to a small detached house in Swindon Village on the outskirts of the City of Cheltenham, where they were too tired to notice a car parked down the street with a rough-looking, dark-haired man at the wheel, reading a newspaper. He looked up when he saw movement outside Jake Senior’s house, quickly clicked on his cell phone and dialed a number.

  A voice answered. “Yes?’

  The man answered speaking with a strong Irish brogue. “De pigeon is back in de coup!”

  “Keep watchin’.” the voice on the other end replied before the line went dead. The man went back to reading the horse racing page in the newspaper.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon and in the driving rain on a secluded beach on the west coast of the County of Pembrokeshire, near St. Brides Bay in Wales, a small motor launch came ashore out of the mist.

  Quinn, Mickey and Colleen scrambled ashore and up the beach to the deserted coast road. Within minutes a small Vauxhall car pulled up, they scrambled in and it disappeared into the enveloping gloom. The motor launch then sailed away silently into the mist. The next stage in Quinn’s plan was now in motion.

  * * *

  Outside Jake Senior’s home, Jake parked the car in the driveway and he and Sarah approached the door. Jake took a deep breath and rang the bell. The door opened and Jake Sr. stood there, tears in his eyes when he saw Jake.

  The two men hugged each other wordlessly as Jake’s Aunt Winnie, thin, grey-haired and in her late forties and her son Stephen in his late teens, thin and nerdish-looking, were waiting anxiously to give Jake a hug.

  Jake Sr. was the first to speak. “Come on in, son, let’s have a cuppa tea, Winnie?”

  Jake remembered well, that in England, everything centered on a cup of tea for every occasion mentionable. A cup of tea was always the catalyst, the soother, the pacifier.

  Jake finally spoke. “Hi, Gramps,” he began as he hugged Aunt Winnie and Stephen. “Hi, Guys,” he turned to introduce Sarah who was standing there, tears in her eyes. “This is Sarah, my partner,” he turned to Sarah. “This is Gramps, Aunt Winnie and this dude is my young cousin Stephen.”

  They all shook hands as Winnie urged them into the living room. “Come on in, my darlings, make yourselves at home,” she turned to Stephen. “Steve, take Cousin Jake and Sarah’s bags upstairs while I brew the tea. Put them in the back two bedrooms.”

  The youth grabbed the bags and headed for the stairs, looking over his shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Jake!” he grinned.

  “You too, buddy!” Jake replied as they all headed into the living room. Jake looked closely at his grandfather. “You okay, Gramps?”

  Jake Sr. sighed heavily. “Better than I was, son. Still a bit numb, I guess.”

  Winnie came in with a tray of tea and scones and started to pour the tea. “Here we are, my darlings,” she looked at Sarah. “You must be tired, my love?”

  Sarah smiled, she liked Jake’s family already. “Just a bit.” she replied.

  Stephen returned and they sipped their tea and nibbled on the scones as Jake looked across at his grandfather. “So, tell me exactly what happened, Gramps?”

  Winnie looked across at Stephen who got up to leave. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a project I have to turn in by tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later, Jake, okay?”

  Jake nodded. “You bet.”

  Stephen left and Sarah looked at Winnie. “What a polite young man!”

  Winnie smiled appreciatively. “Some of the time, but thanks.”

  The TV was on in the living room and before Jake Sr. could reply to Jake’s earlier question, the local newscaster got their attention with an interesting local news story. It covered the opening of a new Regional Cancer Hospital in the nearby Town of Tewkesbury in Gloucestershire, where the guest of honor for the grand opening of the new facility was Her Majesty the Queen.

  The news bite ended and Jake Sr. a former member of the UK MI5 security forces, looked at Jake, a knowing look on his face. “And you can bet your life the security over there will be incredible. Not that obvious to the public, though.”

  Jake smiled. “Still wearing that old MI5 hat are you, Gramps?”

  Jake Sr. nodded. “Sort of. There was many a time I had that headache when I was on the force.”

  “I know what you mean,” Jake replied. “Buddy of mine used to be on the Presidential security detail. Said it was a nightmare.”

  Jake Sr. nodded and got back to Jake’s original question, a sudden, sad look on his face. “It was so fast, I didn’t even see it coming, Jake!”

  “I’m listening?” Jake replied.

  “One minute she was off to choir practice as usual, the next I got a call from Edith’s friend Emma telling me to rush to the hospital to meet the ambulance!”

  Winnie was in tears as she topped up the tea. “The sweetest lady that ever walked the face of the earth!”

  “You got that right,” Jake added. “So, what’s all this about a cocaine overdose?”

  His grandfather looked sad. “That’s what I don’t understand, son. The only needle your gran ever used was for her diabetes and here’s the strange part, the needle they found next to her was one I didn’t even recognize and I was the one who used to pick up her prescriptions and her needles!”

  Jake was concentrating. “And were there any fresh needle marks?”

  “Well, she did have some from her diabetes injections, so I guess it was hard to tell.”

  Sarah was listening intently. “You don’t think there could have been a mix-up in the medication, Mr. Donovan?”

  Jake Sr. gave a sad smile. “I’m afraid not, my dear. The rest of her prescription was here and that’s the first thing the medical examiner checked.”

  Jake shook his head sadly. “D’you think I could have a chat with the coroner, Gramps?” he asked.

  Jake Sr. seemed to think so. “I don’t see why not. I’ve known him a long time. I can probably set it up for you.”

  “Thanks, that’s at least a start.” Jake replied.

  They then drove down to the undertakers, the UK equivalent of a funeral home, so that Jake and Sarah could pay their final respects to a grandmother that he adored.

  CHAPTER 4

  In a small village on the northwest side of Cheltenham, not far from the busy M5 Motorway, the lights were on inside the RIRA safe house and the curtains were drawn as it started to go dark.

  Inside the living room, Quinn, Mickey and Colleen were meeting with the rest of their RIRA cell, Danny, Megan and Bill, the man who was watching Jake Senior’s house when Jake and Sarah first arrived. Quinn was being updated by his team. He looked first at Megan. “So, we got de schedule from our friend?” he asked her.

  Megan, a tough-looking woman with a butch haircut answered. “All set, Sean. Tuesday at 2.00 pm.”

  Quinn then looked at Danny, slim with red unruly long hair and a pale face. “An’ de weapons and cars are all set to go?”

  Danny nodded affirmatively. “Dat dey are, Sean. We stole us a van, up in de northeast, won’t be traced.”

  Quinn looked pleased. “Well done, everybody.”

  Mickey, however, looked a little concerned. “We do have a slight problem, Sean. I got a call from de hit man who did de old woman, he wants his mo
ney.”

  “He’ll get it, don’t you worry,” Quinn replied. He took a breath for effect. “When Sean Quinn is through, the whole goddamn world will take us seriously, my brothers. Dis operation’s been a long time comin’!”

  Mickey nodded. “Aye, it’s about time!”

  Colleen looked strangely pensive. “I know you wants to make de hit, Sean, but what if someone sees you?”

  Quinn smiled malevolently. “Dat’s just de point, me darlin’, I want the sons of bitches to see me!”

  Colleen looked shocked. “You do?”

  He grinned. “Well, not me exactly!”

  Mickey was confused. “Den who, Sean?”

  Quinn reached for his briefcase and opened it with his back to them and bent forward reaching inside. He quickly covered his face with a mask and turned to face them. The mask, made with the latest, hi-tech 3D camera technology, using a color photograph of the subject, meant that they were all looking at an identical image of the man most hated by Quinn - Jake Harrigan!

  His team looked on in total shock. Mickey was the first to speak. “Holy Jaysus!” he gasped.

  Quinn spoke to them from behind the mask. “Exactly, my son. What you’se lookin’ at is de Yankee sonofabitch Jake Harrigan. He was de bastard dat killed me brudders Liam an’ Rory when we wuz workin’ in Colombia, trying to put de drug deal together.”

  Colleen was impressed. “But...?” she began as Quinn finished the sentence for her as he removed the mask. “But how did I get de mask?”

  She nodded numbly. “Yeah?”

  Quinn explained. “Took forever to track de bastard down an’ get a good picture of him. Cost a pretty penny too, but once I got de picture, dis US website dat uses hi-tech 3D camera technology, made a life size mask real easy.”