Crossmaglen, Northern Ireland
Friday night after a ten-hour shift at the garage, Dessie was on the floor wrestling with Eamonn and Sean even though Catherine told him not to rile them up. As Eamonn jumped on Dessie's back trying to bring him down, the biggest kid of them all swept Sean off his feet, playfully body slamming the giggling boy on the couch.
From the kitchen where she was washing the dishes from dinner, all Catherine could do was shake her head. Eamonn's shrill shriek echoed throughout the small flat, followed by Dessie's deep hearty laughter. Despite knowing just how difficult it would be to wind the boys down for the night now, it no longer mattered as she listened to her three boys roughhousing.
Rinsing off the last plate, Catherine set it in the drying rack and shut off the water. She dried her hands, curling them into fists when the loud whack of a body hitting the floor shook the flat.
"Shite. Ya good?" she heard Dessie say.
Then came Sean's excited, "I wanna do that again!"
Catherine set the folded towel down on the countertop. She placed a hand on her belly, rubbing softly.
"Please be a wee girl," she whispered.
Turning off the kitchen light, Catherine sauntered into the living room. She stood off to the side with her hands on her hips as she watched Eamonn jump off the couch and land right on Dessie, who was lying on his back trying to fend off Sean. This was exactly what she's always wanted for them.
Glancing over to the muted television, the joy she felt quickly subsided. It was replaced with a wave of alarm when she saw the bright yellow 'Breaking News' banner across the screen.
"Dessie," she said, trying to get his attention. When that didn't work she said his name again, this time louder.
Rising to his knees with Sean over his broad shoulder, Dessie smiled at Catherine. The seriousness of her expression caused his smile to fall, and he filled with the same dread she was feeling after noticing what she did.
Playtime came to a grinding halt.
Gently setting Sean on his feet, Dessie hushed both boys as he unmuted Sky News.
"...police say four improvised explosives were found just outside Cookstown in Northern Ireland. The driver of the vehicle they were found in has been arrested-"
Dessie muted it again just as his burner phone started ringing. Snatching it off the table, he nonchalantly went into the bedroom mainly so the boys wouldn't overhear anything.
After setting them up with a movie, Catherine headed down the hall to the bedroom. She opened the door to find Dessie sitting on the edge of his bed. He had the phone glued to his ear as he watched the coverage on Sky News at a low volume. He didn't say much, just repeated "aye," and "dead on" over and over. His attention was far more focused on the scrolling ticker at the bottom of the screen.
Looking over his shoulder, Dessie quickly ended the call as she closed the door and leaned against it.
"You were supposed to be at that drop," she said.
"Yeah, I'm well aware of that, Catherine."
She went rigid at his dagger tone, not expecting him to react that way. Catherine understood he was stressed out after what was supposed to be a routine operation, suddenly went to shit. Still, she wasn't going to let him take his frustrations out on her. She had done it enough with Jimmy and Darragh.
Turning around to open the door, Catherine barely had the doorknob twisted when Dessie's head shot up in her direction. And a strange panic knotted his insides when he realized she was about to leave the bedroom.
"I'm sorry for snappin' at ya; you're the last bloody person who deserves it."
He patted the space beside him. For a split second Catherine considered being petty and still walk out regardless of his apology. But really, what would that accomplish?
Easing her hand off the door handle, Catherine then sat next to him. He curled an arm around her shoulders, affectionately kissing her temple.
"Any word on how many arrests there were?"
"Aye," Dessie sighed. "Kieran said it was only the two fellas from Derry. They never made it to the exchange site so my lads are all accounted for."
Catherine tried to relax, but her racing mind was preventing her from being able to. Resting her head against him, she melted when his arm dropped and he began to rub her back. Though her body turned to mush under his touch, her mind kept racing.
"Do you think this was just a coincidence, or…"
"I hope to God it is. This is what I fuckin' hate about there bein' such a large command now. Too many lads knew the plan - and it's shite I had to let 'em bring down the pipes from Derry. If the Kings had left me alone and let me take care of it, this never would've happened."
"How many knew?"
Dessie took a breath, mentally tallying the total. "Eleven, that I know of.*
Catherine ran her fingers through her hair, unsure if she had heard him correctly. It boggled her mind so many others knew the plan. Both Catherine and Dessie operated on the belief that no more than five volunteers should know. Even then information between the OC, intelligence and operations officers shouldn't be shared with the lower levels until the night before.
Reaching over, she placed her hand over his, which was resting on his knee. She knew what Dessie was thinking, but was too afraid to say. Respecting him as a soldier and a brilliant officer commanding, and most importantly as the man she loved, she understood it was her responsibility to bring up the difficult conversations.
"There were two others before this. You've got a problem, Dess."
"Aye, I suppose I do. A shitty tout," he said bitterly. "Tomorrow afternoon I'm meetin' the lads in Forkhill to finalize plans for the bank job, but now I'm not sure if we should go through with it."
"Set cheese in a trap. Find who takes a wee bite and you'll have your tout."
"It's been over a decade since south Armagh's had to deal with this shite."
"Keep it close," she reminded him. "Don't let anyone know you suspect there's a leak. I know how close ya are to your lieutenants, but everyone has to be considered."
Admitting she was right was a tough pill for Dessie to swallow. He didn't want to believe one of his closest and most trusted advisors could be tainted.
"I'll talk to em separately - throw out plans for operations and see what happens."
Catherine took her hand off his. "Why didn't you tell me you're meetin' with the lads tomorrow? I thought we were takin' the boys to Slieve Gullion for the day."
Dessie knew this would come up at some point. He'd been hoping to break the news to her in the morning over coffee so that he could claim it was a last-minute rendezvous. Then he'd insist she still take the boys hiking so they wouldn't be cooped up all day, and that it would be no bother for him to drop them off given the proximity of the mountain to Forkhill.
Too bad he let it slip too soon.
"And if it's about the bank job," she wondered, "then why wasn't I asked to be there?"
To say he had to tread carefully was the understatement of the fucking year.
He got up and grabbed the cigarettes off the dresser, lighting up. He leaned against the wall, scratching the top of his head.
"You and I have been workin' together for a long time. We've built a strong relationship based on mutual trust and respect, but the lads don't necessarily feel the same as me. It's nothing personal against you, Catherine, but ya know how it is down here in south Armagh."
Catherine swallowed the lump in her throat at the same time she pulled herself together. She needed to stay levelheaded, not bogged down in the feeling of being personally attacked. However, the pregnancy hormones were making that virtually impossible.
"What you're sayin' is that the lads don't trust me because I'm from Belfast, not south Armagh."
Dessie nodded, blowing smoke from his nostrils. In such a rural area, outsiders were always kept at arm's length.
"It's also because of Liam."
"What my brother did has no bearin' on how I conduct myself as a soldier." Her voice tightened. "I've given 'em no reason to question my loyalty!"
"Ya need to understand family ties mean a lot more here."
"This is fuckin' shite, Dessie, and you know it. The job was my idea - the lads were happy to include me when it was my bloody connections they were usin'. I can't believe you'd just bend to 'em like this."
"They're my men! I have to take into consideration how they want to run an operation."
"But this isn't a True army operation. It's ONH-"
"Which is made up of a majority of south Armagh lads," Dessie reminded her.
Catherine gave up. He was just making her feel as though she would never be part of the exclusive south Armagh club no matter what she did. It felt like a knife in the back, especially considering she's been their biggest lobbyist to the leadership in Belfast.
"When I move down here, maybe I should stay under Belfast command, then. And step away from the logistics of ONH."
Dessie shook his head and spoke to her in Irish.
"Ya know I hate it when ya don't speak English because I can't bloody understand ya!"
"Me, your Da, and even Jimmy have been tellin' ya for years to learn Gaeilge. Maybe that's what ya should've been focusin' your time on instead of Russian. When ya swore into the Ra, you promised to promote the revival of the Irish language as the everyday language of the people. By not even botherin' to learn, you've failed the IRA and the Irish nation. Most of all, you've failed yourself and Eamonn and Sean. I grew up knowin' both languages so you can bet your arse our child will, too."
Catherine was left stunned. She had no idea how the conversation turned so personal against her.
"I failed my boys, huh?" she asked calmly. "I've been focused on keepin' normalcy in their lives ever since their da was killed by loyalist bastards. None of that matters because I haven't taught 'em to speak Irish. In the eyes of the flawless Desmond Dennehy, I'm a failure of a mother. Good to know. By the way, I know how important havin' a bilingual home is to you, so I've been payin' a wee girl from St. Dom's to come over three nights a week and teach me and the boys, ya daft prick."
Dessie set the still smoldering cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand, then placed his hands on his chest. "If ya don't tell me this shite, I don't know."
"I'm not the only one keepin' secrets, so quit your preachin'."
"I told ya over and over how sorry I am for not tellin' ya about Eilish and Rosie."
"That's not what I'm talkin' about. Were you even gonna tell me what you were meetin' with the lads about tomorrow? Or were ya gonna make me think it was True army, not ONH business?"
"Holy shite, Catherine! Let it fuckin' go - you're not as much of a big shot as ya think you are. We had this goin' well before ya joined, it doesn't revolve around you."
"I was your chief of staff. I know what it takes to lead the organization."
"You held the position for what? A month? I've been an OC for years, so I think I'm a wee bit more qualified. And look where it got ya. Been in for over ten years and you're back to fetchin' Jimmy's dry cleanin' and coffee. Right about now, it looks like you'll runnin' my errands once you're in my brigade."
Dessie regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He didn't mean a lick of what he said. He was angry, feeling as though she wasn't respecting the way things ran there. Dessie loved Catherine with every bone in his body, but it would be a cold day in hell when he allowed the Belfast lass to shake up the brigade.
And then he muttered something even stupider, "If you workin' down here is gonna cause problems between us, maybe it would be a good idea for you to stay under Jimmy's command."
Catherine nodded and rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. If that's how he wanted things, then so be it. Lifting the sleeve of her shirt, she checked her watch. If she made it back to Belfast before Jimmy left for Donegal, maybe there was a chance she could convince him to let her tag along on the shipment coming into Dungloe in only a few hours. She had said no when he originally asked if she wanted to come, wrongfully thinking Dessie planned to be around for the weekend. If he was going to put the cause above she and the boys, Catherine wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. See how he liked being the one to hold down the fort while she was off playing soldier.
Getting off the bed, she grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from the bottom drawer of his dresser, putting it on, then grabbing the keys to her car and her purse.
Watching her slip on her battered black and white Converse, Dessie pinched the bridge his nose. "Where the hell do ya think you're goin'? It's almost nine."
"You are not my officer commandin'. The only man I answer to is Jimmy."
Catherine didn't realize how that sounded to Dessie. When she reached out to pick up her phone off the bed, Dessie gripped her wrist, spinning her around to press her back against the wall. He let go of her instantly. Catherine didn't dare move, staring up at him with the same intimidation he had made her first feel over a decade ago. Dessie was nowhere as frightening as Jimmy but like Patrick, he was an inured man.
"So we're both on the same page here, I am the only man you will answer to so long as we're together. Am I clear? Or do I need to break it down even more for ya?"
She didn't appreciate being patronized. Her chest heaved from heavy breaths as she stared into his deep brown eyes. They were darker than she's ever seen them, which sent a chill down her spine. Dessie learned his lesson not to let Catherine walk over him as she had one night in Forkhill when she pressured him to sit in on the interrogation of a Real army volunteer.
"You're clear."
"I'm never gonna tell you what to do because you're a grown woman capable of makin' her own decisions. I know there's a shipment comin' in through Dungloe later tonight, and you know how I feel about you bein' around Jimmy and the guns. You're free to do as you please, but I strongly advise you not to walk outta that fuckin' door."
Dessie moved aside, a smug smirk on his face. Catherine huffed, tossing her keys and phone into the bed. She respected Dessie far too much and hated Jimmy even more, so she couldn't bring herself to leave.
"You're an arsehole for what ya said about me failin' the boys, and how you'll have me doin' nothin' other than runnin' your errands if I join the brigade."
He cringed, not wanting to admit he said those terrible things to her. His biggest downfall was his inability to stop talking when his emotions got the better of him. Gathering her face in his hands, Dessie pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. He'd have to spend the rest of his life making up for this mistake.
Forkhill, Northern Ireland
The table was littered with empty beer cans, maps, photos of their target. An overflowing ashtray sat in the center.
Most of the details for their plan to hit the Northern Bank were hammered out. Five PSNI uniforms had been stolen by Catherine and the wooden crates were sitting safely in the barn. Garrett Campbell had been thoroughly vetted by a few members of Belfast's security unit, and Rory figured out the best time to hit, as well as their entrance and exit strategies. All they had left to do was discuss where they'd put the money, along with what stash of weapons they'd use.
Pouring four more shots of whiskey, Kieran passed them around the table to Dessie, Rory, and Connor.
"I thinkin'," Kieran paused to take his shot, "that we bring the van loaded with the crates back here. We can go through 'em, count what we got, and stuff the bills we don't need right away into holdalls. Then, we'll bury it here," he circled a spot on the map, "just over the border in County Monaghan. It's easy to get to undetected, and secluded enough no one'll think to go diggin'."
A chill shot through Dessie just before the warmth of the whiskey settled. He let his operations officer's plan digest, looking over the map Kieran marked up. It was a decent and easy idea which he liked; left little room for things to go wrong.
"Do you think we'll need a scout car?" Dessie asked genuinely.
If he didn't need to bring men to the area where they'd be burying the money, then he wouldn't. With a tout so obviously floating around, the fewer people who knew the location, the better.
Kieran scratched at the three-day stubble on his jaw, thinking. "I do, just to be on the safe side. There's no of knowin' just how long it'll take for anyone in Belfast to realize the money is gone. Once the peelers get word what happened, Gardaí'll probably have units watchin' the border. PSNI, too."
"He's got a point, Dess." Rory insisted.
Dessie didn't need Rory's two-cents. The relationship between him and Kieran stretched back nearly two decades. There was no one else's judgment who Dessie trusted more. If Kieran said he thinks a scout car is a good idea, then that's exactly what they'll do.
"I only want one car. Black, preferably. Nab it in the middle of the night from Newry, and I'll swipe numberplates off one of the cars at the garage. Any idea on who should drive?"
"A lad with years," Connor suggested. "I wouldn't bring in one of the fellas from Belfast because they don't know the roads."
"Paddy O'Toole would," said Kieran. "Back in the day when south Armagh was helpin' the Belfast lads assemble car bombs, it was Paddy and Filip who'd come to collect. They had to know the roads like the back of their hands to do that."
Rory scoffed, "Can't have Paddy do it. He'd insist Catherine go with him. She's the last person we need knowin' where the money is."
Dessie stopped mid-pour as he filled his glass again. He set the bottle down with a thud, turning his attention to Rory. By how his brow furrowed and the icy expression on Dessie's face, Connor and Kieran buckled up for the ride.
"Please explain to me why ya think she's the last person who should know."
"C'mon Dess. You're gonna make me spell it out for you?"
Leaning back in his chair, Dessie crossed his arms over his chest. "Please do."
Rory's face turned several shades of red as he stammered, "It's - I mean - it's nothin' against you, I just don't trust her." He pointed to Connor. "Brods over there agrees with me!"
Connor stood from his chair, almost leaping over the table. Kieran grabbed him by the waistband of his Wranglers just in time. "Don't fuckin' pull me into this, ya prick."
Dessie couldn't believe what he was hearing, and he was left utterly confused. When he brought the idea of Catherine joining their unit, and being a founding member of ONH, they all agreed without hesitation. Less than two weeks before one of the biggest operations of their lives, it was being dumped on him they didn't trust her. What changed?
"You trust Catherine?" he asked Kieran.
"Aye. Got no reason not to."
"And what about you, Brods? You trust her?"
Connor nodded.
Taking a deep breath to cool the bubbling volcano that was his irritation, Dessie scrubbed his face with his hands. This was the last fucking thing he needed.
"Give us the room, lads?" Dessie spoke into his hands.
Kieran and Connor jumped up, scurrying from the room. They didn't venture too far, wanting to be within earshot in case emotions flared.
Tucking a cigarette into the corner of his mouth, Dessie lit it. "What's your fuckin' problem with Cate all of a sudden?"
Rory regretted opening his mouth now. He was fuming with Connor, believing he only changed his mind as to not end up on Dessie's shit-list.
"God forbid anyone says anythin' bad about the almighty Catherine O'Toole. Is her fanny the Holy Grail or somethin'? She had Darragh wrapped around her finger, now she's got your balls in a goddamn vice. Jesus, Dess, wake the fuck up, man."
It only pissed Rory off more as Dessie looked at him amusingly, just blowing smoke rings into the air.
He continued, "She a fuckin' black widow. She'll suck the life outta ya just like she did to Darragh. Jimmy probably pushed her to shag ya so she could report back to him on what's goin' on down here."
Dessie wasn't sure whether or not to be insulted over Rory insinuating the way he could get a girl like Catherine is if she were pimped out. It infuriated him to the core hearing Rory talk about her like that. Rory didn't have the slightest clue as to what went on in their relationship.
As far as he saw it, the only thing Rory got right in his entire rant, was Catherine's cunt being damn near close to the Holy Grail. It was pretty and pink and tasted damn sweet. Even after two kids, everything was neatly tucked in. But no way would Dessie divulge that information.
He did think it was funny how matter-of-factly Rory said Catherine had his balls in a vice. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to burst out laughing at something so ridiculous. Did he look like the kind of man who would allow any woman to dictate his life?
"Ya done?" Dessie chuckled. When Rory didn't respond, he tried to figure out where the hell to start first. "I dare ya to make mention of Catherine's fanny again. See where that gets ya. Not sure how it works with you and the wife, but what I do know is that in mine, I have the final say in all decisions, the cause included, not Catherine. Besides, what has she done that has ya questionin' her loyalty? Is this about what happened with the Real army? Because if it is-"
"She fucked an Englishman, did ya know that? He's a peeler up in Belfast."
Dessie's stomach went somersaulting as he crushed out his cigarette. Did he admit what he knew? Or play it off? Knowing there was a tout in the ranks, he had to keep everything close to his chest from this point on.
"Aye, I know. What's your worry?"
"Two lads were arrested last night and she advised on that operation. Then there are the others that went to shite. It's gotta be her, she's gotta be the one leakin' our information to the Englishman."
Dessie was walking on eggshells now. What Rory seemed to have forgotten was that Catherine had nothing to do with the other operations which were foiled by the police. He had only told her about them after the fact, so there was no way she could have informed Ian beforehand. Despite their reservations about having someone new getting this close to the brigade operations, none of the other guys had been this quick to brand Catherine as the tout.
Certainly now, Dessie wasn't going to tell Rory that he had Catherine sit down with the security unit after she came clean about her affair. For nine hours, she was drilled with questions and her story stayed the same. The unit safely concluded that Catherine was telling the truth - never once did she give any information regarding the IRA to Ian.
If Rory knew she had been debriefed, he'd stop pointing the finger at her. Out of his curiosity, Dessie wanted to see why Rory was gunning hard for Catherine. Maybe he did just distrust her so much, he made up his mind that easily about her.
Something told Dessie it was a little more complicated than that.
"I'll leave her out of any talks from now on, okay? Would it make ya feel more comfortable if I put eyes on her in Belfast? Then we can know who she's seein' and who she's talkin' to." Rory nodded, not having the slightest clue that Dessie was lying straight to his face. "I've been wonderin' if we should get a full inquiry goin'. Bring in lads from outside to handle it."
"If ya did that, it would be nasty for us all. Not to mention how awful you'd look if it came out you were gettin' two-timed again, this time with a lass who's sharin' your pillow talk with a copper. Since you're keepin' her out of this, is there anythin' ya need me to help ya with?"
Dessie took a deep breath. Rory had no idea how close he was to having his fingers broken as a warning to not talk like that anymore.
Before they all sat around the table, Dessie pulled Connor aside and told him about a new plan on the following Thursday - a pipe bomb hit against a police officer at his home in the Culmore area of Derry. When he was outside smoking with Kieran, Dessie mentioned another pipe bomb. This one would take place in two weeks, at the break of dawn against a cop at home in Irvinestown, Enniskillen. In the morning as they drank their coffee and did the crossword puzzle in the Irish Times together, he told Catherine about hitting an officer in the Woodside neighborhood of Poleglass in west Belfast.
"In two weeks, we're hittin' a Prot copper in Lisburn. Ballymacash estate. The lad who's gonna stash the pipe bomb under the car is gonna come through Forkhill so I may need ya to drive him over the border."
Rory nodded.
The only operation which wasn't fictional was the one in Belfast. Considering that was still her territory, he wanted her to have a head's up.
The traps were set, and all he needed to do now was put his ear to the ground and wait for the sound of rats. If the Belfast operation ended belly-up, or if he turned on the news to see police and army technical experts on their way to Derry, Irvinestown, or Lisburn, Dessie would know who to string up.
