Chapter 3

"Tis true that I worked with O'Neal for awhile in my youth," McFerrin informed Sam and Jesse, and as he spoke the memories of those times haunted his green eyes. "But I didn't dare get into the sort of things he was doin'. I wanted a future that didn't involve me bein' buried before my time."

"Did you know Fiona Glenanne," Sam asked.

"Aye, not personally, just through friends. She was a tough, spunky one." McFerrin smiled as he responded. "I heard that she came to the States and tried to get away from O'Neal." Concern changed his features as he asked, "Did she succeed?"

"Yes, she did," Sam replied. "So you're not here to kill her, are you?"

McFerrin's laugh was tinged with disappointment, and he shook his head slowly. "That's what I've been tellin' ye. My uncle has a brewery, and he's tryin' to branch out to the States, so I'm just here on business."

"In Miami," Jesse said as he eyed the man with skepticism. "Why didn't you go to New York? I would think the marketing gurus up there would be more helpful."

"Aye, but I had an appointment with someone here, a Mr. Wayne Thomas at Dynamic Marketing. He contacted me just when I was lookin' for an agency to assist us."

"Never heard of them," Jesse said, "But then I don't work with marketing firms. Hang on and I'll do some checking up on them."

While Jesse did his investigating, Sam sat with McFerrin at a table with a view of the beach. They were high enough up, and with the filmy curtains drawn, no one would be able to see them. "So, tell me about your family's business. You make beer?"

"Ah, not just any beer, not like the swill they sell in this country and attempt to call it such." Seamus made a face. "Broken Fiddle is fast becoming a national brand in Ireland. The recipe was in our family for generations, but not until my uncle got hold of it did anyone decide to capitalize on it."

"You got any samples with you," Sam asked with a sly smile.

Seamus laughed. "I have some bein' shipped here. After it gets through customs, I'll have to pick it up. For your assistance, and Mr. Porter's, I think I can spare a few bottles." He winked. "Perhaps even a six-pack for each of ye."

"I don't mind getting paid in imported beer, but we've got something more pressing to worry about right now," Sam declared. "Like why Larry is trying to kill you. He used our concern for Fiona to get us on your trail. He was expecting us to find you, report your location, and step back to let him handle the rest."

Seamus swallowed and stared at Sam. "You're not plannin' on still doin' that, are ye?"

"No way. We really need to find out why he wants you dead."

Jesse came out of the bathroom where he went to make his calls and slipped his phone into his pocket. "Well, I did some checking on that address in Coral Gables. It's an empty storefront, and it sounds like your Mr. Thomas is an alias or he doesn't exist."

"I think it's time to call Fi," Sam said as he pulled out his phone. "She needs to know, because if Larry is using this all as a ruse to get to Fi, she could be in danger."

"Carlos has her back," Jesse suggested, but the look of doubt on Sam's face silenced him. Jesse was a realist about the situation. Some relationships don't last, and when they fall apart, you move on. On one hand, he couldn't blame Fiona for hooking up with Carlos. From what he could tell, he was a nice guy. But on the other hand, he couldn't imagine a world without Michael and Fiona as a couple. It was as if one of the eternal truths of the universe had been broken, and nothing was right with their world since then. He kept hoping Mike would come to his senses, run as far from the CIA as he could, and come back to them, to Fi. Sometimes Jesse was just a hopeless romantic at heart, despite his practicality.

"Fi's meeting us here," Sam announced as he got off the phone.

"Is Carlos coming too?" Jesse's eyebrow rose as he asked the question.

"I would assume so. Those two are like PB and J these days." His lips pursed in disgust. "She said she would meet us in a half hour, so Seamus, you might want to get changed and packed."

"Where are we going?" He glanced at Sam, then Jesse. "Isn't it safer for me to stay here?"

"No, because if Larry finds your location, you're dead," Sam replied. "We've got a safe place for you to stay. Fi will be able to keep an eye on you until we discover why Larry wants you dead and figure out what we can do to change the situation."

Jesse added, "We'll want to go over your history and check everyone. There's got to be a relationship with someone that would cause Larry to go on the warpath against a brewer's salesman."

"Chop chop, Seamus. We've gotta get you out of here first, and we'll worry about the rest as we go along." Sam pantomimed for him to get into the bathroom and change into the clothes the other man cradled in his arms.

As soon as Seamus was dressed and his case was packed, Sam checked him out of the hotel and Jesse snuck him out the back where Fiona and Carlos waited in her car. It was a tight fit with everyone. Fortunately, Fiona didn't have far to drive. She drove them to the safe house, a small three-bedroom bungalow in the middle of a quiet residential area, and while Sam and Jesse hustled Seamus into the house through the back door, Fiona put the car in the garage. Carlos kept an eye out for anyone who might be spying on them. He smiled at her when she came out of the garage, and he clasped her hand in his and led her to the door. Inside, Sam peered through the front blinds. Jesse and Seamus were nowhere to be seen on the first floor.

"Jesse's showing Seamus to a room," Sam explained to Fi and Carlos. Every time he was in the same room as Mike's rival, it was all he could do to control his darker emotions and not sneer at him. He turned his head and found something more interesting to stare at when Carlos put an arm around Fi's shoulders. "Once they're done, we'll sit down and talk about this."

"I'll get some drinks for us. You want a beer, Sam," Carlos asked.

Sam's eyes squinted as he looked at him sideways. "No. Ice tea is fine."

Carlos obviously hadn't gotten the entire story from Fi, or he would have known when he did and didn't drink. Mike would have known better. Sam shook his head and rid himself of that thought. They had to concentrate on work, not on libations. Jesse and Seamus thumped down the stairs and joined everyone in the kitchen, where they all took chairs around a large, round wooden table.

"Okay, will someone please tell us what's going on?" Fi's eyes moved from Sam to Jesse and stopped at Seamus. "You're a quiet one. What have you got to do with this?"

"Seamus McFerrin," he said, extending a hand across the arc. "You must be the infamous Fiona Glenanne."

Her ear twitched at the sound of his brogue, and a slight smile crossed her lips. "Yes, I am. What of it?"

Sam answered, "In a nutshell, Larry wants Seamus dead. We haven't figured out the reason why yet, but we'll work on that tonight." Sam folded his hands around the sweaty glass before him. "Larry hired Jesse and me to locate Seamus and tell him where he is so Larry could kill him. He claims he doesn't care about you, but I would bet dollars to donuts that he wants to take you down out of pure spite. He was probably hoping that you would get in on the search."

"Well, I hope you're not thinking that Carlos and I are staying here tonight." Fiona flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked at Sam as if he asked her for an outrageous favor. "We've got a job to finish up, and then we'll help you boys. Deal?"

"I don't think that's such a great idea right now, Fi." Sam's words and his wary expression warned her.

Jesse asked, "What's this job you're doing?"

"It's nothing you need to be worrying about, just an arms deal. And maybe if we're lucky, we'll nab ourselves a felon in the process," Fiona purred, a smile on her face but her eyes still locked on Seamus. "You look mighty familiar to me, Mr. McFerrin."

Seamus smiled. "You can call me Seamus, Ms. Glenanne. Ye probably remember me from the old days. I ran around with a bad crowd when I was a teen and into my early twenties."

"Yes, I remember now. You worked with O'Neal." Anger filled her voice as she asked, "Sam, what the hell are you and Jesse doin' helpin' this scumbag?"

"Former scumbag, Fi," Jesse responded. "He needs our help."

Sam and Jesse told the story of how Larry recruited them, but Fiona wasn't completely convinced. She sat with her arms crossed and her back pressed into the chair, the side of her thumb running over the end of one nail, back and forth, as she worked out everything in her head. Carlos studied her, an outsider in this and not sure what he would be doing. They had a job to do before either of them got involved, and he hoped that she hadn't forgotten about that.

"Fi, we really have to get going." Carlos glanced at his watch. "We're meeting them at nine, remember? And we still have to get things together."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Fiona drawled with a sigh as she pushed the chair back. "I'm still not liking your plan, Sam. Larry's going to find him sooner or later, and then we'll see what's really happening." She stood and turned from the table, and over her shoulder she said, "We'll be back by eleven p.m. Any later and..."

She didn't have to finish the sentence, because Sam and Jesse knew what she meant. Whatever Fiona and Carlos got sucked into, it was dangerous, and Sam itched to help, but he had a man to protect. After Fi and Carlos left, Sam made dinner and the three settled in for a long session of poker. He kept checking his watch to see what time it was, waiting for Fi to return. Around ten, he heard an engine in the driveway and went to the back door to peer out into the darkness. The light over the garage was rigged to turn on when there was movement, and it shone on Fiona's car. The sigh Sam released was audible, causing Jesse and Seamus to stare at him.

"Is everything okay," Seamus asked, uncertainty in his tone. His hand that held the cards tapped on the table with quick, short movements.

"Fi and Carlos are here," Sam replied as someone banged on the door in a rhythm that matched the soft tamping of the cards on the table. Sam unlocked the door and opened it, and Carlos stumbled inside, holding onto his side. His shirt was stained red. "Carlos... what the hell happened?"

"It was bad, Sam, really bad." Carlos winced as he stopped in the middle of the kitchen and grimaced, his eyes slits of pain as he sensed Jesse and Seamus staring at him.

"Where's Fi?" Sam searched the darkness and didn't see her.

"She... I don't know." He panted and leaned a hand against the counter, fighting to stay on his feet. Blood dripped onto the floor.

"Whaddya mean you don't know!" Enraged, Sam slammed the door and went outside to search for her.

"Come on, man, you better go lay down on the couch," Jesse said. "Seamus, can you get me a pile of supplies? They're in the upstairs bathroom."

"Aye." Seamus ran up the stairs to get the things Jesse needed while he helped Carlos into the living room and dropped him onto the couch.

Sam returned, slamming the door again and still in a rage. His footsteps thudded on the floor as he entered the living room. "She's not in the car. Where'd you leave her? I swear if you don't tell me..."

"Sam, settle down," Jesse said with a soft voice as he kept Sam at bay. "He's out, man. Carlos lost a lot of blood. He's lucky he made it back here, and I'm betting that in his condition he couldn't have driven far." He paused and licked his lips, not sure he should be sending Sam off on this mission. "Maybe you can find her."

"Where are his keys? I'll find Fi. Somehow I'll find her."

Jesse handed him the keys. Seamus came downstairs with the things Jesse needed and Sam glared at the supplies and Carlos. "Sammy, man, I know what you're thinking. I'm not taking that road. I'm gonna do whatever I can to help him."

"Yeah. If Fi's dead, Mike'll wanna kill Carlos himself." Sam turned on his heel and left the house. A few moments later, he squealed the tires on Fi's car as he pulled out of the driveway and down the street. There were two ways he could go, but Sam had a pretty good handle on where Fi liked to do her transactions. He would check the closest ones and hopefully he would find her. The first stop was only a couple miles from the safe house. Since he bought the place and wanted it to stay secure, Sam doubted that Fi would use it. He checked anyway. The park was clear. Half disappointed, he moved on to the next location, and he was only a block away when he saw red flashers and emergency vehicles. Cops were everywhere, along with firefighters and paramedics. Sam recognized the silhouette of Fi's body wrapped in a blanket on the gurney. One of the paramedics held a bag over her as they loaded her into the ambulance.

Sam could breathe a little easier knowing that Fi was getting medical attention, yet he worried at the seriousness of her situation. He stopped outside the circle of activity and approached a cop guarding the scene from bystanders. The cop saw him out of the corner of his eye and held out a hand to stop him.

"Sorry, Sir, you can't get any closer."

Sam responded, his eyes glued to the ambulance. "What happened here?"

"A shooting. The detectives don't know what happened yet, but they'll sort it out. You should go back to your car and head home."

"That's where I was trying to go," Sam lied. "That woman, is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know anything," the cop blurted and gave Sam a warning stare.

"Okay, fine. I'm leaving." Sam turned and hurried to Fi's car. He couldn't get back to the safe house fast enough for his taste. If Carlos was still alive, Jesse would have to keep him from wringing the man's neck. Mike would never have abandoned her like that. He would have done what he could for her at the expense of his own life. Sam swallowed against the hard lump in his throat. In the darkness behind the wheel, he whispered, "Mike, where are you? Fi needs you. Now."

He arrived at the house and parked in the garage, and Sam's eyes kept watch on the shadows on his way to the back door. He had no information on this deal gone bad, and for all he knew, it could have been Larry setting up Fiona. The whole thing was making his head spin. Frustration welled up inside, and it would continue to gnaw at him until he figured out how everything fell into place.

Jesse and Seamus sat at the kitchen table under the hanging lamp, the halo of light creating stark shadows on their faces. They looked at him with expectation. Jesse relaxed his grip on the gun that lay on the table. "Hey, Sam. Is Fi okay? Where is she?"

"I would guess she's at Jackson by now," Sam answered and dropped into the chair across from Seamus. "I found where the deal went bad and they were just putting Fi into the ambulance, so I have no idea what her injuries are or how serious they might be." He dropped his head into his hands. "The cops were all over the place, so there was no way I was gonna get any info or clues as to who did this." He raised his head and asked, "Has Studly Do-Wrong awakened yet?"

"No, he's still out. Sam, he should really be in a hospital."

"Yeah, and there goes any chance of finding out what he knows. After tonight the cops'll be all over anyone who shows up with a gunshot wound."

Seamus gave Sam a nervous smile. "I have this feelin' that you fellas are no strangers to trouble like this."

"If you only knew…." Jesse trailed off, the memories of too many bad missions nagging him.

"You think this Larry fella would go through this much trouble for me?"

"He would," Sam responded with a sour expression. "Larry Sizemore likes to kill people, and anyone who has anything to do with Fi or Michael Westen is in his sights."

"Michael Westen," Seamus whispered. "I've heard of him. He's some superspy, so I've heard. I thought he was freelancin'."

Despite the fact that he and Jesse were protecting an innocent man, Sam was still wary of giving away too much information. He answered, "He was, but not anymore. Mike's deep into something, and that's all I can say. Sorry, Shay."

The corner of Seamus' mouth tipped up at the shortening of his name. "'S alright. Hey, anyone want somethin' to drink? I, uh, had a few bottles of my family's brew in my luggage, for personal consumption. It was declared and all, honest!" He grinned. "Anyway, how 'bout a swig or two?"

"I'm not in a drinking mood," Sam said. He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. "I'm going to try to get some sleep upstairs. Jesse, first watch?"

"You bet. Get some rest."

"Thanks. I'll probably be back down soon, but I'll give it a shot. 'Night, guys." Sam headed for the stairs and his feet thumped up the steps.

At the top, he discovered that Seamus took possession of the first room on the left. The bathroom and another bedroom were on the right, so he headed for one to wash up and prepare for bed, and in the other room he fell onto the mattress fully clothed. Being on alert, there was no way he would undress and leave himself vulnerable. He tucked his handgun under the pillow next to him before his hand caressed it, thinking of Elsa. He hadn't heard from her, which is how it should be when he was dark. He switched out the SIM card on his phone so no personal information would fall into the wrong hands, not that she would call him or he could contact her. He knew her number by heart, but he would never call Elsa while he was on a job. He did that only once, and it almost cost him his life.

Why Mike loved the spy business was beyond Sam's comprehension. Sam was tired of it, from the exotic but shabby locations to the constant stress of being vigilant to danger, bad food, bad lodging, and the headaches that the spy life afforded. He couldn't get comfortable from tossing, turning, flinging his limbs out to take up the space, and finally he decided that sleep was a lost cause. He got up and prepared to tiptoe past Seamus' room, but the Irishman wasn't in it. The door stood wide open and the room was unoccupied. He glanced at his watch and discovered that it was after one in the morning, so somehow he managed to doze off for a little while. He descended to the first floor and found Seamus in the kitchen alone with two empty bottles that had once held Broken Fiddle beer.

"Shay, I thought for sure you'd be in bed by now," Sam said and studied the man with the droopy eyes.

"I wanted to, Sam, but I'm too afraid now. All this talk about Larry bein' such a cold-blooded killer, well, it's worse than some of the grim stories me grandmother told me as a child." He shivered. "Frightening stuff. Should be illegal to tell children such things before bedtime."

Sam smirked. "I remember hearing a few of those myself but I've experienced more horrifying things in my life since then."

"I can imagine." Seamus motioned for Sam to sit at the table. "Come on, now, try some of my beer."

"Wait a second. Where's Jesse?" Sam peered into the darkness in the living room.

Seamus pointed toward doorway. "Last I saw him, he was checkin' on Claros, I mean, Carlos." He finished off the third bottle. "I got one left. Ye want it?" He jiggled the open bottle in Sam's direction and smiled. "Ye'll be hurtin' me feelin's if ye don't."

Sam sighed and took a seat. "Okay, maybe just a little."

Seamus grinned like a little kid and jumped up from his seat. "Fine, I'll get ye a glass." Seamus retrieved a glass from the cupboard, poured some beer into it, and delivered it to Sam's place at the table. He set the bottle before him. "There ye go, just in case ye change yer mind."

Sam picked up the glass and examined the amber liquid with a healthy head. Like a wine connoisseur, he sniffed it before taking a sip. The robust flavor danced around on his tongue before he swallowed, and he smiled at Seamus. "Wow. That's some good stuff!"

Seamus grinned and nodded. "See, I told ye. I hope I can recover my samples, and if I do, there'll be more to taste."

"We'll see what we can do. First thing is to get to the bottom of this thing with you and Larry." Sam took a larger swig, followed by another until the glass was empty.

"Surely you're not gonna let that brew go to waste now," Seamus said as Sam set the empty glass on the table.

"Sorry, Shay. That's my limit for tonight. I don't like to drink this late on an empty stomach." A strange feeling started working up from deep inside. "I think that was more than enough." Nausea hit him, but he held it at bay. He looked around, sensing that something was wrong and his increasingly fuzzy mind realized that Jesse still hadn't come into the kitchen. No doubt he would have heard Sam and Seamus conversing and come to join them. "Jesse? Jess?"

When he stood, Sam didn't think his legs would hold him. Somehow they'd turned to jelly, and as he shuffled to the living room the wavering sensation reminded him of being on the high seas on a Navy ship in the middle of a storm. But he was on dry land. His vision blurred, and he lost his balance and staggered into a corner shoulder first. The pain took his breath away for a moment and he rubbed it. He turned back to Seamus who stared at Sam with a look of fear and incomprehension on his face.

"Sam. Sam, what's happening?"

"I… I don't know." He reached the doorway to the living room and spied Jesse on the floor. He appeared to be unconscious. Sam spun around to face Seamus, and he grabbed his shirt front. "Wh-what did you do to my friend? What happened to Jesse?"

Seamus stood before him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish fighting for a breath. "I don't know what you're talkin' about. I didn't do anything to him."

Sam took a step forward and pulled on Seamus' shirt until only inches passed between them. "What did you put into that beer? I was fine until I drank it."

"I swear to ye, I don't know what's goin' on! Please, Sam, ye gotta snap outta this!"

The only snapping Sam was going to do was with his arm. He tried so hard to stay on his feet, but it was impossible. He released Seamus and he lost consciousness, sinking to the floor, his forearm cracking against the ceramic tile floor.

"Sam! Sam!" Seamus dropped to his side to check for a sign of life. "Aye, yer still breathin'. That's good. That's real good." Seamus checked on Jesse before pulling a cell phone from his pocket. He dialed and waited for the voice on the other end before he reported with a distinct lack of brogue. "I've got them. We're at eighteen seventy two Brookwood. Porter and Axe are still alive, but I don't think this Carlos guy is doing so well."

"I want him alive," Larry barked. "He's not worth much to my plan, but if he knows anything about where Michael Westen is, he could be valuable."

"Yes, Sir. I'll prep 'em for transport."

"The van will be there in about ten minutes. Think you can tie them up? Don't screw this up, Kid, or you'll be joining them all in the 'glades later. Or the sea." Larry chuckled, the cold rumbling setting Seamus on edge. "I haven't decided yet where I'm depositing them." He cleared his throat and sobered. "You just worry about getting my friends ready for the van. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Sizemore. You can count on me."