Stone of the Heart
The Tribute
"Fi! Fi!" He grabbed her by the elbow. "Is there a back door?"
"Down the alley to the left." Both operatives rushed to the rear of the building to see if there was a way in, if there were survivors. Five men were already emerging from the smoke as they arrived on the scene: Joe, the proprietor and the four men Fiona was planning to meet. They were all coughing, trying to expel the smoke from their lungs, some with cuts from the flying glass, but all seemed relatively intact.
Michael reached them first. "Anyone one else in there?" He was prepared to enter the building, to assist anyone needing help.
"We was just havin' a wee drop waitin' till Fiona got here. Toward the back we were." One of the men explained.
Then, Joe added, "I let Old Jimmy have one more even though it was past the time. He was just at the door when the bloody thing hit." There was a catch in the man's voice as he spoke the words. "He had no chance." Michael looked as if he was going in. "There's no need man, dead he is. We made sure afore we left."
Fiona looked devastated. A tear ran down her cheek.
"Old Jimmy?" Michael, a relative stranger here, wondered about the identity of the bomb's victim.
"You met him, McBride. Had a bit of craic the other night, ya did. He told ya to get yer arse over to her instead of moonin' about her." Michael swallowed hard remembering the night and the man at the bar offering his advice. He looked at Fiona wishing he could simply wipe away the pain he saw in her eyes.
"Did youse see anythin' from the street?" Another posed the question as the couple arrived just at the time of the blast.
Fiona answered, "White van blew past us on the road. Blacked out windows and plates. Same pattern."
"UVF? UDA?" The question posed about which opposing paramilitary group was likely responsible.
"Does it matter?" Fiona's tears were being replaced by a growing anger as another senseless killing had taken place. Another to be mourned. Another death to be avenged. The fact that she should have been entering the pub just at that moment was not lost on her, or the others. Someone knew a meet was to happen. This was no random act of violence.
The sound of sirens blaring grew louder. Joe shouted at those gathered, "That'll be the peelers. Off with youse, I'll tell the tale, that it was just me and Old Jimmy." The IRA men that had gathered in the pub barely escaping death, scattered, leaving Michael and Fiona alone with the pub owner. "Youse, too. Go on with ya or youse be spending yer night answerin' questions." Fiona acknowledged the sense of his advice and she led Michael away leaving the car behind.
Her body tensed as they made their way from the torched building, her anger rising with every step. Michael followed at her side, aware of her mounting fury. After a few blocks, she faced him. "Ya should go." Her eyes refused to meet his, her gaze back toward the smoke rising above the rooftops.
Michael wasn't exactly sure what her expression meant, but he was sure that Fiona Glenanne had been spurred to action of some kind. He stood immobile. "Don't think I will. I don't know what you have planned but I'm fairly certain I can help."
"Your help, is it? " Fiona's impatience grew. "I've been doin' just fine on me own, McBride." He grabbed her arm to stop her from storming off. She reared back, delivering a fist to his stomach.
"This isn't your fight, Michael." She barely looked his way.
Michael winced, the blow unexpected and painful. He spoke softly as she moved away. "Maybe I want it to be - since it's yours." The words, unprompted and sincere, gave her pause.
Fiona turned to face him. "Old Jimmy was a Fianna Boy back in the Rising. Later, he fought in the War against partition. Then, he joined us up here, continuin' the struggle. He was there from the beginning! I'll not have his murder unavenged just because Sinn Fein's sittin' down with Stormont havin' a wee chat." Her voice was laced with sarcasm.
Michael saw the woman was determined to cause some mayhem. He also was aware that had the minor traffic accident not slowed them down, it could have been themselves caught in the maelstrom. The American was not about to let her strike out on her own in her current state. She was likely to get herself jailed or worse if her thirst for revenge drove her actions. He needed to remain at her side, assist her in whatever misadventure she was planning. He told himself it was because she was a potential, valuable asset, but his heart knew the true reason.
She took a cold hard assessment of the man in front of her. Just because he supposedly ran some guns didn't make him a trained guerrilla. She had no idea if he had the skills necessary to survive on the streets of Belfast when bullets and bombs were flying. On the other hand, he didn't shy away from the pub explosion. He was ready to jump into the fray. "We need a car." A short statement but an implied partnership.
Michael smiled, as he understood his assistance had been temporarily accepted. He inclined his head toward the right hand side of the street. "Will that one do then?" He indicated a nondescript Ford on the side of the road. She nodded, removed her gun from her handbag, and covered the street as he began the task. Dogs could be heard barking in the neighbourhood as sirens continued to pierce the night. Michael quickly entered the targeted vehicle, hot-wiring it within moments, then both operatives made a speedy escape.
The woman gave directions, avoiding the main roads as much as possible. Michael was directed to a part of the city he was unfamiliar with, wondering if perhaps he misread her acceptance of help, and was headed to his own execution instead. Finally, they arrived, Fiona ordering the car to stop. Michael looked about the street, his senses on alert. Fiona picked up on his unease. "Safe house. Just need to get a few things. Be out in a minute." She exited the car and quickly disappeared through the doorway. His eyes scanned his surroundings. The spy wished he had brought along his weapon but he hadn't expected to need it on his 'date'. Next time, he would be more prepared whatever outing was planned.
She returned within minutes carrying a small holdall. "Drive. That way." She was in operational mode, barking out commands with ease.
"Hope you packed an extra gun in there for me. I have a notion I might be needin' a bit of protection." He kept his eyes on the road.
"Can ya shoot? I'm not wantin' my wheel man to shoot his own foot off." Fiona saw too many men create a false narrative about their abilities in the field in an effort to impress her.
Michael smiled, "Trust me. I can handle it." For some reason, she believed him. She reprimanded herself silently for trusting this man she barely knew. Just because he was a good lover did not mean he belonged out here in the field but for some reason it felt right to have him by her side.
She placed a clip in one of the weapons from her bag and passed it to Michael hoping she had not made a deadly error in trusting the man. "Spare clip, as well. Just in case." He added the request as he kept his eyes on the road. He wanted to have ammunition at the ready fearing he was being led into an unknown battle.
She tossed a clip beside him. Then, added another. "Better to be prepared." This time their eyes met and they shared a conspiratorial smile. The drive continued, Michael weaving through town, finally understanding where they were headed. He shot a knowing glance in her direction. She answered his wordless query. "Not too late to back out, McBride." He refocused his attention forward gunning the engine as his response.
As they drove into the Loyalist area, the die was cast. Michael had committed to an exercise that Tom Card would never have approved no matter how valuable an asset she was. She set to work removing a knife as well as a homemade explosive from her holdall, attaching wires with the skill of the experienced. Once her device was constructed to her satisfaction, she was ready. "Turn down the third street on the left. When we come to the stop sign, slow down but don't stop. I'll pop out quick as ya like." She paused to be sure he was following along. "Drive around the block once and park nearby the brick house on the corner. I'll meet ya there." She waited for confirmation. A nod of his head was noted and the operation was ready to begin.
Rain had begun falling softly, a hazy mist in the air. He slowed to a crawl, lights doused, allowing her a moment to exit the car without incident. He continued down the road just as she had explained but watched her through the rear view mirror for several moments. She darted behind a wall and scanned the street from the shadows. He turned the corner and proceeded around the block. Once returned, he parked at the end of the road, giving himself additional room should something go 'boom' as he anticipated. He had a good view of Fiona as she strode over to a vehicle, bent down, and placed her device on the undercarriage.
The rain started getting stronger. As she completed her task, she looked for him at the designated spot and saw an empty space instead. Her heart skipped a beat wondering if perhaps he abandoned her, either through intent or his own fear, but soon noticed his presence, a smile crossing her face. She skipped lightly through the puddles hurrying to the spot where he was waiting, pulling her raincoat tightly around her. Michael split his attention between surveying the area for signs of trouble and watching the woman who was captivating his mind. Just an hour before they had been relaxed, enjoying dinner out as couples do routinely, now he was assisting her in a covert operation of her choosing.
She reached the car, opening the door, and jumping inside, her clothes dripping from the wet. "Why'd ya park so far away?" Her voice reflected the irritation she felt.
"I didn't want to be blocked in." Michael was no stranger to these types of operations. He had his own way of doing things. He was open to helping her but fully intended to provide his own expertise, his own experience, when a situation warranted it. In this case it made more operational sense to give the area a wider berth, increasing the chances of getting away clean. She looked annoyed that he had not followed her directions implicitly. An explosion rocked the street. Then he added his main reason. "I had a notion you were doing more than slashing the tyres." He gazed at her lovingly. She truly fascinated him in every way possible.
She leaned in closer. "You think you know me, McBride?"
He leaned in closer still. "I'm learning." Their lips were about to meet. An explosion larger than the first interrupted the moment as glass shattered, raining down on the once quiet street. Her passion was ignited by the firestorm as her lips hungrily reached for his. The threat of death, the smell of violence, fuelled her emotions, heightened her senses. As much as he wished to continue in this vein, an immediate escape was essential. He pulled away from her lips and the curb, fleeing the scene before others gathered outside.
They dumped the car several blocks away and took to the streets. Both knew it was important to separate. If they had been spotted near the explosion, a search would begin for the car and it's occupants. A couple snogging in a car might be the description given so they would insure they were neither a couple, nor be driving a car. "Meet ya back at my place?" She smiled hoping he would agree to the plan. A slight nod of his head and they disappeared into the night.
Walking through the streets of Belfast in the rain, Michael began to have reservations. No one was hurt in the explosion but he had no idea what he had just accomplished, who was targeted. He needed a few answers before he sunk too deep. He seemed to be veering further and further from his assigned task. His involvement with Fiona was getting complicated. Was she just an asset or something more?
His thoughts unexpectedly turned to his fiancée, or was she now his ex-fiancée for all practical purposes. Samantha. Another betrayal. Another layer of guilt. He tried to avoid thinking about her at all costs. At first, he simply wanted to concentrate on the mission, keep his focus objective, use whatever asset was the most expedient path. Then, he met HER, turning the mission, and his life, upside down.
Samantha would have understood romancing an asset, and she might even have understood sleeping with an asset, but it was doubtful that she would have accepted him developing feelings for that asset.
He agreed to the spontaneous proposal because it seemed less complicated than refusing, after all being with her was exceptionally easy, he thought he might even love her. Now, he realised those feelings were a pale imitation of love. Being with Fiona these past few days was in another realm all together. It was chaotic, consuming, anything but easy, yet he had never felt so alive.
Michael realised an uncomfortable conversation would need to take place once he returned stateside. This was not something that could be handled with a hurried phone call or a cryptic message through Langley. She deserved a face-to-face. The fact remained that there would be no future wedding, at least not with Samantha. But these were thoughts for another day; right now he needed to find his way back, back to Fiona.
He was not as familiar with the streets in this part of town. Fearing he could become hopelessly lost, he simply 'borrowed' another vehicle dumping it off in another part of town, and then travelling the rest of the way on foot.
When he arrived, Fiona had already discarded her wet things and was curled up with a cup of tea, a towel wrapped around her. "There ya are. I was beginning to think ya got yourself nicked."
"I took the scenic route." He grinned and settled by her side. She put the cup down and was ready to remove the towel, but his hand stayed the anticipated movement. "What just happened back there?"
Fiona was anxious to resume where they had left off in the car but she could see that romance was not on Michael's mind at the moment. "A bit of payback in honour of Old Jimmy, I suppose. It seemed fittin' to give them a taste of their own medicine and a tribute to Jimmy that would have delighted him to no end."
"Won't that make things escalate? Thought the idea was to give everyone time to broker a peace of some sort. Keep the ceasefire." Michael wondered if this Irish rebel had just sent the whole peace process back a good many years.
She smiled, a hint of the devil in her eye. "That's why I used one of their own devices. Came across it fortuitously one day and have been saving it for a special occasion. Should confuse the hell out of all of them and keep the 'RA lookin' like innocent victims. " She waited to see how he would react.
Michael cocked his head to one side, staring at her in wonder at the ingenuity of her plan. Then, a huge grin spread across his face. She noted his pleased expression. She often let her emotions dictate her actions but they were rarely foolhardy ventures. "Satisfied?"
"Not yet." He loosened the towel letting it drop to the floor, his mind no longer interested in explosions and politics.
They cheated death tonight; a backdrop for romance that only this couple could appreciate. Tomorrow, questions would need answers, actions would need to be reassessed, and a death would need to be mourned. Tonight, Tom Card, Samantha, the CIA seemed to be players in another life. Tonight, Michael and Fiona, operatives and lovers, revelled in being alive.