“She started it.”
Andy didn’t repeat his warning to Tommy. He had no need to. The same cold, hard look he’d had come to appreciate was far more effective than words, a look he’d perfected when he’d been a young officer serving in Ireland, was all it took to rein Tommy in.
Unable to help herself, Spence looked up from the magazine she’d been flipping through. When she saw Tommy turn his attention back to what he had been doing, she grinned.
Once more glancing over his shoulder and seeing the triumphant expression on Spence’s face, Andy fixed her in a stare that wasn’t quite as severe, but was no less menacing. “Just what is it you’re looking for?”
“I read an article some time ago about a hacker who used various permutations of a single word to come up with the screen names he operated under,” she explained. “The way Liberty Valance went about generating his screen names caused me to wonder if that was a technique that was more common than I’d initially thought.”
Even as he was deciding if Spence’s curiosity was genuine, a niggling little thought began to bubble up in the deep recesses of Andy’s mind, a memory stirred by what she’d said.
Andy’s thoughtful expression caused Spence to stop what she’d been doing as she waited for him to mull it over. She wanted him to either tell her he knew where she’d find what she was looking for or suggest someplace else to look. She had no idea Andy’s thoughts had already drifted off in another direction, far removed from the matter she was interested in.
As was so often the case when Andy was unable to put to rest a concern he’d been dwelling on before retiring for the evening, sleep did not come easily that night. Even when it did, brief flashes of things he longed to forget passed through his restless mind.
Then, like a thunder clap, the answer to the question Spence had been searching for earlier in the day leapt to the fore, causing Andy to sit bolt upright in his bed. He had seen the same method used to select various screen names Spence had encountered. But it hadn’t been the subject of a magazine article. Rather, it had been in the real world, the one where he had learned his stock and trade the hard way, through trial and error just as Tommy had. Only Andy’s education had cost him far more than bits and pieces of computer hardware that had been tinkered with so much that they were of no use to anyone. The price of Andy’s indoctrination into the vicious world of cyberwarfare had been paid for with blood.
2
Having finished reading an old copy of An Phoblacht, Andy Webb set the paper aside before taking up the pint he’d been nursing for close to an hour. Ever so slowly he scanned the room, his eyes darting from one patron to another. Only when he was satisfied none of the regulars were paying him any mind did he fix his gaze on the door leading out onto the back alley, the one Collin Cassidy always used whenever he wished to avoid being spotted by a section of Brit soldiers who made a terrible hash of keeping an eye on the place.
In the wake of the corporals’ killings, Andy’s commanding officer had been more than reluctant to allow him to venture forth into Ardoyne, a working-class neighborhood that had been declared a “no-go” area by the Royal Ulster Constabulary. Andy had prevailed however, insisting that Collin Cassidy, a tout who’d been working for the army for a dozen years, wouldn’t have insisted on meeting him if it weren’t important. “The man’s got more to lose than I have if we’re had,” Andy pointed out to his colonel. “I’m only putting my life on the line. He’s risking his entire family.”
In response, the colonel grunted. “You bloody riflemen are all alike. Never happy unless you’re sticking your nose where it damned well shouldn’t be.”
With the brashness of a young subaltern who’d yet to feel the sting of war, and immensely proud of being a member of the Royal Green Jackets, Andy grinned. “Though I expect it’ll be more than my nose that’ll be out there tonight, it’s where I need to be, front and center where the action’s sharp.”
At the moment the cheek he’d used to win over specialist unit’s commanding officer was no longer evident. Even if the time on the old key-wound wall clock over the bar was right, which it seldom was, Cassidy was late, Andy concluded glumly. He once again looked about the crowded pub to see if his presence was causing any of the other patrons to give him more than a passing look. Though not known for being punctual, the man he relied upon to provide him with information no one else was able to come by was usually able to hit close to the mark he set himself. “Ten minutes, no more,” Andy muttered to himself under his breath. If the jolly old codger who made quite a show of playing the part of an affable fool didn’t show in ten minutes, he’d have little choice but to chalk this up to another rabbit hole he’d been led down by the bastard.
With a fanfare that brought an abrupt halt to every conversation in the place and caused heads to snap around, Collin Cassidy finally made his grand entrance. “Good evening, gents,” he declared as if all had been waiting for him to appear. “I hope you’re all in good health and enjoying this grand evening.”
Not even the most hard-bitten Provo was impervious to the antics of Collin Cassidy, a man whose mere presence had the ability to bring a smile to a corpse at its own wake. After sharing greetings with Cassidy and satisfied all was as it should be, everyone save Andy turned their attention back to what they’d been doing as Cassidy paused to look about the room. Only when he’d spotted Andy seated in the same corner booth he always occupied did Cassidy step aside and, with a quick nod of his head, signal someone who had been waiting in the alley to enter the pub.
The man stepped forward like a new boy being brought before the headmaster for the first time. It wasn’t his hesitancy that caused Andy to sit up and frown. Rather, it was an appreciation that even attired in Belfast mufti, the newcomer was a Brit soldier.
When he saw Andy’s expression, Cassidy’s ever-present grin broadened. It wasn’t often he managed to rattle the man who served as his contact with the Crown forces, so when he did he found himself utterly incapable or keeping it to himself. “And what news do you and the lads have to share with me tonight?” Cassidy asked as he strolled up to the booth, stood aside, and motioned to the Brit to slide into the bench seat across from Andy.
Making no effort to hold back, Andy leaned over the table as far as he could once Cassidy had joined the Brit. “What the fuckin’ hell do you mean by bringing him here like this?” he growled using his best Belfast brogue in order to keep the newcomer across from him from catching on they were both soldiers of the Queen.
“The lad refused to give up what he’s brought you, not to me at least, not until he saw the color of your money,” Cassidy explained as if the Brit wasn’t there listening to his every word. “Seems he don’t trust me.”
“Can you blame ’im?” Andy growled as his eyes slewed from Cassidy to the rather overweight and visibly nervous soldier. “Anyone who’d be fool enough to bring a Brit in here has got to be more than a bit daft.”
“That’s me,” Cassidy chirped as he caught the attention of the pub’s owner and held two fingers up by way of ordering a couple of beers. Being something of a regular, that was all Cassidy had to do here, and in just about any establishment in a part of Belfast all but governed by the RA.
Deciding it would be best if he concluded his business as quickly as possible and beat as hasty a retreat as was practicable, Andy turned his attention back to the Brit soldier. “What is it you’ve got to offer that’s valuable enough to come waltzing in here at a time like this?”