“So, what have you brought me?” he asked even before he’d released his grip on Andy’s hand.
“If what I’ve been led to believe is true, it’s something that our respective friends will find quite interesting,” Andy replied smoothly.
“And what do you know of my friends?” the Sealion asked warily.
“I expect as much as you know about mine, maybe even more.”
When he saw the twinkle in Andy’s eye, the Sealion’s smile returned. “Well, let us not waste any time then. Show me what you’ve brought me.”
As if leery of being overheard, even after they’d returned to the car and driven off, O’Conner waited until they were well out of Little Odessa before speaking. “Now what?”
“I wait,” Andy replied enigmatically.
“For what?”
“For someone to call and tell me to come home or…”
“Or?”
Realizing he’d spoken before fully engaging his brain, Andy did his best to snicker. “Or until I get tired of this god-awful heat. I don’t think the temperature has dropped below thirty since I’ve arrived.”
“Welcome to summer in New York, and it’s ninety, not thirty!” O’Conner snickered. Then, after a moment’s silence, a thought occurred to him. “Instead of cooling your heels here in the Big Apple, if that’s at all possible, doing whatever it is you do when not prodding hapless Paddies with a bayonet, how’d you like to join me for a little trip to central Pennsylvania this weekend?”
Having managed to get a measure of what the American took to be an irreverent and off-color sense of humor, Andy didn’t take offense at his comment concerning his work. Instead, he asked what was worth his while in central Pennsylvania.
“Gettysburg,” O’Conner beamed. “I’m a member of the 69th New York Volunteer Infantry, a living history group. This upcoming weekend just happens to be a reenactment marking that battle’s 125th anniversary.”
Never having made the time to attend a historical reenactment, despite his love of history, Andy was intrigued, but demurred. “I don’t know. Standing around, watching a bunch of guys chasing each other and firing black powder blanks doesn’t impress me as being a particularly pleasant way of spending a weekend.”
“Who said anything about standing around?” O’Conner countered.
“I hardly think I’d fit in, mate. Besides being British, a fact you seem to take great delight in reminding me of, I’ve not the kit.”
“Didn’t you say you were half Irish and a mackerel snapper to boot?” O’Conner said.
“My father’s side, though unlike yours, me old man did his damnedest to keep that a family secret,” Andy replied.
“Well, I guess it’s true when they say nobody’s perfect.” O’Conner sighed before going on. “As to fitting in, well, you’ve no need to worry about that. The Fighting 69th was made up of Irishmen fresh off the boat, lads eager to prove their mettle. And when it comes to a kit, you’re not to worry. We always have more than enough for walk-ons like you.”
After giving it some thought, Andy nodded. “What the hell. I don’t expect it would hurt to give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“You’ll like it,” O’Conner replied.
5
When he entered the room, Tommy made straight for Andy’s desk. Pausing in front of it, he planted his fists on his hips and leaned forward. “Did I hear right?” he spat as Andy hit the alt-S key to save what he’d been working on before looking up at Tommy.
“You heard right,” he finally informed Tommy in a calm, no-nonsense tone of voice. “From now on it’s strictly hands off the Morpeth case. Ed Telford called me last night and told me Ian McDonnell and his people will take it from here.”
“If they don’t fuck it up, the Romanians will,” Tommy spat. “You know that and I know that.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I hope they don’t. I hope they manage to run that bastard to ground and finally put him out of business. God knows it’s long overdue,” Andy added as his voice began to trail away. Then he heaved a great sigh. “But, if they don’t.”
“If they don’t, the little shit will just go somewhere else, set up shop, and keep raising hell.”
Having no wish to argue with Tommy, Andy shrugged as he threw his hands out to his sides, palms up. “Insha’Allah.”
“Insha’Allah my arse,” Tommy spat as he took one more hard look into Andy’s dispassionate eyes before turning about and storming over to his desk, where he plopped down in his seat. “Insha’ bloody Allah,” he muttered bitterly.
Deciding he wasn’t going to get anything done for a while, not with his very own Welshman in residence sitting in the corner grumbling to himself under his breath, Andy checked his watch before standing up. “I’m going to head out and take a run through the park.”
Out of simple curiosity, Spence had followed Andy one day just to see if he really did jog about Battersea Park. What she learned during that secretive sortie proved to be far more enlightening than she’d hoped, for it had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt her boss really did have a thing for redheads. It also put to rest a nasty rumor Tommy had shared with her once quite by accident.
That Spence knew about the little game he and the red-haired female jogger engaged in had become obvious one day when she asked him who the girl was. Never having been one who wore his heart on his sleeve, Andy’s reply was as enigmatic as the expression he wore. “The one who got away.” Since that day, whenever he announced he was headed out for a run, Spence would always regard him with a knowing smile and wish him luck, an exchange that never failed to cause Tommy’s ears to perk up.
On this day, when Spence did so, Tommy stopped his muttering as he watched the pair for a moment out of the corner of his eye. Only after Andy had left did he spin about in his seat and openly address Spence. “That’s it?” he spat.
Lost in a faraway thought, Spence needed to give her head a quick shake to clear away a most untimely thought before turning to face Tommy. “That’s what?”
Tommy pinned her with a scathing glare. “You’re not going to say a word, not one peep, are you?”
Realizing what he was driving at, Spence drew herself up. “I happen to agree with Andy.”
“Aye, I expect you would, Little Miss Muffet,” Tommy snapped.
Feigning indignation, Spence rolled her office chair away from her desk, spun around, and planted her fists on her hips. “And what exactly do you mean by that comment?” she snipped.
Realizing his days of getting the better of the feisty American girl were a thing of the past, Tommy reined in his ire. “I can’t believe the two of you are going to do nothing but sit about while that bastard is out there, raising hell.”
“And what, may I ask, would you have us do, Mr. Tyler? As much as I hate to admit it, there are some things that are beyond our capabilities. Were we to set off on an ill-advised crusade against the Sealion, odds are we’d only alert him we, the good guys, were on to him.”
“And you think those half-wits who work for McDonnell won’t?”
Despite knowing full well Tommy had a point, Spence refused to yield to him on that or any other point, choosing instead to change tack. “Dealing with the likes of the Sealion is beyond our purview,” she announced haughtily. “Were we to even try and then mucked things up, it would be us, and not the Sealion, who McDonnell and his lads came after.”
Well aware she was right, but unwilling to let her have the last word in this exchange, Tommy drew back. “Will you listen to her? Purview! And just who the bloody hell do you think you are now, Jane fawkin’ Austen?”