“Whatever’s going on, we’re going to get to the bottom of it,” Hawke said. “Did you speak with Lund about finding out who was behind the Boston raid?”
She nodded. “He’s looking into it.” Her phone rang, and she pulled it from her pocket to see a short text message.
“Who is it?” Hawke said. “Lund?”
“No. It’s Danny. Danny Devlin.”
“Ah.” He knew who Devlin was. He had heard plenty of good and bad stories about him — the good ones mostly from Lea and the bad ones from Richard Eden. Lea had contacted him when they found out Camacho was unavailable for the mission with the hope he could provide another pair of hands. “What does he say?”
Ryan smirked. “He says that if the guy he’s replacing has got third degree carpet burns on his arse he’s not teaming up with Cairo Sloane under any circumstances.”
“Stop talking bullshit,” Scarlet said. “They weren’t on his arse.”
“I don’t even want to think about that,” Kim said.
Lea sighed. “He says he’s ready to go as soon as we pick him up.”
“And where is he?”
“Flynn’s on Harry Street.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Scarlet said.
CHAPTER NINE
Flynn’s Bar on Harry Street was in a shroud of drizzle, and the intricate graphics on its front window shone in the lights of their hired Ford Explorer as Hawke parked up outside. When Lea emerged from the SUV she pulled up her jacket collars and tried to keep the Irish weather at bay.
“Good job Camacho isn’t here,” Scarlet said. “He hates shitty weather like this.”
“Why isn’t he here again?” Ryan said as he pushed inside the pub. “Something about a serious penile fracture sustained in an attempt to reproduce the Kama Sutra’s notoriously demanding Overpass position?”
Scarlet stared at him. “To say I worry about you would suggest I give a damn, but let’s just say I have my concerns.”
“We all have our concerns about him,” Lea said, turning to Ryan. “And where was the friggin’ Kama Sutra when we were married, you big gobdaw?”
“Still can’t believe you two were married,” Kim said. “Talk about opposites attracting.”
“We don't like to talk about it,” Lea said. She glared at her ex-husband. “Do we, Ry?”
“No,” he said meekishly. “Apparently not.”
The chit-chat was interrupted by the booming voice of Danny Devlin as he crossed over from the bar to the door. “Well, if it isn’t Lea Donovan!” He gave her a squeeze and kissed her on the cheek. Taking a step back he looked at the rest of the team. “And this time she’s brought the cavalry! So this is the famous ECHO team?”
“It is, Danny,” Lea said.
“And you’re the famous Josiah Hawke?”
Hawke saw a flash of concern in Lea’s eyes at the use of his full name, but he didn’t mind, and fixed Devlin in the eye as he shook his hand. He was a few years older than the Englishman, and looked slightly the worse for wear. Lea had told him that her former Commandant liked a few drinks and a good time and it looked like it, but the hand grip was strong. Devlin wanted to show him he was no pushover, and both men knew a handshake like a wet fish would certainly give that impression.
“Lea’s told me a lot about you,” Hawke said.
“Not all bad, I hope.”
“No,” Hawke said, ending the world’s most awkward handshake. “Not all.”
“So, a former Royal Marines Commando, huh?” Devlin said. “The real thing or a rubber dagger?”
“Rubber what?” Ryan said.
“Reserve commando,” Hawke said, turning from the young man to Devlin. “I was in the regulars.”
“I heard that because a woman passed the All Arms Commando Course the Paras started calling you guys the Royal Maureens.”
Hawke paused a beat before replying, not sure how Lea expected him to behave around her old boss and former lover. “Not to my face they haven’t.”
“And after that he was in the SBS,” Lea said.
Hawke sighed inwardly. He could see what she was doing, but he hated it when people made a big show of his Special Forces background.
“Was that you guys who raided the Iranian Embassy?” Devlin said with a devilish grin on his face.
“You know damn well it was the SAS, Danny,” Lea said. “Stop being a fool.”
“It was the SAS,” Hawke said. “Tell me, when was the last time you guys got a mission in the Irish Rangers? Wasn’t it when a cat got stuck up a tree in Cork?”
Devlin’s grin grew wider and he nodded his head. “This man of yours isn’t just an ugly face, Lea!”
She slapped his shoulder. “I told you that!”
Hawke wasn’t sure if this was a compliment or not, and didn’t have time to consider it, either. He knew Lea and Danny Devlin were old friends but he could already see they had their own little dynamic going on. Truth was, he wasn’t sure where to file Danny Devlin, but Lea said he was a good man and he knew he’d helped save her life in Ireland. He respected Lea, and so he decided to give Devlin the benefit of the doubt.
Lexi stepped up and jabbed Devlin in the chest with her forefinger. “And what the hell,” she said, “is wrong with a woman passing the commando course?”
Devlin looked surprised but then laughed. “Nothing at all.”
“Good. I could pass it with you on my back, Mr Devlin,” she said.
“From what I heard,” Hawke said, “the only woman to pass the AACC did it in different sessions, not in one go.”
“Don’t you start,” Lexi said, putting her hands on her hips. “Have I got to do this damned course carrying both of you on my back?”
They laughed and it was over, but then Devlin said, “No woman ever passed P Company.”
Hawke’s patience was wearing thin. Devlin was an army man and knew the rivalary between the Paras and the Marines. He was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him but he wasn’t going to let it happen.
“We need drinks,” Scarlet said. “And then we talk business.”
Devlin introduced them to Jake O’Hara, the publican. “Finally got the place fixed up,” Jake said, polishing a pint glass. He looked briefly at Devlin and then back to Lea. “The last time you came in here I ended up spending thousands of euros getting the place back together. I hope nothing like that’s gonna happen again?”
“Don’t be silly,” Lea said. “What do you think — that I spend my whole life getting shot at?”
Hawke and the rest of the team produced a fake laugh and Jake put the pint glass under the Guinness tap.
“Good,” Jake said as the glass slowly filled up. He pushed it over to Devlin who paid for it and they all walked back over to a table in the corner.
“So what’s this all about?” the Irishman said. He glanced at each of them in turn before his eyes settled on his former lover. “I don’t hear from you for months and then you send a text saying you need me.”
“We’re a man down,” Hawke said.
“Dead?” Devlin asked.
“Worse,” said Ryan, pausing a beat for effect. “He’s in traction after a debauched weekend in Vegas with Cairo.”
Scarlet’s elbow swiftly connected with the young man’s ribs and he spat out a mouthful of Guinness in response. “He’s engaged on a CIA mission,” she said over the top of his gasps.
“And since we were in Ireland,” Lea said. “I thought — why not?”
“I did save your backside when those French nutjobs came over to trash your father’s cottage. Anyway — you look prettier than ever,” he said. “You’re a lucky man, Joe Hawke.”
Before he could reply, Devlin said, “So, is anyone going to tell me what’s going on or not?”