Chapter 19
I woke to find Uncle Sean having coffee with two of his church elder women. They seemed to be complaining about flowers in and around the church. When I entered the kitchen Uncle Sean had the look of a man just rescued from the jaws of a beating. After introductions and the usual pleasantries they left and I started to ask questions.
“How is your head Boy?”, Uncle Sean. He prided himself on being able to consume more beer than anyone in our family and come away free of all drinks ills. I was not in his class when it came to drinking. Or many other things.
“Nothing a little coffee won’t cure.” In truth it would take a lot of coffee and a breakfast to get me back to almost normal. “Tell me what you are planning for today? I like to know what I am getting into.”
“I remember. My no surprises nephew.” If nothing else he knew me well. At least the me that I portrayed in public. He never asked about the private me and I was glad for that.
“You know the story that begins with ‘I have a friend’. Well I have a friend.” A line delivered with a smile that even made his blue eyes seem to twinkle.
He went on to explain his idea. In what seems like another lifetime; Uncle Sean ministered to people, as he always put it, “involved in the Irish struggle for an identity”. For a priest he had acquaintances in very strange places.
As a young priest he had given sanctuary to a wounded man that had become a lifelong friend. One Dylan Collins had grown up a good Catholic with a hatred for authority and anyone that was in a position to wield it. A near death wound, at the age of twenty, and a lifelong friendship with Uncle Sean changed his ways and he took up a more settled life in the country. That was the story everyone was led to believe.
The reality was that he engaged in activities that my uncle called “unfortunate but in some ways necessary”. Dylan Collins was a dealer in fine art whose owner was in question. He sold to private buyers of the type that held collections of art and artifacts that were not open to the public for view. In this line of work, Dylan, came into contact with anyone and everyone that moved merchandise illegally through Europe. Including Jimmy Bailey.
We drove west out of Cavan to a place that Uncle Sean seemed out of place even walking through the front door. The Radison Blu Farnham Estate Hotel. A little bit of quality in the middle of nowhere. We found Dylan exactly where I was told he would be. Sitting in the hotels restaurant impatiently waiting for us to arrive so he could share a lunch with an old friend. Dylan Collins already knew why we were there but any talk of business was at least two hours away and only after a good meal, more drinks than I wanted to see after the previous night and the reminiscing of old friends. I was happy when coffee arrived.
Once his coffee cup was in his hand Dylan turned to me and said, “Lay out your story for us and lets see if we can find away to help. I know the basics now give me the specifics.”
I went through the entire story, including the parts I had left out in the telling of it to my uncle. My thinking was that if Dylan was to help us he needed to know it all. He listened intently never saying a word. My uncle crossed himself several times during the story.
They both looked at me in silence. Dylan seemed to be letting everything sink in before me spoke. Uncle Sean had the look of a man who just discovered his wife in bed with the postman. I was uncomfortable. Not because of what I had done up to this point and what was to come but because, for the first time, Uncle Sean saw the type of man I had become. He saw what I was capable of and I think, I know, it unsettled him greatly.
“I can not say that I would have handled this differently. I know your family and I do not think anyone of them would fault you in any way.” He glanced at Uncle Sean who was sitting in a shocked silence. “We need to get you the information you need and then out of Ireland without a trail of bodies left behind you.”, Dylan.
“I would like that to but I will do what ever is necessary to find my family.”
“We both will son, we both will.”
“Sean go back to Cavan and wait. I will call you within twenty four hours with a plan. I think I can convince Bailey to give us what we need and set up a meeting. On neutral ground and no guns. For all the crap Bailey is into, this is out of character for him. Lets give him a chance to put it right.”, Dylan.
“I am going back up to Belfast and talk with my team. Our operation will be in place if you can not work this out. But I will have what I need and I will do what is necessary to get it.”
“I would expect nothing less.”. Dylan
Uncle Sean and I headed back to Cavan. On the way I stopped and called Pete to fill him in and to check on our operational plans. Pete said that all was on place and we could move when ever we were ready. I told him to pack Wailer up and drive down to Cavan. We would wait to see if Dylan Collins came up with a solution. We could just as easily launch our operating from Cavan as we could from Belfast..
“Lets stop by the church on the way into town. You are in need of confession. And a lot of penance.”, Uncle Sean.
I felt like I was caught stealing from the apple cart and rode in silence back to Cavan.
Love ya,
Night
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