The 13th Apostle by Dermot McEvoy

Author:Dermot McEvoy [McEvoy, Dermot]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781628739237
Google: q84eAwAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1628739231
Barnesnoble: 1628739231
Goodreads: 23092776
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2014-02-04T08:00:00+00:00

John Jameson had spent a busy day running around Dublin town. He left the Gresham Hotel and went shopping in Grafton Street before lunching at the Shelbourne Hotel. In his wake went young Charlie Dalton, who did a lot of the legwork for the Squad. When he was relieved at six o’clock, he scampered over to Crow Street to report.

“Nothing special to him,” said Dalton. “He acted more like a tourist than a commie agitator.”

“Maybe that’s what he wants us to think,” said Tobin.

“When is he leaving Dublin?” asked Eoin.

“I heard him tell the clerk at the Gresham that he would be checking out tomorrow evening and taking the boat from the North Wall to England.”

“Who did he have lunch with?” asked Tobin.

“A woman,” said Dalton. “A real lady, if you know what I mean.”

“Maybe he fancies himself a Romeo,” Eoin sneered.

Tobin smiled. “You have a very suspicious mind for a young man, Eoin.” Eoin grunted, and Dalton laughed. “Charlie, keep an eye on him all day tomorrow, up until he steps on that boat. Whatever you do, don’t lose him, or you’ll drive Collins mad.”

“Yes, sir,” said Dalton, who—unlike Eoin—was still awed by the great Collins.

Eoin threw papers in his attaché case and headed out the door for his daily intelligence briefing with Collins. He walked up to Stephen’s Green and headed in the Baggot Street direction before turning into Ely Place, just east of the Green. At number fifteen, he stopped and knocked on the door. A maid in a black uniform and white apron answered the door. “Is Dr. Gogarty in?”

“Whom shall I say is calling?”

“Eoin Kavanagh.”

“Mr. Kavanagh,” said the maid, “we’ve been expecting you.”

Eoin was shown into a parlor, where Collins and Gogarty were enjoying a drink. Both men rose as Eoin entered the room, and Collins introduced Eoin to the good doctor. “Mick tells me you’re quite the man,” said Gogarty.

Eoin didn’t know if his leg was being pulled or not. “Thank you, Doctor,” he finally said.

“Oliver will suffice.”

“Thanks, Oliver.”

“I’ll leave you men alone so you can do your business,” Gogarty said, as he left the room.

Eoin placed his attaché case on the table, and Collins queried, “What’s the news?”

“Today,” said Eoin, “the news is all about Jameson—or should I say the news is all about the lack of news on Mr. Whiskey.”

“Did you tag him?”

“Charlie Dalton had him under his eye all day. Says he acted like a tourist. Had luncheon with a fine lady at the Shelbourne and then went back to the Gresham.”

“Shite,” said Collins.

“We do have one bit of information,” said Eoin. “He’ll be leaving us tomorrow night at the North Wall.”

“Maybe he’s going to get our guns in England,” said Collins, hopefully.

“Maybe he’s planning your demise,” returned Eoin.

“Maybe we should tag him to England.”

“I have a better idea,” Eoin said, pausing.

“Well,” Collins said impatiently, “maybe you’d like to share it with me?”

“He seems to like the ladies, I think.”

“So?”

“Why don’t we tag him with an attractive female?”

“Like who?”

“How about Dilly?”

“That’s dangerous.

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