Thursay June 7, 2012
Pritzker Park Condominiums, Unit 1417- Living Room
Chicago, Illinois
2:14 PM Local Time
Augustus Briese hated Derrick Delaney’s apartment.
He supposed it was with good reason, given that it was here, just a little more than three months ago, Delaney had ordered him executed, only to grant a reprieve at the last second, settling for having one of his goons snap Gus’ arm like a twig. Three months since, the cast had been removed, although his arm still felt tender.
At least he was alive, for what it was worth. The execution would have been over an envelope, one that contained the plans to something that Delaney only referred to as Project: Wildeshaw. Delaney had sent them to him over thirty years ago, only for them to have been stolen. It had been a shot in the dark in guessing that they had somehow ended up with his former mistress, but Ivana had come through. She had procured the envelope, the masterpiece that Delaney had plotted decades ago, and so Gus’ life was spared.
And that was all the gratitude that Delaney had shown him. He had taken the envelope without even the slightest thanks... and the matter of Project Wildeshaw had never been discussed again.
That irked, Gus, although he didn’t dare say anything. A week before, Delaney had been prepared to put a bullet in his brain over the matter of the missing envelope, and now that he had it, everything about it, including Gus himself, had seemingly been ignored.
Not that Gus MINDED being ignored, at least by Delaney. He had been summoned only a handful of times in the past three months, mainly as a checkup, for Delaney to remind him that he was still being watched, and not to do anything stupid. He was still a wanted fugitive after all, even if the search for him had been reduced to posters hanging in the local post office, promising a $25,000 reward if he was returned to justice.
He had stayed mostly in his own apartment during that time, a cozy little flat in the Grant Park condominiums. It wasn’t a particularily big dwelling, but it was big enough for him, Ivana and Yuri, and had a gym downstairs so that his freakish son could continue to train for his own professional career, and the match with his cowardly sister that was looking less and less likely.
And then came today.
Gus had been enjoying a rather pleasurable fuck with Ivana when O’Brien and Mahoney, two of Delaney’s thugs that Gus particularily disliked, had barged in, telling him he had five minutes to get ready for a meeting. Anything else was met with a quiet scowl, and there wasn’t any argument to be had. So he had gotten dressed, and accompanied the two brutes here. And here he sat.
And he was surprised at how many people were here. Delaney’s condominium was huge, taking up nearly half the fourteenth floor, but today the normally spacious living room was crowded. It almost seemed as if Delaney’s entire inner circle was here, both those he had brought to the United States with him, and those who had remained in Ireland, yet flown here today for this meeting.
Evidently, something big was happening today.
So he had taken a seat, and bottle of Guiness for him to nurse as he waited for whatever was going to be happening to happen. And he kept waiting, as the chatter around him continued. Gus couldn’t help but feel like an outcast, apart from O’Brien and Mahoney, he knew very few of the dozen or so men. Many were younger, and he had a feeling that most of them hadn’t even been born the day Delaney had exiled him from Ireland. All of them paid little to no attention to him, save for Mahoney, who was talking to one of the younger men. He made a motion like he was snapping something, and shot a sinister smirk at Gus. Both men laughed, and Gus felt his cheeks turning red. Obviously, Mahoney was recapping the story of breaking his arm.
Then Derrick Delaney entered, and the room went as silent as a tomb. The old Irish Republican leader strode proudly into the room, looking around smugly at his men, no doubt secure in the loyalty of each and every one of those present. To Gus’ surprise, Delaney wasn’t arriving alone, but rather with four other men. None of these were Celts, with far darker complexions, and even darker hair. As far as Gus could tell, they were Arabic.
He wasn’t alone in his surprise, he could tell. Several other of the men in the room were murmuring, and most didn’t sound happy over the concept of foreigners at this meeting either. But no one spoke out overtly- there was too much respect and fear of Delaney for anyone to openly question him.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Delaney began, looking around the room. “Thank you all for coming today.” He surveyed the room, a small smile coming across his features. “Gentlemen, the reason I have called you all here today is that I believe our time is at hand. The time has come once again for us to fight for our independence.”
The murmuring increased. Delaney took it in stride, but Gus could tell there was a level of irritation about the dissension. “Isn’t that why every single one of you signed up for the Celtic Liberation Front? Because you were sick and tired of being under the crown? Because you want our homeland to be reunited again under the tri-color? Others have given up the fight. They claim that our path to freedom lies through diplomacy, through action in Parliament. Well, they tried it their way. It’s been over a decade since they tried it their way, and we’re no closer to freedom than we ever were! So I say to HELL with those who think that the only path to freedom is by joining our oppressors!”
The response was considerably more positive this time, although still somewhat subdued. Delaney didn’t seem to mind, however. “Obviously, we cannot win our freedom in open warfare. At least not yet. Our own populace is divided, many wanting to suckle at the Queen’s tit, while even more aren’t willing to sacrifice ANYTHING for our freedom. It’ll be an uphill battle, and many of us here in this room will not survive to see it’s glorious conclusion. But it WILL happen, on the blood of my father, my father’s father, and his father’s father!”
It was Delaney at his most passionate and charismatic, and Gus felt his blood run cold as the men in the room cheered again. This was why so many flocked to his cause years ago, forsaking the larger, more well-known factions fighting for independence. It was why, even now, they held onto hope of freedom, even if so much of the country had given up.
And it was complete and utter insanity.
“Less than two months from now, all eyes are going to be on the United Kingdom. Thousands, maybe even millions of people are going to be arriving in London for the Olympics, and billions of people will be tuning in around the world. Can anyone think of a better time to embarass the Crown?”
The reaction here was one of daunting shock. “We’re going to attack the Olympics?” a younger man closer to where Delaney stood asked, a clear note of fear and excitement in his voice.
Delaney looked directly at the young man, and shook his head. “No. Security at the games will be far too tight for that. You won’t even be able to fart in London without the Queen’s cockroaches knocking you down and carting you off. And I don’t want foreigners getting killed. We won’t win our freedom from the crown because we killed some Ethiopian marathon runner. That’s only going to turn the world’s sympathy against us.”
It was already going to be against them, Gus knew. But he wouldn’t dare say anything.
Delaney continued. “However, with the Olympics sucking up so much of everyone’s attention, there will be more than enough openings elsewhere. And it won’t be ‘us’, who will be attacking anything. That was our failure the last time around. This time...” he gestured to the four other men in the room. One of them, apparently the leader, stepped forward. “This is Ma’Rouf al-Boutros, and he is one of the leaders of the Brotherhood of Martyrs, another group that would like to see ‘Great’ Britain brought to its knees.”
Al-Boutros nodded. He was a younger man, probably in his early thirties. He hardly looked the part of a terrorist, in his black slacks and polo shirt. But his own eyes glinted with fervor as he looked at Delaney. “Mr. Delaney here has been kind enough to give us assistance in our own cause,” he said, and Gus was surprised to hear his soft-spoken voice carrying an English accent. “It is to our mutual benefit that we work together, at least behind the scenes. You will not see me again. And, at least on the surface, we will be in opposition to each other.”
Delaney resumed his own speech. “The goal is simple. Prove to our people that not only are the English still the oppressors they’ve always been, but that they are utterly incapable of protecting us. The eyes of the world will turn to England, expecting to watch games. What they will see is a country burning, it’s people in mourning, and the Queen and Downing Street and all those fuckers unable to do a damn thing to stop it. And THAT is our path to freedom, gentlemen. Because if the English can’t protect themselves, can’t protect us, why should we be under them? And believe me, more and more of our countrymen will be wondering that too, as the blood of their mothers, fathers, children and friends run into the gutters.”
Gus had felt his throat run dry. It was a grand scheme that Delaney had concocted, but where he once would have felt excitement, he could only feel dread. It was a plot utterly doomed to failure. But Delaney was an old man now, his years dwindling. This was his last attempt to see Ireland free in his lifetime, no matter how futile and wasteful the gambit would prove to be.
“Augustus Briese.”
Gus was jarred from his thoughts, and looked up, surprised at hearing his name called. He looked at Delaney, who was waiting impatiently. Swallowing hard, he stood up.
“For thirty years, Augustus here has kept my plans safe. Admittedly, there were some... complications, but in the end, alls well. Gus, I owe you my thanks, my gratitude. Many in this room do not know you. Thirty years ago, you made a colossal mistake, and you were banished as punishment. You’ve paid your debt, old friend. I’ll be returning to Belfast soon, Gus, and when I do, I want you beside me. You’re coming home.”
Gus was stunned, waves of emotion wracking over him. It had been thirty years since he last been in Ireland, and the idea of finally returning to the land of his birth had been something he had only dreamed of. Now he was going. But at the same time, he didn’t want to be involved in any of this. But he had no choice, in the matter, he could tell that much.
“Thank you,” he whispered, as the men in the room- save for Mahoney- applauded.
“All of us will be returning to Ireland over the next few weeks,” Delaney went on, motioning for Gus to sit back down. “Our objective is simple- as the Brootherhood of Martyrs does their part, we make it clear that the fault lies not with them, but the English. That this is our oppressors finally beginning to reap what they have sown, and that the only way for us to protect ourselves is to tear away. Become our own people. Leave the English to the fruits of their sins, and become one country on one island under one flag, the way it was always meant to be!”
Another cheer broke out, the loudest most enthusiastic one yet. Gus only sat still, barely able to breathe. Delaney waited, becoming slightly more somber.
“Unfortunately, the first blood that must stain the ground will be our own. There can be no hope of breakaway if our own countrymen do not realize our vulnerability. And so the first strike, I’m sorry to say, will be in Belfast on July 25. That’s two days before the Opening Ceremonies, just at the point where all the world will begin turning its head in our direction. It will be the perfect time, and I know of the perfect place.”
Delaney held up a small poster, and Gus was forced to lean forward to read it. And he choked down the urge to vomit as he did so. The poster was for a large orchestral concert and gala, to be held the night of the twenty-fifth. Gus could see why Delaney would find it an appealing target. But the venue... that was what sickened him most of all.
The Lyric Theater.
Where his late wife had received her first big break.
“To freedom, and the necessary sacrifices” Delaney was saying, leading the group in a toast of dismissal. Everyone in the room joined in.
Everyone but Gus, who still continued to stare at the poster, his heart pounding in his ears.
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