The Shorthand Notebook – Part 2.

What had I stumbled upon?

I took a minute to decide my next best course of action. I had to ask someone that I trusted implicitly. There was only one name that sprung immediately to mind – my mate Rob. He worked in Dublin Airport for the USA Customs and Border Protection (CBP). He had an American passport, was born in the USA, but had grown up his entire life in Dublin.

My initial reaction of heading straight to the airport was well founded. Although I had no phone, I knew Rob would be finishing up his shift around now. We had spoken only this morning, so Rob would know something was up if I was ringing for the second time in less than a day. I asked the cab driver if I could borrow his phone, as we passed through Whitehall.

“I hope that’s a local number!” he joked, handing it over.

I knew Rob’s number by heart, thankfully. He might not answer the phone, spotting the odd number. He had to be fairly careful in his job, as he was employed by the US Embassy and Homeland Security.

“Eh, hello?”

“Hiya Rob – it’s me Tony. I’m ringing you from a cabbie’s phone. Mine’s eh, lost.”

“Okay. Is everything like, okay Tones?”

“Not really. Are you finished work or what?”

“Just about to leave in about five. What’s going on? Where are you?”

“Everything’s eh, a bit off. I’m on the way out to you at the airport. Can I meet you? I need to show you something.”

“Okay so. Are you sure everything is alright?”

“Yeah, I’m grand – honestly. Where can I eh, meet up with you?”

“The old arrivals bar in Terminal One? Do you know where that is?”

“I’ll find it – don’t worry. See you in about ten or so minutes.”

Rob hung up and I could tell by his tone that he knew it was bigger than I was letting on. I was a brutal actor despite my calm exterior in the toilets of Heuston Station, and could rarely get away with telling even the mildest white lie. Rob was amazing at spotting liars and gauging people’s nervousness – after all - it was what he did for a living.

The taxi man got me quicker than I thought it was possible and I threw him a fifty. I thanked him for his courtesy and the use of his phone. He dropped me off on the departures level at Terminal One. Descending the escalator to the arrivals hall, I spotted the Vodafone shop.

Trying my best to keep calm, I purchased a prepaid phone and sauntered over to the “Failte” arrivals bar. Rob had ordered two pints and both were sitting in front of him. He sat in the quietest corner of the bar, facing the entrance.

“I knew by your tone that you might need one!”

“You’re not wrong there lad! I have no idea where to start with this!”

“How about - start at the beginning?”

I relayed the entire last hour and what I’d discovered. Rob stayed silent digesting everything – he then started running through the possible scenarios.

“Firstly we have to determine if..”

 I interrupted straight away.

“What’s this ‘we”? There’s no ‘we’ – you can’t risk it Rob! I just need advice – that’s it!”

“You’ve told me, so as your best friend I’m helping. If your life is in danger, I’m here to help. Never mind what I do or what my my job is!”

“I appreciate the sentiment lad, but...”

“But nothing! Enough said! Okay?”

“Alright then! I never knew you had this capacity for being a drama queen!”

Rob laughed at my attempt at humour and chance to diffuse the serious situation we now faced.

“But seriously Tony – let’s consider the possibilities.”

“What possibilities?”

“Those English guys are probably not MI6 or British agents. They would’ve been armed if they were. My guess would be mercenaries or guys linked to the Loyalists up north.”

“Well if they were linked to those boys, they’d definitely be armed!”

“True point. What about the Sergeant on the phone? How did he sound?”

“Whatcha mean?”

“Like how did he come across on the phone? Like concerned for himself or genuinely concerned for your well-being?”

“He sounded okay, I suppose. He grew more insistent once he was sure what I had in my hand.”

“Really? Did you reveal that you saw his name on the pad?”

“Jesus no! I quickly hung up and got rid of the phone like I told you.”

“Did any of them spot you getting off the Galway train and getting into the taxi?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so though.”

“If it was me and I didn’t think you got off the Limerick train – I’d send men to grab you at the first stop that train made enroute to Limerick.”

“Jesus! I never thought of that!”

“Then again I’d do the same for the first stop enroute to Galway too. Just to cover all bases. If that brought up nothing, I’d start checking the CCTV footage from the station. They’d definitely spot you hopping into the taxi and be able to check traffic cameras running through the city to spot your escape route.”

“Seriously, who are you? James fecking Bond or something?”

“If you got away clean from the station, you might have gotten a decent head start on them. They’d be tracking your phone too, even though you had the presence of mind to dispose of it.”

“You watch too many spy films Rob!”

“I’d say you might get a thirty or so minute lead on them, if you were lucky.”

“Ah come on Rob! You’re being paranoid now!”

“I’m being paranoid, am I?”

“Yes you are!”

“Describe those two English men for me again, would you?”

“One was tall with grey hair, probably in his early forties – quite mean looking. The other was shorter with a receding hairline – he was in his late twenties or early thirties. Why?”

“Please resist the urge to turn around.  I think I just spotted them getting out of a British diplomatic car just ten seconds ago. They got out of the car behind you just outside. I might have to revise my theory on the MI6 issue.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“Nope.”

“What do I do next?”

“Stay where you are for a sec. Okay - they’re going upstairs to departures. I bet they think you’re catching a flight. Bailing with the notebook. Jesus!”

“Are you talking to me or just thinking out loud?”

“I’ve got an idea. Do me a favour and take off your jacket.”

“Eh, why?”

“Turn it inside out.”

“The arms are yellow. The bloody main part is red! I can’t wear this outside!”

“It’s not for you. Put my jacket on. There are no cameras on in here. Have you a hat?”

“In my bag, yeah. Why?”

“Give it to me.”

“You look like a sap. Oh! I get you now! Good plan! Where are we going?”

“Keep your head down. Away from the cameras and stay interested in your feet. Don’t look up under any circumstances.”

We walked out of the bar and turned left out the main door of Terminal One. Rob knew this building well and where the cameras were. We walked right by the empty diplomatic car the two English men had abandoned in the exclusive VIP car park. To my astonishment, we went back into another section of the terminal.

“Eh, Rob? What are we doing?”

“It’s cool Tones. There are no cameras in here – diplomats use this part of the terminal all the time. They love their privacy for a reason.”

“And why are we in here?”

“We’re going to give those English feckers something to chase!”

“What?”

“I have a friend in here who is a whizz with her keyboard.”

“I still have no idea what you’re on about.”

Rob checked inside the small private offices and left me standing in the hallway. He waved me in – the office was vacant apart from two occupied cubicles. They were private and plain – anyone could pass through here without being noticed.

“Tones – this is Rebecca, a good pal of mine. Becs – this is Tony.”

We all said our respective hellos. Rebecca was a young lady who Rob clearly had an eye on.

“Becs – could you do me a favour?”

“You do realize that I’m going to need a favour in return someday Rob?”

“I realize that Becs. We need to screw with a friend of ours – can you help?”

“That depends on the screwing, Rob.”

She took far too long saying the last word – making it clear of her intentions with Rob.

“Can you access the Ryanair check-in system and check in someone for me?”

Rebecca sucked through her teeth but didn’t say no.

“Mmm. I don’t know Rob. What you’re asking for is a bit beyond what we’re allowed to do.”

“So you can do it then?”

“Of course I can! I could also get fired for it, but since it’s you...”

“You’re a gem Becs.”

Rebecca checked me in for a flight departing for London Stansted in fifty five minutes. Rob wanted to see what the Englishmen might do next. From our vantage point in the private diplomatic terminal, we could see the entire VIP car park. We could see if they left or not.

Within minutes, Rebecca informed us that two English males, without any baggage had just paid a huge amount for late one way tickets. Booked on the same flight as me.

Rob took out his phone and asked for the notebook. I hesitated initially, asking why.

“Just show me the bloody fingerprints again?”

“Eh, why?”

“Just do it and don’t ask questions.”

Rob took a snap of it and sent it to someone.

“What the fuck lad?”

“I just sent it to someone I trust from work. Let’s find out whose fingerprint that is. Meanwhile – we’re getting out of here right now.”

I tried to protest, but realized I had no idea what else to do. He was right.

As we walked out cautiously through the VIP car park, we saw something we didn’t expect.

There sat six Garda cars with flashing sirens, outside the front of the building. We had more of a following than we realized.