The Shorthand Notebook - Part 3.

We hunched behind a brand new Mercedes-Benz with Austrian diplomatic plates. Rob took pictures of the Gardai as they leaped out of their cars. One Garda Sergeant was directing and issuing orders. I saw him zoom in on the lead Garda.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"You'll see."

He sent the pictures to his work colleague again. Rob was all action, and seemingly loving every second of this. I, on the other hand was now, near shitting myself. He waited about twenty seconds before he urged me through a tunnel, alongside rose bushes and toward the road that led out of the airport.

"Why are we going this way Rob"

"They probably have the exit routes covered. Look! The traffic is backing up already - they're checking the cars leaving the airport. You've pissed them all off by finding that notebook. Keep it somewhere safe, whatever you do. With any luck, we might slip out of here without them noticing us."

"That jacket will hardly keep us unnoticed!"

"Well, let's see. Where have you got the book?"

"It's safe and sound."

"Good. Have you still got it in your laptop bag?"

"Nope. It's somewhere far safer and less obvious than eh, there."

"I"m not going to ask."

We walked through a few car parks until we thought we were relatively safe. Rob called a local taxi company and asked to be picked up near the back entrance of the airport. I spent those few minutes taking pictures of the notebook with my new disposable phone.We walked toward the entrance of a halting site.

"Eh Rob! What are you doing?"

"Do you honestly think the Gardai are going to mess with these lads here, for no apparent reason?"

He had a valid point. We were soon approached in our silly looking outfits.

"Can I help you boys at all?"

"Hiya doing! We're just waiting on a cab here if that's alright Sir."

The rather large man eyed us suspiciously. He knew straight away that we were up to something.

"I just heard on a scanner of mine that the boys in blue are looking for someone in the terminal up there. Said this boy is dangerous. That he had two bags and had pertinent information relating to another investigation. You have two bags there."

"Really?" Rob tried to hide his amazement.

"So the fella wouldn't be eh, either of you two boys then?"

"I have no idea what you're on about Sir."

"Please don't call me Sir - I feel like I'm in a court again. Yer jackets gave ye away boys.  If yer running from the coppers, you're more than welcome in here. C'mon in."

Rob shrugged his shoulders and gave me a 'what the hell' look. We certainly were safer here than out there standing on the road. We walked into the middle of the halting site and no one gave us a second glance as we walked with John Joe Joyce - head of the clan inside this site. I led the introductions.

"Thank you for your understanding - I'm Tony and this here is Rob. We've kinda found ourselves in the middle of a eh, shit storm that is none of our making."

"Can I help ye lads?"

"Em, I'm not sure you can."

"Robert, is it? I think you might be surprised by what I can and cannot do. Why are the coppers after ye two? And don't bullshit me - I can spot any kind of yer shite a mile off."

"I found something that wasn't mine. I happened to pick it up and there's a few people who eh, want it."

"So you're helping your friend out then? You're a good pal. And there's someone else - apart from the coppers chasing ye? Is that about the nub of it?"

"Yeah, it eh, is. Eh, how did you figure that out so damn quickly? You should work at my job - you're fecking amazing at reading a situation!"

"Listen Yankee boy - I've been in so many scrapes since I was a young fella, that I know a 'situation' as you put it, when I see one."

I stood incredulous, as did Rob.

"Jaysus boys, close yer gobs. You'll be catching flies in a minute. Come into me office here."

We walked into a portacabin, just like a regular site office. It wasn't spotlessly clean, but it was functional. I saw two police scanners in the corner. John Joe caught my glance.

"I'm not worried about you seeing those. Keeps us eh, ahead of the police posse. If I'm honest, I'm kinda intrigued about what ye have - that so many others want, boys."

We hesitated, half wondering what to do. Rob's phone rang. He wasn't sure if he should answer it or not.

"Jaysus Yankee boy, answer the fecking thing! Go outside if ya want."

Rob excused himself.

"So are ya going to take that thing out of the back of yer pants or what?

This guy was unreal! I pulled it out of my underpants and placed it slowly on the desk.

"What the hell is that? Sure, that's just a notebook."

"i know. But there's names in it that are kind of eh, important."

"Tell me who they are."

"Em, I'm not sure I should eh, John Joe."

"I'm hardly cavorting around in big ponds Tony. Whose name is in it?"

I wasn't sure whether or not to trust this man I had just met. But he had trusted us and invited us in without a hesitation. And he was shrewd.

"Okay John Joe. The first name I spotted was the name John O' Sullivan. The second one was Pierce Carty."

I waited for a reaction. I suddenly wished to never play poker against this man. He wasn't flinching. Not even a twitch of the fingers or eyelids.

"The judge and the reporter. One dead and one missing. Jaysus, you're in a fierce pickle alright young Tony."

Rob re-entered the cabin.

"Eh, John Joe - could you do us a favour?"

"Depends on the favour."

"Could you drop us into Swords? I just saw the Gardai pulling up outside the back entrance of the airport."

John Joe reacted before saying anything. He lifted an innocuous pad before pressing a black button.

"Eh? What's that John Joe??' asked Rob.

"Closing the front door boys. Just in case those feckers get ideas above their station."

Within ten or so seconds, two white vans appeared out of nowhere. They were reversed back to back to close the entrance to the halting site. No one would get in here without their permission.

We were safe for now - but also trapped. We would have to wait it out.

"Let's give it a minute to see if they approach boys. If they don't, we'll drop ye off as quick as we can."

The Garda seemed interested only in the traffic coming out of the airport. John Joe told the vans to move aside, within ten minutes. We were placed under rolls of carpet in the back of a Ford Transit van.

"Sorry boys - I know it's a cliche - travellers and carpets, but it's a great way of hiding ye. Just in case they have another stop and search further down the road."

We were trusting John Joe hugely here. He could just drop us off at the local Garda station and fob on us. I didn't think he would and neither did Rob. We whispered under layers of heavy carpets.

"Well? What did your friend say?"

"I'll tell you in five minutes. Not here - not now."

"Whereabouts are we going in the village?"

"The Old Schoolhouse."

We stepped out of the van and shook hands thankfully with John Joe.

"We owe you at least a drink John Joe. Thank you."

"No problem Tony. Give me a ring on this number if ye need help at all. No matter when."

"I couldn't do that John Joe!"

"Yes you can if you need help. Rob - I will call you if I need help someday going through to the US of A!"

"Eh, how did you know where I worked?"

"Your shirt peeked out once under that awful jacket."

"Thanks a million John Joe."

We said our goodbyes and I tucked John Joe's business card into my front pocket. Rob seemed animated more than he was back on the halting site.

"So, what's the story?"

"No. We need a drink first."

"Is it that bad?

"Wait until you hear."

The bar had only five customers. Two were seated on their own, at the bar. A trio of what looked like work colleagues, ate dinner at a corner booth. Rob pulled out his phone and brought up the apps on his phone.

"Really? Is it time for you to play a game? Like right now? Seriously?"

"Shut the fuck up a sec. It's an app that's scanning. Just another thirty seconds and I'll spill."

"I'll get two pints in the meantime."

Rob sat on a high stool at a waist high table, staring into space.

"What were you doing with your phone?"

"Just using an app that a friend of mine in eh, Homeland gave to me. Unofficially of course."

"What is it?"

"It scans for bugs and cameras."

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

"Jesus! That kind of shit exists?"

"It does. But of course it doesn't, if you know what I eh  mean."

"If you think about it, I was supposewd to be on a train right now. I hadn't sat on that fecking notebook, I'd be passing through somewhere like Portlaoise about now!"

"Eh, my friend identified the Sergeant at the airport from facial recognition."

"Don't tell me - Sergeant James Mc Carthy?"

"You got it in one."

"Why is he leading this investigation? Why is he taking such an active role?"

"I've no idea. My friend scanned the fingerprint and put it through our system. He put a rush on it through New York."

"Holy shit! You could get fired for that Rob!"

"He's a good lad and owes me big style. He's a decent skin."

"And?"

"The print belongs to Pierce Carty."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! We scanned his prints when he went over to Chicago last year to cover the Paddys' Day parade."

"How do you know that?"

"I can't tell you that exactly, but I do remember him."

"You processed him??"

"I did."

"Fuck!"

"We had a full blown conversation about what he was doing for the few days he was going over for. I kinda half remember him, but I wasn't sure. My friend confirmed it after looking through the video footage of the day."

"You sound like you're not telling me everything."

Rob took a big gulp of his pint and sighed.

"I also remember the next person I processed that very day. He stood in line right behind Pierce Carty."

"Now I don't want you to tell me."

"Judge John O'Sullivan."

"Oh shit!"