The room faded to darkness.
He tried to resist but his body went limp.
The Maze had been a horrendous prison with a dreadful reputation. Black mold grew on the walls and ceilings of the H-Blocks at the Maze, located in Lisburn, Ireland, just over fourteen kilometers outside of Belfast. The dismal corridors between the rows of cells were lit only with low-wattage bulbs wrapped in wire cages.
“O’Rourke, O’Rourke, wake up.”
A single light shone down on the chair in the middle of the cold, dark interrogation room. A black chair made of solid wood with wide armrests, stout legs, and a tall headrest sat anchored to the concrete floor. Leather straps with buckles fettered his arms and legs. His head was immobilized by another leather strap, wrapped around his forehead and secured tightly against the headrest.
As he surfaced from his drug-induced stupor, he tried to move, but couldn’t. His bare feet tingled against the cold floor. Wearing only boxers and a tattered t-shirt, he shivered.
“Mr. O’Rourke, are you awake?”
Footsteps in the darkness, two sets. The voice calling his name— British. That voice. Then he remembered.
His SIS handler. The man who recruited him as a spy for Her Majesty’s Secret Service. The man who trained him. The man who arranged his initiation into the Irish Republican Army. The man who was responsible for him being imprisoned here.
“Commander?”
“I see you haven’t forgotten. Good. Your time at the Maze is almost at an end. It is now time for the next phase of your mission,” the Brit said. “You have been a liability for me lately. Now you have a chance to redeem yourself. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
O’Rourke’s eyes followed the voice as it moved around the dark room. At times he heard another set of footsteps shuffling in the darkness, but only the Commander spoke. The footsteps stopped in front of him. His handler’s voice remained behind him. Struggling to focus through the darkness, he could only make out shoes — high-quality dress shoes.
Who is this man?
The Commander droned on for over an hour. A drill he’d been through before, but not this way. Never beaten up and drugged.
The first time was different. A clandestine meeting. A meeting he thought would shape his future. Indeed it did shape his future, just not in a way he would have ever imagined. On his last attempt to gain admittance and acceptance into the IRA, he was sold out and ended up here, in the Maze.
The Commander unveiled his elaborate plan, then went silent.
O’Rourke heard a third set of footsteps approaching. Boots stomping across the concrete floor. He immediately recognized the boots when the large man stopped in front of him.
The prison guard.
O’Rourke noticed a shadow move above him just as the guard’s fist smashed into the left side of his face. Blood spurted onto his bare leg when his eyebrow split open. Swelling closed his eye. Blood oozed down the side of his face. The guard’s other fist struck his right jaw, busting his lip open against his teeth.
He remembered the Commander’s final words: “It was necessary to drag you in here this way to avoid suspicion. There are eyes watching. We cannot jeopardize this mission. Be careful, Laurence. Trust no one.”
The ether soaked rag reappeared. He couldn’t resist.
Two days later O’Rourke left his cell in H-Block 4 for the final time. He hid the handguns under his coat — handguns left in his cell by the Brit — and took his place in the meal line. If he was to see freedom, then the actions of the next few hours must be executed with extreme precision and flawless timing.
Thirty-eight men, O’Rourke included, overpowered prison guards, then hijacked a meals lorry and smashed their way through the gates and to freedom. He followed the Maze’s Provisional IRA leader out of the prison walls, just as the Commander ordered, until they were clear of the Maze.
He broke away from the others and started his long journey toward the town of Londonderry. Several other escapees hid in ditches and bogs. Nineteen were later recaptured. Republic-friendly families throughout Northern Ireland harbored several of the escaped prisoners.
O’Rourke had a long way to travel and found transportation waiting exactly as the Commander had assured him. He took a circuitous route, changing vehicles in Antrim, Galgorn, Dunloy, and Coleraine. He arrived in Londonderry at three a.m.
When he reached his destination, he hid underneath a porch across the street from his new refuge and waited for the all-clear sign. His orders were to wait until the fourth occupant left the house in the morning, then the house would be empty. He was to let himself in the back door and find his way to the cellar, where he was to stay until the man of the house returned. He sat and watched the house. Minutes seemed like hours and fatigue set in, he drifted off to sleep.
Cold and wet, he awoke to the sound of a starting truck engine. Overcast skies spat small raindrops down on him. He gazed through the bushes as a man drove away from the house. Thirty minutes later three teenagers, two boys and a girl left the house with school books in hand. One of the boys was tall. Very tall and muscular with a prominent white streak down the middle of his hair. The other boy was rather stocky with reddish brown hair and a ruddy complexion. The girl, thin with red hair and freckles, walked close behind them.
He waited another fifteen minutes to make sure the coast was clear, and then made his way to the back door. As he started up the steps to the small back porch, he caught a glimpse of a woman in the kitchen.
Damn — the house should have been empty. The Commander was wrong.
He ducked underneath the back porch, out of sight.
The woman was slim with long, thick auburn hair, and sparkling green eyes. The kind of eyes that captivate you. Stop you dead in your tracks. Her skin was smooth and porcelain white against her red dress. She stepped out from the kitchen, pulled a scarf around her neck and draped her coat over her left forearm as she closed the door behind her.
Spellbound, he watched her walk down the steps to the street. She stopped and glanced back towards the house. He noticed her shapely figure. He had been in the Maze for nearly a year and longed for the touch of a woman.
Her perfume lingered on the porch. He imagined her soft skin against his, the touch of her hair, the smell of her clean body. She was small, maybe five-foot-two, he figured. Probably topped the scales at a hundred and five, maybe a hundred and ten pounds— easy enough to overpower.
She stared at the house for several seconds.
He froze with fear, sure she had seen him.
She put her coat on and cinched the belt snug around her trim waistline, then turned and walked down the street.
When she was out of sight, he raced up the steps to the back door. It was unlocked as the Commander promised. He made his way down to the cellar, where he found a change of clothes, provisions and a pallet with blankets. The next three days would be spent there, until his next transport would take him out of the country.
Fatigue from the last twenty-four hours took its toll. He lay on the pallet but was unable to sleep — his mind consumed with the woman. The loveliest woman he had ever seen. His desire grew with each passing thought until he made himself a final vow. He would not leave Londonderry until he had her.
O’Rourke stared trancelike out the window of the limo, a smile crept across his face as he remembered the woman. His thoughts returned to the Commander — the smile vanished. Unresolved issues remained between them. Issues that must be settled.
He had abandoned his handler before completing the assignment. He had expected some sort of fall-out — but none ever came. That’s what worried him.
An inevitable confrontation loomed on the horizon. Only one way to handle it, he thought. He had to make the first move. The Commander would never expect it — O’Rourke confronting him. Especially after O’Rourke delivered his speech in Savannah.