For the rest of the day, he received thorough briefings on Laurence O’Rourke and Shamrock. Coincidentally, there were quite a few similarities between the two men’s backgrounds. O’Rourke and Collins had both started as hit men for the IRA, O’Rourke only after a failed first attempt to join the IRA.
Both men had served on the Irish Republican Army’s Internal Security Unit referred to as the “Nutting Squad.” The similarities ended there. Collins had earned one of the more notorious reputations on the squad for his ruthless but effective tactics. O’Rourke’s time on the Nutting Squad was short-lived as he quickly ascended the ranks to Quartermaster General.
Collins’ reputation with the IRA as a skilled, masterful killer was unmatched by any other. His flawless executions were still held in high acclaim. One day Collins had approached the IRA Chief of Staff and resigned his commission with the IRA. He disappeared and was believed to have been killed by the IRA.
O’Rourke had served in an official and an unofficial capacity as Quartermaster General for the IRA for a number of years. During the heyday of arms acquisitions, O’Rourke amassed huge caches of weapons of all sorts and stored them in several secret locations throughout Ireland and Northern Ireland.
An artist came in and spent several hours with Jake sketching a drawing of Ian Collins, aka Shamrock. Bentley brought in the FBI sketch from Kaplan’s description and held them side by side. They were nearly identical.
The two images were scanned into a computer, then morphed together and a new image created. The resultant image was then sent to Interpol for distribution throughout the European countries’ law enforcement agencies with orders to “capture and detain.”
Jake spent the next two days in accelerated training at the CIA’s Camp Peary Special Training Center, known as “The Farm.” Although never officially acknowledged by the U.S. government, this ninethousand-plus-acre facility was located in York County near Williamsburg, Virginia. During World War II, Camp Peary was used as a Seabee training base and a stockade for special German prisoners of war. In 1972, the Virginia Gazette reported that the CIA trained its assassins at The Farm, but the CIA dismissed this as nonsense because it didn’t have “assassins.”
The first day’s training lasted several hours. The primary focus of the day was The Farm’s main impetus, basic tradecraft skills of weapons handling, explosives, infiltration techniques, and exfiltration techniques. Jake was fed and told to get some rest before reporting back at midnight for four hours of “night ops” familiarization training.
Jake found his prior Navy training helpful. The intelligence portion of training was the easy part for Jake, more like a refresher course, whereas the hand-to-hand combat and firearms training sessions were grueling. His anger and determination to get the man who shot Beth carried him through it.
The same helicopter that had brought him to The Farm took off from the five-thousand-foot runway at Camp Peary, and delivered him to the lawn landing pad at CIA Headquarters in Langley. A driver was waiting for him when he arrived and took him back to Bentley’s office.
Bentley was waiting for him in the conference room. Also in the room were the head of Security, the head of the Office of Intelligence and Analysis, the head of the Office of Clandestine Service, a female CIA operative named Isabella Hunt, and Gregg Kaplan.
Jake shook his head in amazement and started toward Kaplan. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Kaplan stood, wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt, and extended his hands palm up..
“I’m going with you to Ireland.”
“You can’t go, you have a gunshot wound. Shouldn’t you still be in the hospital?”
“The bullet didn’t hit anything. It just hurt like a son of a bitch. I rubbed some dirt on it.” He made circular motions over his wound. “And now I’m fine. I’ve been hurt a lot worse than this in the Army. Besides, you need me.”
“You were a lot younger in your Army days. I don’t need you. Maybe you’ve forgotten who saved your ass at Annie’s house?” Jake realized what he’d said. “Gregg, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry about Annie.”
“Don’t be, okay?”
Jake turned to Bentley. “You called Gregg?”
Bentley shook his head.
Kaplan interrupted, “No, Jake, I volunteered, during the interview after the shooting. With everything that happened I feel I have unfinished business that needs my attention. Same as you do.
“Besides, what’s left for me in Savannah? Go back to work like nothing ever happened? Have to listen to all the gossip at work? I don’t think so. I’ve talked to my last airplane.”
Jake said nothing.
Bentley spoke up, breaking the awkward silence.
“Jake, you and Gregg are the only ones who have seen Ian Collins and are still alive to tell about it. You two are the only people who can recognize him and give me a positive ID.”
Bentley nodded toward the woman at the table as he went on. “You will accompany Ms. Hunt here to Ireland to locate Laurence O’Rourke and Ian Collins. You two will assist her in apprehending both men.”
Jake and Kaplan looked at Hunt at the same time, then glanced at each other.
Jake turned back to Bentley and asked, “Why didn’t you send Gregg to Camp Peary with me?”
“I didn’t really see a need. I accessed his military records and after reviewing them, I felt Gregg was fully capable of handling himself without any further training. His Special Forces training far exceeded anything he could have been given at the Farm.”
Isabella Hunt spoke for the first time, as her hazel eyes glinted at Jake. “I’m going to need you and Kaplan to help me locate O’Rourke and Shamrock. Then I’ll apprehend them.”
Jake kept his mouth shut and his face expressionless as he gave Hunt a closer look. She was attractive, he had to admit, with long, straight, black hair and glowing bronze skin. About five-foot-five, she was trim — maybe a hundred twenty-five pounds, Jake estimated, and she had an attitude. An attitude no doubt fostered from years struggling as a woman in a male-dominated occupation.
Jake rolled his eyes, then looked at Kaplan. “I know you were Special Forces, but what exactly did you do in the Army?”
Kaplan furrowed his brow. “Jake, there are some questions people ask and they really don’t want to hear the answer. I think this is one of them.”
“Oh hell no! I want an answer. I want to know what makes you so special you can just waltz in here and go off with no training or anything else. What did you do in the Army?”
Kaplan leaned in close to Jake. “Black ops. Satisfied?”
Jake said nothing.
The next three hours were spent on detailed mission briefings and planning. During the briefing by the CIA analyst Fontaine, Jake’s mind wandered back to Savannah and Beth.
The recesses of his mind registered something familiar as Fontaine addressed the group.
“What did you just say?” Jake asked.
Fontaine sighed, and then repeated his last remark.
“Laurence O’Rourke has a brother named Sean who works with the Provisional IRA, or the Provos, but his whereabouts are unknown at the present time.”
“No, no, no. Before that, something about a ridge.”
“The ridge, oh yeah,” Fontaine said. “The O’Rourkes own property throughout County Leitrim that has been in the O’Rourke family for centuries. Laurence and his brother Sean own a house in a small village called Dromahair. The SIS file says that means ‘the Ridge of Two Air Demons.’”
Kaplan raised an eyebrow. “O’Rourke said something about a ridge to Collins right before the shoot-out, didn’t he?”