“It should be a couple more days. He couldn’t possibly escape the United States authorities and get all the way here undetected in such a short period of time.” The Commander turned from the window.
“I hope you are right — he could ruin everything we have worked for so many years.”
“I have taken extra precautions. I have increased the guards and hired an asset on the outside to take care of O’Rourke when he shows up again.”
“I hope he’s better than Shamrock. Shamrock failed us and took our money.”
“Shamrock is out of business. His reputation is now damaged beyond repair. No one will hire him again. Our asset was overjoyed when I mentioned the elimination of Shamrock after he finishes with O’Rourke.”
The Persian’s Blackberry announced the arrival of another message on the Iranian singles web site. He logged in and retrieved his message. It instructed him to fly to Dublin, Ireland, and check into the Clarion Hotel at the Dublin Airport. He was to wait for further instructions. The message was signed by Laurence O’Rourke.
The Persian considered his alternatives and opted to follow the instructions. The payoff would certainly be worth the risk. Besides he was a careful man, and a ruthless businessman — the odds were in his favor.
CHAPTER 63
O’Rourke drove by the Prince of Wales entrance to Stormont Estate in his stolen car. He noticed the increased security measures, extra guards posted at each entrance and extra security guards patrolling the grounds.
He knew a way into the estate that would keep him clear of the guards. His only concern was whether the Commander would also remember and post guards, or worse, cut off the access altogether.
He turned north off Upper Newtownards Road onto Stoney Road, the eastern boundary of Stormont. As he drove, he noticed to his right that a thin layer of fog had settled onto the fairways of the darkened Knock Golf Club. He drove past the Stoney Road entrance to Stormont Estate, where he noticed an increase in security as well.
He continued north, circling east around the golf course until he found a suitable place to hide the car. It had been many years since he had been to Stormont and the landscape had changed, but he was hopeful the location would still be available for his covert entry onto the grounds.
He wore all black clothing to help conceal his movement across Stormont property. Soon he located the drainage ditch from the Knock Golf Club. The drainage ditch caught the runoff of rain and irrigation from the golf course and routed it through a four-foot diameter drain pipe that ran under Stoney Road through the Stormont Estate property, then north off the back of the estate property. The only security measure previously left in place was a removable grate on the golf club side that was used to catch debris.
The runoff ditch made a fifty-foot pass under the security fence. This was O’Rourke’s access to the estate.
Wading in nearly eight inches of water and debris, he slowly moved the rusty grate away from the pipe opening, allowing the debris to float through. He wore black assault boots designed for waterborne operations. Their ventilated quick-dry capabilities would allow him to move quietly across the yard.
He ducked down low and into the pipe, pulling the grate closed behind him. He pushed his way through the forty-foot pipe. Rats scurried about, disturbed by his intrusion into their habitat.
Reaching the other end of the pipe, he encountered a new obstacle — a section of chain-link fence over the opening. Rats squeezed through the openings in the fence. He felt along the fence, and then gave it a push. The flexible fence gave at the bottom and with another hard push it started to pull loose from the sides. He pushed harder and the fence gave way, creating a gap large enough for him to squeeze through.
Hunched over in the ditch, he traversed forty yards before climbing out at the tree line. He remained in the forested parts of the grounds, moving swiftly yet quietly around the eastern side of the castle. Then he headed north through the woods, arriving at the large parking lot east of the Parliament Building, exactly where he planned to make his initial approach to the building.
Crouched in the bushes, O’Rourke studied the building. He could detect cleaning crews moving from room to room, turning on the lights when they entered, turning off the lights when they left. He noticed lights that stayed on in one room on the third floor.
The two shadows moving around the room were not those of the cleaning team. One shadow appeared to pace back and forth across the room, while the larger shadow stood at the window that looked out over the lawns. His memory told him this room was his target destination, the office of the Secretary of State.
He circled the perimeter of the parking lot until he reached the Portland stone sarcophagus of Sir James Craig, also known as Lord Craigavon, who had served as the first Prime Minister of Northern Ireland from 1921 until his death in 1940.
O’Rourke used the griselinia hedge surrounding the sarcophagus as cover while he worked his way toward the east side of the Parliament Building.
When he reached the building he encountered his greatest obstacle — floodlights. Thousands of watts of bright light flooded down from the heights of the building, illuminating the proximity as if daylight were upon him. He crawled to the edge of the parking lot immediately adjacent to the building, and then made a dash for the rear service entrance where he knew he could slip into the building undetected.
CHAPTER 64
Jake leaned forward and removed the aircraft emergency booklet from the pouch next to his seat, looked at it, then laughed.
He jabbed Kaplan on the shoulder, held the booklet in front of him and said, “Small world, isn’t it? Kind of ironic that this whole thing started with the same type aircraft we’re sitting in, a Challenger 600.”
Kaplan laughed. “I just hope it’s not an omen.”
The CIA jet aircraft had picked up Jake, Kaplan and Hunt at Dulles International Airport with a destination of Sligo Airport in Strandhill, Ireland.
Neither Strandhill nor Sligo was to be their ultimate destination, but rather a town east of Sligo called Dromahair, a town, according to CIA and SIS surveillance records, Laurence O’Rourke visited numerous times over the course of the last twenty years.
“According to my research,” Jake said. “Land records showed several properties in County Leitrim owned by O’Rourke, including a well maintained homestead on the outskirts of town, a place where O’Rourke visits and disappears from sight for days at a time. The O’Rourke family also holds claim to a heritage entitlement to the historic site of The O’Rourke Banqueting Hall, directly adjacent to the ruins of the old O’Rourke Castle.”
Jake pulled out another folder and opened it up for Kaplan to see. “According to the CIA records, Dromahair, or Droim Ath Thair, was a historical stronghold for the O’Rourke clan from the late 8th century until the 17th century. The O’Rourkes built the Dromahair Castle and the Creevelea Abbey, which served as the 16th century O’Rourke family chapel.
The O’Rourke Banqueting Hall was built and enlarged during the 10th and 11th centuries and formed a fortified complex. The family’s feasts at the banqueting hall became legendary throughout the region. The hall has supposedly remained undisturbed for over the last three hundred years.”