He noticed that one name on the IRA list without an asterisk was circled in ink — Laurence O’Rourke.
Jake put the folder back and opened the second drawer. In the front of the drawer was an IRA weapons list. He studied it closely, then called for Kaplan, “Gregg, come here and look at this.”
Kaplan stepped behind him. “What have you got there?”
“It’s a list of the ‘official’ and ‘unofficial’ weapons depots for the IRA. The list contains the weapons storage facilities’ locations and a detailed listing of the weapons contained in each. Here’s a copy of a memorandum issued to the DUP and the Independent Monitoring Commission, the watchdog agency monitoring the Northern Ireland paramilitary groups.
“Look, it lists the locations of only the ‘official’ weapons storage facilities. It includes a statement declaring that the weapons listed here are all the IRA had in its cache, and that the IRA now considers itself in full compliance with the cease-fire agreement.”
Kaplan scanned the list of storage facilities. “Jake, this place isn’t on either of those lists, and look at the signature on the bottom of the memorandum—‘compiled, authorized and signed by Laurence O’Rourke, Former Quartermaster General, Irish Republican Army.’”
“Okay, I give. Why would this place need to be on here?”
Kaplan started back across the room. “Come here, Jake. I’ll show you why.”
Jake placed the folder on top of the drawer before turning around. He scanned the large room with his flashlight. Kaplan was standing in a doorway opposite the tunnel entrance shining his flashlight into a black void.
“What is it?”
Jake walked over to Kaplan and aimed his light into the void.
Kaplan said, “I figure it’s roughly a hundred fifty feet by two hundred feet.”
Jake was dumbfounded. “Holy shit.”
To his left was a huge assortment of boxes and crates. Boxes of different sizes and shapes stacked to the ceiling filled the large room. The boxes and crates created a maze of walkways throughout the chamber room.
“Stone columns, evenly spaced. And look at the notches in the walls — just large enough to be bunks for the monks.” Jake laughed. “Bunks for monks. That rhymes.”
“Idiot. Look up, the ceiling has vents in it too. These monks sure knew what they were doing. You were right, Jake, the Friars’ Chamber indeed does exist.”
Jake walked over to where Kaplan stood, beside the shortest stack of boxes, about chest high, and read the markings on the side.
50 lbs. SEMTEX
SEMTEX. Plastic explosives. Jake totaled the boxes, three thousand pounds of explosives.
Kaplan said, “I don’t really know that much about SEMTEX, but I’d bet this is enough to destroy this entire town.”
They stepped to the next stack, seventy wooden crates. Stamped on the side of each crate were the words:
Grenade Launchers 10 Count
Jake and Kaplan separated and hurried around the room, checking the crates and boxes and making a quick mental inventory of what they’d found. In addition to the Semtex and the grenade launchers, they found one hundred forty-two shoulder-launched SAM-7 surface-to-air missiles, four hundred fifty American-made Barrett .50-caliber rifles, six hundred Armalite M-16A2 rifles, thirteen hundred AK-47 rifles, thirty Browning rifles, nine hundred Belgian FAL rifles, thirteen hundred forty Makarov pistols, twelve hundred fifty Webley .455-caliber service revolvers and nearly two hundred .50 caliber and .30 caliber machine guns.
They gave up counting about halfway through the chamber, noting the crates and boxes of weapons and ammunition were marked as originating from places all over the globe … the Soviet Union, Libya, Syria, Britain and the United States.
Kaplan looked at Jake. “After just reading the lists of weapons stored at the other facilities, do you realize that this Friar’s Chamber contains more weapons and explosives than the entire ‘official’ and ‘unofficial’ weapons storage facilities combined?”
Jake now understood what O’Rourke’s secret was and why so many must be after it. The SIS records of the Persian’s arrival in Dublin, Ireland, had thrown up a red flag when Jake did his research. His insight, which was really nothing more than a hunch, about the connection between Laurence O’Rourke, a former Quartermaster General for the IRA, and the Persian, an Al Qaeda arms dealer working directly for Bin Laden, was right on the mark. A hunch he drew only after recalling something O’Rourke said right before Beth was shot … I have made a lucrative deal that will allow me financial security for my very long life.
“Well,” Jake said, “this explains the presence of Farid Nasiri with O’Rourke. The ramifications of letting these weapons fall into the hands of Al Qaeda are too great to sit by and wait for the cavalry. We need to find Hunt and Sterling and find them fast. We’re going to need more help.”
“I think you’re right. Let’s go find them.”
The generator roared to life behind them.
Before they could move, all the lights illuminated in the enormous chamber room.
The first thing Jake and Kaplan saw was Laurence O’Rourke standing only ten feet away with a gun pointed at Jake’s head.
CHAPTER 71
“Well, well. What have we here? Mr. Pendleton, we meet again. Seems like I’m always pointing a gun at you.”
O’Rourke held the gun steady. The obese Iranian was sweating and winded from the long walk through the tunnel.
“Yeah, yeah. You point your gun, you lose your gun.” Jake motioned to Kaplan.
Kaplan started to move.
O’Rourke fired a shot. “Stay where you are. Both of you. I’m rather surprised to see you, of all people, intruding into my private chamber. Who are you really working for? Certainly not the NTSB. No doubt the U.S. Government. But who? CIA? FBI, maybe? Maybe your newly founded Department of Homeland Security? And all this time I thought you were merely a stupid aircraft accident investigator.” O’Rourke looked at Kaplan. “And you — you’re the redhead’s boyfriend, aren’t you? What are you doing here?”
“I’m catching up on my Irish history. You know, the kind not found in travel guides,” Kaplan said.
“Oh, you Americans, always making lame attempts at humor. Well, your history lesson is over. This time you won’t live to haunt me again. First things first, Mr. Pendleton. Take your gun out nice and slow and place it on that crate over there.” O’Rourke motioned with his empty hand. “Don’t be stupid and try something you’ll regret.”
Jake removed his weapon and placed it on the wooden crate next to him.
“Very good. Now step away a few steps.”
Jake took five steps away from the crate.
“Now you,” he motioned to Kaplan. “You do the same.” Kaplan obliged and followed the same routine that Jake just had. “Now let’s go.” O’Rourke motioned with his gun.
Jake needed to stall for time — time to allow Hunt and Sterling to find the chamber.
“What is this about?” Jake asked, raising his arm and sweeping it around the room. “What is all this about?”
“You are so naive. This is about power, control, and freedom, among other things. I don’t expect you to understand, you’re American. This is Ireland. This is about something you could never understand.”