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“It’s a group of violent insurrectionists intent upon overthrowing the British and establishing home rule in Ireland. They’ve been responsible for at least one attack on the life of the Queen, several on the life of the prime minister, and numerous riots in Ireland.”
“That bloody man in the”—Cal gestured to the floor, indicating underground—“he was part of this group.”
“No,” Baron answered. “He was one of ours. He was attempting to discover what the group was planning when he was caught and beaten. Innishfree would have likely killed him if...well, that bit doesn’t matter. The point is you must take extreme care. The man we sent in before was easily accepted by the group, but he didn’t have the training you have.” He nodded at Cal. “Or your skills.” He inclined his head toward Bridget. “Still, I cannot stress enough how cautious you are to be. You will travel as husband and wife, and you must convince those you meet in Belfast you are husband and wife. Your basic details are—” He rummaged through the pile of papers again. “Here. Keep your names and say you met in London or wherever suits you. You are in Belfast to return to your roots. The operative you meet will have some work for you.”
Bridget took the paper and added it to her clipboard.
“Once you find out what Innishfree has planned, you will inform us and sabotage their efforts. Then you are to return immediately. Your lives will be in the most danger at that point.”
“When do I get paid?” Cal asked, leaning forward. Beside him, Bridget sniffed.
“When you return,” Baron said.
“And if I don’t survive?”
Baron folded his arms over his chest and leaned back. “Die and leave all that money on the table? Mr. Kelly, I cannot imagine you doing so. Any other questions?”
Bridget shook her head. Cal wondered what she’d been thinking. She’d been silent throughout.
“I have one,” Cal said. The image of the man with the different colored eyes—one blue and one brown and both red with blood—filled his mind. “The man who had infiltrated Innishfree. The one I spoke to. He said something like, the seers of Innishfree know. They look into your heart. Your motives are not pure. This place sends kindling to the fire. Any idea what that all means?”
Baron met Cal’s gaze directly. “He was nonsensical when you met him. He had regressed to only speaking in Gaelic and made no sense.”
Cal didn’t look away from Baron’s face. The man was a skilled liar. But Cal could lie too, and he could smell a lie from a mile away. It reeked like horse shit.
“Did the man live?” Cal asked.
“He did,” Baron said.
Horse shit, Cal thought and went to gather his meager belongings for his trip to meet Death.
