AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Nineteen
Cal walked briskly through the cold, cloudy night, keeping step with Sean MacDonald. He didn’t know what would have happened if he’d fallen behind. The men Sean had brought—some of whom he recognized from nights at The Selkie—seemed to surround him.
If he’d been in London, he would have run. He’d have known all the best shortcuts and hidey holes. Here in Dublin, he was at a disadvantage, and the best he could hope was that MacDonald really did want him to prove his allegiance by accompanying him on some sort of mission for Innishfree.
“You sure this couldn’t wait until morning?” Callahan asked, making his voice congenial. “I’m freezing me arse off.”
“You’ll be warm enough soon,” MacDonald said. “We’re almost there.”
At least he had been telling the truth about where he was taking Cal. And it wasn’t that Cal hadn’t expected MacDonald to come for him. He’d just thought he’d have more time to prepare Bridget. And he could admit he’d also thought to outwardly go along with MacDonald’s plan then detour to The Farm and inform Baron at first opportunity.
He hadn’t expected Bridget to be held hostage. And that meant MacDonald was smarter than Cal had assumed. But Bridget was cleverer than all of them. She would find a way around Aoife. She’d escape the house.
He just hoped she didn’t try to save him. That was the problem with these agents and their ilk. They never thought of themselves. They always ran about trying to save the world, even when the world didn’t need saving.
MacDonald led the small group of about five men into his house, but instead of stopping in the parlor, where he and Callahan had drunk before, he walked through it, moved a tapestry on the wall aside, and revealed a hidden door. He pulled a key from his coat, inserted it into the padlock, and then yanked the door open. Darkness hid whatever was behind it.
“What’s this then?” Cal asked.
MacDonald smiled. “My private chambers. Let’s go down and have a chat, shall we, gentlemen?” He lifted a lamp, illuminating a narrow stairway into a cellar. “After you, Mr. Kelly.”
Cal cleared his throat and stepped into the doorway. Now was the moment MacDonald would push him down the stairs, and he’d break his neck. But instead MacDonald followed him into the cellar and set the lamp on a table in the center. Looking around, Cal had to admit it did seem to be a private chamber. It was cold and sparse, but there were chairs about a table, a stack of papers on top of a piece of furniture with six drawers, and a map of England nailed to the wall. MacDonald pulled out one of the chairs. “Sit, Mr. Kelly.”
Cal sat. If he’d ever needed a drink, now was the time. Several bottles, most half full, took up the center of the table. Cal could smell the whiskey. His hand trembled on his knee at the effort it took not to grab hold of the nearest bottle as the other men were doing.
“Drink, Mr. Kelly?” Sean MacDonald asked, pouring himself a measure of whiskey.
“No.”
“That’s right. You don’t drink, do you?”
Cal made no response.
“You thought I didn’t notice the other night. But I notice everything, Mr. Kelly.”
Cal had played enough cards to know a bluff. “Do you? Then you’ve probably noticed I don’t drink at the pub either.”
“Tea seems to be your drink of choice. Why is that?”
Cal shrugged. “I have a weakness for gin.” He grinned. “And whiskey and wine and brandy and ale.”
The other men chuckled.
“I find I do better if I avoid it.”
“And why not say so?”
“A man doesn’t like to admit he has weaknesses, Sean MacDonald.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
To Cal’s surprise, MacDonald seemed to accept this explanation. He sat beside Cal and gestured to the other men to take seats. Cal might have worried for his life if the men had looked more like the thugs Surry or Morganstern, his old foes in London, had employed, but these were working men. Just ordinary Irishmen who loved their country and wanted a chance at freedom and success and perhaps to escape the boot of England on their necks.
“You impressed me yesterday, Kelly. That’s not an easy thing to do,” MacDonald said. “You fought well but didn’t look for trouble. You have the love of Ireland in your heart. We need men like you.”
“Sure and I’d like to be of service, but I don’t like being taken from me bed and me wife in the middle of the night.”
“No man does, lad!” one of the men called out.
