October 21, 1977

 

 

 

The United Airlines flight from Jacksonville to Dulles International Airport touched down smoothly on the long runway and the shuttle bus moved them to main terminal. Peter went to pick up the Ford wagon rental, leaving Bernadette and Terry with the luggage.

Traffic was surprisingly light and they made good time to the Washington Hotel near Tysons Corner. Bernadette was elated to be back in the same suite. Terry said, “This is good. I like your style. If you two young and uninjured people don’t mind, the old man is going to rest a bit. Something tells me the next few days are going to be long and hard. So carry on. Wake me if you need me.”

“I understand old men need their rest. Bernadette and I will be doing some shopping in the mall. We may wake you for dinner.”

Walking through Bloomingdale’s, Peter took Bernadette’s arm and said, “You are beautiful and deserve to have some matching clothes for Boston. It will be cold and damp. And we will be moving in some so-called elegant circles and you should have clothes to fit the occasion. Pick some that change your appearance, so if we run into any IRA veterans they won’t recognize you. I noticed that I have to listen hard to hear your accent. Your cover story is that you are studying political and cultural history of the Sub-Continent and are planning a field trip to Mohenjo-Daro and Harappa. That will make most people’s eyes blink.”

“Lover, you have impressed me again. I had no idea you even knew anything about ancient civilizations in India and Pakistan.”

“So let’s dress you up as a snooty intellectual with an artsy flair.”

“I like that. I’m ready to get all tarted up.”

Two hours later, Bernadette finished shopping and met Peter at the store’s main entrance. His call to Frank hadn’t taken long, and the equipment he wanted was in a self-storage facility in Vienna, just a few miles west of McLean. The storage facility was locked with a combination lock, making two-way exchanges easy. Also the site had few cameras, none aimed at entrance to unit 273. Frank also put some information he dug up in with the weapons and other equipment.

Peter decided there wasn’t much to move from the storage unit into the Ford wagon. Bernadette and I can handle it and let Terry rest. He is not back to his fighting level of strength and energy. Those two bullet wounds took a lot out of him. Peter also suspected that Terry was deeply concerned about his tentative handling of the woman who shot him.

The situation in Boston may be very violent. O’Hara, the IRA fund-raiser, will have a couple of hard core shooters handy, and my KGB nemesis Yuri Kolenko, using the name Harris, must be the Russian in touch with O’Hara. I want to have another chance at Yuri.

Bernadette and Peter picked up the supplies and weapons from the storage site and headed back to the hotel. Not only had Frank delivered everything they asked for, he had it all wrapped in various sizes of cardboard boxes. Peter pulled a tarp over the cargo and had no worries about parking the wagon in the hotel parking building.

Back in their suite, Peter studied the file Frank included with the weapons while Bernadette went to check on Terry.

The attached unsigned memo read like it was written with the carefree but intense style of Frank’s boss. He must be one of those people who write like they speak. The memo said the mission in Boston was to find evidence linking the IRA fund-raiser and terrorist to anyone in Congress. The Russian, Harris, was also a high priority. No violence was required but no one would miss O’Hara or any of his people if things got rough. Peter was asked to call in any leads they uncovered to anyone in Congress that was or is in contact with O’Hara in any way. The attached brown envelope contained photos of O’Hara, regular patrons, and O’Keefe’s Pub, where O’Hara had set up his headquarters. Photos of the building were from the street and inside, including shots of both sides of the street for a block. There was also a blueprint of the entire three-story building and a detailed street map of the area around O’Keefe’s. An internal envelope contained two sets of cop credentials that identified the carriers as Federal Investigators.

Just as Peter finished going through file, Bernadette and Terry came in. He handed her the file. She spread it out on the dining table so Terry could see it. A quick examination and she said, “You have some powerful and competent friends. This is an excellent casing file. I couldn’t do any better myself. Will there be any on-the-ground support?”

“No. As far as I know, we are it. They do stress that the mission is collection, but if it turns violent we defend and withdraw. They don’t want any of us to get hurt.”

“Everybody get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow just after a 0800 breakfast, we start off for Boston. We’ll stay in a downtown hotel with good security and look at O’Keefe’s tomorrow night. To get the evidence we need, I see no alternative to breaking into O’Hara’s office very early in the morning. So we’ll be checking out door locks, alarm systems, cameras and guards, including dogs.”

Frank called back right on time. He said, “No information had gone anywhere yet about West Virginia. My boss, whom you met, wants you and anyone with you who understands the IRA to please come to Washington. This is a very serious plot, and we have no one who is as up to date as you and your people.”

“We could save time and fly up but you would have to provide us with equipment, including weapons. Can you do that?”

“Yes. What will you need?”

“Three Browning 9mm with sound suppressors. Each with four magazines. One AR-15 and one sniper rifle, preferably a US M40A1. A couple of car-tracking beacons, five short-range push-to-talk radios. Three protective vests, two large, one medium. A half-dozen concussion grenades. One night vision unit. Two sets of cop flash credentials with a blank place for thumbnail photos. One small motorized 35 mm camera. That’s it.”

“Good list. We can do it. Where do you want it?”

“I’ll tell you later. We’ll be there tomorrow. I’ll check in. In the meantime you have in your legislature a Congressional Committee called the HPSCI that oversees the government’s intelligence activities. You might check the Committee roster for Irish names and any recent, last five years, travel to Ireland. Also anyone supporting Irish causes.”

“Okay. I’ll do that myself.”

“That’s all I have. Goodbye.”

October 20, 1977

 

After resting and spending time with Jack, Rip, and Bernadette and getting a good sleep, Peter eased out of bed at 6:00AM Monday. He used the bath down the hall to keep from waking Bernadette. God, what a woman and warrior. He’d sooner have her at his back than any man he had ever known. Terry was good, but she was better.

Peter grabbed a cup of coffee and some homemade coffee cake and slipped out the door. He needed to talk to Frank at the CIA. The information he had couldn’t wait. Not having a secure line handicapped communications but he could get the most important information to him. Peter headed east on A1A, the back way to Jacksonville. He didn’t want the CIA to know he spent time on Amelia Island. No one should ever completely trust an intelligence officer or the organization. They have their own set of priorities and ethics that do not always apply to their agents, which is what he was. A damn good one, he knew, but still expendable.

Peter stopped at a shopping mall in Jacksonville and called Frank. Frank’s secretary answered, and when he gave her the name Frank had given him, he was put through immediately.

Frank said, “You’re up early.”

“Yes. I’ve been a bit busy and have some very timely information.”

“Okay. I’m ready. I’m going to record this if you agree.”

“And if I don’t you will anyway.”

“In most cases that would be true but I’m under the strictest orders to do what you want and never to make any effort to locate you. Your performance has earned that respect.”

“Okay. On Tuesday morning a team of IRA killers tried to kidnap, torture, and kill one of my people. Those killers are now all dead. During an interrogation of the head man, whose real name is Sam Conners, we learned he took his orders from an IRA fund-raiser with the name O’Hara who used a back room at O’Keefe’s in Boston for his headquarters and that his mission was to kidnap and bring my person to D.C. to case some federal building near the White House. When he got back in Washington he was to pick up and guard an RV full of explosives from a bomb-building site in the mountains of West Virginia. The bomb building site and this operation had KGB support. A Russian using the name Harris is in charge, according to Sam Conners.

“When Conners expressed some concern over the high-risk of a bombing in Washington, D.C., O’Hara said, ‘Not to worry, I have a source in the American Parliament who will alert me if anyone is on to us.’

“Conners was frightened. The interrogation was quite skillful. I have no doubt he was telling the truth. Which brings me to the question, did information about my last operation in West Virginia go to anyone in the Congress?”

“The honest answer is I don’t see how. But I will check as soon as I hang up. Call me back in twenty minutes.”

“If you want us involved further, please tell me then.”

Just after dark, Terry parked the Ford pickup along 1A1 in a closed-up plant nursery, 100 yards south of the trailer park. Thirty minutes later he was settled in some palmettos fifty yards from the entrances of the two doublewides. Porch lights were on and he had nearly perfect line of sight with his 10x power scope on his sniper rifle, the USM40A1. Okay, he thought, I’m ready. The show can start anytime.

Terry had been in place for twenty minutes when he saw he VW camper pull into the trailer park and come to a stop near the two isolated doublewides. He heard the horn beep twice then saw the doors of both doublewides open and two people come out of each trailer and wait near the steps.

The light was going fast but with the porch lights on he was good to go. He saw Peter, wearing Harry’s clothes, and supporting Bernadette who was barefooted and wearing her bikini with the top ripped in half. She hung limply between Peter and Conners. Bernadette’s hands were behind her back, holding a Browning 9mm. Peter held the sound-suppressed Luger in his right hand behind Bernadette’s back, and rammed against Conners’ ribs.

The four people came down the steps from the small porches. The man who rode the scooter yelled, “Sam where in God’s name have you been?”

Peter whispered in Bernadette’s ear, “Show time. I’ll take the two on the left. You have the two shooters on the right. No one is carrying a weapon. Go!”

Peter took the scooter team down in four shots, Terry hit one of the shooters, and Bernadette hit the other shooter. Bernadette, Peter, and Conners walked up to the bodies. “See, I told you I could be useful,” Conners smirked.

Peter said, “Thank you,” and shot him twice in the head. Bernadette dashed inside to check for any documents, maps, or sketches. Peter put the Luger in the hand of one of the shooters. He then rushed back to the VW and wiped the steering wheel, door handle, and other things he touched while driving. The VW was wiped clean back at the boathouse. Terry moved in close to guide Peter and Bernadette, wearing Peter’s shirt and sandals back through the palmettos to the truck. In a quiet voice he said, “Four minutes, time to go now.”

Bernadette put the Browning 9mm in the hand of the scooter driver and joined Peter and Terry moving through the brush. She had found her .45 Colt automatic on a table in the doublewide.

They were in the truck going east on the highway leading back to Amelia Island. Peter said, “I think we left a confusing crime scene for the local detectives.”

“More than you think,” Bernadette said. “There were drugs inside, loose large bills in one of the bedrooms, and several weapons. A very interesting crime scene. I suspect the VW was stolen.”

Peter said, “One more task. Burial at sea for Harry. I don’t want Jack or Rip to find him in the boathouse. Terry, how are you holding up?”

“Tired and bit sore, but not so much I can’t be your guide at night to the Nassau Channel.”

Conners started thrashing on the workbench, yelling “No, no please! The guy in Boston gives me orders. I check in at O’Keefe’s, an Irish hangout. O’Hara is the IRA fund-raiser. He uses O’Keefe’s as his headquarters.”

“What does he look like?” Peter asked.

“He’s a little man but mean as a snake. Has a beard and walks with a cane. Also wears glasses with no rims. He’s in a back room at O’Keefe’s after ten most nights.”

“Maybe you can help,” Peter said. “Now tell me exactly what orders O’Hara gave you.”

“I was ordered to find Bernadette and get her to come to Boston. O’Hara said he had a job for her. If she refused to come, I was told to kill her.”

“But you decided to kill me and lie about my willingness to help, right?”

“I’ve never trusted you. You thought you were too good for me. I was going to teach you a good lesson.”

Peter said, “Never mind. What else did he tell you?”

Conners hesitated and Terry moved to put the towel over his face. Connors looked at the three of them and said, “You have to help me. If I tell you more, there is no place in the world I can live. They will find me if it takes them years. That’s the way they are and always have been.”

“Well, you are in a tough place, because if you don’t tell me in the next minute your worries will be over.” Peter then turned to Terry and said, “Will that one anchor hold them both down long enough for the sharks to eat them?”

“I think so but I’ll add a heavy chain just to make sure.”

Terry left to find the chain. Peter nodded at Bernadette who said, “Don’t kill him before throwing him in the shark channel. I want to cut him just before we throw him overboard. The flowing blood will attract the sharks.”

“NO! NO!” Conners screamed. “A bomb! bomb! I was told they would have a bomb for me to pick up and guard. The bomb was coming from a bomb factory hidden in the mountains. The Russians are involved in some way. There’s a big- shot Russian, O’Hara calls him Mr. Harris, who’s running the whole show. I know the RV bomb is going to be used in Washington but I don’t know where.”

Peter wondered if Terry or Bernadette noticed his reaction when Conners said the name Harris. His sworn enemy, Yuri Kolenko, used that alias every time he could. Yuri had to be the one involved with the bomb plot. The Harris name, Yuri’s presence at the bomb factory in the West Virginia mountains, and the fact his expertise was planning and using terrorism was proof enough.

“You’d better do better than that,” Peter said.

“I only know Bernadette was needed to case a building near the White House and some woman was going to drive the mobile trailer, called an RV. O’Hara brags he gets information from someone in the American Parliament and will know if they’re on to us. Nothing more, I swear!”

“Okay. You won’t go in the channel with Harry, but you’d better keep cooperating,” Peter said.

He taped Conners’ mouth and eyes and went to find Terry in the garage. Peter said, “Let’s go up to the house for tea and a planning session. After that we’ll take down the trailers.”

Mrs. Nguyen brought out a tray of tea, biscotti, and chocolate chip cookies. Peter said, “I have an idea for the trailer people. I’ve checked the local maps of the general area. It doesn’t lend itself to a sneak attack or a surprise attack. My main concern is that we don’t get hurt or worse. Remember the Trojan horse gambit at Troy to get through the defensive barriers? Conners is our Trojan Horse.”

When all the details and options of Peter’s plan had been gone over and everyone knew their part, Peter said, “We have several hours before we go after the trailers. I’d like to get rid of Harry but he’ll have to wait. I don’t want to dump him in Nassau Sound in daylight. Too many boats on the water and too many people looking at the Inland Waterway with telescopes and binoculars. We can take care of Harry when we come back from the trailer park.”

Peter went in the house to talk to the Nguyens. He said, “I have some bad men in the boat house that tried to capture and hurt Bernadette. They wanted her to do something she didn’t want to, and they were going to rape and torture her. I captured them and now it’s time to question the leader.”

Mrs. Nguyen said, “I have many times questioned prisoners. If he won’t answer your questions, call me. He will answer for me.”

“Thank you. If he refuses to answer, I’ll ask you to help.”

Before the interrogation started, Terry said, “I want to see the Whaler before we start.”

“Go ahead. The door is unlocked.”

Terry came back 15 minutes later and said, “I got it started. Did you hear it?”

“Yes and I’ll bet Conners also heard it. If your towel trick doesn’t work, we can take him out in the boat. That may be more humane than turning him over to Mrs. Nguyen. Not that I care.”

“It’s time to introduce ourselves to Mr. Conners.”

Peter opened the garage side door and turned on the lights. “There is more room in the boathouse. The door in the back of the garage leads downstairs to the boathouse. He isn’t a big man. Let’s take him there.”

Terry said, “Bring the tape. We’ll put him on the empty workbench.”

Peter opened the sliding door in the VW and reached in to pull Conners out. Peter took his upper body and Bernadette pushed Terry out of the way and said, “Sorry big guy, but no lifting for you. Remember, I’m in charge of your recovery.”

Starting down the set of ten stairs, Peter said, “Just drop his legs, I’ll drag him down from here.”

Once Conners was taped down on the workbench, Peter stripped off the duct tape over his mouth and eyes. Conners’ eyes roamed around the boathouse and stopped when he saw Bernadette. He said, “You bitch, you’re a dead traitor.”

Peter leaned over him and slapped him hard across the mouth and nose, which immediately caused him to bleed. Peter said, “We’ll do the talking here. You talk only when we ask you a question.”

Conners tried to spit in his face and Peter slapped him again harder in the same place. “Maybe you didn’t understand. Do you understand now?”

Conners said, “Fuck you, whoever you are. You will also die. You don’t know who you’re fucking with.”

“You mean the IRA? Guess what, unless you do what we tell you, your days with IRA are over.”

Terry said, “Enough of his phony tough talk,” and put a towel over Conners’ face and began pouring salt water over the towel. After 30 seconds, Conners started to struggle. Terry poured more water on the towel. When the struggling slowed, Terry pulled off the towel. Conners gasped for air, sputtering water.

Terry said, “How about some more?” and started to put the wet towel back on.

Conners screamed, “No, no more! You people are crazy. You’ll drown me!”

“Does it look like we care?” Bernadette whispered in his ear.

Peter said, “First question. Answer truthfully or the towel goes back on. Where is the rest of your group?”

“They’re in a motel South on A1A toward Jacksonville.”

Bernadette shook her head. Terry put the towel back on and poured more water on it. Conner began to sputter and struggle. This time Terry waited until the struggling stopped and pulled the towel off.

Conners’ face was blue and for a moment Peter thought Terry pushed it too far. Then Connors gasped, coughed, and spit up water.

Peter said, “Shall we take you closer to drowning this time? Same question, please answer.”

Bernadette said, “Listen Sam. I’ve been with these people for several months now. They are killers. Your only chance of not being drowned is to tell them what they want. They don’t care. I’ve seen them do this to someone a lot tougher than you who in the end told them everything they wanted. This man is now living under a different identity in South America. Do you want to drown or cooperate?”

“My people are in a trailer park on the east side of A1A going north toward St. Mary’s. It’s the Sunset Park. We have two big ones on the south end of the park.”

Peter described the scooter couple and asked, “Are those the people?”

“Yes.”

“Who else is with you?”

“No one.”

Peter stepped back and nodded to Terry who stepped forward with the wet towel.

“No, no! There are two more.”

“Who are they?”

“They’re shooters. Bernadette knows them, Casey and O’Malley.”

“When you and Harry didn’t show up with Bernadette, what will your people think?”

“They’ll think we took her some place to fuck her before showing up at the trailer. Where is Harry?”

“I ask the questions. Do you want the towel again?”

When Conners shook his head, Peter said, “Harry was in the back of the VW with you. Didn’t you two talk?”

“I thought there was someone back there with me.”

“Harry was there but he is dead now and will soon be with the sharks. You may be with him, only you won’t be dead. We’ll see how far you can swim with a 20-pound anchor. Not far I guess. Are you a good swimmer?”

“Christ! Don’t do that to me. I’ll help you.”

“You had better start now. The boat is ready. Harry is waiting for you. He doesn’t want to see the sharks alone. So tell me, who gives you your orders?”

“I can’t do that. The lads will kill me.”

Bernadette moved in close and said, “I told you he won’t help. Let’s put him in the boat and go finish the rest of them in the trailers.”

“Okay, I guess you’re right. I’ll tape him up. Connors do you want to go swimming with your eyes open or taped closed?”

Peter walked to the main house and checked in with the Nguyens to tell them to keep the shotguns handy and Jack under watch. And to prepare a picnic lunch for six out by the pool.

Peter heard Terry’s car coming down to the boathouse and went out to meet him. Terry got out and said, “What’s going on?”

“Come up to the pool with me and I’ll bring you up to date.”

Seated in a cabana, Peter told him what went down at the beach. Terry grew visibly angry as he heard the story. “As soon as Bernadette checks in, let’s go kill the bunch of them.”

“That’s what will probably happen, but we have to question Conners and get both of them ready to go in the river tonight. I don’t think Conners will talk at first. He thinks he’s tough. He told Bernadette first he was going to rape her and then beat her so badly no man would ever want her again.”

Terry clenched and unclenched his huge fists. “Please let me talk to him,” he said.

Peter replied, “Okay. But don’t kill him until he’s answered our questions. And let’s give Bernadette some more time to check in here. She may have information that will help our questions’ focus. We don’t know yet what they wanted her to do. Maybe Connors never told her. Maybe this rogue faction of the IRA just wanted to clean up a loose end. While we’re waiting for Bernadette and lunch, let’s go and check on our prisoner.”

Before opening the door into the garage, Peter said, “Don’t make any noise. I want him to stay bewildered over what happened. When we rip off the duct tape from his mouth and eyes, he may be ready to talk. I don’t care what he sees and hears then. After dark he will be shark bait.”

Looking in through the VW windshield, they could see Connors trying to move. He could make slight noises but nothing that would be heard outside the garage.

Back at the cabana Terry and Peter talked over dumping Connors and Harry out in the Nassau Sound. Peter said, “I’ve not had the Boston Whaler out much. It came with the house.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get it running. I used to cruise and fish these waters in the same type boat.”

Peter jumped up when he heard Bernadette driving down the driveway. He laughed because Jack and Rip beat him to greeting Bernadette. She hugged them both and let them escort her to the pool, where she dropped her beach robe and did a flat dive into the pool, followed by Jack and Rip. Both were now strong swimmers. Peter yelled “lunch is served” and Bernadette swam over to the cabana and offered a hand to Peter who pulled her out. She said, “I needed that and I need some serious lunch.”

Peter handed her a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon and an Italian sub made by Vietnamese standards. Bernadette said, “You know I’m getting to like nouc mam. I think Mrs. Nguyen uses it to brush her teeth. Okay, I’ve settled myself after this morning’s horror show and am ready for some serious talk. Have you briefed Terry?”

“Yes. He knows as much as I do. Your turn to brief.”

“Okay. I followed the scooter couple to A1A North toward St. Mary’s. They pulled into a cluster of what you call in America, doublewides. It was a trailer park. Laid out in lanes. In the back of the site there were two doublewides almost touching each other. I saw the scooter people go into the double wide on the right as you face them. Before they went in, they stood around outside as if waiting for something.

“Probably the VW camper with Connors, Harry, and me. I should have walked up and asked them if they were waiting for me and then shot them. I’m sure they didn’t see me or notice the truck. They were speeding as much as one can on a scooter. I was never closer than 100 yards. It’s easy to follow the only scooter on the highway. Okay, that’s my report.”

“Did Conners ever tell you what he wanted you to do?”

“No and I asked him before things turned bad. He said the higher ups wanted me but he didn’t. He planned to make up a story of what he found out and kill or almost kill me for his made-up accusations. There’s no question he knows the plan or at least the target. My mission for the IRA almost always involved casing hard targets. I have a good memory and can sketch rather well. Occasionally the mission involved direct violence but my reputation was centered on my casing ability.”

“How do you suggest we interrogate Conners?”

“He’s tough. But he is very afraid of water. He can’t swim and is known for his fear of drowning.”

Terry said, “That is a big help. I’ll use a Special Forces procedure that gets good results and doesn’t injure the prisoner or mark him up. All I need is a couple of towels and a bucket of water. The process works on mental fear of suffocation not pain. It is unpleasant. I know. It was used on me in a training exercise.”

“Did it work on you?”

“Yes, after a number of sessions. I figured I’d held out as long as I could.”

“Okay, you’re on. Bernadette, can you write up a number of questions for your friend, Conners?”

“Give me ten minutes.”

Peter moved quickly to the motor scooter and let the air out of the front tire. They would believe a flat tire but not a knife cut in the tire. While near the sea wall, Peter checked the meeting site. He was surprised to see the man in the blue windbreaker walking closely beside Bernadette. The scooter couple was still on the beach obviously playing the rear guard role.

Peter ran back to the VW, opened the sliding side door, and stepped inside. When the IRA thug with Bernadette approached he said, “Harry, get behind the fucking wheel. I got her.” The blue windbreaker pushed Bernadette inside and got in behind her. He didn’t see Peter and yelled, “Harry, get moving.” Blue windbreaker pushed the sliding door closed.

Peter hit him behind the head with the Luger’s butt. He sank to the floor. Bernadette was in his arms. She said, “I knew you would save me. But I was getting worried.”

“You are not completely saved yet. They’re two more out on the beach. They’ll be along any minute. We’ve got to get going. Mr. IRA thug is a practical sort. There’s a roll of duct tape back here. Very convenient. I’ll get this thug wrapped up. You take my truck keys and Browning and follow the scooter people. No chances. Just see where they go. They’ll be bewildered. The VW camper will be gone.

“Their scooter has a flat front tire. I let the air out. Get the truck someplace where you can see them coming out. They’ll be going fast. Just stay close enough to keep them in sight. Probably brought at least one handgun, and now they have your .45. Their job was to do clean up.”

As Bernadette was getting out of the VW she said, “His name is Sam Conners. And he is a bad one. He’s killed several people, including IRA members who he thought were out of line. He told me he was going to rape me and then beat me so badly, I would never have to worry about any other man wanting me.”

“He will never bother you again. After you find out where the scooter people go, come home. I’m going to put Conners and the VW in the detached garage and boat house in the marsh behind the house.”

“Okay. Take care, Peter Brandon. These are mean, treacherous people. Conners will have had a gun and a knife.”

“I got the snub nose .38 Smith and Wesson. It dropped out of his hand when I hit him. Remember no chances. Just get home safe.”

Bernadette hurried back to the pickup truck. Looking up she saw the VW with Peter at the wheel wearing the driver’s cap and sunglasses. She moved the Ford out of the beach lot to a street position where she could see the exit of the public beach lot and be able to move to follow the scooter no matter which way they turned coming out of the lot. She knew it would be at least 15 minutes before the scooter couple could get their front tire checked and inflated.

Peter headed straight for his house. He had the remote from his truck that controlled the resident’s gate in his pocket so he didn’t have to risk the guard at the main gate wanting to check the run-down VW camper before allowing him through. It wasn’t every day that a guard could find a dead man and another one taped up under a blanket on the floor of a vehicle driven by a resident.

Turning into his driveway he punched in the access code and when the gate swung open he drove around to the back of the house, past the pool, and down a narrow, unpaved track to a detached garage and boat house some 100 feet from the house.

Peter closed the garage door and made sure Conners could not move or make any noise. He then called Terry from the boathouse phone. When Terry answered after several rings, Peter said, “So far okay. It was a snatch operation, only we snatched the leader instead. Bernadette is okay and should be here soon. But I need you now. Be careful coming over. These people are serious. They sent four armed people to get Bernadette.

“Come straight back to the boat house when you come. I’ll be inside waiting for you.”

“I’m on my way,” Terry said.

October 19, 1977

 

Peter, driving the black Ford pickup, pulled into the parking lot at the beach and parked where he could see the entrance. It was now 8:30 AM. He doubted the IRA advance person would arrive before 9:15 AM. Maybe they would use an advance person to recon and monitor the meeting site. It was also possible this wasn’t a meeting but an opportunity to grab or kill Bernadette. He had convinced Bernadette to keep a small commercial transmitter in her beach bag. If she yelled for help, he would hear her.

The tide was coming in and a storm at sea was causing bigger than normal breakers. Some East Coast surfers were trying without much success to catch a decent wave. Peter walked over to the beach restaurant and got a large takeout coffee. He was certain the coffee would be poor but drinkable, especially as a cover prop. He wandered down to look at the beach and strolled back to the truck. With his Levis and light rain jacket, he fit right in with the growing beach population.

Camera ready, he settled in the truck, sipping coffee and waiting for the main characters to arrive. It was now 9:00 AM. If the IRA was going to cover this meeting, the person or persons should be arriving soon. The lot was now half filled. There were several more pickup trucks. Fortunately, none of them blocked his line of sight lanes.

At 9:30 a motor scooter arrived with two people and parked near the bike rack. They looked out of place. The man was big but not overweight, the woman was wearing a very revealing tiny bikini and was white as snow. She was carrying a beach bag that looked heavy the way she was carrying it. The man reached over and took the bag. It was very obvious they were not at home on the beach.

Peter shot a couple of pictures with his 35mm Minolta with a distance lens. If they weren’t IRA reconning the meeting site, they should be. Perfect casting for comic relief. Thirty minutes in the Florida sun and they would be in misery in a few hours.

Bernadette arrived on schedule at 9:55. She parked Terry’s Toyota and walked down the short stairway to the beach as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She spread her beach towel near the high tide line. In another hour her spot would be covered. From the seat of the truck Peter could see Bernadette with her short robe covering her knife and not much else. The motor scooter couple picked up their towels and moved to within ten yards of Bernadette. The stage is set, Peter thought. Just waiting for the main actors.

Focused now on the entrance, Peter saw an old model VW camper with a passenger and a driver in the front seat. The driver stayed with the VW. The passenger moved directly to the beach. Peter hurried to get the photos he wanted. The VW was parked 20 yards closer to the beach entrance by the restaurant. The driver was watching the main actor as he moved toward the meeting site.

Peter thought, This has all the earmarks of a snatch. His instincts told him this meeting was not going to be nonviolent. He switched plans, got out of the truck, and moved toward the VW. The driver was still watching the meeting site. Peter approached on his blind side, reached through the open driver’s side window with his right arm, hand cupping the chin, and broke the driver’s neck in one quick move.

Climbing inside the camper, he found a Luger fitted with a sound suppressor on the seat next to the dead driver. He put the Luger under his belt and took the driver’s cap and wrap-around sunglasses and pushed the body over the bench seat on to the empty bed of the camper and covered him with a ratty blanket conveniently spread out on the floor. There was no doubt in Peter’s mind that the blanket was meant for Bernadette.

They were going to torture her before telling her what they wanted from her. Both to teach her a lesson and to find out what she had been doing in the last couple of months. If they didn’t like the answer, they would kill her. There will be some torturing here, but not of Bernadette.

Sitting around the pool in the warm Florida sun and drinking Bass Ale, Bernadette told Terry about the note and phone call.

“God damn those people! Can’t they understand you’re done with them?”

“Terry, these people are terrorists. You cannot reason with them. You either cooperate or you get punished. In my case, punishment will be death.”

“Terry, here is the beginning of a plan. Short term we must find these people and get them arrested and jailed or deported. Failing that, we kill them. They will not understand a warning or threats, and Bernadette doesn’t believe they can be bought off.

“Long-term, you two have to disappear. New location and new name.”

“Hell, I don’t like that. I’ve been Terry O’Brien a long time. I’m proud of my name and record. I can’t or won’t give up my veteran rights and pension, and don’t say you will make it up for it isn’t the money. But we don’t have time now for that debate. I’m in for the short-term plan. Lay it out.”

Peter said, “First of all, you must keep out of sight. They will be looking for you. And when real professionals look they want eyes on the target. That’s you. If you’re not under observation, they won’t go through with the meeting. The next meeting site would be Bernadette’s choice and they might send a painful message.

“They will come to the beach in a car or motorcycle. They don’t know me. I’ll set up where I can see the parking lot. I’ll take a few pictures and follow the person or persons that show up to wherever they go. All Bernadette has to do is listen, act normal, and not give them a definite ‘no.’ Leave open another meeting in the same place if possible. If not, pick a shopping mall that has activity during the time of the meeting.

“Bernadette, wear one of your bikinis with a beach wrap to cover your knife. It’s okay to bring your .45 but leave the gun in your beach bag with all the stuff ladies take to the beach. They might try to follow you after the meeting to see what you do. Run some errands, go shopping, go back to Terry’s and take a nap, anything that seems natural. Don’t come to my place until late afternoon. If there’s trouble, call and come immediately.

“My intent is that your IRA friends never figure out what happened or who is to blame. How’s the plan sound to you?”

Terry said, “Plan sounds good and I won’t ask how you got so good at it. You must have been to a good school.”

“I think it just comes natural to him,” Bernadette said, “Like some people can sing or paint or write poetry or shoot. I haven’t had much coaching in knife throwing but I’m pretty good at it. No school teaches knife throwing 101. What school would teach operational planning?”

“I’m glad you like the plan. Now let’s get into the details.”