Cat In An Ultramarine Scheme

“Desert dust in Las Vegas, lads,” Garry said. “Sometimes gold dust, but more often silver. If you check the Web, you’ll see there’s been news of a hidden vault opened under a Las Vegas hotel.”

“Empty,” Liam sneered. “You think I don’t get the news of the world hourly?”

Max was astounded, and thus was gagged from saying anything to back up Gandolph.

“Still …” Garry went on, “there’s a Vegas cadre of magicians—”

“Magicians?” Finn hooted. “We’re to be interested in a gang of magicians?”

“You should be, because a lot of deaths over the past two years or so could come to lie down like lambs at their feet, and they may roar like lions before this hidden-vault business is over. Such a vault was found a decade ago in the desert, loaded with collectible American silver dollars worth millions. Millions, lads. Wouldn’t that do your ‘charitable’ causes some major good?”

“A treasure hunt is what you’re offerin’ us instead of solid information?” Flanagan said.

Liam put a hand on Flanagan’s sweater-clad arm. “Our American sympathizers gathered millions and millions in treasure for our cause over the decades. This lad and his cousin came here almost twenty years ago because they were afire with our just grievances. I’ve never doubted the sincerity of our American cousins. Do you, Michael Kinsella, swear that there might be something to this Synth and its hidden treasure?”

“I’ve trusted this man with my life since he whisked me away from your lot,” Max said, “after I found and triggered the O’Toole’s Pub bombers in the name of my slain cousin.” He regarded Gandolph with complete sincerity. “I believe that every word he’s told you now is true.”

“You betrayed our kind and our cause, but not your kin and kith,” Liam said. “In our old days there would be a blood price, but in these new days, we cannot deny it’s no more than we would have done.”

“So,” said Gandolph. “We’ll return to Vegas and endeavor to find your lost promised fortune. What is this … jewel … of information you have for us?”

“Kathleen O’Connor is your lost jewel, yes?”

“If you speak in terms of long-delayed vengeance,” Max said.

“Hard to get over kin betrayed and slain, is it? And ye’ve only had twenty years of it, lad.”

Max nodded, soberly. These men had truly had cause. Centuries of it, enough to no longer feel like men, but trapped, snarling animals. If he and Gandolph indeed found Kitty the Cutter’s last savagely patriotic stash, they’d send it to the widows and orphans of Ulster, both sides.

He glanced at Gandolph, knowing his unilateral resolve would be honored there.

“All right, then,” Liam said, hunkering down over his pint and lowering his voice. “You’ve proven your mettle to me. We asked around, as you wanted. We asked about Kathleen O’Connor. No man who saw her forgot her. Some didn’t wish to speak of her, defending her to this very day. Some spat at the mention of her name. One, only one woman who is our liaison to the charities knew of her.”

Max and Garry leaned in and strained their ears to hear Liam’s soft conspiratorial tone.

“She’s contributed to the charities within the past year.”

Max reared away, almost physically seared by the implications. “No. I saw her dead.”

“I don’t know what you saw, man, but she put forty thousand American dollars of bearer bonds into the widows’ and orphans’ coffers within the past three months.”

“How do you know it was she?” Gandolph asked, his grammar precise even during the stress of hard bargaining.

“Because Rose Murphy, one of our longest, loyalest supporters, said it came in from a name Kathleen used to use. From the U.S.”

“And what name was that?” Max asked.

“Rebecca.”

Max tensed again. He and Garry and Liam knew from the documents that was Kathleen O’Connor’s name in the Magdalen asylum.

“Just Rebecca?” Gandolph asked. “A lot of women bear that name. How can you be sure it was Kathleen, then?”

“Not just Rebecca. Rebecca Deever. That was the code name she used for all her U.S. activities after she left the homeland. Even I recognize it from ‘donations’ and weapons shipments before the bloody ‘peace accord.’ ’Twas from her, no doubt. Even I didn’t know about these last decade’s sendings. She went around me and my associates. Directly to the women. You see, it worked both ways, Max, you and Kathleen. We IRA men blamed her for inflaming you so much our bombers were tracked down by your vengeance.”

“Then she did know O’Toole’s was scheduled to be hit while Sean was there?”

Liam shrugged. “Should have. You understand, man, we were as mad at you for bein’ with her at the time as you became angry with yourself. We never understood why she spent her time and self with you.”

“Causing heartache and guilt and murderous jealousy,” Max said. “That was the only real ‘cause’ that drove her, setting men against one another over her and enjoying the mayhem. She was avenging herself on the entire male sex, and Irishmen particularly.”

“For the years at the Magdalen asylum,” Finn suggested.