Burn Notice Fic: Old Associates
Written for yuletide 2008
Crossposted to burnnotice
Title: Old Associates
Pairing/Characters: Michael, Fiona, Sam, OCs
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Pilot, Rough Seas
Summary: Fiona's old IRA associates track her down in Miami
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
Other comments are housed at Yuletide.
One thing you never really get used to as a spy is being shot at. Sure, instinct and training takes over to get you out of harm's way, but no one's really as cool as they look under fire. It's what makes the difference between a real spy and an amateur. Spies look blasé, but they're mostly just busy working on getting out of a bad situation. Amateurs look like they're freaking out and they are. Or they're just dead, which explains why there are so few amateurs in the espionage business.
The problem with gunfire is unless you're in the middle of an op it's hard to know who's shooting at you and why. Mostly you're just focused with getting out of the way of the bullets, but seeing as how people who want you dead tend to be persistent, it's important to at least try to figure out who wants you dead - this week.
"How about sushi?"
Michael pulled up to a stoplight, the Charger idling as they waited for the light to change.
"We had sushi last time."
"I like sushi," Fiona said.
"You like a lot of things, Fi," Michael intoned. "Including high powered automatic weapons and expensive shoes. So there must be something we can eat other than more raw fish."
"You're just mad that I ate your last yogurt," she huffed.
"You ate my last three yogurts," Michael said, giving her a look, "but who's counting."
Turned in her direction, he saw a sedan with tinted windows pull up next to them and start to roll down the window.
Snapping his head forward, he floored the gas and burst forward into the intersection, weaving to avoid being hit by cross traffic.
"What the..."
He wasn't even through the intersection before the back window was blown out by a shotgun blast.
"Damn it!" Michael swore, taking the first available turn at high speed. "That's going to be a pain to replace."
"Aww, don't worry Michael," Fiona said, pulling a semiautomatic pistol from her purse. "I'd just have busted it myself shooting back, so now I don't have to worry about it."
The sedan took the turn and Fiona fired on it, making it swerve, but not losing the tail.
Michael scanned his surroundings and made a sharp left then a sharp right into a narrow alley. The less nimble sedan made it through, but slower, so it bought him a second or two.
He made it out onto a major street and headed for a nearby diagonal intersection. The Charger might be old, but it handled well and he knew he could out maneuver a stodgy sedan.
"Friends of yours?" Michael asked, sarcasm clear.
"Me? Why me?" Fiona protested. "They're probably shooting at you! You're the one everyone seems to be annoyed with these days."
"Contrary to popular belief I'm not the only person in this car with enemies," Michael drawled.
"Sure, but mine don't know where I am," Fiona countered, taking aim again. "Why do you think I came to Miami?"
"Hold on!"
Michael took a hairpin turn at the diagonal intersection, driving in the opposite direction on the wrong side of the road, dodging cars as he did. He could see the sedan in his rearview mirror miss the turn and get stuck as traffic surrounded it. He took a quick left to get back onto a side road going the right way to get out of their sight.
After six or seven more turns it looked like they'd lost them, but Michael started his normal tail losing routine anyway.
"What the hell was that all about?" Fiona complained.
"Beats me." They pulled up behind a police cruiser at a stoplight and Fiona quickly put her gun back in her purse. "Looks like we may have to eat in tonight."
Fiona let out a little huff.
"Fine, but no pizza. You're at least ordering me Thai food." She sat back in her seat, looking sullen. "And you owe me some ammunition."
-|
Michael scanned the busy city street as they got out of the car, unsettled.
"I don't like this. There's not good cover."
"Seymour will be here any minute," Fiona said dismissively. "Besides, it's been almost a week."
"We've been laying low so we haven't given whoever it is many chances to shoot at us," Michael said patiently.
"You're worried?" Fiona mocked. "Oh, Michael, that's so sweet! I had no idea you were so old-fashioned at heart." She flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "Besides, don't you think I'd be safer not standing next to you?"
"That remains to be seen," Michael mused, distracted by his examination of their surroundings. "I seem to recall quite a few bombs going off around you back in Ireland."
"Yes, but most of those were ones I set," Fiona pointed out. "And look, you're still in one piece."
Michael turned to her, a retort on his lips, but saw a small red laser dot land on her arm and rise up towards her chest.
"Gun!" He tackled her to the ground just as the shot went off, dragging her up behind the Charger as the crowd scattered around them. "Are you hit?"
"No," Fiona said, some of her bravado drained away. "What happened?"
"Apparently it's dangerous to be standing next to you this time," he replied, trying to peer through the windows to see if he could tell where the sniper was firing from. "First a shotgun drive by and now a sniper?"
"Nice of them to offer a variety," Fiona snarked.
Michael saw a bus coming towards them and cocked his head towards it so Fiona would see.
"We need to get out of here."
"Works for me."
As soon as the bus was between them and the sniper they quickly got into the car, pulling out alongside it and staying in its shadow for a good mile before turning away.
"Congratulations, Fi. You're this week's winner in the 'Somebody wants to kill me' sweepstakes."
Fiona leaned back in her seat, frowning.
"Aren't I the lucky one?"
"You know what they say," Michael joked, no humor in his tone. "Luck of the Irish. And with your ex-IRA buddies, I'd say you might just be running out of luck."
-|
"Whoever he was, he was good, but not that good."
Sam pulled a beer from Michael's refrigerator and opened it before settling down on a stool to watch him clean his gun.
"The sniper was where I told you he might have been?" Michael asked, examining the trigger mechanism.
"Yep. Roof of the Skylar building. I saw signs the roof door had been jimmied and there were marks in the dirt on the roof where he knelt down."
"That and the use of a laser means he doesn't have the confidence to get the shot without it," Michael added, thoughtful. "So who do we know that falls into the semi-pro category?"
"You mean who does Fi know," Sam pointed out. "Hell, I bet a good portion of the IRA was just kids on the dole taking the government's money with one hand and sticking it to them with the other."
"This isn't kids," Michael said, loading bullets into a clip. "But I don't think it's official either. Can you do some poking around? See what the word is out there?"
"Sure, Mike. I think I can handle a walk on the wild side with Fi's crowd. Now where did I leave my body armor?" he mocked.
"Check with Seymour, that arms dealer Fi works with. If anyone coming to Miami wants to find Fiona, their first stop is going to be the local guns and ammo guys."
"I'm on it! Well, soon as I finish my beer," Sam said, taking a long swallow.
"You said he was good..." Michael finished assembling the gun, snapped the clip into place and slipped the gun down the back of his pants. "What made you think that?"
Sam let out a little snort of derision.
"Well, he took a shot at Fi and lived to tell the tale..."
-|
"I hate being stuck inside!"
Fiona paced Michael's floor, looking every bit the caged animal.
"Fi, you wanted out of your place, so here you are: somewhere different," Michael said trying to be patient.
There was a sound at the door and both Michael and Fiona drew their weapons only to find them pointed at Sam as he came through the door.
"Touchy, aren't we?" he joshed as they lowered their guns.
"What did you find out?" Michael asked, putting his gun away.
"Took a while," Sam said, coming over to where Michael was sitting on the bed watching Fiona wear out his floor. "Those IRA guys aren't that talkative. Took a while to find someone on the edges enough to talk and even longer to get him drunk enough to spill." He turned to Fiona. "You are definitely picking up my bar tab for the next week."
"It'd be cheaper to buy you a bar," she scoffed.
"Hey, now there's an idea!" Sam said brightly. "Anyway, seems some of Fi's old associates from New York are in town looking for her and man are they pissed. Guy couldn't tell me why, just dropped words like 'betrayal' and 'oath' and something in Gaelic I couldn't figure out - he was slurring his words too much by that point. Something 'diabhal' so if the devil's involved I'm guessing it wasn't that flattering."
"May the devil choke you," Fiona said, rolling her eyes.
"Or you in this case," Sam amended. "Anyway, I got two names and a location where they might be hanging out, you know, when they're not trying to kill you. Seamus O'Rearden and Joe Nolan at the Black Dog Pub."
"Great," Fiona said, voice full of sarcasm. "Now if you lads will excuse me, I've got some heads to bust open."
"Whoa, hold on, wait a minute!" Michael sprang up from the bed to block her path. "Fi, listen to me." He got her to pause, but she looked at him expectantly, impatient. "Even when you were working with the IRA you weren't alone. You had tactical support and frankly you need that now. The smart thing to do is to get surveillance on these guys, find out what's going on, rather than going in there guns blazing."
She hesitated, clearly struggling with the desire for violence, but finally folded. "Fine," she said resentfully. "You and I can plant a few bugs then."
"I think we're going to need someone other than you for this, seeing as how you're the one with the target on her back." He flicked his eyes between her and Sam, looking encouragingly at her. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "You kind of have to ask for this, you know?"
She glared, but Michael just gave her his best puppy dog eyes in return, making her smirk despite her annoyance.
"Fine," she snapped. "If it makes you happy." She turned to Sam, making a face as if the words were sour in her mouth. "Michael is of the belief..." Michael cleared his throat and she turned back to glare at him before looking back to Sam. "I need tactical support. You in?"
Sam just laughed. "Wait a minute! So is Fi playing Michael's role in the whole 'begging for tactical support' routine? Because that makes me Fiona, which means I get to say 'what's in it for me?' and 'how much are you paying?'"
"Sam..." Michael's voice had a note of warning to it.
"I'm just playing with you," Sam scoffed with a wave of his hand. "I'm in."
"Good," Michael said. "Because we have work to do."
-|
"How about that arms dealer? Marcus?"
"He says she deals with Seymour, not him. So that lead didn't pan out."
Michael and Fiona sat listening to Seamus and Joe talking, leaning over the speaker to better hear over the background noise of the pub on the recording.
"Seamus, I heard another rumor about Daniel, about him being alive. Are you sure..."
"For the last time! I saw Daniel blown up before my very eyes, damn it! And only he and Fiona knew the false code name of Aaron Healy. If the government was tipped off to look for Healy it can only mean one of those two gave us up and it sure as hell wasn't Daniel."
Fiona stopped the tape, indignant. "Those bastards! They lied to us!"
"Who's this Daniel?" Michael asked.
"We did a few ops together back in the day, distant cousin..."
"Fi, half of Ireland seems to be a distant cousin to you," Michael said. "Could he still be alive?"
"I never thought about it," she admitted. "Seamus and three other people saw him get into the car before it blew. The police found a burned body in it so no one asked any questions past that."
"So he could have faked his own death?"
"If he did?" Fiona said, fuming. "I'm going to have to make sure it sticks this time."
-|
Most people think interrogations take place in dank little rooms under bright spotlights, when in actuality you can often get more information from a person if you catch them off guard. Drag them into a cell and they've got time to prepare for the name, rank and serial number speech. Question them when they're dazed from an airbag going off in their face and they're likely to be a bit less prepared to put up a proper defense.
Michael accelerated, passing the one car between him and his target - a silver Lexus - making sure he was behind it when their plan went into effect.
Sam pulled out in a stolen car, right in front of the Lexus and the Lexus broadsided the passenger side, the airbag deploying on impact.
Fiona's car screeched around the corner and she bolted out, meeting Michael at the Lexus door. She smashed the glass and Michael reached in to zip tie the hands of the man in the driver's seat to the steering wheel.
"What..." His head lolled back at first, but when he finally came around fully and lifted his head he found himself staring down the barrel of Fiona's gun.
"Well, hello there, Eamon," she said sarcastically. "Got time for a little chat?"
He tugged on his hands, but couldn't free himself. "What the hell's going on?"
She leaned in closer to the window.
"Daniel's alive and if anyone would know where to find him, it would be you."
"Daniel's dead, Seamus was even there. Ask him!"
"Yeah well, Seamus and I aren't getting along so well these days," she said. "But you're going to get Daniel a message for me." Her voice lowered and her tone became spiteful. "If he doesn't get his ass to Miami tomorrow I'm going to hunt him down and kill him. That is, once I'm done ending your miserable little existence." Her voice returned to normal. "So, we're clear on that? Black Dog Pub. 11PM."
"Yeah," he muttered. "Now let me go."
"Sorry, got places to go, people to see..."
She cocked her head to Sam to join her in her car, leaving the stolen one behind.
"I'd listen if I were you," Michael told Eamon before he headed back to his own car. "She's in the mood to do some serious damage and right now, you're the one on the menu."
-|
The pub looked odd, all the lights on but no patrons sitting on the stools, no beer drinkers in the booths, no bartender at the taps. A wad of bills had closed down the pub for the night and the sign on the door read 'Closed, private party'.
They'd left Sam at the door to act as bouncer, turning away anyone too drunk to read the sign.
Fiona stood at rigid attention, watching the clock like a hawk as eleven approached.
The vibration of a text message was their cue from Sam: someone was coming in.
"He's here," he told her quietly. "Stick to the plan."
She ignored him, focusing on the sound of footsteps coming through the entryway.
"Hello, Daniel."
"Fiona! So good to see you!" Daniel approached her with open arms only to have Fiona draw her weapon on him.
"That'll do, right there," she said.
He put his hands up, acting innocent.
"Fiona? It's me! Daniel! Your cousin!"
Michael went and disarmed him, taking a gun out of the back of his pants and another from an ankle holster. He stepped back when he was done, nodding to Fiona that he was unarmed.
"No cousin of mine would put me in a position to be called a liar and a traitor," she said icily. "You sold out Seamus and the others, didn't you? You didn't know they used a code name - Aaron Healy - so when you fed that to the government it proved it was one of us."
"Well, that was clever of them," Daniel said, sounding almost amused as he lowered his hands. "Old Seamus isn't as dumb as I thought." He shrugged, nonchalant. "I got caught. Got put in jail for gunrunning and the only way I could get out of doing hard time was to snitch, so I did. Ends up they thought I was good at it so they put me on the payroll. Now I feed them a lot of useless crap and they pay me to sit around and drink beer. Man, the shit I sell them is totally worthless, but they eat it up." He laughed. "I don't know why I didn't get into this business before. It's like taking candy from a baby."
"As jobs go it's hazardous to your health, being a snitch," she said, her mouth a grim line.
"Who's going to come after me?" he said, his hubris plain to see. "Everyone back in Ireland and the entire New York contingent thinks I'm dead! I have a new name, a new passport and plenty of money."
"You sold out your own people." Fiona's rage was intensifying, her grip on her gun taut. "You betrayed me and almost got me killed."
Daniel rolled his eyes and made a dismissive wave of his hand. "That's nonsense. I totally knew you could take care of yourself. Besides, you're always itching for a fight. What's it to you if you have another one?"
"Sure," she said. "What's it to me if I kill an innocent man? What's it to me if I kill someone I once worked side by side with?" She walked up closer, putting the gun under Daniel's chin. "What's it to me if I kill a relative?" she whispered, venom in her voice.
"You won't kill me," Daniel said smugly. "I know you."
"You don't know me anymore," Fiona said, stepping back as if no longer interested. "I wash my hands of you. You and I are no longer related."
"Fine," Daniel said. "So just give me my guns and I'll go."
He turned to Michael, putting his hand out.
"See, that?" He gave Daniel his best fake smile. "Is never going to happen. There are people other than Fiona who have plans for you."
Seamus and Joe stood up from where they'd been hiding behind the bar and four of their men came in from the back room just as Sam entered from the front door, all of them barring every exit from the room.
"Hello, Daniel."
Seamus stared right at him.
"Fiona!" Daniel tried to rush to her only to have the four men grab him and hold him, struggling against them.
"Car's out back," Joe said, gesturing to them. "Let's go."
Seamus and Fiona shared a brief nod before he followed Joe out.
"Fiona!" Daniel yelled as they dragged him away. "Do something!"
"Wait!"
Michael looked, shocked, as Fiona stopped them with a word.
She walked up to Daniel, looked him in the eye then slugged him across the jaw as hard as she could.
"Okay, I'm done. Take him away..."
-|
The television was on in the bar at the cantina and Sam pointed to it as they interrupted the newscast for breaking news.
"Car bomb. How original," he snarked. "I tell you your IRA buddies need to work a little variety into their repertoire."
"Seems fitting," she said, watching the footage for a few seconds before turning away. "Seeing as how he was supposed to have died in a car bombing in the first place."
"I’m fairly sure he was dead before the bomb went off," Michael said.
"Yeah, it's the Chechnyans who are nasty enough to put the timer where you can see it and let you shit your pants before you die," Sam said, polishing off his beer and gesturing to the waitress for another. "By the way, I called one of my contacts. They were very happy to hear that Daniel's intel was crap. It had been contradicting their other sources so now they know who to believe. They asked how I knew, but I just told them to consider that source dried up for now."
Michael looked across the table at Fiona.
"Something you want to say, Fi?"
"Nope," she said.
"You sure?" Michael drew out the final word, looking at her expectantly.
"What, you expect me to say thank you?" she said.
Sam and Michael shared a glance.
"Is this the part where you say 'don't mention it'?" Sam asked him.
"Then I'd be playing you in the scenario," Michael said, amused. "That means you'd have to be playing Fiona."
"And that makes me Michael," Fiona finally threw out, exasperated. "So fine, I'll be Michael. 'Thanks guys, I owe you one,'" she said, mimicking Michael's voice. "That work?"
"Hmm, I don't know, Fi," Michael said, both him and Sam pretending to analyze her. "I think I'd have said it a little less flippantly."
"And with less of an Irish accent," Sam chimed in. "How about we try it again?"
"How about I don't shoot you and we call it even?"
Sam laughed out loud.
"Now you're back to Fiona!"
Michael met her eyes across the table, raising his glass slightly to her as they shared a knowing glance - one only he would understand.
"You're welcome."
-|-
Crossposted to burnnotice
Title: Old Associates
Pairing/Characters: Michael, Fiona, Sam, OCs
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Pilot, Rough Seas
Summary: Fiona's old IRA associates track her down in Miami
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
Other comments are housed at Yuletide.
One thing you never really get used to as a spy is being shot at. Sure, instinct and training takes over to get you out of harm's way, but no one's really as cool as they look under fire. It's what makes the difference between a real spy and an amateur. Spies look blasé, but they're mostly just busy working on getting out of a bad situation. Amateurs look like they're freaking out and they are. Or they're just dead, which explains why there are so few amateurs in the espionage business.
The problem with gunfire is unless you're in the middle of an op it's hard to know who's shooting at you and why. Mostly you're just focused with getting out of the way of the bullets, but seeing as how people who want you dead tend to be persistent, it's important to at least try to figure out who wants you dead - this week.
"How about sushi?"
Michael pulled up to a stoplight, the Charger idling as they waited for the light to change.
"We had sushi last time."
"I like sushi," Fiona said.
"You like a lot of things, Fi," Michael intoned. "Including high powered automatic weapons and expensive shoes. So there must be something we can eat other than more raw fish."
"You're just mad that I ate your last yogurt," she huffed.
"You ate my last three yogurts," Michael said, giving her a look, "but who's counting."
Turned in her direction, he saw a sedan with tinted windows pull up next to them and start to roll down the window.
Snapping his head forward, he floored the gas and burst forward into the intersection, weaving to avoid being hit by cross traffic.
"What the..."
He wasn't even through the intersection before the back window was blown out by a shotgun blast.
"Damn it!" Michael swore, taking the first available turn at high speed. "That's going to be a pain to replace."
"Aww, don't worry Michael," Fiona said, pulling a semiautomatic pistol from her purse. "I'd just have busted it myself shooting back, so now I don't have to worry about it."
The sedan took the turn and Fiona fired on it, making it swerve, but not losing the tail.
Michael scanned his surroundings and made a sharp left then a sharp right into a narrow alley. The less nimble sedan made it through, but slower, so it bought him a second or two.
He made it out onto a major street and headed for a nearby diagonal intersection. The Charger might be old, but it handled well and he knew he could out maneuver a stodgy sedan.
"Friends of yours?" Michael asked, sarcasm clear.
"Me? Why me?" Fiona protested. "They're probably shooting at you! You're the one everyone seems to be annoyed with these days."
"Contrary to popular belief I'm not the only person in this car with enemies," Michael drawled.
"Sure, but mine don't know where I am," Fiona countered, taking aim again. "Why do you think I came to Miami?"
"Hold on!"
Michael took a hairpin turn at the diagonal intersection, driving in the opposite direction on the wrong side of the road, dodging cars as he did. He could see the sedan in his rearview mirror miss the turn and get stuck as traffic surrounded it. He took a quick left to get back onto a side road going the right way to get out of their sight.
After six or seven more turns it looked like they'd lost them, but Michael started his normal tail losing routine anyway.
"What the hell was that all about?" Fiona complained.
"Beats me." They pulled up behind a police cruiser at a stoplight and Fiona quickly put her gun back in her purse. "Looks like we may have to eat in tonight."
Fiona let out a little huff.
"Fine, but no pizza. You're at least ordering me Thai food." She sat back in her seat, looking sullen. "And you owe me some ammunition."
-|
Michael scanned the busy city street as they got out of the car, unsettled.
"I don't like this. There's not good cover."
"Seymour will be here any minute," Fiona said dismissively. "Besides, it's been almost a week."
"We've been laying low so we haven't given whoever it is many chances to shoot at us," Michael said patiently.
"You're worried?" Fiona mocked. "Oh, Michael, that's so sweet! I had no idea you were so old-fashioned at heart." She flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "Besides, don't you think I'd be safer not standing next to you?"
"That remains to be seen," Michael mused, distracted by his examination of their surroundings. "I seem to recall quite a few bombs going off around you back in Ireland."
"Yes, but most of those were ones I set," Fiona pointed out. "And look, you're still in one piece."
Michael turned to her, a retort on his lips, but saw a small red laser dot land on her arm and rise up towards her chest.
"Gun!" He tackled her to the ground just as the shot went off, dragging her up behind the Charger as the crowd scattered around them. "Are you hit?"
"No," Fiona said, some of her bravado drained away. "What happened?"
"Apparently it's dangerous to be standing next to you this time," he replied, trying to peer through the windows to see if he could tell where the sniper was firing from. "First a shotgun drive by and now a sniper?"
"Nice of them to offer a variety," Fiona snarked.
Michael saw a bus coming towards them and cocked his head towards it so Fiona would see.
"We need to get out of here."
"Works for me."
As soon as the bus was between them and the sniper they quickly got into the car, pulling out alongside it and staying in its shadow for a good mile before turning away.
"Congratulations, Fi. You're this week's winner in the 'Somebody wants to kill me' sweepstakes."
Fiona leaned back in her seat, frowning.
"Aren't I the lucky one?"
"You know what they say," Michael joked, no humor in his tone. "Luck of the Irish. And with your ex-IRA buddies, I'd say you might just be running out of luck."
-|
"Whoever he was, he was good, but not that good."
Sam pulled a beer from Michael's refrigerator and opened it before settling down on a stool to watch him clean his gun.
"The sniper was where I told you he might have been?" Michael asked, examining the trigger mechanism.
"Yep. Roof of the Skylar building. I saw signs the roof door had been jimmied and there were marks in the dirt on the roof where he knelt down."
"That and the use of a laser means he doesn't have the confidence to get the shot without it," Michael added, thoughtful. "So who do we know that falls into the semi-pro category?"
"You mean who does Fi know," Sam pointed out. "Hell, I bet a good portion of the IRA was just kids on the dole taking the government's money with one hand and sticking it to them with the other."
"This isn't kids," Michael said, loading bullets into a clip. "But I don't think it's official either. Can you do some poking around? See what the word is out there?"
"Sure, Mike. I think I can handle a walk on the wild side with Fi's crowd. Now where did I leave my body armor?" he mocked.
"Check with Seymour, that arms dealer Fi works with. If anyone coming to Miami wants to find Fiona, their first stop is going to be the local guns and ammo guys."
"I'm on it! Well, soon as I finish my beer," Sam said, taking a long swallow.
"You said he was good..." Michael finished assembling the gun, snapped the clip into place and slipped the gun down the back of his pants. "What made you think that?"
Sam let out a little snort of derision.
"Well, he took a shot at Fi and lived to tell the tale..."
-|
"I hate being stuck inside!"
Fiona paced Michael's floor, looking every bit the caged animal.
"Fi, you wanted out of your place, so here you are: somewhere different," Michael said trying to be patient.
There was a sound at the door and both Michael and Fiona drew their weapons only to find them pointed at Sam as he came through the door.
"Touchy, aren't we?" he joshed as they lowered their guns.
"What did you find out?" Michael asked, putting his gun away.
"Took a while," Sam said, coming over to where Michael was sitting on the bed watching Fiona wear out his floor. "Those IRA guys aren't that talkative. Took a while to find someone on the edges enough to talk and even longer to get him drunk enough to spill." He turned to Fiona. "You are definitely picking up my bar tab for the next week."
"It'd be cheaper to buy you a bar," she scoffed.
"Hey, now there's an idea!" Sam said brightly. "Anyway, seems some of Fi's old associates from New York are in town looking for her and man are they pissed. Guy couldn't tell me why, just dropped words like 'betrayal' and 'oath' and something in Gaelic I couldn't figure out - he was slurring his words too much by that point. Something 'diabhal' so if the devil's involved I'm guessing it wasn't that flattering."
"May the devil choke you," Fiona said, rolling her eyes.
"Or you in this case," Sam amended. "Anyway, I got two names and a location where they might be hanging out, you know, when they're not trying to kill you. Seamus O'Rearden and Joe Nolan at the Black Dog Pub."
"Great," Fiona said, voice full of sarcasm. "Now if you lads will excuse me, I've got some heads to bust open."
"Whoa, hold on, wait a minute!" Michael sprang up from the bed to block her path. "Fi, listen to me." He got her to pause, but she looked at him expectantly, impatient. "Even when you were working with the IRA you weren't alone. You had tactical support and frankly you need that now. The smart thing to do is to get surveillance on these guys, find out what's going on, rather than going in there guns blazing."
She hesitated, clearly struggling with the desire for violence, but finally folded. "Fine," she said resentfully. "You and I can plant a few bugs then."
"I think we're going to need someone other than you for this, seeing as how you're the one with the target on her back." He flicked his eyes between her and Sam, looking encouragingly at her. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "You kind of have to ask for this, you know?"
She glared, but Michael just gave her his best puppy dog eyes in return, making her smirk despite her annoyance.
"Fine," she snapped. "If it makes you happy." She turned to Sam, making a face as if the words were sour in her mouth. "Michael is of the belief..." Michael cleared his throat and she turned back to glare at him before looking back to Sam. "I need tactical support. You in?"
Sam just laughed. "Wait a minute! So is Fi playing Michael's role in the whole 'begging for tactical support' routine? Because that makes me Fiona, which means I get to say 'what's in it for me?' and 'how much are you paying?'"
"Sam..." Michael's voice had a note of warning to it.
"I'm just playing with you," Sam scoffed with a wave of his hand. "I'm in."
"Good," Michael said. "Because we have work to do."
-|
"How about that arms dealer? Marcus?"
"He says she deals with Seymour, not him. So that lead didn't pan out."
Michael and Fiona sat listening to Seamus and Joe talking, leaning over the speaker to better hear over the background noise of the pub on the recording.
"Seamus, I heard another rumor about Daniel, about him being alive. Are you sure..."
"For the last time! I saw Daniel blown up before my very eyes, damn it! And only he and Fiona knew the false code name of Aaron Healy. If the government was tipped off to look for Healy it can only mean one of those two gave us up and it sure as hell wasn't Daniel."
Fiona stopped the tape, indignant. "Those bastards! They lied to us!"
"Who's this Daniel?" Michael asked.
"We did a few ops together back in the day, distant cousin..."
"Fi, half of Ireland seems to be a distant cousin to you," Michael said. "Could he still be alive?"
"I never thought about it," she admitted. "Seamus and three other people saw him get into the car before it blew. The police found a burned body in it so no one asked any questions past that."
"So he could have faked his own death?"
"If he did?" Fiona said, fuming. "I'm going to have to make sure it sticks this time."
-|
Most people think interrogations take place in dank little rooms under bright spotlights, when in actuality you can often get more information from a person if you catch them off guard. Drag them into a cell and they've got time to prepare for the name, rank and serial number speech. Question them when they're dazed from an airbag going off in their face and they're likely to be a bit less prepared to put up a proper defense.
Michael accelerated, passing the one car between him and his target - a silver Lexus - making sure he was behind it when their plan went into effect.
Sam pulled out in a stolen car, right in front of the Lexus and the Lexus broadsided the passenger side, the airbag deploying on impact.
Fiona's car screeched around the corner and she bolted out, meeting Michael at the Lexus door. She smashed the glass and Michael reached in to zip tie the hands of the man in the driver's seat to the steering wheel.
"What..." His head lolled back at first, but when he finally came around fully and lifted his head he found himself staring down the barrel of Fiona's gun.
"Well, hello there, Eamon," she said sarcastically. "Got time for a little chat?"
He tugged on his hands, but couldn't free himself. "What the hell's going on?"
She leaned in closer to the window.
"Daniel's alive and if anyone would know where to find him, it would be you."
"Daniel's dead, Seamus was even there. Ask him!"
"Yeah well, Seamus and I aren't getting along so well these days," she said. "But you're going to get Daniel a message for me." Her voice lowered and her tone became spiteful. "If he doesn't get his ass to Miami tomorrow I'm going to hunt him down and kill him. That is, once I'm done ending your miserable little existence." Her voice returned to normal. "So, we're clear on that? Black Dog Pub. 11PM."
"Yeah," he muttered. "Now let me go."
"Sorry, got places to go, people to see..."
She cocked her head to Sam to join her in her car, leaving the stolen one behind.
"I'd listen if I were you," Michael told Eamon before he headed back to his own car. "She's in the mood to do some serious damage and right now, you're the one on the menu."
-|
The pub looked odd, all the lights on but no patrons sitting on the stools, no beer drinkers in the booths, no bartender at the taps. A wad of bills had closed down the pub for the night and the sign on the door read 'Closed, private party'.
They'd left Sam at the door to act as bouncer, turning away anyone too drunk to read the sign.
Fiona stood at rigid attention, watching the clock like a hawk as eleven approached.
The vibration of a text message was their cue from Sam: someone was coming in.
"He's here," he told her quietly. "Stick to the plan."
She ignored him, focusing on the sound of footsteps coming through the entryway.
"Hello, Daniel."
"Fiona! So good to see you!" Daniel approached her with open arms only to have Fiona draw her weapon on him.
"That'll do, right there," she said.
He put his hands up, acting innocent.
"Fiona? It's me! Daniel! Your cousin!"
Michael went and disarmed him, taking a gun out of the back of his pants and another from an ankle holster. He stepped back when he was done, nodding to Fiona that he was unarmed.
"No cousin of mine would put me in a position to be called a liar and a traitor," she said icily. "You sold out Seamus and the others, didn't you? You didn't know they used a code name - Aaron Healy - so when you fed that to the government it proved it was one of us."
"Well, that was clever of them," Daniel said, sounding almost amused as he lowered his hands. "Old Seamus isn't as dumb as I thought." He shrugged, nonchalant. "I got caught. Got put in jail for gunrunning and the only way I could get out of doing hard time was to snitch, so I did. Ends up they thought I was good at it so they put me on the payroll. Now I feed them a lot of useless crap and they pay me to sit around and drink beer. Man, the shit I sell them is totally worthless, but they eat it up." He laughed. "I don't know why I didn't get into this business before. It's like taking candy from a baby."
"As jobs go it's hazardous to your health, being a snitch," she said, her mouth a grim line.
"Who's going to come after me?" he said, his hubris plain to see. "Everyone back in Ireland and the entire New York contingent thinks I'm dead! I have a new name, a new passport and plenty of money."
"You sold out your own people." Fiona's rage was intensifying, her grip on her gun taut. "You betrayed me and almost got me killed."
Daniel rolled his eyes and made a dismissive wave of his hand. "That's nonsense. I totally knew you could take care of yourself. Besides, you're always itching for a fight. What's it to you if you have another one?"
"Sure," she said. "What's it to me if I kill an innocent man? What's it to me if I kill someone I once worked side by side with?" She walked up closer, putting the gun under Daniel's chin. "What's it to me if I kill a relative?" she whispered, venom in her voice.
"You won't kill me," Daniel said smugly. "I know you."
"You don't know me anymore," Fiona said, stepping back as if no longer interested. "I wash my hands of you. You and I are no longer related."
"Fine," Daniel said. "So just give me my guns and I'll go."
He turned to Michael, putting his hand out.
"See, that?" He gave Daniel his best fake smile. "Is never going to happen. There are people other than Fiona who have plans for you."
Seamus and Joe stood up from where they'd been hiding behind the bar and four of their men came in from the back room just as Sam entered from the front door, all of them barring every exit from the room.
"Hello, Daniel."
Seamus stared right at him.
"Fiona!" Daniel tried to rush to her only to have the four men grab him and hold him, struggling against them.
"Car's out back," Joe said, gesturing to them. "Let's go."
Seamus and Fiona shared a brief nod before he followed Joe out.
"Fiona!" Daniel yelled as they dragged him away. "Do something!"
"Wait!"
Michael looked, shocked, as Fiona stopped them with a word.
She walked up to Daniel, looked him in the eye then slugged him across the jaw as hard as she could.
"Okay, I'm done. Take him away..."
-|
The television was on in the bar at the cantina and Sam pointed to it as they interrupted the newscast for breaking news.
"Car bomb. How original," he snarked. "I tell you your IRA buddies need to work a little variety into their repertoire."
"Seems fitting," she said, watching the footage for a few seconds before turning away. "Seeing as how he was supposed to have died in a car bombing in the first place."
"I’m fairly sure he was dead before the bomb went off," Michael said.
"Yeah, it's the Chechnyans who are nasty enough to put the timer where you can see it and let you shit your pants before you die," Sam said, polishing off his beer and gesturing to the waitress for another. "By the way, I called one of my contacts. They were very happy to hear that Daniel's intel was crap. It had been contradicting their other sources so now they know who to believe. They asked how I knew, but I just told them to consider that source dried up for now."
Michael looked across the table at Fiona.
"Something you want to say, Fi?"
"Nope," she said.
"You sure?" Michael drew out the final word, looking at her expectantly.
"What, you expect me to say thank you?" she said.
Sam and Michael shared a glance.
"Is this the part where you say 'don't mention it'?" Sam asked him.
"Then I'd be playing you in the scenario," Michael said, amused. "That means you'd have to be playing Fiona."
"And that makes me Michael," Fiona finally threw out, exasperated. "So fine, I'll be Michael. 'Thanks guys, I owe you one,'" she said, mimicking Michael's voice. "That work?"
"Hmm, I don't know, Fi," Michael said, both him and Sam pretending to analyze her. "I think I'd have said it a little less flippantly."
"And with less of an Irish accent," Sam chimed in. "How about we try it again?"
"How about I don't shoot you and we call it even?"
Sam laughed out loud.
"Now you're back to Fiona!"
Michael met her eyes across the table, raising his glass slightly to her as they shared a knowing glance - one only he would understand.
"You're welcome."
-|-