Chapter 2

Arriving in Dublin, I decided I would take a walking holiday, and explore the land of my birth. The first bus was heading to Kildare, so that is where I went. Three days into my extended holiday, I was sitting outside a pub overlooking the Atlantic. I noticed a mobile phone lying under a vacant table. I lifted it and found a cyber café where I did a search for the telephone number what had been my local police force. I used the mobile to report people trying to break into a house and gave the address of my former home. The operator tried to keep me on the line and get more details, but I hung up. I wiped down the phone and dumped it in a litter bin.

A month later, I decided to rent a place in Galway and started looking for a job. I had started calling myself Seamus óCléirigh, the Irish form of my name, James Clarke. A lot of Irish people change their names to an Gaelic form; it was not unusual and allowed me to use my birth certificate without any questions being asked. My walking tour had trimmed the fat off my belly, and I had allowed my hair and beard to grow. Since my beard was quite ginger I changed my hair colour too. I was determined to disappear. Having an address meant that I could apply for a passport, and a driving licence. I now had a complete, legal Irish identity with all new photographs. Having shed the weight I decided to keep it off, I started running and found a gym.

I chose Galway for a number of reasons, not least that it was a University town with a lot of high tech industries, many of them pharmaceutical. If I couldn't get a veterinary job I could get one with one of those. I applied for a number of jobs and got one with a company that did a lot of research in animal drugs. All I was really interested in was an income. I still had a decent bit of cash, but it was running out fast now I was paying rent.

I had taken the opportunity to go through Julian's computer. There was quite a bit of information about Mec-Dy, the company they all worked for. There were profiles on Witters, van der Cruyssen, Visser, and Delmas. They were all regional directors. Janet was playing with the big boys. Julian was British sales manager. I used a couple of internet cafes to research them, but couldn't get anything more than a few addresses. I couldn't be sure they were the right ones for the individuals concerned. All I could potentially use were the e-mail addresses of the company.

I found a file of passwords, but it was protected. I had little to do of an evening so I spent some time trying all the usual simple codes, mothers' maiden name, birthdates, and so on. No luck. Then I opened his pictures file. Amongst the photos was one labelled "my first car". It clearly showed the number plate. I tried that. Lo and behold the password file opened. Very kindly he had labelled every password, including his bank account. I was tempted to empty it, but thought doing so might draw too much attention.

What really provoked me, though, were the photos he had of a number of the sex parties they had held. Further probing revealed some video clips. At first I didn't have the stomach to view the all the photos and video. After a few more weeks of anger and jealousy gnawing at my stomach, I decided the way to get revenge against the rest of the bastards was to use those photos and video. I had to review them to select the, I suppose, best. I noticed in some of them Janet was smoking. I knew she didn't use tobacco so I was guessing she had a drug habit I didn't know about either. Firstly though, I had to find out if I was a person of interest for the police.

I hadn't attracted any interest from the Garda, and I was fairly confident that any search focussing on James Clarke would not throw up Seamus óCléirigh. The nearest English pronunciation would be O'Cleary. Nevertheless, I decided a discrete search of the newspapers might be in order. I was getting rather paranoid about revealing my whereabouts. I didn't think that my attempts to conceal my movements were foolproof, but the longer I stayed free, the more I realised I could have another life. What I found just made things more complicated.

I was dead. Am dead? Well, anyway, I had been presumed dead after the boat had been found. The reports didn't say much about Janet and Julian except that they had been found tied up after reports of a break-in, and had required extensive medical treatment for their injuries. The report about the recovery of the boat appeared just two weeks ago, two months after I discovered my wife's infidelity. It had been recovered by some Spanish fishermen, who had claimed salvage rights to it. The report said that I had stolen the vessel and must have fallen overboard. It was linked to the incident at my house, suggesting that I had tried to disappear having faked the break-in, and perished when the boat ran out of fuel.

So, I was free and clear to live as Seamus, but my plans to use the photos and videos might reveal that I was alive. I had intended to use the e-mail address book for Mec-Dy and send pictures to every member of staff, in every branch.

Spanish fishermen! That was it. I could speak Spanish, it was in the European Union, and there were direct flights from Cork or Dublin. I could go to Spain, and send e-mails from there. I checked the airports. I could fly out on a Friday evening and return on Sunday. I wouldn't even have to take time off work.

I flew out the following Friday. Paranoid as ever, I wore sunglasses and a panama hat through the airports. I was not relying purely on my beard and hair. Arriving in Madrid I went straight to the hotel and hit the sack. I had two laptops with me. Mine and Julian's. First thing on Saturday I went into town looking for an unsecured wireless link. It wasn't hard to find. More in hope than anger I pulled Julian's computer from my backpack, and fired it up. I was surprised when it connected. The second machine wasn't needed.

I would have expected him to cancel his internet account. If he hadn't cancelled that, maybe I could still access his intranet. I dug out the list of passwords, and I was in! That provided another little detour in the electronic trail. The address book was split into the separate national branches so I sent different messages and attachments. There were, however, photographs of all the players sent to each branch. I had prepared the messages before hand so it didn't take long to send them.

Once done, I took a stroll through Madrid in the late autumn sun. I resolved to do a bit more travelling once the dust had settled. I lunched on tapas and a fairly rough red wine, before returning to my small backstreet hotel; chosen because it was less likely to have security cameras. There I took the hard drive from Julian's computer and packed it away in case I came up with a future use for the data. I slept for a couple of hours and then went to the Parque Lineal del Río Manzanares, a park along Address:the river which runs through Madrid. I followed the river till I found a deep looking area, and threw the computer in before returning to the Plaza de Santa Bárbara to sample the famous Madrid nightlife.

By three in the morning I had had enough. The town was still alive with revellers but I was coming down from an adrenaline high. I returned to the hotel for a few hours sleep before catching my plane home.

For the next year I worked for the pharmaceutical company. Galway is a lively town with a young population and the social life that goes along with it. I wasn't short of female company but was reticent about commitment. Whilst I was content with the job, I still wanted to get back into veterinary practice, so I was on the look out for a position. One evening while looking through the newspaper, I spotted an opportunity. A practice was up for sale. Next morning, I made an appointment to visit.

It turned out that the principal Dermott McCulla, was getting on in years, although he looked a good ten years younger than the seventy that he claimed. Despite the fact that my accent had picked up a more Irish tone over the year he picked me out immediately as English. He subtly gave me the third degree.

I told him how I had been in practice in England but my wife and I separated when she found the life of a country vet less exciting than she was prepared to accept. I told him that I since I had no family I had spent a few months travelling while I decided what to do and wound up in Galway, liked the place and took the first job that came along while I found my feet again. He could tell there was more to it, but it was true enough that he saw the pain. He referred me to his accountant so I could look over the books, but I could already tell that it was a sound enough business that was ripe for growth. Basically he was looking after his neighbours animals and hadn't taken on any new business for years.

To raise the money I was going to have to sell my stamp collection. Now when I say my collection, the core of it was really my grandfather's, and father's. That is where the value lay. I took it to Sotheby's in Dublin. Initially the appraiser thought it was just another fairly boring collection. He valued it at about ten thousand Euros, which I thought was low. Then I showed him the part of the collection I had kept in the bank.

"May I ask where you got these?"

"Some were collected by my grandfather, some by my father, some by me."

The British album contained examples of every British stamp up to the time I had left England. Amongst the collection was a set of 2 un-separated Penny Blacks that I had bought, another Penny Black, two Penny Reds and two Two Penny Blues, one perforated and one imperforated. The Empire album was not as complete, but contained a full set of Falkland Island stamps. The European album was quite extensive, and had a complete set from Nazi Germany. My grandfather had been stationed in Germany after World War Two, and he had bought many collections from Germans who needed money to survive. These had formed the core of the collection. The albums I had left on the boat were virtually worthless modern stamps. I suppose the Spanish fishermen had kept them.

"Well Mr óCléirigh, I think you should take these albums to our main philatelic department in London for valuation. There is a major auction in three months time. So if you are of a mind to sell it would be a good time to get them catalogued for sale. As it is, I would estimate a value of at least a quarter of a million Euro."

"I'll do that then. Thank you"

This posed a problem. If I was to buy the veterinary practice I needed the money from the sale. It looked as if I couldn't get it for at least three months. I returned to Galway and paid another visit to Dermott.

"Mr McCulla, I'm afraid I need to sell a stamp collection to raise the money to buy the practice. The auction won't be for about three months."

"Well, perhaps I can make a proposal to you. How about you work with me for those three months and we can see how you get on with my clients. Then you can decide then whether you still want to buy."

And so it was decided. Whilst I was fairly sure the police were not looking for me, I used Bus Eireann to get to London. I simply got on a bus, which took me to the ferry and then another bus straight into London. Sotheby's agreed to catalogue the collection for sale, and would notify me of how they would divide the lots and I could make reserves based on their valuations. A month later I was advised of an estimated value of half a million pounds sterling. Two months later I was nine hundred thousand pounds richer after commission and fees!

During those three months, I had worked with Dermott and I had established myself as a member of the community. The work was mainly large animals and farm dogs. Dermott, however, also ran a small holding, raising beef and lamb, to augment his income. He intended that the farm was part of the sale. So I also learned to raise, buy and sell animals. When the money from the sale of the stamps was transferred to my account, I paid Dermott for the business. He went into hard earned retirement, and I became a part-time farmer and full time vet.

I worked hard at the practice and built up a strong client base. My reputation grew and I found I was getting a lot of small animal work too. I opened a surgery in town and soon I employed another vet, two veterinary nurses and a receptionist. I was still able to have a social life. Despite Ireland being a Catholic country, there were a surprising number of women whose marriages had failed, and were living separated lives. There were also a number of women who had never married and I was never short of a companion. Then, one day, life, as she does, threw the curve ball.

I was in the surgery, when in rushed Maureen O'Hara. Not the real one of course, but a carbon copy. She had knocked down a dog and rushed into the office looking for help. I went out to her car and lifted the animal from the boot, blood leaking from both ends. I knew the poor beast was not going to make it. I also knew her owner, and more particularly her daughter, would be distraught. I X-rayed the dog. Too many broken ribs, a fractured skull and a broken back meant she had to be put to sleep, there and then. I cleaned her up and laid her in a blanket making her look as much as if she was asleep as I could. I loaded her into the back of my car and took her to her owner. All this time Maureen O'Hara had waited, I don't think the dog's owners would be any more distraught. She insisted on coming with me.

I knocked the door. "Mrs Cadogan, I'm afraid Ferdy, was knocked down. She was very badly injured and I had to put her to sleep"