Chapter 7

I walked into The Shillelagh at quarter to eight. Frank Ryan waved me over.

"Did you see the news, my boy?" he asked.

"No. I was working on some things."

"It seems a driver was intercepted with a load of pharmaceuticals. The masked thugs tied him up, but he managed to free himself. The police found his rig abandoned on a side road later. It was empty. They have no leads."

"I'm confident our men in blue will diligently pursue this. I'm sure they will stop and question every masked man they come across."

Frank laughed. "You're a wicked one, you are. It's a good thing they don't have to contend with your wit."

"I tried that the night I took out the big guy. They were not impressed."

"That's why they have trouble closing cases," he said. "Come on back to the office. We'll talk."

Frank seated himself behind his desk and let out a deeply satisfied sigh.

"I've got to say that you've pleasantly surprised me, my boy. You've not only done everything I've asked of you, you've done it quite well.

"I was pretty skeptical of your approach with the driver. But, you did what you said you would and it's worked out beautifully. He followed your instructions and told the cops exactly what you instructed him to say. I thought he might break. You must have put quite a scare into him."

"I've studied some motivational techniques. I would be stunned if he ever says a word about us."

Frank raised a glass. "Here's to a job well done. I know, you don't drink."

If he was starting to anticipate what I would say then he was starting to trust me as a member of his organization.

He extracted a fistful of bills from his pocket and counted off a quantity, returning the remainder to his pocket. He extended the hand with the bills and I got up and took them. I put them in my pocket without counting.

"Thank you."

"You earn every penny of it, lad."

"Thank you nonetheless."

Frank tilted his head from side to side. "I've some things to do."

I nodded and left the office.

If I were following procedure, I would count the money, voucher it and turn it in. All the money I had been paid resulted from criminal activity. It could be used as evidence if I accounted for it properly.

What was I supposed to do? Go into the squad on a regular basis so I could turn in the money and fill out reports?

We hadn't been involved in enough long-term undercover operations to develop procedures that would allow me to follow regulations while staying alive.

I found it helpful to think of the money I was paid as confiscated contraband.

I went back into the bar and ordered a Diet Coke.

I took it to an empty table and sat down to watch what everyone was doing and to hear as much as I could of what they were talking about. What I was really doing was surveillance without the vehicle and the canonical cup of coffee.