Operation Hell Gate - Marc Cerasini [43]
As Jack pushed through the open door, Shamus raised his arm and the weapon in his hand discharged. The blast was muffled by the noise suppressor on the barrel, but Jack felt the bullet whiz past his head, heard it slap against the elevated train's steel support beam in the street behind him. Jack leaped forward. Before Shamus could fire again, he slapped the weapon out of his hand.
Shamus stumbled backward but didn't fall. He bolted across the tavern, tossing tables and chairs in Jack's path. Jack caught up with him just as he burst through a door and started to climb narrow stairs to the second floor. Jack seized Shamus by the ankle and yanked. Legs jerked out from under him, the man hit the steps with his jaw, but still fought back. Jack grabbed the man's red hair as Shamus clawed at his face. Holding the man steady, Jack laid a hard right on the man's already bruised face — then another. He raised his fist for a third blow but Shamus went limp.
Jack hauled the man up the rest of the stairs and into the cramped apartment. He tossed him onto the floor. Using cords ripped from a phone, radio, and lamp, Jack hog-tied Shamus Lynch and muffled his mouth with some electrical tape he found in a drawer. When he was satisfied the man wasn't going anywhere, Jack ran back downstairs to check on the woman.
She had yet to stir when Jack got to her. He stepped over her limp body and closed the door, then he searched her clothing for a weapon. All he found was a wad of money in her blouse, some change in an apron pocket. The woman moaned softly. Jack hurried back to the bar and filled a glass with water, wrapped a cloth around a chunk of ice, and brought them back to her.
"Here, drink this," he said softly, cradling the woman's head and tipping the glass to her lips. "Can you talk?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"What's the name of this pub?"
"The Last Celt."
"Do you know what time of day it is? Before midnight or after?"
"After."
Jack checked her eyes. Her vision didn't appear glassy or vacant and her voice sounded strong, her answers comprehensible. So it didn't appear she'd suffered a concussion, but there was a nasty bump growing on her head. He placed the icy cloth against it and she winced.
"Do you feel nauseated? Dizzy?" Jack asked.
The woman waved him off. "You almost killed me, you did. All to get to Shamus. I hope you found him. Now what? You'll murder us both?"
"My name is Bauer. I'm a Federal agent. You are.?.."
"Caitlin." She clutched her head. "Help me up."
Jack lifted the woman off the floor, guided her across the tavern. Chairs and tables were overturned, strewn about. "Ohh," Caitlin sighed when she saw the mess. "I just cleaned this place."
Jack helped her into a booth. "Do you live in the apartment upstairs?"
"What business is that of yours?"
"Do you live upstairs?"
"Yes. With my brother, Liam."
"You're Shamus Lynch's girlfriend."
Caitlin pressed the icy cloth against the bump on the back of her head, winced again. "He thinks so."
"What does Shamus do for a living?"
"Owns a computer store. Surely you know that, if you've come lookin' for him."
"And you know nothing about his other activities? His ties to international terrorism?"
Caitlin stared at Jack as if he'd grown a second nose. Then she laughed out loud. "Terrorist! Are you daft? You can't be thinking about Shamus. The man might buy stolen goods here and there, but international terrorism? Mother in heaven, no."
They both heard a crash from above. Jack grabbed Caitlin's arm and dragged her across the tavern and up the stairs. In the small living room, Shamus was awake and struggling. He'd knocked over a chair trying to free himself. When Caitlin saw Shamus tied up on the floor, she froze; her green eyes went wide. Jack pushed her into the couch.
"Sit down and keep quiet," he told her. Then he reached down and tore the tape away from Shamus's mouth. The man spit out a bundle of cloth and launched into a stream of obscenities.
Jack grabbed what he could of the man's short red hair. "Why did you