Page 93

My burner phone rang when Colleen had just headed off to the ladies’.

“Dad! There you are,” my son said. “I’ve been calling and calling. It kept kicking into your voice mail.”

“Oh, now you want to call me, huh?” I said, smiling. “How’s that for a switch. What about the time zones, son?”

“Very funny,” Declan said. “How are you? How’s the fishing?”

“Oh, it’s okay, I suppose,” I said as I saw Colleen heading back. “Pretty boring. Just fishing, you know.”

“ Just fishing? Are you feeling okay, Dad? You have a fever or something? How come you haven’t called?”

“Son, I love you,” I said as Colleen finally made it back to her barstool beside me. “But I have to hang up now.”

Colleen and I both turned to watch the bartender pop the champagne I had ordered.

It was well into the evening now and we were where I always go when I send hundred-million-dollar yachts to the bottom of the ocean, the Landmark Tavern in the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood of Manhattan.

I pulled out the barstool for Colleen.

“What a gentleman you are,” she said.

“But of course,” I said.

Now that everything was squared away, it was finally time for Colleen and me to have our date. I had chosen the Landmark as I had celebrated many a case closed in the famous Irish hangout when I was a cop. It was dark, the food was great, the beer was cold and The Pogues were serenading down from the former speakeasy’s tin ceiling.

If this wasn’t the ultimate place to trip the light fantastic on the streets of old Irish New York, what was?

Shaw didn’t know what he was missing, I thought as I handed Colleen her glass of Dom Pérignon. It beat Davy Jones’s locker. That was for sure.

“To Jodi,” I said, clinking my glass to hers.

“To Jodi,” Colleen said.

I got a text then. It was a picture.

A cute, little, smiling three-year-old in a pink Red Sox cap.

I showed it to Colleen.

“Mathias’s daughter!” she said.

I texted back.

No one messes with the Iron Norwegian!

#followthefrogman he texted back.

“Speaking of my frogmanning skills,” I said. “It was a flawless demo, wasn’t it? That ship was a couple of million pounds. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to sink, but when that RDX charge I planted on her hull went off she went down like an oversugared toddler at naptime, didn’t she?”

“Where the hell did you get this, um, RDX, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“From my truck, of course.”

“Oh, naturally. Beside the spare tire, I bet. How do you think this guy Stone is going to take you sinking his boat?” Colleen said.

“Colleen, I was a SEAL and a cop for too many years to count. I’ve banged heads with so many dangerous dirtbags, I’ve honestly lost count. You think I’m going to lose sleep over some Wall Street child pimp?

“And this company, Vance Holdings? I doubt that they want to send any more mercenaries my way. They have to have life insurance up the ying-yang. I think they’ve had enough of their premiums going up. In fact, you know it’s funny. The only one out of them all who showed any real cowboy grit was that Chief Garner.”

“Garner?” Colleen said. “Why him?”

“He tried to take me out with his hands tied behind his back.”

Colleen laughed.

“It didn’t work out, but come on, give the man a ten for cockiness and confidence. He went down with style.”

“You’re, um... I’m struggling to come up with the word. An actual certified nutcase?”

I lifted my champagne and looked at it.

“It’s not me that’s gone crazy, Colleen. It’s the world. Like all good cops and soldiers, I just adjust my tactics to the terrain.”

“What will you do now?”

“I’m going to buy a new truck and then since it’s getting colder, I’m probably going to head down south to do some fishing.”

“I see,” she said. “You know, Mike, after all this I was thinking of taking a leave of absence and getting out of the city for a little while myself.”

“Is that right?” I said with a smile.

“Yes,” she said.

“Have you ever thought of a road trip?” I said.

“I have actually.”

“One that involves fishing and drinking beer?” I said.

“Yes, actually,” Colleen said. “You wouldn’t want to give this girl a ride, would you?”

I looked at her, at her angel eyes staring back into mine.

Then I stood as The Pogues were replaced by U2’s “One.” I held out my open arms to her.

“Colleen Doherty,” I said.

“Yes, Michael Gannon,” she said as she stood herself.

“May I have this dance?” I said.