Rock Point (Sharpe & Donovan) Read Online Free PDF Page A

cigarette on his lip and dug out a lighter. “No one followed me,” he said under his breath, lighting his cigarette. “I didn’t need that thought running in my head, you know, Father?”
    “It was already there, though, wasn’t it, Becan?”
    He took a deep drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke off to the side, away from Finian. “I suppose you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, Father. Thanks for coming. I didn’t want to involve you...” He waved his burning cigarette. “But here we are.”
    “What can I do for you, Becan?”
    “I wish I’d stuck to carpentry work.” He glanced at the shed with an air of regret mixed with resignation. “But I didn’t, did I? I got into things I wish I hadn’t. I was almost hoping the guards followed you here.”
    “I understand,” Finian said.
    Becan threw down his partially smoked cigarette and ground it out with his heel. “You don’t know we used this back field for one of our operations, do you?”
    “What ‘operation,’ Becan?”
    “Smuggling.”
    “Whiskey smuggling?”
    “Whiskey, cigarettes, pills, counterfeit money. Not hard drugs or guns. Your brother doesn’t know. No one here does. We didn’t come onto distillery grounds, because of the security. We used the field.” He nodded down past the shed to a quiet field outside of the grounds but owned by Bracken Distillers. “It’s a good spot. You’d be surprised.”
    “I am surprised,” Finian said.
    “We distributed goods out across Ireland from here,” Becan said. “I think the guards are onto us. I want out, Father. I want to tell the truth. That’s all.”
    Finian reached into the pocket of his hiking pants and withdrew the card that Sean had given him in March. “It’s Sean Murphy’s number. He said to give it to you in case you contacted me. No one else has it. Only he will answer.”
    Becan seemed ready to bolt but snatched the card and tucked it into a pocket in his jeans. He sniffled. “The guards are watching us. We’re watching them. It’s a dangerous situation.”
    “You can make the call now, Becan. I’ll wait.”
    “I need to think. I just don’t know...” He shifted abruptly. “I have to go. You won’t tell anyone about me. The guards. Anyone. Right, Father?”
    “That’s right. There’s a time and place for each of us to speak and for each of us to keep silent. You need to speak, my friend. Call the number I gave you.”
    Becan said nothing as he shuffled back to the old shed and disappeared.
    Finian returned to his waiting car. He’d done what he could. His next stop was his hotel ahead of his flight out of Shannon Airport tomorrow.
    He looked out the window as the refurbished distillery—his and Declan’s dream come true—faded from sight. He remembered a warm June day like this one when Sally had greeted him at the gate after a walk out past the fields, sweaty, smiling as she’d leaned into him. “ Let’s go home early , Fin. I can’t wait another minute to get your clothes off you. ”
    He could see her in the milky light of the endless June dusk as they’d made love.
    He hadn’t been a different man then. He’d been the same man he was now. To pretend otherwise—to try to make it not so—was to deny this life he’d been given, and the truth of who he was.
    Suddenly he couldn’t wait to be in Maine.
    * * *
    His hotel had dreadful food but a surprisingly decent selection of whiskey. No Bracken Distillers expressions, but Finian ordered an excellent Kilbeggan to take some of the edge off his soggy fish-and-chips. He’d ordered them before he remembered Rock Point was a fishing village and would presumably have restaurants that served proper fish-and-chips when the occasional urge struck.
    He followed his bad fish-and-chips with a delicious bread-and-butter pudding. He doubted he’d eat much, if anything, on the plane tomorrow. He could excuse, or at least rationalize, the rich meal and hoped it would help him sleep tonight.
    He was