Declan Mulqueen Journal

[Declan]

18 October 2006
  Declan Mulqueen wakes with a start.  He looks into the darkened room that doesn't seem familiar.  Turns his head... no one there... sits up in bed, the sheets falling to his waist... his eyes now picking out a dresser, a TV, ... this was his hotel room. What time was it? Looking over at the clock on the small table next to the bed, it read 6:33am.  He turns and places his feet on the carpeted floor. Standing up he walks to the bathroom rubbing his face with his hand, his footsteps not making a sound even on the short pile carpet. Years of training didn't just go away even if you were in your own hotel room.

Standing in front of the mirror he looks at his reflection and turns his head, first left, then right. The crick in his neck was completely gone. Well, it looked as if Tammi knew her business pretty well. A gentle smile forms on his lips.  Turning the shower on and letting it warm he takes care of the other "first thing in the morning" business, flushes, and seeing steam eminating from above the shower door, steps inside.

He lets the steam and the hot water do their work on his body, having learned through the years that a hot shower can remove many ailments faster than almost anything else... with the possible exception of Tammi's fingers he thinks to himself.   He enjoys the steam for several minutes before using the hotel provided shampoo to wash his short grey hair. It had been black when he began his "career" as a young Irish lad, eager to prove himself for his homeland. It hadn't taken much convincing. One Sein Feinn meeting and he had immediately seen his purpose.  All those years ago. How many was it now? He didn't want to remember.

Finishing his shower he turns the water off and looks for the towel. How many times would he forget to put a towel on the door before he started? Probably a hundred more he thinks to himself as he smiles and steps from the shower with water still streaming from his legs and arms onto the tile floor of the bathroom. He reaches for the towel and begins to dry his body.

Walking back into the hotel room with the towel around his waist, he pulls a clean shirt from his bag, and the jeans from the floor next to the bed. Walking back to the bathroom, he stops, turns back and retrieves a clean pair of briefs from the bag as well. Hanging the towel back on the shower door, he dresses in the bathroom. As he pulls on his shirt he fingers a scar on his chest just below his right shoulder. He knew there was a matching one on his back, small and round. That was from 1990, a young English copper with a lucky shot. Not so lucky for him, that one landed him in hospital. The others scars he could see had not been quite so bad.  He pulls the shirt over his shoulders and buttons the buttons from the bottom to the top while idly wondering to himself if 50 percent of the population buttoned from the top to the bottom, a smile on his lips.

Tucking the shirt into the jeans and buttoning them he leaves the bathroom to find socks and his leather shoes. He sits on the end of the bed and puts both on, then walks to the closet and takes his jacket from the hanger, draping it over his left arm as he looks for the card key. Where was it?

He looks on the bed, on the small wooden table beside the bed, on top of the television, finally, patting the front pocket of his jeans he feels the rectangular outline of the "key" to his room. Why had they all gone to these plastic things? Where was the good old fashioned metal key? Something you could place between second and third fingers of your hand and really do some damage to someone you hit. He sighs. All things change. They were even making guns out of plastic these days. All the better to get through security, but he still wanted the weight of something "real" in his hand.

He opens the door to his hotel room and steps into the hall, looking at his watch, an analog watch, simple enough looking, no luminous dial, no flashy gold, nothing to make him stand out in a crowd. The watch said 7:05... 32 minutes. He sighed again.  It was hell getting old, but he guessed it beat the alternative. He turned and walked to the elevators at the end of the hall.

Taking the elevator to the lobby he forgoes breakfast in the hotel restaurant, prefering to pick something up on the street. There was just something about eating off the street that made you feel a part of whatever city you happened to be in at the time. He turns left and disappears into the crowd of people who walk the streets of New York each and every day, one face among millions... 

[Declan]

26 October 2006

He awoke with Molly asleep on his arm... reaching over her he turns his wrist watch towards him on the table next to the bed... 5:30am... He kissed her cheek, and whispered that he needed to get a shower and some clean clothes from his hotel... through a mumble he thought he got an affirmative from her, and he slipped his arm from under her, smiling as she rolled over and went back to sleep...

He locates his clothes... all but one sock... he looks everywhere... but it's "vanished"... giving up he puts on his jacket, walks back and kisses her cheek lightly... she opens her eyes and asks where he is going... He tells her again, smiling as she's slept since he told her last... lookin' at his watch... he politely turns down offer to "shower here", tempting as she surely makes it sound, and heads out of the flat...

Catching a cab, he takes the 30 min ride back to his hotel where he showers, and puts on a clean set of clothes from his bag... He never unpacks in a hotel room... if you had to leave fast, it wouldn't do to leave things behind.  It wasn't an uncomfortable hotel as hotels went, but it was still a hotel.  After shaving, he pulls his cell from his jacket and dials the number for the Deputy Director of the FBI...

Ten minutes later he has little more information to go on.  They suggest that he keep in contact with the McGafferty girl.  Well that was easy enough to accomplish.  And the others at the Irish Pub, Mahoney's.  Well he'd head there tonight.  He knew that Molly wouldn't be working tonight, but he would check on Rafe, Barb, and Denny.  They were good folk, and he'd hate to see them end up like Patrick.  But right now he needed a nap.  He laid down on the bed and closed his eyes.

Several hours later he walks out of his hotel room, and closes the door behind him after making sure he has the little plastic card that will let him back in, stupid plastic keys.  He doesn't like elevators, so takes the stairs, as it's only 2 floors down to the lobby level from his room. Walking across the lobby he puts his arms through his jacket, and pulls it on, shrugging it over his shoulders in one motion... hands in pockets he walks onto the street becoming one with the millions of people who call New York home...

at about the same time...

Rafe'ella Micheals is in a coffee shop: pushing my hair back off my as I step out of cofffee shop, dark eyes scanning the street than heading towards Linden Ave to the pub to start work for the night


Declan walks three blocks before hailing a cab... old habits die hard... but that was better than dieing yourself for being careless... and he wasn't being careless was he?... no, someone had killed Patrick McGafferty the day before he was to meet him... 

Rafe'ella Micheals is on the streets of NYC: humming softly as I weave my way thru the people on the street, growling softly as I feel a tug on my purse, holding onto the strap tighter, my dagger dropping into my palm, spinning around, my dagger slashing across the guys hand


Declan enters the taxi, gives the driver the address on Linden Avenue, then rests his head against the glass of the window... it feels cool against his face, and he closes his eyes for the ride that he knows will be at least 30 minutes...

Rafe'ella Micheals is on the streets of NYC: Hearing him start to yell as he yanks his hands back, growling again, holding the dagger in front of me his blood dripping from it. dark eyes darting around me as a crowd starts to gather, Taking a couple of steps back from him.. Slowly slipping out of my heels, than spinning quickly, as I see a couple of guys moving thru the crowd at me, knowing it's time to get the hell out of Belfast, slidding the dagger back up in the sheath on my forearm, knowing I'm going to have his blood on me but at the moment not caring, pushing thru the crowd, feeling hands grabbing for me, pulling on my clothes and hair, growling louder and pushing hard against an older gentleman, but not hard enough to push him to the ground just out of my way.......running down the street, not looking back, barefeet hitting the sidewalk hard

Declan Mulqueen opens his eyes as the cab stops... he pays the driver the fare, and exits the taxi stepping onto Linden Avenue, directly in front of Mahoney's Irish Pub...

Rafe'ella Micheals is on the streets of NYC: rounding the corner onto Linden Ave, going full tilt, weaving between people walking on the street, slowing down as I see someone standing in front of the pub, chewing on my bottom lip, as I try and catch my breathe, looking behind me to see if anyone chased after me.

Declan turns and is almost run into by Rafe... reaches out and catches her as she comes to a halt in front of him...
He asks, What's wrong lass?

Rafe'ella Micheals is on the streets of NYC and says to Declan Mulqueen: Feeling hands take ahold of me, starting to scream, than biting it off, closing my eyes than slowly opening them, looking up at you,  Oh god you scared me........Lets say NYC decided to welcome me back home.

Declan Mulqueen says to Rafe'ella Micheals: one hand instinctively goes to where a gun would normally be... but there's nothin' there... but his eyes scan the pavement behind her, looking for someone moving just a little too quickly... someone a little too interested in two people standing outside a pub... scanning the crowd quickly, and seeing no one... he still thinks they should move indoors... not lookin' directly at her says,  Let's go inside, shall we?... puts an arm around her shoulders and turns her towards the door as his eyes continue their traversal of the crowds passing by on the sidewalk...

Rafe'ella Micheals is on the streets of NYC and says to Declan Mulqueen: Watching you the movements you make, than hearing you and nodding moving along with you towards the doors of the pub's, opening the door and walking inside, turning to see if your coming in as well

An Unseen Bystander : watches the man ... watches him reach for a weapon, but come back with nothing... smiles
to himself and thinks... so Declan, we're not armed are we?... smiles to himself and takes another drink of the coffee in his hand as he stands and surveys the scene

Declan Mulqueen says to Rafe'ella Micheals: walks into Mahoneys with her... letting his eyes adjust to the difference in the light levels before proceeding in past the doorway... Yer safe enough in here Rafe... smiles... the only thing ye have t' worry about here is an occasional pinch ... chuckles

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: going to wrap my arms around myself than remembering the dagger and the blood, growling softly, pushing my hair back off my face, seeing you walk in than moving towards the bar, rolling up the sleeve of my shirt the blood from the dagger running down my amr, seeing the bouncer watching me, he starts forward, shaking my head at him, watching him frown but than move back to the door You carry a gun Declan.........I saw you reach for it, But it wasn't there, You in some kind of trouble?

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: walks with her to the bar, and asks... so what happened on the street?... his curiosity professional in nature...  well let's just say my current employer is a little nervous having me walk around the city streets carrying a gun... smiles at her...   I'm an Irish citizen... they don't take kindly t' the average "tourist" bein armed... knows good and well he's not the "average tourist"... he's here on a job, and if they expected him to complete it, they had better give him some type of defense pretty damn soon...

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: looking at you, pushing my sleeve up past my elbow, slipping the bloody dagger out of sheath, hearing you, looking up catching the smile  Sounds like your employer doesn't know NY well or maybe they are setting you up. As for me. Some guy tried to take my purse I didn't like that idea all that much. Unlike guns daggers make no sound.

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: just some guy goin' for yer purse?... only one of them?... presses slightly for details

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: looking up at you after grabbing a wet bar rag, wiping the blood from my arm as I speak  Just one grabbed my purse, but after I cut him, a crowd gathered, had enough sense to lose the heels, when two of his buddies started working thru the crowd towards me. I didn't stick around to find out if they wanted more than my purse.

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: three of them then?... could be just street thugs... or could be something more... well you were right to run... I didn't see anyone when you rounded the corner... but ye can't be too careful, what with Molly's father bein' murdered...

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: tossing the bar rag in the basket behind the bar, than reaching up and undoing the buttons that hold my sleeves on, folding them up than bending over undoing the hidden zipper cutting my skirt in half ending the skirt just mid thigh

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: watches as she takes off half her clothes with a couple o' buttons and a zip... smiles to himself...

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: Looking up quickly  Molly's father was murdered? Well that explains why you were talking to her the other night. Her father was one of the biggest dealers in the states. Though nothing could ever be pinned on him. Daughter thinks he was a saint right?

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: Patrick McGafferty was not inta drugs... he was a recruiter...   He was a good man... who loved his Homeland, that bein' Ireland. He'd only lived here in the US a couple o' years... he came over here after Molly's mother died

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: Lifting an eyebrow as I fold the other half of my skirt and lay with the sleeves Did I say anyting about drugs. Believe me Molly's father was a lot of things.

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: well whoever killed him went through his safe at his house, and took what ever it was they came for... they left cash and an expensive watch ...

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: Pushing my hair behind my ears, turning and looking at you again  More than likely, they were after lists and names. Not money, contacts are worth more than money when your recuiting.

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: aye... but I think it was more than that...   I think there was a name on one o' those lists that shouldn't have been there... that was worth killin' him in order to keep that list out of someone's hands...

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: Looking up at the clock, seeing I've a half hour yet before I start my shift, leaning over the bar, asking for a guiness and a cup of coffee, turning back to you, nodding Might be, but I think this convo would be better held at a table than the open bar, ordered you a guniess. smiling, grabbing my stuff, moving around you and heading for the table.

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: waits for the Guinness and the coffee... when he gets them he carries both to the table and sits down... I was to meet him the day after he was killed... he was t' show me the lists... 

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: Taking the coffee from you as you sit down, wrapping my fingers around the mug, blowing over the coffee as I listen  And now your wondering if the attack on me was just someone grabbing my purse or trying to find out how I know you and how well. Or to use me to get to you. Do you believe in random acts?

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: Certainly random acts occur every day... but I'd not bet my life... or yours... on any particular act bein' random...   I don't know ... the thugs out there on the street may be just that... a couple o' street hoodlums, lookin' t' score an easy mark... and they were sorely surprised it looks like... smiles... at least one o' them...

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: Nodding After what you told me, I wouldn't either. Which means the person or persons that rifled the safe and got rid of Molly's dad. Know you know me. What there tryign to find out is how well, leaning forward and pulling a long dark hair off your collar, holding it up Think you better be keeping a real close eye on Molly, If they figure out how close you are to her, Her life isn't worth all the lepruchans gold in Erin.  Aye it could have been that. But right now. How are the odds of me getting jumped after only two days in the city. Getting a juob here and how many in here, know your the one that got it for me?

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: tries to look innocent as she pulls a dark hair from his collar... doesn't pull it off very well... aye... those are all good questions... it's no secret this Pub belonged to her father, so somebody may be interested in watchin' it... oh, and Molly... trust me... I'll be keepin' her close... winks

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: laughing softly as I let the hair drop to the floor than taking a long swallow of the coffee  Oh I believe you Laddie wink  well if it wasn't a random act the guy will be easy to spot, I cut his hand good and well I was carrying a very hot cup of coffee as well, to bad I didn't think to throw that in his face.

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella MichealsBarten: It still doesn't make sense... why go for you?... like you said, you've only arrived in the city two days ago... you can't know anything about Patrick or the list...

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: putting down the coffee mug, ticking off my fingers as I speak My family came from the ol sod. Father is Italian but spent most of his life in Erin. Brother and cousin, both killed in a bomb blast in Dublin. Warehouse was full of guns. I came to work here. I know you.........shrugging other than that I haven't a clue.

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: chuckles at her logical mind... well other than that what have ye got?... laughs

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen:  Ummm the guys have a thing for cute little black purses?

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella MichealsBarten: more likely they have a thing for cute lil black haired lasses... smiles at her

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: Wide eyes innocent look You think? laughs... think they be in need of glasses then........but seriously. Think you better start carrying that gun of your's employer or no. Unless you want some quick lessons in throwing daggers.  leaning back in the chair, looking around, seeing the pub isn't very full at the moment, taking off the sheath from my forearm. crossing my legs under the table, pulling up my skirt, lengthing the straps on the sheath and securing to my thigh once more, than pushing my skirt back into place, smiling as I here "The Rose of Tralee" playing softly in the back ground

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: aye... I'll be talkin' to them about that... and if they're not interested in supplyin' me with one... well, I have friends who'd be more than happy to... chuckles

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: Dark eyes drifting around the pub, seeing the door open, smiling as I see the group of guys from the other night come in the door, nodding to them as they pass on their way to the pool table, chuckling and shaking my head and chuckling as one asked if I want to play Nay not tonight, but thanks for the offer might take you up on it a night I'm not working, if they thing they can handle losing  winks I be you do. But in this city, friends turn faster than a dollar does into change, just watch your back.

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: aye... New York is not Dublin, but some o' the same ... umm... establishments are present in both... by tomorrow my waist will be a tad heavier...

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: finishing off my coffee True it isn't but to many of Dublin's old friends live here and have long memories and if there like my brother they never forgive or forget.

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: well ye better get t' work lass... or Denny will be dockin' yer pay and blamin' me... chuckles

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: Laughing soflty Nay......... I dont' think he'll be blaming you wink Denny even knows which way the winds blowin rising You becareful. Think I'll take a cab home tonight. Wonder if Denny will have a fit cause I worked tonight in my barefeet laughs... Going up on tip toes and kissing your cheek softly You take care of you. Me WEG I've got a few tricks up my sleeves even when I'm not wearing any.........see you around Declan.

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Rafe'ella Micheals: take care Rafe... will see ye later

Rafe'ella Micheals is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to Declan Mulqueen: nodding and walking to the bar, lifting up the by pass, slipping thru, talking to the bartender, nodding as he tells me the food orders that need to come out yet and who hasn't been served, just shrugging when he asks where my shoes are, less that know about the problem I had earlier the better

Declan Mulqueen is in Mahoney's Irish Pub and says to ALL: finishes his Guinness... takes the pint glass back to the bar... then turns and heads for the door... 

[Declan]

01 November 2006

opens his eyes ... what time is it?... takes the watch off of the bedside table... 3:40pm... He had to either stop spending the night at Barb/Molly's flat, or just dump this hotel and pick one closer to Mahoney's... He rubs his eyes, then sits up and looks around the darkened hotel room... sunlight trying to make its way around the drawn curtains... He stands up and walks to the window, opening the drapes a few inches and daylight streams into the once dark room, changing the look immediately... he doesn't like what he sees... too many days of a "do not disturb" sign hanging on the door so that he can get a little sleep have left the room in quite a state...

If the assassin that killed Patrick McGafferty didn't kill him, keeping up with Molly and now Barb surely would... He chuckles at the thought... Those two were a handful... he smiles... then shaking his head to clear the thoughts, remembers what he's here for... he needs to find that list from Patrick's safe... but it was gone... there was no way... how was he going to find out who was behind this, and why?  He owed Molly that... to know why her father was taken from her.

And what about Rafe, and the guys on the street she dealt with, and her brothers, blown up in that warehouse explosion back in Ireland.  Were they related?  And this feeling that he'd had more than once while he was outside Mahoney's... the feeling that he was being watched... Molly had felt it too... Too many things to be coincidence... He didn't believe in coincidence anyway did he?... No, everything happened for a purpose... You couldn't always see the purpose right away... and sometimes not ever, but a purpose was there... Declan wasn't what you'd call a "religious man" by any means. Sure he had gone to the Catholic school as a lad, they all had, but the Nuns hadn't "beat any religion into him".  Still, he believed in something... some higher force that wasn't necessarily directing him... but still made sure all the pieces of the puzzle fit somewhere and for some reason.  That was what he was looking for now... a missing piece that would tie Patrick McGafferty's murder, Rafe's troubles, and his own uneasiness together.

He walks to the bathroom and pushes the door open... stepping in he loses his boxers, and turns on the water in the shower... maybe the hot water beating on his body and the steam would clear some of the clouds from his mind... let him find that piece of the puzzle... He steps into the shower and bends his head under the falling water, sighing as the hot water cascades down over his hair and runs down his face, his chest, then down over the rest of his body... what was he missing? He takes the hotel supplied shampoo bottle and tips it into his hand... barely a few drops of shampoo dribble into the palm of his hand... damn... when you don't let the maid come, they don't leave any more of the little bottles.  Why did they make these bottles so small anyway?  There's barely a couple of days worth... sighing again he scrubs what lather he can manage into his hair, then rinses it clean.  Luckily the soap had held out better than the shampoo had, and he is able to lather the rest of his body without incident. 

After rinsing his body, he turns off the water and steps from the shower... he has forgotten to put the towel over the bar again... and he tracks water across the tile floor as he crosses to the other side of the bathroom to retrieve the last clean towel in his room.  Toweling off his hair, the towel covering his head he turns to walk back across the bathroom to the sink, he steps on a puddle of water on the tile, and his foot slips out from under him.  He falls and hits his knee on the tile floor, catching himself with his hands... the towel falling from his head... Well that was a stupid thing to do, he thinks.  He chuckles to himself thinking that these lawsuit happy Americans surely would have put a sign on the bathroom wall warning their patrons to not walk across wet tile as it might be slippery.  "The management was not responsible for falls"... Damn lawyers... wait... lawyers... what had Molly said about lawyers?... She had met with the Lawyers about her father, about him being cremated yes, but something else... Hadn't she told him that the lawyers had copies of her fathers papers?  She had, he was almost certain of it.  Why had it not hit him before?  Patrick would have left copies of important papers with someone... probably the damn lawyers.  Would he have left a copy of the list?  He had to find out.

He quickly finished drying off, ignoring the slight pain in his right knee, gets the last of this clean clothes from his bag, another thing he'd have to get done... his laundry... He dresses quickly and pulls the cell from his jacket pocket, dialing Molly's number from memory.... It rings... once... twice... three times... voicemail.  He really needed to talk to her... this wasn't something you left on a voicemail. ... "Molly, this is Dec, yeah, I know you already knew that, listen to me.  I need to get in touch with you.  It's about ... what we're working on... I'm catching a cab to your place.  Call me as soon as you get this."

He presses the little red button on the cell to end the call, puts it back in his jacket pocket and puts the jacket over his shoulder as he opens the door to the hall... standing in his room for an extra second... just to glance down each direction before stepping into the hall... leaving a foot in the door to keep it from closing, he pats his front pocket to make sure he has the little plastic key-card so he will be able to get back in.  Feeling it there he moves his foot and pulls the door closed, then turns and heads for the staircase... Taking the stairs two at a time he descends the two floors to the lobby level and crosses the marble floor towards the front doors... putting his jacket on as he goes.  Once on the street he turns left, and walks two blocks, then turns right and walks another one before hailing a cab.  He gives the cabbie an address about two blocks from Barb and Molly's flat.  He knows it will take 30 minutes to get there...

[Declan]

23 November 2006

Had it really been 3 weeks since he had moved into the girls flat?... The days, and especially the nights, had been long.  Not that he'd trade a one of them ... can't help grinning to himself. He climbs out of the bed quietly and then pulls the sheet up over the sleeping forms.  He walks to the bathroom, snagging his toes twice on different discarded pieces of clothing on the floor, neither of which belonged to him.

Leaving the bathroom, looks for his clothes... no sense trying to find the ones from last night they are somewhere on the far side of the bed in the room he left earlier.  His clean clothes are in the bottom drawer of the dresser in the same room.  He turns back to the bathroom and takes a short Happi (short Kimono) from the hook on the back of the bathroom door and puts it on... his shoulders tight in the garment that was tailored for a small woman's figure, not his own.  It's better than walking around naked in the flat, he shrugs and ties the silk belt around his waist, the flowered silk fabric covering him from shoulders to mid thigh.

He walks into the kitchen looks at the clock on the microwave.  It reads 6:30am.  He never could sleep much past this hour.  He pulls a bag of ground coffee from a cupboard and sets it on the counter of the small kitchen.  Taking a paper filter from the red and green box sitting next to the coffee maker he puts it into the open top of the coffee maker, then pours the familiar amount of the ground coffee into the filter.  He had been making coffee for the three occupants of the flat for 3 weeks now.  He fills the glass caraffe with water from the tap, and then dumps the water into the coffee maker.  Pressing the button and closing the top over the filter and grounds he walks back into the main room.

He sits on the couch and pulls the notebook from the satchel leaning at the end of the couch.  He opens it, flipping through the pages until he comes to the blank pages mid-way through the book.  He flips back, one, two, pages and reads from the top of the page making note of several facts, trying to make the pieces of this puzzle fit... Rafe had gone to the records department and put together a list of people that might be related to her brothers deaths, Sean and Hamish... Molly had taken him to the lawyers office with her and they had collected Patrick McGafferty's private papers.  After they had assured the lawyers that they would be destroyed according to her fathres wishes, they summarily read each and every one of them.  Molly did not know what to make of most of them, but he did.  They were all to do with Patrick's work with the IRA both in Ireland and here in the US.  Patrick was a recruiter of both talent and money here in the US.  As he had scanned the most recent list of people that Patrick McGafferty had contacted, one name matched with the list from Rafe...  Rafe had received the mysterious phone call at Mahoney's and found the jar in the alley... Now Mick had appeared.  He wrote that down at the bottom of the last full page in the notebook.  Mick was a sorry bastard, never did anything with his life other than sponge off of anyone close enough or naive enough to allow it.  And he was here in New York, and he knew where to find Rafe.  That didn't bode well for either Rafe, or him.  He knew Rafe could take care of Mick, but Mick wasn't smart enough to find Rafe on his own.  He had to have had help.  The help was what worried him.  He'd have to get some more information from Rafe.

He had learned about Mick on Tuesday evening.  He had called Rafe, and she had been at Bobby Campbell's photography studio.  He wasn't sure about this Bobby, he talked a lot, but didn't seem to have much luck for all of it.  He dressed too nice, he knew designer clothing, and he drank that fruity wine that the women liked.  One thing he knew for sure was that Rafe was in no danger there.  She had invited him down to the studio, and he had accepted.  He met her at the studio and was a little in awe.  She looked stunning.  This Bobby knew his craft, he had to give him that much.  He talked her through the photo shoot and she seemed to become a different woman before him.  She was sleek, sultry, alluring, ... she wasn't the cute kid that he had given the red leather jacket to on her 16th birthday, much to the chagrin of her father.  She was a woman, and a beautiful woman at that.  How had that happened he wondered.  Well the standard way he supposed, 8 years of interveening time, but somehow until that night, in those clothes, under those lights, with Bobby's direction, he had failed to see the transformation. 

Well he didn't need to write all of that down in his notebook as it wasn't likely to help him put any pieces of this puzzle together.  He closed the notebook and put it back into the brown leather satchel.  Smelling the coffee, he rises and crosses the small room to the kitchen and retrieving a mug from the cupboard to the right of the sink, pours himself a cup from the caraffe.  He knows the girls won't stir for another hour or so.  He sits down on the couch and turns on CNN, sips his coffee and tries to keep current with the world.