Letters from Ireland (Chapter 9, The Green Cross)

by Alec in Michigan

A light drizzle had descended upon Boston as Brian drove towards his loft. The rain was beginning to pick up a bit when his cell phone rang.
“Detective Brian Connors.” He said, putting on what Mark liked to call the “Businessman Tone.”
“Hey Brian.”
Brian smiled when he heard Jacquelyn’s voice.
“What’s going on my crippled darling?” Brian chuckled.
“Nothing much, but I wanted to tell you something.”
“What’s up?”
“Bruno was trying to get information from me. He said, and I quoute, “I know you have a letter from The Celtic Alliance. I want it. And don’t lie, I saw the seal.” Jacquelyn sounded confused.
“Holy crap… Jacquelyn, I’ll call you back.”
“’kay. Talk to you soon.”
“Yeah.”
Brian hung up.
No way. How does Bruno know about the gang? They’re non-existent. Oh, crap.
Brian floored his vehicle.

Brian walked quickly through the library, the dusty shelves like a maze that entrapped him in knowledge. He knew where he was going, for he had been here once before, shortly after his fourth birthday.
Brian stopped when he reached a large door.
“Brathair feal.” Brian said.
“Ce ata an?” A voice with a thick Irish accent responded.
“Brian Connors.”
The door opened a crack and a monacle peered out.
“Yes… Yes… Brian!”
The door swung open, revealing Brian’s jolly Uncle Scott.
Scott embraced Brian in two large arms, and pulled him into the room.
When he relinquished his grip, he began to speak.
“It’s been so long, Brian. How are you, laddy?”
“I’m fine, Uncle. But I have a question.”
“Wha--”
Brian grabbed his uncle and slammed him into a bookcase, knocking papers and text books to the floor.
“What the devil are you doing!?” Scott shouted.
“Why in the hell have I been lied to for my entire life?”
“I don’t know what you--”
“Shut up! I saw the letters from my dad. Why?”
Sweat dripped from Brian’s brow.
“What are you talk--”
Brian pulled his gun from its holster, and shoved it against his uncle’s forehead.
The safety was on, but Scott didn’t know that.
“I… I… Your mother didn’t want me to tell you…”
“I don’t freaking care what my mother wanted. Tell me.”
“Remove the weapon from my head, and I’ll tell you.”
Scott was surprisingly calm.
Brian brought down the gun.
“Alright then. Take a seat, Brian.”
Brian did so.
“Your father,” Scott took a deep breath, “is alive.”
“I think we already knew that, dipstick. That’s why I’m here.” Brian was irritated.
“Okay, okay, no need for the rudeness. Now, he is alive, but I don’t know where he is. If I did, I would have the authorities on him in a heartbeat.” Scott looked tired.
“Hence your little code word at the door. Brother Betrayal.” Brian raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. That’s true. And by the way Brian, you need to work on your pronunciation a little. It--”
“We’re not here to talk about my Irish pronunciation, Uncle. We’re here to talk about my father. Speak.”
“I’m sorry. I have a tendency to get off track--”
Brian grunted.
“Oh yes! Sorry. I believe The Celtic Alliance is active, but not as powerful. Although, I think they may be in the middle of a revival movement. Recent shootings and exectutions in Dublin, investigation of human smuggling on the coast, yet no gang taking responsibility. I think they want to remain anonymous until they’re back on top.” Scott coughed, and resumed.
“And that’s about all I know. I’m sorry it’s not much.”
Brian’s eyes were wide.
“Well then. Um… Oh. Is there anyway to identify gang members?”
“Yes, I guess. Most of them go by tough sounding nick names, when usually their real name is some prestigious Irish one. They would have to be pure Irish. That’s it.” Scott stated.
Bruno…
“Thank you Uncle Scott. I’m sorry I had to do the thing with the gun. It’s just…”
“Shocking. I can see how it would be.”
Brian nodded.
“I’ll see you later, Uncle.”
Brian turned to leave.
“Wait! Brian. T-There’s something I want to give you. I was going to give it to you when you were four, but your mother said no.”
From his back pocket, Scott removed a chain with a green cross attached to it.
“This was your father’s. He mailed it to me shortly after he supposedly died.” Scott looked at the floor.
Brian took the cross, and put it on his neck. The green copper was heavy. It felt powerful.
“Thank you.”

The drizzle had increased to a torrential downpour, and Brian’s headlights casted a wet, golden ray in the dark.
He called Jacquelyn.
“Hey. I have a question. What was Bruno’s real name?” Brian asked.
“Um… I think it was Joe Brunswick or something.” Jacquelyn responded.
“Thanks. I’ll, uh, call you later.”
Brian hung up.