Free Allegiance: A Dublin Novella by Heather Domin

had no choice now but to stay where he was. But one thing was certain: he would find a way keep these people from whatever larger danger was to come, out of harm’s way and out of Christopher’s firing line.
    As soon as he finished the thought, guilt hit William square in the chest. This was double-dealing, duplicity – disobeying the spirit of his orders, if not the letter. It was not the behavior of a keeper of the law. But it was the only way, if this thing was to end as it should – he must ensure no more damage was one. He had no choice. On the heels of the guilt came a surge of inexplicable anger, until William’s knuckles went white on the arms of the chair against his rising fury.
    Christopher arched an eyebrow. “Is there a problem, Mister Young?”
    The space between William’s eyes throbbed with a single, brilliant pain. He blinked it back, and pressed his lips together until he felt capable of speaking safely.
    “No, sir. No problem.”
    “Excellent. I will expect something more substantial from you the next time we meet.”
    William thought one more time of his work sitting in the cavernous desk drawer. He watched Christopher sip his brandy, and then he removed himself from the chair and smoothed down his jacket.
    “Understood, Director, ” he said, and walked out without waiting to be dismissed.
     
     
     
    12.
    March 5, 1922
     
    The area along the Liffey docks was a crowded maze of narrow streets and back alleys between the rows of warehouses strung along the quay. William crept along one of these paths, watching David’s back and occasionally glancing into the darkness around them. The alley David led him through was cramped and lightless, lined with assorted rubbish and smelling of fish and piss, biting cold with the wind coming off the river. It was eerily quiet; not a dog barking, not a rodent scurrying, only the occasional muted clang of a far-off buoy’s bell and the faint, constant lapping of water against wood. William shivered in his jacket and tried not to stumble over the uneven cobblestones beneath his feet.
    “Come on, Glasgow,” David whispered, and William turned up his collar and kept up the pace.
    They emerged from the alley and the river appeared, wide and empty and shining black in the light of a nearly-full moon. Boats of varying sizes stood tied along the wooden docks: fishing skiffs, cargo barges, and ferry tugs, mostly. Other than their hulking shapes, the quay was utterly deserted, only a few streetlamps casting dim circles of light onto the pavement. William looked around, his brow creasing.
    “Where are they?” he whispered.
    “Right behind you,” said a chipper voice.
    Adam approached from a separate path, strolling toward them with his arms crossed against the cold and a smile on his wind-flushed face. Kelly skulked along behind him, shoulders hunched, dark eyes scowling into every corner and open doorway. He had one gloved fist beneath his jacket, gripped around a bulky shape.
    David grinned as Adam approached. “Fair night for a stroll, eh Elliot?”
    “So it is, Master Murphy, so it is.”
    They made no attempt to lower their voices, and William surveyed the area once more. They had passed not a single patrol along the way, and the few beat cops they encountered had tipped their hats and bid them good evening without so much as a second glance. Nothing will be done to hinder you, Christopher had said, and it appeared to be true.; still, William couldn’t quite force his shoulders to relax beneath all his layers of clothing.
    “Alright, Glasgow?” said Adam. He clapped William on the shoulder, smiling. “Don’t look so tense, mate. There’s nothing to it. A quick shift of boxes and you’ll be warm and snug in your bed before you know it.”
    William did not reply; he was watching Kelly peer down the alleys, cigarette dangling from his mouth, his right hand shrouded by the shape in his jacket. Adam shook his head and spoke in William’s ear.
    “Pay no