Free Deadly Alliance by Kathleen Rowland

codes.”
    “My partner, Les, was a fanatic about codes,” Finn said. “Clever. Sales receipts make the account appear legit. When money is laundered, the funds disappear about as fast as they accumulate. Reduces tax liability.”
    “All the more reason I want this case.” Guhleman sat back in his chair, establishing himself as pack leader.
    McGill chased his last bite with coffee. “Want to know about the second phase? The laundered funds flow into the Danske Bank on O’Connell Street in Dublin.”
    “The parent bank is headquartered in Copenhagen,” Finn said. “Danske took over the former National Irish Bank. Has to be Irish Mafia money.” He looked over the agent’s shoulder and noticed the Danske Bank logo on his computer.
    Guhleman was punching in information. “It’s Aidan Rourke’s account. Ah, we’ve got ourselves a money trail. How the mighty fall.”
    “And fall hard,” Finn said. “Takbir will meet them at the bank.”
    Guhleman said, “Before that, they’ll take hostages. Who’s first in line?”
    McGill said, “Rourke’s family. His wife. Unless she’s disposable. Daughter, sons, niece.”
    Guhleman said, “What about the witness?”
    McGill swept his gaze in Finn’s direction.
    “Amy’s with me.” Finn pictured her face when her purse was taken. Fear for her safety deepened. Some things you can control. A lot can go wrong. Even a top-of-the-line security system fails with an electricity outage .
    “One thing for sure,” Guhleman said. “With Takbir, nothing is static. The way they make money evolves and then falls apart. This is their newest method.”
    The skies of the future darkened, bombarded him. The black club of ISIS struck him, loosening his hold on objectivity. It stung his temper, made him feel driven and hardened. It cracked his hard shell of control and allowed toxic anger to seep in. He’d strike back, outwit and outmaneuver them. Let it be me.
    McGill stood up. “Excuse me for a moment. Nature calls.” The sheriff left for the men’s room.
    Lines around Guhleman’s eyes tightened. “We’ll shove this back. Give Takbir a little surprise.”
    A muscle tingled in Finn’s jaw. “Sounds good.”
    Guhleman reached into his pocket and produced keys. “Before I leave, phone this number.” The agent handed him a business card. “Emergencies only.”
    “Okay.” Finn dialed Guhleman.
    Guhleman answered and saved Finn’s number. “I’m driving over to the Harp Hotel.”
    “I’ll let McGill know.” Gazing out the window, Finn spotted a parked, red Audi. Hoping no one would barge in and interrupt, he sucked in an impatient breath. When the car drove away, he exhaled. He gazed at the sheriff’s credenza where a gigantic, fiberglass trout was immobilized in a leap from a puddle of blue, fiberglass water. Fine work of a taxidermist. He marveled at the task of making something dead look alive. He thought of Les. Are you alive or dead? His training as a ranger told him not to jump to conclusions.
    Next to the life-like trout, a stack of flyers advertised, Catch Some Fun on Trout Days. Finn grabbed one and took note of the date. Three weeks from now, if things settled down, he’d get Papa Mick out on a pontoon with his oxygen tank.
    With a minute to spare, Finn phoned his dad. “Papa. Don’t suppose you’ve had time to contact the Kelly couple.”
    “Matter of fact, I did. I asked Rose Kelly about Liam.” His voice broke with a cough.
    “What did his mother say?” Finn trusted the Kellys on the level of hungry rodents who ate their young.
    “Before Les was shot, he paid in advance for Liam’s care.” His tone was apologetic. “Rose said, ‘Pre-mortem, Les took over the Liam project.’”
    “The Liam project? Cold, bastard, cheapskates.” Finn planned to probe further.
    “Bastards,” Papa said. “Rose and Dean were glad when Liam was off their hands.”
    Finn said, “They don’t visit, don’t know where he is.”
    “Don’t care enough to