The dance began. Recruiting an asset is never an easy task. Often you take two steps backward foreach one taken in the direction you actually want to go. You navigate your way around thefloor hoping you don't step on anyone's toes. And when yourtarget is as skilled as you are, it requires a bit of finesse. The voice in Michael's head continued the monologue, reminding him to tread slowly and carefully.
Hehad to admit there was a part of him that was actually enjoying his time here, well, enjoying it as much as hewas ableto 'enjoy' anything. His persona, Michael McBride, was quick with a laugh, easyto bearound, a man with a bit of dash and flair. He soon became a fixture at the pub, picking up odd jobs to pay therent, stopping at thelocal at theend of a shift. He adopted thepattern of the neighbourhood and found himself drawn into conversations moreand more. It was an excellent way to gather Intel, men freewith talk aftera few pints of the black stuff, but it was also a risk that he may say the wrong thing, hoping that if hedid that hecould pass it off at being the fault of the drink.
The conversation always turned to politics. It was hard to ignorein this placethat sat in the shadow of the 'Peace Wall', a fivekilometre long, seven metrehigh wall laced with barbed wirethat separated this part of town fromthe Shankhill, a staunch Loyalist community. Rumours swirled about the status of the talks in Stormont, London, and Dublin. Some here fervently hoping to end the strugglethat consumed their lives, while others advocated ramping up theviolenceso all demands would bemet. Michael tried to remain silent oruse his quick wit to deflect thetopicand ease the tension. He wanted to have no record of taking a position; afterall, he had no idea where his target stood on this issue. Onefalse word and each step hehad taken would set himback to squareone.
Fiona Glenannewas not an easy oneto approach. The spywatched herfor weeks, keeping a safe distance, noting her guarded nature, herhoned covert skills. She was quite an enigma, setting up black market trades, planting a strategicallyplaced bomb ortwo, brazenlyrobbing banks in thearea. Shewas a woman seemingly without fearbut a heavy doseof recklessness was there, as well. But there was anothersidenot often seen by her comrades in arms. Her profits from these adventures rarely lined herown pockets but werepassed along often to women in the community whosehusbands wereinterned in theCages or the H blocks of Long Kesh due to their IRA activities. The Army provided for their own, but too often it was not enough. Fiona Glenannehelped to fill in someof these gaps.
Afterconsiderable surveillancehedecided the best approach would beherein thepub where sheappeared to let herguard down slightly. Shewas rarely alone. Sometimes her stops herewere brief, a quick word with anotherbefore gliding away; sometimes there werelong hushed conversations with hardened men at the back tables, all others giving them privacy in this publicarena. Each time, theireyes met; each timehoping that theotherwould make thefirst move.
Michael arrived a bit later than usual and was surprised to seethat Ms. Glenannehad already made an appearance. Shesat nearthe back deep in conversation with another. He caught a glimpseof her companion, surprised to find that it was Hannon himself. Negotiations of somesort seemed to be underway, both countenances firmand unyielding. A deal was eventually struck, compromiseon each side, and Hannon took his leave. Fiona remained sipping herwine as she mentally reviewed the proposition agreed to, working out the logistics in hermind. He found himself staring at herand quickly averted his gaze.
"Jaysus! Instead uv gawkin' at 'erlikea prized sow, whydon't yer talk to the cailin." The grizzled old man bedsidehimwaved his hand in frustration. "Go on wit' yenowt, boyo." He stared Michael down until he finally moved.
Sufficiently humbled by this order, Michael realised thetimehad come forhis approach especially now that other patrons wereaware of his interest. His heart began racing, a wave of nervousness washing overhim; surprising effects for a covert operative with a great deal of field experience. Hemoved toward her, cutting easily through thecrowd; she, feigning no knowledgeof his approach.
