Sins of Omission: A Declan McIver Story (Black Shuck Thriller Series) Read online

A regional jetliner roared down the small runway behind him as Declan considered the man leaning against the car in front of him. The lanky black man in the baggy shorts and grungy tank top seemed perturbed. "Are ya comin' mon?"

  Declan didn't like the feeling he was getting from the man, but the three thousand miles between him and anyone who could change it left him with little choice. He let the backpack he was carrying slide off his shoulder and rest at the man's feet. "Aye. Let's go."

  The antiquated Ford LTD spun its tires in the dirt lot and bumped over several potholes as it left the airport and drove north passing rundown one-story buildings and sparsely populated businesses with cabanas in front. Several minutes later as they entered and quickly exited a more robust downtown area, the man made a right into a decrepit trailer park full of squalid, single-wide residences.

  "My contact said you had everything I'd need." Declan said as they pulled to a stop in front of a trailer in the far corner of the park. He'd spent the previous day digging up everything the Belfast Central Library had on the minute island of Anguilla, and he was guessing the man sitting next to him was a member of one of the gangs active throughout the island.

  "Yeah. We have what you need, man, but money first. Always money first."

  "Guns first. Then money."

  "Always money first, mon."

  "Then I'll buy them somewhere else," Declan said as he opened the door and stepped out.

  "You have a problem then, mon." the Anguillan said getting out and meeting him near the trunk. "The other leprechauns pay faster."

  Declan saw a reflection in the man's sunglasses and heard a throaty growl. He stepped aside as another black man lunged with a switchblade. The knife barely missed, and the assailant quickly righted himself for a second attack as the driver of the car drew a knife as well. Faced with two attackers now, Declan let his backpack slide to the ground as he prepared to defend himself. Having been trained by the legendary Special Forces of the Soviet Union, he knew that neither man stood a chance.

  The driver lunged first and Declan blocked him at the wrist, striking a pressure point on the man's neck as he fired his foot into the second attacker's stomach, throwing the man forcefully against the car. The driver writhed painfully as the second man struggled to get off the ground, gasping.

  "You're a dead man!" the driver said lunging again. Declan was through playing with these two. He grabbed the driver at the wrist and pushed a pressure point under the man's armpit forcing him to turn suddenly away from the pain and stab his partner in the throat as the second man advanced. Striking the driver in the carotid artery, Declan watched as the man collapsed onto his partner who was now choking blood.

  "Dilen? Dilen!"

  Declan turned to see another man rushing from the trailer, his eyes locked on the bloody scene. The man reached into his oversized pants pocket and pulled out a small pistol. Declan bent, grabbed his backpack and hurried around the car, diving onto the ground as the man began firing. Taking cover behind the wheel as shots pinged off the metal over his head, he loosened his bag and reached inside, removing a razor sharp entrenching shovel that he'd concealed among some scuba diving items so it would pass the airport security in Dublin without a second look.

  With the tool at the ready, he listened. The man had stopped firing and by the sound of gravel shifting under foot, Declan could tell he was moving around for an unobstructed shot. He waited until he was sure the man was around the back of the car and then rolled out suddenly, throwing the shovel. The blade lodged into the man's upper chest and he stumbled backward from pain and shock, blood quickly soaking through the front of his white T-shirt as he fell to the ground.

  Bending down, Declan dislodged the shovel and picked up the pistol. Sirens sounded in the distance and he knew it was time to take what he needed and get away, fast.

  Chapter Three

  6:32 p.m. Local Time

  Home of Michael O'Keefe

  West End Bay, Anguilla