“Understood, general.” Rod glanced at Wyl. “Commissioner Seamus Kane. Is he our contact?”

“Excellent question, Rod. You two won’t deal with Commissioner Kane but with a local contact in Galway. Chief Superintendent Ciaran O’Brien is the top official for the Galway district. Commissioner Kane spoke to O’Brien. He is aware of your presence and expects your call.”

"Thank you, general.” Wyl nodded. “What is your recommendation for contact with the Chief Superintendent?”

“Gentlemen, I urge you to avoid face-to-face contact with Gardaí. A honeymooning couple would not interact with police. O’Brien will handle communication. Use your government cell phone to call his office and inform him you are in the country. He will take it from that point. And speaking of cell phones, I assume you also have your personal cell phones?”

“Yes, sir,” Wyl said.

“Use your personal phones any time you contact the suspects. Having a phone number they can verify helps with your cover. But…and this is important…always carry your government-issued phones with you. We can track your location through those phones. If Gardaí asks for your personal cell phone numbers, provide them. Having alternate methods of contact and location is helpful. But all contact with Gardaí or with other agents on the mission must be done with your government-issued phones. We're not sure what access the suspects have. If they can break into the financial system, they can also break into other databases, including phone records. We want nothing to arouse suspicion.”

"We'll follow those guidelines, general,” Rod said. “What other information do we need at this point about the mission?”

“Gentlemen, I cannot stress enough you are the right two people for this job. I chose you because of your expertise and suitability. I handled many missions but never had more confidence in a team than I have in the two of you.”

“Thank you, general. We appreciate the support and the information,” Rod said.

“Be safe, gentlemen, and keep me posted.” The call disconnected.

“Ready to go?” Wyl asked.

Rod opened the front door and stepped outside. “We can load up on enough food for a week or so.”

“I like your idea.” Wyl followed Rod and closed the door behind him.

After completing the shopping and stocking the kitchen, they settled in for the evening. After a martini and a light meal, exhaustion dragged them to a stopping point. Bed beckoned, and they snuggled together in their new bed after a shower. An uncertain period lay ahead, but jetlag made them too tired to focus on the Emerald Mission.

PART TWO

THE MISSION

CHAPTER EIGHT

“The plan is almost finished.” Ailbe sipped his morning coffee. “The course project I assigned my best students. Pure genius on my part. They are doing a majority of the coding without realizing it.”

Ailbe MacGowan was a gifted technologist. He happened upon a security coding weakness and created havoc by stealing account information from the Irish banking system. His goal? Prove to himself the worth of his undetectable scheme. The experiment proved millions lay ready for the taking before anyone realized it, and he gloated over the power.

“Your cyber-invasion of the banks impressed me,” Declan said. “Breaking in but taking nothing? Sheer genius. Officials must be scrambling to find something they missed. I’m surprised we haven’t seen any news about it.”

Ailbe chuckled. “Would you want to admit your system suffered weak security? Imagine the panic of account holders.  Plus, the government doesn’t want to admit vulnerabilities in the financial system. At this point, I hold frustrated government and financial officials by the balls, and they are trying to keep me from squeezing. I'm glad I have a willing group of brilliant young minds at my disposal to do the background coding.”

“Isn’t involving the students dangerous? What if they discover what the code does?” Declan said. “In my world, we hold things close to the vest. Outside participation may jeopardize everything. How long before those same students poke holes in your plan?”

“Cracking one banking system took a lot of effort.” Ailbe nibbled a piece of toast. “Cracking banking systems all over the globe would take a lot of time. Why not have the students do the work for me?”

Declan raised a questioning eyebrow. “Does student involvement not complicate things?”

“I gave them the most common security protocols used by most financial institutions and told them to use the information for practice. They didn’t, and won't, realize the coding came from the banking system itself. They think the project is an assignment.” Ailbe snubbed Declan’s fears.

“Did any of them raise suspicions at any point?” Declan shoved beans onto his fork with his knife. “You said yourself this class is a smart bunch of lads.”

“No, I gave each student a separate assignment. Only the sharpest student might make a connection if they compared notes.” Ailbe fits the description of a 21st-century rebel, reminiscent of the anti-establishment protestors of the 1960s, only with the power of computers and the Internet behind his evil scheme.

“Remember, I can handle anyone who gets in the way.” Declan’s piercing eyes bore into Ailbe’s before he eyed his plate, stuffed a grilled tomato slice in his mouth, and chewed. Declan’s relationship with Ailbe allowed him to exercise the darker side of his personality. The world included too many people, so a killing meant nothing more than population control.

“Nobody will discover what’s happening until it’s too late,” Ailbe said. “When I access the worldwide financial communication link, as list of all accounts in all the banks on the network is at my disposal. I’ll take a single Euro, or equivalent, out of every account, netting you and me millions, if not billions.”

Declan shivered, closed his eyes, and imagined all the money.

Ailbe met Declan Knowlan six years earlier at a party, and mutual attraction pulled them together. They share a home in an upscale neighborhood of Salthill, a suburb of Galway, where they enjoy a beautiful view of Galway Bay. Having earned his doctorate a decade ago, Ailbe became a full professor at the Galway-Mayo Institute of Technology. Declan earned his Master of Fine Arts, the terminal degree in his field. He specialized in graphic design and held an Assistant Professorship at Galway University.

Declan maintained a handful of underworld contacts forged when he ran with gangs during his late teens. He avoided direct connections with any specific group, instead maintaining a covert profile and reaching out when necessary. For Ailbe, he provided the muscle and, if needed, eliminated anyone who stood in the way.

Ailbe and Declan finished their breakfast and rose to clear the table.

“Is your target date still the end of November?” Declan rinsed the dishes to load the dishwasher.

“No. I moved it to October 29th, the Friday of Samhain weekend.” Ailbe placed coffee mugs and silverware on the counter next to the sink. “My little trick and our rewarding treat.” He chuckled, his sly scheme rolling around in his mind. His mark would be made on the world. “The withdrawals will occur over the weekend, so most won’t realize the problem until sometime the following Monday. And most account holders won't complain as they don't monitor the accounts daily. Weeks may pass before the entire scheme unfolds.” A huge smile crept across Ailbe’s face as he pondered the enormous impact of his scheme.

“The computer science instructor at the university mentioned Garda is snooping around,” Declan said. “He didn’t say what they snooped for, though. I’m hoping it’s not related to your plan.”

“I doubt it, Dec. The same rumor floated around at GMIT,” Ailbe said. “I committed no crime, only a minor breach. If I took the money, Garda would have something to go on. I’ll do nothing else until our target date. Everything is almost ready for my Samhain surprise.”

“Don’t make a fekkin’ mess of this, Ailbe.”

“Trust me. This scheme is foolproof.”

CHAPTER NINE

Ailbe sat in his campus office after class Tuesday morning, reviewing lesson plans for the month. He wanted to be sure his lessons coincided with the Samhain weekend surprise. As of today, October 4th, a third of the semester elapsed. A soft knock caught his attention.

“Dr. MacGowan, may I speak with you for a moment?” One of Ailbe’s best students, Keenan Moynihan, stood in the doorway.

“But, of course, Mr. Moynihan. Come in and have a seat.”

Keenan stepped in and sat in one of the chairs before Ailbe’s desk, not relaxing into the chair.

“What can I do for you?” Ailbe asked.

“Dr. MacGowan, as we worked on our projects, I realized the projects may be related.”

“Oh?” Ailbe feigned surprise so the student wouldn’t observe his shock. Feck! Perhaps Declan had a point. “How so?”

“As I helped the others, I detected our projects may dovetail. One leads to another, creating a much larger scheme.”

Ailbe coughed out a nervous chuckle. “You raise an interesting concept, Mr. Moynihan. Are you certain your conclusions are accurate?”

“Oh, yes, Dr. MacGowan. A distinct and detectable connection emerged. Is part of the assignment something you have not shared with us?”