* * *
Glenn answered the door. “Hey, gents. Welcome to our world.” He stepped back and motioned for them to enter. “James is in the kitchen. Come on in and chat while we finish brunch preparations.”
They followed him into the small kitchen, where the aroma of sautéed onion filled the air as James worked on the omelets.
“Morning, Americans.” James inverted a small bowl of diced ham into the sizzling skillet. Steam rose as the hiss of frying meat filled the kitchen.
Glenn pulled a tray of toasted Irish soda bread from the broiler and slathered butter on the surface of each slice.
“I hope you two like butter on your toast,” Glenn said.
“Are you kidding me? Rod encourages healthy eating, but we won’t give up real butter. Lay it on thick.” Wyl grinned.
“I find something distinctive about Irish butter,” Rod said. "It's more flavorful than what we buy in the States.”
“We like it too.” James poured scrambled eggs into the cast iron skillet and set it in the hot oven. “Baked egg casserole will be done in about 10 minutes. Bloody Mary, anyone?”
“You bet,” Wyl said. “Spicy.”
“Me too,” Rod said.
Glenn got four tumblers. James handed Glenn the ice container from the freezer and pulled a celery bunch from the refrigerator. Ice clinking into glasses and a knife cutting through celery foretold the delicious libations.
“You lads have any decent vodka in the States?” Glenn set the ice back into the freezer and took out the ice-cold Boru bottle.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Rod said. “A little distillery in Austin makes the best vodka ever. Tito’s. It’s like water with a kick.”
“Vodka from Texas? Stop acting the maggot!” James glanced in their direction as he rinsed the celery sticks.
“What?” Rod said. “Mexican tequila may include a worm, but not Texas vodka.”
Glenn and James both laughed. “No, gents. That’s an Irish slang term for kidding around. We thought you made up the story about Texas vodka. So, Texans produce vodka?”
“Yep,” Wyl used his best Texas drawl. “Our little ol’ state covers around 268,000 square miles. Our state is eight times bigger than Ireland’s 32,000 square miles. We like to say Texas is a whole ‘nother country. We have several award-winning distilleries, at least five of which are in the Austin area.”
James and Glenn both gawked at Wyl.
Rod laughed at the two Brits. “My grandma Bonner used to say, Close your mouth, boy, you’re letting flies in.”
The four laughed as Glenn said, “Hell, the entire United Kingdom is less than 100,000 square miles, so Texas is more than twice the UK in size.”
James handed Glenn four celery sticks before reaching into the refrigerator for the chilled spicy tomato juice mixture pitcher. James poured the tomato juice after Glenn added a jigger of vodka to each glass.
“Let’s set these on the table. Brunch is almost ready.”
The oven timer dinged, and James removed the hot skillet and dished up the steaming egg mixture. “Let’s eat!”
The four sat down to a delicious brunch with mugs of coffee and Bloody Marys. Wyl and James sat at each end of the dining table, with Rod and Glenn on either side.
“Wow, James…you are quite the gourmet,” Rod lifted a forkful of egg to his mouth. The unique buttery flavor of the egg casserole includes the right amounts of garlic, chopped onion, sweet pepper, fresh mushrooms, and ham.
“Something my mum taught me,” James bit off the corner of his toasted soda bread.
“My mom taught me to cook as well,” Rod said. “I guess moms are the same everywhere.”
“So, Wyl, what did the envelope Glenn delivered to you contain?” James asked. "Glenn and I are both curious."
“Fergus Rafferty’s course project,” Wyl said. “It’s difficult to decipher by itself, but he worked on a password algorithm. I need to check more projects to determine how it fits with everything else.”
“Who is Fergus Rafferty?” Rod asked. “You mentioned him when you opened the envelope, but I’m unsure how he fits into all this.”
“Fergus Rafferty talked with Keenan Moynihan the evening of Moynihan's murder,” James said. “Gardaí suspects MacGowan is connected somehow but uncovered no solid leads.”
“A murdered student?” Rod’s brow furrowed.
“An early morning jogger discovered Moynihan's body in the river. Moynihan visited with MacGowan earlier on the day his murder occurred, and told MacGowan he suspected all student projects dovetailed,” James said. “Chief Superintendent O’Brien is investigating the murder.”
“But we’re here to work on an espionage case.” Rod shook his head. “MacGowan is involved in a plot to create economic havoc.”
“True,” James nodded, “but we believe this murder ties into the espionage case. We think Moynihan may have hit a nerve and put fear into MacGowan. So, he ordered him killed.”
“So MacGowan is a murderer too?” Rod’s eyes widened.
“Babe, I told you the mission was about to become interesting,” Wyl reached for Rod’s hand. “This is the dangerous territory I mentioned this morning.”
"We think Knowlan arranged the murder,” James said. “His underworld connections include people who would leave no trail and will pull it off without hesitation.”
“Oh my God,” Rod gasped. “We understood we dealt with a couple of unsavory characters, but I never dreamed we would encounter murderers.”
