Honorable Deeds: A Declan McIver Novella (Black Shuck Thriller Series)

By Ian Graham

"... a non-stop action ride that grabs the reader, not letting go. Declan McIver is up there with Gabriel Allon and Mitch Rapp as a prime example of the political thriller genre! ~ Tammy @ RabidReaders.com

Years after having been trained by elite Russian Special Forces, former IRA assassin Declan McIver has finally escaped Northern Ireland and reached the United States. But life in America as an illegal immigrant isn't easy and McIver's only option for employment is aboard a smuggler's boat. It's a simple life, he's paid in cash, and he doesn't have to kill anyone, but when his employer branches out into a new line of work, assassination for hire, Declan is forced to choose between his new life and old debts.

"Ian Graham writes the kind of stories I want to read. Full on, action-packed, adrenaline-fueled. Keep your eye on this author, he's going to be a big name in thrillers before long." - Matt Hilton (author of the Joe Hunter thriller series)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ian Graham
• Release date: Jun 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311665713

Ian Graham

Ian Graham is an award-winning author, screenwriter, and entrepreneur with an interest in politics, history, and religion. The stories and characters he writes about are centered on the explosive conflicts created when the three intersect. He is a firm believer in being yourself... unless you can be Batman. Always be Batman.Visit www.iangrahamthrillers.com or www.whoisstellar.com for more.

Book preview

Ian Graham

Honorable Deeds: a Declan McIver novella

First published by Kirkgrim Books 2015

Copyright © 2015 by Ian Graham

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

First edition

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

Find out more at reedsy.com

Chapter 1

11:39 p.m. Eastern Time

Thursday, April 10th, 1997

Provincetown Harbor Marina

Provincetown, Massachusetts

Seagulls squawked in the night sky and the ocean crashed against the crustacean covered support beams as Declan McIver moved at an abrupt pace toward the end of the pier. He pulled his dark gray stocking cap down over his neatly trimmed blonde hair and stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his black pea coat, trying his best to shield his lean figure from the cold winds that blew across Cape Cod Bay like the last gasp of a dying man. Passing the dormant whale watching and dolphin tour boats anchored down from a long winter season, he kept his eyes fixed on the port side of the Saint Malachy’s Revenge, a fishing trawler he’d worked aboard for a little more than a year. The green and white boat bobbed up and down fifty yards ahead of him. In the distance, the larger vessel it was there to meet sat anchored in the Atlantic, a motorized rowboat tied off to the trawler providing the only evidence the two boats had any connection. So far Declan hadn’t noticed a lookout but found it hard to believe the men aboard hadn’t posted one. The meeting taking place wasn’t one the captain of the Revenge, Lorcan O’Rourke, would want to be overheard.

Reaching the boat, Declan stepped aboard cautiously. Inside the trawler’s bridge, one story above him, he could hear the boisterous voices of O’Rourke, his first mate Sean Reid, and the Middle Eastern men who had arrived on the small shipping vessel marked with black letters that read Zarin, undoubtedly one of the many front companies for the government-owned Islamic Republic of Iran Shipping Lines, or IRISL, the Revenge so often met in international waters on their so-called fishing trips. In fact, Saint Malachy’s Revenge was a fishing trawler in appearance only. The boat’s real purpose was smuggling, it’s cargo often including weapons, drugs, counterfeit money, international fugitives, or anything else someone was willing to pay O’Rourke a heavy price to haul into the northeastern United States.

But Declan had his doubts that the meeting going on in the bridge was about smuggling. The men aboard the Iranian vessel were different this time. Whatever was being discussed, it was worth great risk to both O’Rourke and the Iranians because if either was seen by the U.S. Coast Guard in the company of one another red flags would fly in all directions. In Declan’s mind, it was a certainty the meeting meant something bad and he wanted to know what it was.

Ducking underneath the ill-maintained trawling beams, he spotted the lookout he’d known was about. A black-clad Arabian carrying an Uzi paced the starboard side, his attention turned out to sea. Obviously, the men aboard were more concerned with Coast Guard patrols than any threat from the docks. As the man turned and walked away toward the bow Declan moved in behind him, his advance made silent by the waves slapping against the hull. Taking a glance upward toward the windows of the bridge to be sure no one was looking, he grabbed the man around the neck, pulling him into a sleeper hold and keeping him there until he was unconscious. Declan lowered the man to the deck and slid him out of sight. Picking up the Uzi, he removed the magazine and dropped both it and the gun over the side of the trawler into the bay.

Pressing his back firmly against the white fiberglass wall of the superstructure, he crept toward the stairwell leading up to the bridge. At the bottom of the steps, he listened intently to the voices above, his hearing sharpened by years of training.

You can do all of this, Mr. O’Rourke? a Semitic voice asked.

Yeah, boyo. We can do it all, O’Rourke said. Everything, right up to the delivery of the weapons and getting your men into the country undetected. We can even get you the address he’ll be at. All your boys will need to do is walk up and pull the trigger. It’ll be like shootin’ fish in a barrel.

Declan shook his head, an assassination? He’d known O’Rourke was greedy and could never seem to get his hands on enough money, a problem likely caused by his frequent visits to the horse track, but he’d doubted the man had the balls to pull off anything higher up the criminal career ladder than his midnight runs into international waters to pick up illegal cargo. Now, it seemed his intuition had been wrong. Clearly, the men aboard the Zarin vessel had been misled into believing O’Rourke was something other than a small-time smuggler. O’Rourke’s reputation around the Irish neighborhoods of South Boston was one of his own making and was better fiction than most paperbacks. All the man needed to do was change his name to Bad Bad Leroy Brown and the act would be complete.

O’Rourke’s questionable accolades aside, Declan wasn’t about to stand around as Sean Reid and the other members of O’Rourke’s crew helped what were likely members of Hezbollah or the PLO commit a terrorist act. Not only were they likely to get themselves killed, but the potential for innocent bystanders to be harmed was passed a likelihood and more of a sure bet.

Then we have an agreement, Mr. O’Rourke, the heavily accented voice said, "but the target is not to be approached by your men and he must not see them. You are dealing with a man who is very experienced in military matters and if he sees you the operation will be over before