Chapter 36
Heaney had escaped traps more than once. Had his undeserved successes, too.
Heaney had come to see his life since childhood as a tapestry, woven of many threads: caution, instinct, fear, doubt, ancestors, belief, dumb luck, false scares, fate, faith, values, and a fairy-dust sprinkling of trust (not too much).
He trusted Jones, for instance, because he knew his weaknesses. And he had to trust Ryan for now. They sure needed the help. The lad had passed his tests so far.
Major Amos Burke, U.S. Army, was something else. Burke was a thread stuck out from Heaney's tapestry. He'd learned over his decades of surviving: when you see a thread sticking out, pull it. See where it goes. The Pinkertons called it a lead.
Heaney knew just this about just that: a ripped poster and a faked phone call soon revealed that Major Amos Burke was the U.S. Army's point man in Northern Ireland regarding a very recent attempted hijacking of small arms. Which made the IRA — namely, Heaney, here in Northern Ireland — Burke's ultimate prey, given time and good hunting.
Heaney knew: he'd have to reverse those roles, if he could.
To begin: he had to learn all he could about the man. So he sent Ryan, in a car driven by Jones, who complained all the way about wasting his time, to find Major Burke in Belfast and trail him; watch what he did, build up a biography, learn his patterns, find a weakness and report back. So they could compromise him, then destroy him; as policy and survival demanded.
Ryan: every generation kicked fallen leaves off the road.