Chapter 15 – The Call From Above

 

Chapter 15 – The Call From Above

Sarah sat hunched over her cracked tablet in the dark corner of the warehouse HQ. The headlines scrolled endlessly:

“Brussels Denies Horizon Ties.”
“Public Outrage as Trafficking Evidence Emerges.”
“Protests Planned Nationwide.”

Beside her, Karen paced back and forth, her braid swishing across her tactical vest. Her eyes blazed with cold fury.

“They’re going to disappear him,” she snapped, slamming her fist into a steel pillar. “They’ll move him to Portlaoise under sedition and no one will see him again.”

Sarah rubbed her temples, thinking fast. “We need leverage. We need a bargaining chip big enough to force them to let him go.”

Karen froze, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “What if… we go higher than Horizon? Higher than Devane? Higher than Breen?”

Sarah looked up. “Brussels?”

Karen shook her head. “Even higher.”

---

📞 An Hour Later – Garda HQ

Inspector Breen sat in his glass-walled office, watching the rain streak down the dark windows. His tablet buzzed with endless notifications – protests growing outside Leinster House, Horizon’s Dublin accounts frozen pending EU fraud investigation, and a surge of anonymous threats to Garda top brass.

His desk phone rang. The old wired handset rattled against the glass table. He frowned. No one used desk phones anymore. Warily, he picked it up.

“Inspector Breen.”

A calm, clipped voice spoke. Male, mid-40s, with the smooth confidence of someone used to obedience.

“Release Mr. O’Sullivan immediately.”

Breen’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

“You don’t need my name, Inspector. You only need to obey. Release Mr. O’Sullivan without charge. Clear his record. Arrange Garda transport to return him to his residence safely.”

Breen swallowed hard, his throat dry. “On whose authority?”

The voice paused for half a beat.

“On the authority of people who don’t appear on your databases.”

The line went dead.

---

🚔 Holding Cell

Salty lay on the narrow bench, staring up at the flickering ceiling light. His ribs ached, his wrists burned from the cuffs, but his mind was calm. They can’t break what they can’t touch, he reminded himself.

The cell door buzzed. Two uniformed Garda entered, avoiding his gaze.

“On your feet, O’Sullivan,” one muttered. “You’re free to go.”

Salty sat up slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Is it my birthday or something?”

“Don’t ask questions. All charges dropped. Record cleared. You’re being transported out under executive order.”

Salty smirked as he stood. “Well, that’s a pity. I was hoping for another hour of your fine hotel service.”

---

🚓 Outside Garda HQ

Rain fell in sheets as Salty stepped out into the floodlit car park. A black tactical SUV idled by the kerb. The driver’s window slid down, revealing Karen’s smirking face.

“Need a lift, boss?” she called.

He grinned, walking over and climbing into the back seat. Sarah turned from the passenger seat and threw her arms around him, hugging him tight.

“We thought we’d lost you,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Not a chance,” he chuckled, squeezing her shoulder. He turned to Karen. “How’d you manage this one, lass?”

Karen’s green eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Let’s just say… Horizon isn’t the only powerful player in this game. And we just made friends with someone who hates them even more than we do.”

Salty leaned back against the seat, rain hammering the SUV roof as they pulled away into the stormy Dublin night.

“Good,” he said softly. “Because it’s time to end this. All of it.”