Chapter 4 – The Snake

 

Chapter 4 – The Snake

Salty awoke with a start to the faint dawn light filtering through shattered warehouse windows. His back ached from sleeping on the cold concrete. Beside him, Sarah lay curled protectively around Hanin, who slept deeply, finally free from the flickering fluorescent lights and locked rooms of Block 17.

He stood, stretching his arms until his shoulders cracked. The city beyond the warehouse hummed with the early shift – electric trucks growling, drones whirring overhead, the AI tannoys announcing “Dublin welcomes a productive day – remember to report any suspicious behaviour to Garda Net.”

Salty stepped outside for a piss behind a broken steel beam. As he zipped up, he noticed movement near the dock gates in the distance. Two black electric SUVs idled beside a container stack. Four men in dark tactical clothing stood near them, checking manifests on sleek tablets. One of them was short and stocky, with a thick bull neck, shaved head, and heavy gold chains draped over his black tactical vest.

Salty narrowed his eyes. He knew that silhouette.

Connor “The Snake” Devane.

The Snake had earned his name back in the early 2020s, smuggling synthetic opioids down from Belfast ports, slithering between Garda patrols and customs. Now, he had pivoted into human trafficking, bringing in undocumented migrants from Africa, Asia, and the Middle East through Belfast, bypassing tight EU controls by exploiting the loosened border policies of Northern Ireland.

Salty watched as The Snake gestured to his men. The SUVs’ boots popped open, revealing cramped compartments lined with grey insulation. One by one, thin figures stepped out – men, women, teenagers – blinking in the harsh morning light. Their eyes were hollow, skin dulled from days of hiding.

The Snake walked down the line, checking each face against the photos on his tablet. He paused at a trembling boy no older than sixteen, grabbed his chin roughly, and turned his head side to side. The boy winced but said nothing.

Satisfied, The Snake nodded to his men. “Get them into the containers before the sun’s fully up. Dublin’s paying top dollar for fresh hands – factories, black market restaurants, integration camps. Doesn’t matter where. Just keep them quiet.”

Salty clenched his fists, rage boiling inside. He remembered working alongside The Snake years ago when the docks were union-run and smuggling was petty cigarettes and weed. But this – this was slavery.

He returned inside, his face dark.

“Who was it?” Sarah asked softly, still holding Hanin close.

“Connor Devane,” he spat. “They call him The Snake now. He’s running them through Belfast, avoiding customs, and dumping them here for cash. Integration camps take their cut, factories get cheap labour, and no one reports it because no one wants to know.”

Sarah shivered. “He’s dangerous, Salty. You can’t take him on alone.”

He paced, boots echoing across the warehouse floor. “I’m not letting him keep doing this, Sarah. Ireland’s broken enough without men like him chewing at its bones.”

“But what about Hanin? We need to get her out tonight.”

He stopped, looking down at the sleeping girl. His chest tightened. He knew Sarah was right – get the girl out first, then deal with The Snake. But every minute The Snake operated meant more innocent lives destroyed.

“Tonight,” he said finally. “We get Hanin onto the container ship. Tomorrow… I take down The Snake.”

Sarah stood, walking over to him. She placed a gentle hand on his chest. “Then I’m with you.”

He searched her eyes, seeing not just fear but fierce determination. “This isn’t your fight.”

“It is now,” she whispered. “Someone has to stand with you.”

He felt something shift inside him – an old fire rekindled. Together, they would take on this evil festering in the dark corners of Ireland’s future.

Outside, The Snake’s SUVs pulled away, their engines silent but their cargo screaming silently behind tinted windows.