Chapter 5 – The Payoff Trap

 

Chapter 5 – The Payoff Trap

Brussels – Omega Pact Command Centre, 02:43 CET

Imran al-Din Rahmani stood by the vast tactical table, watching live drone feeds from Dublin flicker across its surface. His Croatian operations chief, Nikola, approached nervously, holding out a sleek black tablet.

“Sir, Team Zulu failed. Na Fianna Nua secured the compound. Seán ‘Salty’ O’Sullivan remains alive.”

Rahmani’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. “Then it is time for Plan B. Activate the payoff conduit.”

Nikola blinked. “We’re bribing him?”

Rahmani turned, eyes narrowing to black slits. “Everyone has a price, Nikola. Even legends.”

---

💶 Dublin – Na Fianna Nua HQ, 09:17

The morning sun streamed pale through the shattered windows of the operations floor. Sarah sat typing an after-action report, hair tied in a rough ponytail, fatigue jacket unzipped to reveal her sidearm holster. Nearby, Niamh Flynn scrolled Omega chatter streams, caffeine-fuelled eyes darting rapidly.

Suddenly, a lone courier drone buzzed through the open window, hovering silently before Salty’s desk. A small silver data stick dropped onto his notes.

“Another pizza coupon?” Ruairí muttered, cleaning his Benelli’s receiver.

Salty picked it up carefully. “Omega’s signature drone code. Niamh, sweep it.”

Niamh plugged it into her air-gapped laptop, eyebrows lifting.

“Whoa. It’s a transfer offer. €20 million into a Monégasque account if you stand down, disband Na Fianna Nua, and leave Ireland immediately.”

Ruairí snorted. “Well, at least they’re not stingy.”

Sarah shook her head angrily. “They really think you’d sell out your country for blood money?”

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🦅 Salty’s Choice

Salty stared at the flickering digits on screen. €20 million. Enough to disappear forever. Live like a king on a private atoll with whiskey, books, and sunrises.

For a brief flicker of a second, the idea tempted him. No more funerals. No more blood on his hands.

Then his eyes hardened. He stood up slowly, picking up the data stick. With one swift movement, he snapped it between his thumb and forefinger, tossing the shattered pieces into the metal bin.

“Tell Rahmani,” he growled, voice low and lethal, “I’ll come collect his head for free.”

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⚔️ The Trap Revealed

Niamh flicked her screen to a secondary code analysis. “Boss… wait. This was no real offer. The data stick had a silent embedded malware package. If you accepted, they’d gain access to our encrypted comms and base coordinates.”

Salty’s lip curled into a cold smile. “They tried to Trojan Horse us. Cute.”

Ruairí loaded another slug into his Benelli with a savage grin. “Do we respond with flowers or artillery fire?”

Salty cracked his knuckles. “Both.”

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💀 Rahmani’s Reaction

Back in Brussels, Rahmani watched the live intercept feed of Salty’s rejection, his face darkening with rage. The Croatian stepped back carefully, sensing danger.

“Bring me Team Omega Prime,” Rahmani whispered, voice trembling with cold fury. “If bribes fail… terror will finish him.”