Cillian
Dublin Airport
Getting into the airport is easier than I expect.
There are quite a few police officers standing outside the entrances into the airport. But the crowd is massive and impatient. The makeshift security checkpoints they’ve installed before each entrance is creating a gridlock situation that’s causing more problems than it’s solving.
In short, it’s fucking chaos.
And in chaos, I find the distraction I need.
First, I ditch the gun discreetly in a trash can. Then I make my way towards the doors.
I hunch down a little and slip into the airport behind several tall businessman travelling back to their native Germany. I manage to snake my way through the shifting waves of passengers until I’ve cleared the checkpoints.
Donal is right where Da said he would be at the second international terminal.
The man is instantly forgettable. Anonymous even when you’re looking right in his face. Dressed in dark slacks and a wrinkled white button-down shirt under an appallingly hideous sweater vest, you’d never think he is Dublin’s most skilled forger.
“Donny Boy,” I greet, though there’s not an ounce of warmth in my voice.
Truth is, I feel hollow. Utterly wrecked from the inside out.
He gives me a curt nod and gestures for me to follow him.
He leads me into one of the inner corridors that lead to the restrooms. But instead of heading to the men’s restroom, he turns left towards the storage area.
The room’s decently sized, but most importantly, there’s no one around.
“Who’d you have to bribe?” I ask.
“Just the one attendant on duty,” Donal replies dryly. “I fucking hate airports.”
“This one’s a bit crowded for my liking.”
“That’s precisely the problem,” he says. He doesn’t waste any time in pulling my new documents out from his briefcase.
I grab my forged passport and take a look.
“Niall Mulligan, twenty-three… what the fuck?” I groan. “You’ve made me a fucking brunette?”
“Your blond hair stands out too much,” Donal says without a trace of humor. “They’ll be searching for a blond smart ass with a stupid grin on his face.”
Clearly, he hasn’t noticed that I’ve lost my smile in the last hour.
But whatever. I’m not in the mood for explanations.
“Have you forgotten the fact that I’m still blond?” I say, pointing to my head.
Donal grabs something else from within his case. “I came prepared.”
“Spray on hair dye?” I balk when I see what he’s holding. “Are you fucking serious?”
“It only lasts two days,” Donal replies sourly. “Just spray and go.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Alright. Spray me.”
* * *