20 - Caomhnóir

 

It took Keegan two days to heal from his wounds. He might be immortal to all intents and purposes, but he still was human enough that the amount of damage he’d sustained had left him weakened and in need of that much time before he would be able to travel again.

 

While he waited, he placed a call to Alasdair. His first words to his ceannasaí were, “Assignment completed.” The next were, “Is Thom all right?”

 

Alasdair congratulated him, and then said, “Thom is fine to the best of my knowledge.”

 

“To the best of your knowledge?” Keegan growled. “You were supposed to have been watching over him.”

 

“Calm down, Keegan. We have been. Darius has made it a point to run into him twice in the last few days, always at the club. As far as we can tell however, all they’ve done is talk for a few minutes. Unfortunately both of the men assigned to keep an eye on Thom are human, I had no Caomhnóir that I could spare to babysit him. The men are good, but they can only judge by what they observe and though Thom looked upset, he’s done nothing irrational.”

 

“In other words, Darius is playing mind games.” Keegan sighed deeply. “As long as he keeps it to that and nothing more until I get home I can handle things from there.”

 

“When will you be able to return? How badly were you injured?”

 

Keegan chuckled. “You know me well. I should be able to move by tomorrow, so send a plane if you would.”

 

“I shall. Now I want the details on what happened on the assignment.”

 

For the next half hour Keegan filled Alasdair in on everything that had occurred. “I doubt,” he said in conclusion, “that the terrorist’s death will make the papers as his body will never be found.”

 

“Unfortunate, that, but necessary.” Alasdair chuckled. “He’ll become another bin Laden in the minds of those who are supposed to deal with such things.”

 

“Too true,” Keegan agreed. “Perhaps we should target him next?”

 

“What makes you think we’re not?”

 

Keegan laughed. “Point made and taken. All right, I should let you get back to your job.”

 

“And you to your healing. The plane will be on the tarmac,” Alasdair paused momentarily, “at O180.”

 

“Thanks.” Keegan broke the connection and then picked up the phone again. He had one more call he had to make. One that to him was even more important than calling his ceannasaí, although he knew Alasdair would have disagreed wholeheartedly.