Originally posted October 13, 2011
((Chance facings a feeling of helplessness as he works on Mac's case.))
Nada, batsu, niets. Chance ran through all the different ways to say all the new things he'd learned about the Cabal trying to kill his girlfriend since they returned from Dublin. "Nothing."
At some point in the last hour. the police reports and witness testimony started to blur together. The music studio above his apartment offered a refuge. He picked up his beaten acoustic and tried to set down the worry. 18 days. Sometime in the next 18 days the Cabal would try to take away his love, leave it dead and cold on the street. Tapping the remote to prep for recording did not relieve the concern. Adjusting the microphones did not help him feel any more useful.
Chance sat on the stool and pulled the guitar on to his lap. Thinking of a song, his hand flexed with the chords and arpeggios to come. He shook his head, mentally working through another. A deep breath helped the decision. He tapped the foot switch to start the recording.
The Shining
by Badly Drawn Boy
Faith pours from your walls, drowning your calls
I've tried to hear, you're not near
Remembering when I saw your face
Shining my way, pure timing
Now I've fallen in deep, slow silent sleep
It's killing me, I'm dying
To put a little bit of sunshine in your life
Soleil all over you, warm sun pours over me
Soleil all over you
Warm sun
Now this slick fallen rift came like a gift
Your body moves ever nearer
And you will dry this tear
Now that we're here, and grieve for me, not history
But now I'm dry of thoughts, wait for the rain
Then it's replaced, sun setting
And suddenly you're in love with everything
Soleil all over you, warm sun pours over me
Soleil all over you
Warm sun
The guitar returned to its rack. Chance picked up his tablet and made his way out of the studio to the open patio of the fourth floor. He poured himself a beer from the empty bar and began to review his notes with a fresh mind. When the records from the Gardaí, didn't turn up anything, the young detective queried UNTIL for information about the Circle of Cythrawl. The pieces clicked and fell into place, but did not reveal any path to follow.
With less than 650 active members, the group operated out of the small village of Roscommon. Quiet and seemingly a low threat, the UNTIL provided very little information other than the name of their leader, Caedmon ó Conchobhair. Chance was not surprised to find a photograph of the man matched the description of the man seen leaving the site of the accident that killed MacKenzie's mother. The Gardaí had investigated that case until the lead detective unexpectedly passed.
An incoming email drew his attention, a death certificate for Connal O’Malley. The father Mac had never known would never get the chance. He drowned in 1995, the investigation ended at the behest of next of kin, Connal's brother in law, Aindrais Kane.
Chance picked up the phone to call Mac.
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