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#Ninja vs shinobi archive
Mr Ó Dálaigh’s handwritten letter was discovered in his archive at UCD by author Flor MacCarthy during research for her new book The Presidents’ Letters - An Unexpected History of Ireland. However, the letter was never sent and Dr Herrema was eventually released. If I fail, I do not mind dying, it will vindicate Ireland’s honour before the world.” “I believe I could bring the kidnappers to reason. I am willing to offer myself as a substitute for Dr H in the firm knowledge there can be no Government compromise with blackmail,” his letter said.
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“I accept the Government cannot and should not yield to the kidnappers’ demands. In the letter, Mr Ó Dálaigh wrote he believed this was the “only way” to save the Dutch businessman’s life. His voice returned as a faint squeak.The businessman was held hostage for 36 days as his kidnappers, Eddie Gallagher and Marion Coyle, first demanded the release of IRA prisoners and then asked for a IR£2m ransom and flights to the Middle East. Gardaí eventually traced the IRA members and Dr Herrema to a house in Monasterevin, Co Kildare.Īs negotiations continued, Mr Ó Dálaigh, then president, considered a remarkable proposal. He wrote a letter, which he planned to send to Mr Cosgrave, in which he offered to take the place of Dr Herrema. The man gave the guy’s neck one last squeeze, a motion that thumped the back of his head against the wall, then he released him and stepped away. He held the guy against the bricks by the throat until the kid’s face turned purple, ignoring the slaps and punches thrown at his arms. He was built and dressed like a construction worker-jeans, steel-toes, tee shirt, big arms smeared with gray dust. The man dwarfed the young thug by a good six inches in height and fifty pounds of muscle. The girl said, “Holy shit,” but her boyfriend had his back to the other man and didn’t see it coming when a big hand closed around his neck, turned him and backed him up against the wall behind them. Laurel turned as a huge man passed in front of her, striding toward the fighting couple. Laurel grabbed her bag and fished for her phone, ready to announce her intentions to call the cops, but steps interrupted her-heavy, purposeful footfalls on the wooden walkway. Laurel heard the squeak of a sneaker and whipped her head around as the guy grasped his girlfriend by her fleshy upper arm, rough enough to bruise.
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She felt powerless and pissed and worthless, probably just how this obnoxious girl felt. “I know you fucked him, so just admit to it.” Laurel gave them each a disgusted look and pretended to go back to her reading, praying she’d at least embarrassed or annoyed them enough to prompt a relocation.
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The woman crossed her arms and cocked her head. “Don’t touch her like that,” Laurel said, hoping she sounded assertive, glad her voice wasn’t as shaky as her hands. The guy turned to give her a cursory study. “Why you foolin’ with me?” the guy demanded, shaking his girlfriend by the shoulders. The altercation paused until the woman had gone, then escalated. The walker, a middle-aged woman dressed for the office, gave them a wide berth, also pretending to ignore the fight. A walker entered her periphery and Laurel’s cheeks burned, embarrassed to be here, acting as if she couldn’t see what was going on. He had a mean, dog-fight look about him and the fact he was posturing made him seem even more likely to snap. She wanted to find the balls to say something, to do the right thing, but she was afraid of the guy. “An’ you need to tell me the fuckin’ truth.”