The wireless set in Seán’s shed crackles with
interference. He adjusts the dials, listening
for the usual broadcasts from Dublin. Instead,
he hears a voice—clear, urgent, and unregistered.
It speaks in code, repeating a sequence of
numbers. Seán writes them down.
Three days later, a letter arrives. No stamp, no
address. Inside: the same numbers. A map of the
midlands is folded beneath it, marked with red
ink. Seán recognises the location—a derelict
farm near Clonmel, long abandoned after the War.
He travels under cover of dusk. The farmhouse is
empty, but the walls are lined with copper
wiring, still warm. A small generator hums in
the corner. Seán touches the wires. A spark
jumps. He pulls his hand back. The system is
active.
The next morning, a neighbour knocks on his door.
“You’ve been seen near the farm,” the man says.
His voice is calm, but his eyes flick to the
road. Seán pretends not to understand. The man
leaves.
That night, Seán finds a second message hidden
in the radio’s casing. It contains coordinates
and a name: Máire. He doesn’t know her, but the
name is familiar—spoken in hushed tones at the
pub. A woman who vanished after the Civil War.
He follows the coordinates to a bogland cabin.
Inside, a woman sits by the fire. She watches
him without fear. “You shouldn’t be here,” she
says. Her accent is soft, educated. “They’re
watching.”
Seán asks what she knows. She tells him about
the network—transmitters hidden across the
country, relaying messages between republicans
and exiles. The government has been monitoring
them, but the network is too scattered to
destroy.
A week later, Seán is arrested. The police find
the map and the numbers in his belongings. He is
held overnight, questioned, then released. No
charges. But the wireless set in his shed is
gone.
Máire appears again, this time with a new
message. The network is moving. They need
someone to carry the signal. Seán hesitates. He
has nothing left. But the alternative is silence.
He agrees. The first transmission is a single
word: Dúnta. The word is old, from the old
language. It means hidden.
The next night, the police raid the cabin. Máire
is gone. Seán is alone. The wireless is broken.
But the message has been sent.
The network lives.
