Drink With the Devil (7 page)

“What a grand way to start the day,” he said softly as he emerged from the creek and reached for the towel.

He went back to the cottage, toweling himself vigorously, then he dressed and made a cup of tea. There was milk, bread, eggs, and bacon in the larder. He stood there, sipping tea, wondering whether to cook something, when there was the sound of an engine in the yard. He looked out and saw the Land Rover with Benny and Kathleen.

I
N
L
ONDON AT
the William & Mary Reid and Scully were getting ready to leave. Their search of Bell’s small office had yielded no clues.

Scully said, “Nothing, Mr. Reid. What do we do?”

“We go back to Belfast,” Reid said. “Don’t worry. Ryan has got to come home and no place for him to hide. We’ll bide our time, but we’ll get the bastard in the end.” He raised his voice. “Angus, get in here.”

Angus stumbled through the door. “Yes, Mr. Reid.”

“Anything — anything at all you can tell me?”

“They took a train, that’s all I know. I did hear the Glasgow Express mentioned.”

“Glasgow?” Scully said. “Why would they go there?”

“Not Glasgow, you fool. That line goes up through the northwest. They’ll get off somewhere.” He turned back to Angus. “Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.” Angus brightened. “Oh, yes. The other week I overheard Mr. Bell on the phone. It must have been a shipping office because he said he needed to charter a flat bottom ferry. The kind that could transport vehicles. After a while I heard him say the
Irish Rose
, Captain Tully, and it’s here in London.” Angus nodded. “Yes, that’s what he said.”

“Did you hear him mention that name again?”

Angus nodded. “Just before they left I was in the stillroom checking bottles. I heard Ryan say to Mr. Bell the
Irish Rose
is well on her way by now, so we’ll see her Friday morning.”

“But he didn’t say where?”

“Definitely not.”

“All right,” Reid said. “You’ve got my number. You phone me in Belfast if you hear anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Another thing. Keep your mouth shut. Give me any trouble and I’ll send Scully to give you a seeing to. They’ll find you in the Thames with your balls cut off.”

Reid went through the door and Angus, plainly terrified, stood back. Scully patted his face. “You mind what Mr. Reid says, there’s a good boy,” and he went out.

K
EOGH ATE THE
ham sandwich she had brought sitting at the end of the table, and she sat opposite, a mug of tea in her hands. Benny had gone back to the farm. Keogh finished it and lit a cigarette.

“How are you? How do you feel?”

“About the job you mean?” She shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I’ve done things for Uncle Michael before, dangerous things. I can look after myself.”

“At your age you shouldn’t have to.” He stood up. “Come on. We’ll get a breath of air.”

The mist drifted in creating a strange and somber world. Reeds lifted on either side of the creek, water gurgled in the mud flats, and as they walked along the broad track birds lifted in protest on either hand.

“A strange place, this,” Keogh observed.

“Yes, I’m not sure that I like it.” She frowned. “It makes me feel uneasy.”

“I know what you mean.”

They reached the jetty and paused. The tide was out and iron girders were exposed, corroded by rust.

“I wonder what it was built for?” she said.

“God knows. Been here for years. Victorian from the look of it, but it still looks substantial enough.”

They walked along it, waves lapping around the girders below with a hollow booming sound. There was no rail at the end, only at the sides. Keogh peered over and noticed a jumble of granite blocks in the shallows.

“There’s your answer,” he said. “They must have shipped granite from here in the old days.”

“I see.”

She stood to one side, hands gripping the rail, and looked out to sea, a strangely forlorn figure in her raincoat and beret.

Keogh leaned on the rail beside her. “What do you want, Kate? What do you really want out of life?”

“God knows. All I’ve ever known was the Troubles. I was born the year they started. All I know is the bombing and the killing. My family, friends, all gone.” Her face was bleak. “Life is supposed to be for the living, but all I see is death. Does that make any sense to you?”

“Perfect sense.” Keogh nodded. “The terrible thing and you so young.”

She laughed. “You’re not exactly a graybeard yourself.”

“A very old thirty-two,” he said and he laughed.

Steps boomed along the jetty and they turned and saw Ryan coming toward them. “God, what a lousy day,” he said.

Keogh pointed down into the water. “It’s to be hoped the tide is in at the right time tomorrow.”

“It will be, I’ve double-checked, and it’s a high one.” He took out a cigarette. “One more thing. Hugh Bell is dead.”

“My God,” Kathleen said. “How did that happen?”

So Ryan told them.

A
S THEY WALKED
back along the jetty, Keogh said, “Reid can’t touch you once you’re back home with that transporter. All right, maybe your Army Council don’t like people going their own way and acting without orders, but you’ll be a bloody hero to them. They’ll welcome you with open arms when they hear about the bullion.”

“Let’s hope so. It’s Reid I’m concerned about. Unless I miss my guess, he’d like to have it all for himself.”

“Well, fuck him,” Kathleen said angrily.

“You mind your tongue, girl,” Ryan told her.

“But if he doesn’t know about Kilalla, he isn’t a threat,” Keogh said.

“Not when we land, but later.” Ryan shrugged. “Who knows? Anyway, let’s go back to the farm. I’ve got the Land Rover at the cottage.”

M
ARY
P
OWER PROVIDED
a simple meal at one o’clock, vegetable soup, a cheese salad, and the inevitable tea. Afterwards, as she cleared the table, she said to Benny, “Mind your chores now. The sheep in the north meadow need seeing to.”

He nodded eagerly, got his cap, and went out. A moment later Keogh, standing at the window, saw him cross the yard, a sack across his shoulders against the rain, the dog at his heels.

“He’s a worker, that lad, I’ll say that for him.”

“And in the mind still a child,” she said. “He has to be told everything.”

Ryan finished his tea and stood up. “I want to look at the ambush site again. We’ll go in the Ford van, me and Kathleen. You follow on the Montesa. I’ll give you one of the radios. When we get there, you carry on up the road a mile or two, then contact me. Use the call sign Eagle One, like I said. I’ll be Eagle Two.”

“Fine by me,” Keogh told him.

A
S THE
F
ORD
turned into the track toward the road leading down Eskdale, the girl was at the wheel. She glanced at her uncle.

“You know I’m not even licensed to do this. I’m under age.”

“And you handling a wheel to the manner born since you were fourteen. I mind that night when I took a bullet and crashed my car near Kilkelly.”

“And you phoned me from a roadside phone box and told me to get the boys to come and get you.”

“And came yourself, you little devil, and in a stolen car.”

“Well, who showed me how to hot-wire a stolen car?”

“I know, and to my shame.” He laughed. “The state I was in when you got there. Soaked to the skin in a stinking ditch, a bullet in the shoulder, and then you crashed through that RUC roadblock.”

“Great days, Uncle Michael.”

“Were they?” He lit a cigarette and opened the window. “Sometimes I’m not so certain anymore. I must be getting old.” He smiled suddenly. “One thing I am sure of. You’re a remarkable girl, Kathleen, and you deserve better. Dammit, you could be an early entrant for the University.”

“Oh, hold your tongue,” she told him. “I’ve more important things to do with my life.”

He sat there thinking about it, and a moment later they reached the junction and pulled in.

K
EOGH FOLLOWED TWO
hundred yards behind. He was wearing the biker’s black leather jacket and the helmet. In spite of the rain, he was enjoying himself, and the Montesa responded well.

The Ford van turned into a lay-by a few yards from the junction. Keogh raised a clenched fist in greeting and carried on.

R
YAN SAT IN
the van, the two-way radio in his hand, opened the door, and looked out at the lay-by. “This will do fine. After all, we don’t want to block the road so effectively and this thing burning so that I can’t get by in the transporter.”

At that moment Keogh’s voice crackled over the radio, “Eagle Two, this is Eagle One. Are you receiving me?”

“Loud and clear,” Ryan said. “Anything to report?”

“Nothing but birds, the sea, and this bloody rain. Can I go now?”

“I’ll see you back at the farm. Over and out.”

Ryan switched off the radio and smiled at Kathleen. “I’ve seen enough, girl, so back to Folly’s End it is.”

M
ARY
P
OWER SERVED
the evening meal at seven o’clock, roast lamb, potatoes, carrots, cabbage. What fascinated Keogh was the vast amount of food Benny managed to put away.

“Jesus, but you’d think it was going to be his last meal on top of earth,” Keogh said.

“Well if he does the work of three men, he’s entitled to eat three men’s food,” Kathleen put in.

“But not to forget his manners,” Mary Power said and she reached over and hit Benny over the knuckles with a wooden spoon. “Now be a good boy and go and do the milking.”

He pulled on his cap, bread and cheese in one hand. “Yes, Aunty,” he mumbled and went out.

“Away into the parlour with you and I’ll serve tea in there,” she told them.

Kathleen Ryan started to clear the plates and Keogh said firmly, “My turn. Off you go with your uncle, there’s a good girl.”

“Good girl yourself,” she said, but went anyway, following Ryan out.

“No Irishman I ever knew would volunteer to do the work of a woman, so I take it you wanted to speak to me,” Mary Power said.

“Something like that.” Keogh stacked the plates for her. “Are you happy with everything so far?”

“Happy?” She filled the sink with hot water and slid the plates in. “I’ve forgotten what that word means. My husband and I came here full of hope, but this is only a place to die in. Subsistence farming of the worst kind. The land is a cruel master here.”

“I can see that.”

“So when Michael came to me with word of this ploy he wanted to organize, it was like a line thrown to a drowning man. If it comes off, Benny and I can go back to Ulster.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“We’ll be trapped here forever. Michael made it clear there would be no police trouble whatever happens. Nothing to connect us with you lot.”

“And with luck that’s the way it should stay.”

“Let’s hope so. Politics mean nothing to me, but Michael is a good man and I trust him.”

Keogh left her there and went into the parlour. The girl sat in the windowseat with her copy of
The Midnight Court
. Ryan was filling his pipe by the fire and lit it with a taper.

“A good woman, that,” Keogh said. “She’s had a bad time.”

“The worst,” Ryan told him. “But better times coming, God willing. We’d better check the weaponry in the barn after we’ve had our tea.”

“That suits me fine,” Keogh said.

“And me,” Kathleen put in. “I’d like to try out that Colt pistol Mr. Bell gave me.”

“Well, we’ll see,” Ryan told her and at that moment Mary Power brought in a tray with the tea things.

L
ATER, IN THE
dimly lit barn, Keogh and Ryan laid out the weaponry from Ryan’s big case. There were the two AK assault rifles, spare clips, the stun and smoke grenades, and the Semtex with its timing pencils. There was even a spare Walther in a leather ankle holster.

Keogh checked it out. “Where did that come from?”

“Oh, I thought it might come in useful. I always liked the idea of an ace in the hole,” Ryan said.

Keogh examined each AK separately, running his hands over the various parts expertly. He loaded one and passed it to Ryan. “That latest silencer they have is pretty damn good. Try it.”

He took a wooden plank to the other end of the barn, propped it against the bales of hay, and came back. Kathleen and Benny stood watching.

Ryan raised the AK and fired three single shots. There was the familiar crack the weapon always made in the silenced mode and three bullet holes appeared in the plank.

Keogh loaded the second AK and passed it across. “And that one.”

Ryan pressed the trigger again and achieved the same result. He lowered the weapon and placed it on the trestle table. “That’s all right, then.”

Kathleen came forward holding the Colt .25 automatic. “Now me.”

Keogh said, “It’s all yours.”

She raised the Colt in both hands, took careful aim, and fired, kicking up straw to one side of the plank.

“Try again,” Ryan told her.

The anger showed on her face, but she took aim again and achieved the same result.

She was furious now and Keogh said, “Look, most people can’t hit a barn door with a handgun, so don’t take it to heart. Come with me.” He stopped six or seven feet away from the plank. “I wouldn’t try it from any further away than this if I were you. Just point and shoot.”

She tried again, clipping the plank with one shot, but her second was on target. “Much better,” Keogh said. “But holding the barrel against the target and pulling the trigger gets an even better result.”

He turned and walked back and Ryan was laughing. Even Benny was smiling and she was annoyed. “Well, what about you, small man? Lots of advice for others, but little on display from yourself.”

Keogh turned, face calm, and it was as if she was only noticing for the first time how cold his eyes were. His hand went under his jacket at the rear, the Walther swung up, he fired six times, double-tapping splinters flew from the plank and it toppled over.