Ratlines (31 page)

“Catherine Beauchamp told me they were based somewhere close to Croke Park stadium. I scouted the area over two days until I found them.”

Haughey’s eyes narrowed. “I think that’s a lie.”

“That’s right.” Ryan met Haughey’s hawk gaze. “But that’s all I’m going to tell you. Director, Minister, I’d like to be clear about something.”

Fitzpatrick said, “Go on.”

Ryan did not avert his eyes from Haughey’s. “I have witnessed Colonel Skorzeny and his associate Célestin Lainé torture and kill a Norwegian national whom they suspected of being an informant.”

Haughey could not hold Ryan’s stare.

Ryan continued. “I have reason to believe that at some point in the next twenty four hours, Colonel Skorzeny will try to imprison me, and he will torture me to learn anything that I have not told you this afternoon.”

Haughey wetted his lips. “That’s a hell of an accusation, Lieutenant Ryan.”

“There is also a risk that Colonel Skorzeny may try to do the same to Miss Hume in order to coerce me into providing him with more information.”

“So what do you want from me?” Haughey asked.

“I expect the protection of the Department of Justice and the Directorate of Intelligence. If any harm should come to me or Celia Hume in the coming days, if any accident should occur, or if either of us should go missing, your first line of enquiry should be with Colonel Skorzeny.”

Ryan stopped talking and let the silence thicken between them.

Eventually, Haughey nodded and cleared his throat. “All right. I’ll tell Colonel Skorzeny he’s to have no direct contact with you. If he wants to talk to you, it’ll be through me. Good enough?”

“No, Minister. I want your guarantee that I have the protection of your department, and of the Directorate of Intelligence.”

Haughey and Fitzpatrick exchanged a glance.

“Fine,” Haughey said. “You have my word. If anything happens to you or Miss Hume, then Colonel Skorzeny will answer to me. So, what message did these boys send back?”

“They rejected the Colonel’s counter offer.”

Fitzpatrick’s eyebrows rose. “Counter offer?”

“Colonel Skorzeny made a thinly veiled suggestion that one of them would receive a payment only if he betrayed the others. If he killed them, and presented proof to Skorzeny.”

“Is this true, Minister?” Fitzpatrick asked.

Haughey’s face reddened. “An advertisement was placed in the
Irish Times
. I did not approve, I made that clear to the Colonel.”

“My God, you knowingly allowed Skorzeny to place an ad soliciting murder?”

Haughey fidgeted. “Like I said, I did not approve. Perhaps in hindsight I should have made my objection more strongly.”

“I’ll say. I’ve a good mind to go to the Taoiseach about this. I imagine your father in law might have something to say about it.”

Haughey moved close to Fitzpatrick, their bodies almost touching. “Now hold on, Director. Don’t go thinking you can threaten Charlie Haughey. Push me, and I’ll have you run out of your fucking job by the end of the day.”

Fitzpatrick stepped away, straightened his tie, smoothed his suit jacket. “Gentlemen, I think I’ve contributed all I can to this discussion. If you’ll excuse me, I have quite an amount of paperwork to see to.”

He walked to the bed and placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

“Come to me if you need anything, Ryan. Anything at all.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Fitzpatrick left the room. Haughey watched the door close.

“So, what now?” he asked.

“Make sure Skorzeny pays them,” Ryan said.

Haughey sighed, his shoulders falling, his body seeming to deflate. “I don’t know if he’ll agree. He’s a stubborn bastard.”

“It’s either that, or you let them fight it out. These men are serious. They won’t give up. I’ve done everything I can for you, Minister, and more. You have twenty four hours to convince Skorzeny. If you can’t, you’ll have my final report and then you’re on your own.”

Haughey walked to the door. “I’ll see what I can do. Stay out of trouble, Ryan.”

He nodded at Celia as he left. She entered and closed the door.

Ryan eased his legs off the bed, every part of him protesting at the effort, and sat upright. He placed one hand on the bedside locker to support himself.

Celia came to the bed, got down on her knees. She reached beneath and slid out the portable Grundig tape recorder she had purchased that morning with the last of the money Ryan had been given by the director. She pressed the stop button and the reels ceased spinning. A small microphone peeked out from its hiding place between the pillows on the bed, the cable snaking down behind the headboard.

She got back to her feet, went to the wardrobe, and opened the mirrored door. She crouched down, reached inside.

“Careful, it’s heavy,” Ryan said.

“I know it is,” she said. “I bloody carried it here all the way from the office. I’ll be in terrible trouble if anyone notices it’s missing.”

She kept her back straight, lifted with her legs, and brought the Olivetti typewriter to the bed.

“Can you type?” Ryan asked.

“Of course I can.” She took a stack of paper from the wardrobe, sat on the bed, fed a sheet into the typewriter. “Now, what date is it today?”

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

S
KORZENY HAD BEEN
waiting almost half an hour in Haughey’s office before the minister returned. He did not greet the politician as he entered, nor when he sat down.

Haughey sat in silence for a time. Skorzeny lit another cigarette and waited, enjoying the quiet and the gritty heat of the tobacco in his chest.

Eventually, Haughey said, “What a fucking mess.”

Skorzeny did not respond. He took another draw on the cigarette, exhaled a pungent cloud, watched it hang in the air, drifting with the currents of the room.

“A disaster. That’s what you’ve landed me in. A bloody disaster.” “Lieutenant Ryan did not bear good news?”

Haughey glared from across the desk. “No he did not.”

He told Skorzeny about Ryan’s condition, about his capture, his torture, the rejection of the offer. And that the head of the Directorate of Intelligence now knew too much.

When he finished, Skorzeny said, “The Directorate of Intelligence is your concern, Minister, not mine. I will speak with Lieutenant Ryan myself. I’m sure I can persuade him to be more open with me than he was with you.”

“No,” Haughey said, pointing a finger. “Not a bloody chance. You stay away from Ryan, and that fancy piece of his. I gave him my word. Now, I want this business over with.”

“Be patient, Minister. Their greed will overcome them. Perhaps not today, or tomorrow. But soon. And the problem will have disappeared.”

Haughey got to his feet. “No, my problem won’t have disappeared. It’ll still be sitting there smoking its bloody cigarettes.” He paced the room, his hands in his pockets. “Old Dev should never have let any of you boys set foot in Ireland. And I’ll tell you what, it’s not too late to turf the lot of you out. Go back to Spain or Argentina or whatever stone you came out from under.”

“What do you suggest, Minister? Should I give in to extortion?”

Haughey stabbed a finger at him. “Yes you bloody should. And that’s exactly what you’re going to do.”

Skorzeny stubbed the cigarette out. “I beg your pardon?”

“Pay the bastards. Ryan’s right. Give them what they want and be done with it.”

“Minister, do you think I’m the kind of man who surrenders to his enemies?”

“Oh, give over with this battlefield shit. This is not a warzone, and I won’t let you turn it into one. We have the President of the United States coming in a few weeks, and I won’t have any more bodies showing up on account of you and your bloody Nazi friends.”

Skorzeny stood, used his full height to tower over the politician. “Minister, please do not push me. You have been a good friend to me, and I to you. We should not become enemies.”

“Enemies?” Haughey gave a hard laugh. “I’ve no shortage of enemies, Colonel, and one more won’t cost me any sleep.” His forefinger jabbed Skorzeny’s chest. “Now you listen to me, and you listen well. Stay away from Ryan. You go near him and I’ll put you on the next flight to Spain myself.”

Skorzeny smiled, buttoned his jacket, and walked towards the door.

“You have my word, Minister. Good day.”

He passed Haughey’s secretary without acknowledging her, an angry laugh trapped in his throat. The very idea that he would give in to blackmail.

The last man to try such a foolish thing had died badly.

Along with the head of Franco’s personal security team, Skorzeny had inspected the hotel room where Impelliteri had met his end. Sebastian Arroyo stood over the bloodstains on the carpet, shaking his head.

“She stabbed him in the gut,” Arroyo said. “Tore him right open. The Generalissimo’s own doctor tended to him, but it was no good. Señor Impelliteri died in great pain.”

Skorzeny was careful to show no pleasure at that observation.

“An assassination, pure and simple,” Arroyo continued. “They were both naked. My guess is she meant to kill him in his sleep, but he woke up, and there was a struggle. We trapped her in the stairwell. A beautiful girl. Who would think she could do a thing like this?”

“Did she say anything?” Skorzeny asked.

“I shot her before she could speak,” Arroyo said. “The kindest thing, really. She would have suffered terribly if she’d been captured.”

Skorzeny nodded in agreement. “True.”

“An odd thing, though.”

The sweat on Skorzeny’s back chilled. “What’s that?”

“I had the room at her hotel searched. She had packed for a holiday, it seems, some clothes, swimwear and so on. She travelled on a Swiss passport, by the way. The odd thing was a note she had tucked inside some underwear in her suitcase.”

Skorzeny shifted his weight on his feet. “A note?”

“A small piece of paper. It had your name and the telephone number of this hotel written on it. Oh, and your room number.”

Skorzeny said nothing.

“I did not like Señor Impelliteri,” Arroyo said. “The Generalissimo made me hire him. As if I didn’t know my own job.”

Arroyo turned and walked to the door. He paused.

“Colonel Skorzeny, you would be wise to return to Ireland and stay there for a while.”

Skorzeny nodded. “Perhaps so.”

A month later, he made a generous gift to Arroyo. After all, there was a clear distinction between bribery and blackmail.

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

R
YAN FOUND
W
EISS
sitting on a pew in the Unitarian Church, on the western side of St Stephen’s Green. He noted the concern on Weiss’s face as he approached.

“Is it bad?” Weiss asked.

“I’ll live,” Ryan said. He eased himself down onto the wooden bench, straining to keep the pain from showing on his face.

“Is this a more suitable place than the University Church?” Weiss asked. “It’s non-denominational, you know. Both of us are welcome here. What are you? Anglican, Baptist, Methodist?”

“Presbyterian,” Ryan said. “I don’t go to church much.”

“Me neither. I guess we don’t belong here after all. So how did your little meeting go?”

“I gave them twenty four hours to get Skorzeny to agree.”

“You think he will?”

Ryan shook his head. “I don’t know if his pride will allow it.”

“Yes, he’s stubborn and proud, but he’s also smart. He knows this isn’t a war worth fighting. Mark my words, he’ll have agreed by this time tomorrow.”

Ryan turned to look at Weiss. “Can you keep control of Carter and his men that long?”

“Of course I can. They’re a good team.”

Weiss looked up at the stained glass windows above the pulpit, his eyes betraying the doubt in his own words.

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

W
EISS FOLLOWED THE
single track road as the white sheet of sky overhead darkened to grey. The raindrops on his windscreen fattened. He flicked the wipers on. They smeared the water across the glass.

He had left Remak at the airport. A few days’ furlough, Weiss had said. Get some rest while he revised his notes for presenting to their superiors back in Tel Aviv. Next week, he told him, when they had final approval from the top, they’d move on Skorzeny. He’d booked the flight out of his own pocket. First class.

The cottage appeared through the trees ahead, a low tumbledown building, whitewash turned to grey and brown, the paint on the door reduced to a few flakes of green on bare wood. He pulled the car onto the small patch of clear ground in front of the house, alongside the Bedford van. When the engine shuddered and died, he heard the voices.

Hard, angry voices.

He recognised Carter’s first, the harsh barks, like a guard dog that had caught scent of an intruder. Then Wallace, his mocking tone, his arrogance.

Weiss put a hand to his pistol and climbed out of the car. He closed the door over, pressed it gently until it sealed shut. The voices rose in pitch and volume.

“He’ll shaft us.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but I say what goes, and I say we wait it out.”

“You say what goes? Under what authority?”

“I’m your superior officer, I don’t need any other authority.”

“Superior officer? I’m not in your bloody army. You’ve got no bloody say over me or him.”

“If you want paid, you’ll do what I tell you.”

“Yeah, I want paid, but what with? Where’s the fucking money? Eh? You told me you’d make me rich, and I haven’t seen a bloody penny yet.”

Weiss opened the cottage door, stepped inside. The damp in the air fell on him like a chilled cloak.

Carter and Wallace stood toe-to-toe at the centre of the room. They both turned to look at Weiss, shame on their faces, like children caught in mischief. Gracey watched from the corner, weariness in his eyes.

Weiss took a wad of bills from his pocket, held tight by a money clip. He counted out five, ten, twenty of them and held the money out to Wallace.

“A thousand dollars,” Weiss said. “You want to be paid? Okay, then take it as a severance package and get the hell out of here.”