The Delaney Woman (30 page)

“My guess would be Shannon.”

“Aye,” agreed Tom. “There's a house outside of Ennis. I'd try that first.”

“I know Ennis,” said Griffith. “I'll meet you at the Lemon Tree Restaurant in the center of town. I've a few matters to attend to before I leave London. I'll be there in about three hours.”

“How will I know you?”

“Don't concern yourself,” said Griffith. “I'll know you.”

T
om stood at the entrance of the Lemon Tree Restaurant and looked around. He knew John Griffith immediately. He was typical of British agents, nondescript, chosen for his ability to blend in, a man of average height and weight, deliberately unremarkable.

Casually, he made his way to the bar, sat down on a stool beside the Englishman and ordered a Harp. Neither man spoke. Finally, Griffith walked to a booth in the corner and sat down. Tom followed him.

“What are you planning to do?” he asked.

Griffith turned his mug around on the table. “Talk to him. Try to get him to give Kellie up.”

“What about his demands?”

The Englishman shook his head. “There will be no negotiating with terrorists. Our policy forbids it.”

“Even when two lives are at stake and the terrorist is willing to be deported?”

“We don't foist our problems on the United States.”

Tom's jaw tensed. “The hell we don't. Half the Provisional IRA lives comfortably in San Francisco.”

“I know that.” For an instant something akin to temper flashed in Griffith's eyes. Then it was gone. “When all is said and done, I'm an employee,” he said slowly. “I've been told that I must remember that.”

“What are you saying?”

“My hands are tied. I can't offer McGarrety anything at all.”

“He'll kill Kellie.”

Griffith nodded.

Tom thought a minute, weighed his options and decided he had no choice but to trust the man. “Will you look the other way for a bit?”

Griffith frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I'm going to bargain with McGarrety. I'm asking you to look the other way until Kellie is safe.” Griffith lifted his glass and drank deeply. He set his empty glass on the table. “What's your plan?”

“Negotiate with him. Make him believe you'll give him what he wants.”

“What about my superiors?”

“Do they trust you?”

Griffith nodded. “They're waiting for a report before they send in more men.”

“Tell them we have the situation in hand. Tell them McGarrety is listening to you and that more men will scare him.”

“I don't know how long we'll have before the press figures out the link between Davies and McGarrety. They may already have.”

“Tell your people that secrecy is crucial for the time being. Explain that McGarrety is being reasonable for now. It's all over if the newspapers focus on Dennis.”

John Griffith looked at Tom thoughtfully. “I need more than that. Tell me what you're planning to do.”

“Give him a passport and an escort to Shannon. Your people can pick him up at the airport.”

“I'll agree to that. We'll follow him and make the arrest at Shannon before he boards the plane.”

“He's got to think he has a chance.”

“We can't risk losing him,” Griffith said.

“What if you did lose him? You already have Davies, and you'll have saved two women. Do you really think Dennis will be a menace to society if he leaves Ireland?”

John shook his head. “If we lose him, I'm finished.”

“You'll have your self-respect. Better that than your pension.”

“You really mean that, don't you?”

“Aye. Six years in Long Kesh helped me set my priorities.”

John Griffith held out his hand. “Good luck, Mr. Whelan. I'll go along with your plan, and I'11 do my best to bring in Dennis McGarrety.”

Morning dawned the way it always did near the sea, with the cry of gulls and the lap of the tide against wet sand.

Kellie came awake slowly, stretching the stiffness out of her arms and legs. She'd spent the night on a small couch in front of an inadequate peat fire, curled up against the cold. McGarrety had disappeared somewhere down the hall into another room. By the time they'd reached their destination she was too exhausted to care where her captor spent the night. All she'd wanted was a washroom, a blanket and a place to lay her head. McGarrety had provided her with all three, even throwing in a pillow.

Kellie stepped into her shoes and found the kitchen. She filled a kettle, set it on the stove and lit the pilot with a match from the box on the counter. She refused to think about the consequences if Dennis's terms weren't met. All she could do now was wait... and pray. She walked back into the living room and rummaged through her suitcase for clean clothes. Where was Dennis?

She walked down the hall and looked in the bedroom. He sat in a chair staring out the window. “Do you mind if I use the washroom?” she asked.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the view from the window, he shook his head.

Kellie locked the bathroom door, filled the tub and stripped off her clothes. The water was blessedly hot. She washed quickly, soaping and rinsing her body and then her hair, scrubbing away yesterday's dirt and exhaustion. Wrapping herself in the towel to conserve as much warmth as possible, she pulled on a thick sweater, socks and a pair of loose corduroy slacks. Her thick curly hair would take hours to dry in this dampness, but it couldn't be helped. She was ready to face the world and McGarrety. Perhaps she would come up with a way out of her dilemma.

The kitchen was surprisingly well-stocked. She hoped it didn't mean he'd planned on an extended stay. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and made the tea.

She was on her second cup of tea when Dennis joined her in the kitchen.

He sat in the empty chair across from her. “I see that you've settled in.”

She shrugged. “I need to eat. Hopefully I'll be alive next week.”

McGarrety stared at her in amazement and then he laughed. “You've a sense of humor. I didn't know there was so much of your da in you, Kellie Delaney.”

“If you intended that as a compliment, think again.”

“Brian Delaney was a grand lad, always one for a good laugh.”

“And a pint all around if I remember correctly.”

“We were sorry to lose him.”

“My mother is better off without him.”

McGarrety found a cup, poured himself some tea and drank it down in one swallow. “Those are hard words coming from a daughter.”

Kellie looked at him steadily. “You're not behaving like someone who thought highly of my da. What do you think he would say if he knew you were planning to kill me if you don't get what you want?”

His eyebrows rose in astonishment. “Now, didn't I tell you I wouldn't be doing such a thing, Kellie Delaney?”

“You said you would have Heather Whelan's throat cut.”

He poured more tea into his cup and shrugged. “I needed leverage to get you here. How was I to know you wouldn't go screaming to the captain of the ferry boat and have me arrested?”

“I would have,” Kellie said promptly.

“There, now. I knew it. What was I to do?”

“Have you ever considered staying on the right side of the law? Don't you get tired of always being on the run?”

He thought a minute. “I haven't always been on the run, Kellie. I was managing until your brother stirred the pot. Why couldn't he leave well enough alone? Davies was reformed. The old ways were finished. Men who once carried rifles are now marching into Stormant demanding a share of the pie, and getting it, lass. We've come a long way in twenty years.”

“Connor was doing his job,” she said shortly.

“Aye, and what kind of job was that, working for the Brits? I'm sorry he was your brother, Kellie, and Brian Delaney's son, but he brought no glory to his family name. He was an Irishman gone bad, that's what he was, a man who turned on his own.” Dennis nodded his head. “You won't want to hear it, but it's so. Your poor mam can hardly hold up her head in the Falls because of Connor.”

Tears burned her eyes. “He was a good man and he had a little boy. Who are you to decide who lives and who dies?”

“Connor's murder was necessary. I won't apologize for it. I am sorry about the wee lad. Sometimes there are casualties.”

“I don't want Heather Whelan to be another casualty,” she said.

A loud knock froze them in their places. Then McGarrety jumped up, pulled a revolver from inside his jacket and walked to the door. “Who is it?”

“Tom Whelan.”

Kellie gasped.

“What do you want?” McGarrety said.

“Open the door, Dennis. I have an offer for you.”

“Are you alone?”

“I am.”

McGarrety unlocked the door, opened it a crack and pulled Tom inside. “Did you bring the police?”

“John Griffith is waiting in Ennis. He's a British Intelligence Agent. Otherwise, I'm alone.”

“How did you work that one out?”

Tom ignored him. His eyes met Kellie's and he smiled. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Is Heather safe?”

“Heather is at home with my mother. McGarrety's man has Claire.”

“Jaysus Christ,” McGarrety swore. “Colin Burke is a fool. Claire Whelan's no good. She was one of us. The Brits know that.”

Kellie looked at him strangely. “You came for me instead of Claire?”

McGarrety interrupted. “Never mind about Claire. What's going on, Tom? Why are you here?”

Tom sat down on the couch. “Put your weapon away.”

McGarrety hesitated and then complied, setting the gun on the table close to where he stood. “Go on.”

“The Brits won't give you what you want, officially.”

“What does that mean?”

“I'm to give you a new passport and a ticket out of Shannon on the condition that you release Kellie. From there you can catch a plane to the States.”

“What's the catch?”

“There's no catch.”

McGarrety grinned. “That's it? That's the bargain?”

“Aye.”

He laughed and clapped Tom on the shoulder. “You're a genius, lad, a bloody genius.”

“Shall I tell Griffith you've agreed and that you'll tell Colin Burke to release Claire?”

“Aye. Tell him it's a sweet deal. I'll call Colin after I land in the States.”

Tom stood. “I'll be back with your papers.” He hesitated. “It may not work out for you, Dennis.”

“Don't worry about me, lad. I'll risk it.”

Tom nodded, then looked at Kellie. “Give us a minute, Dennis.”

Dennis McGarrety picked up his gun and walked to the other side of the room.

Kellie left her chair and sat beside Tom. “This is dangerous for you, too,” she whispered. “How do we know Dennis will let us go?”

“Don't worry.” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “There isn't anything I wouldn't do to keep you safe. Will you be all right here until I get back?”

“Yes. Now that I know Heather is safe, it will be easier.” She looked down at their intertwined hands. “What about Claire?”

“Colin Burke won't act without McGarrety's orders. She'll survive.”

Kellie lifted shining eyes to his face. “Thank you, Tom.”

He squeezed her hand. “I love you.”

“I believe you,” she answered.

They were seated in a small tea shop on a quiet street in Ennis. John Griffith looked uncomfortable. “My superior isn't in agreement. He's questioning whether we can guarantee McGarrety's capture at Shannon and I tend to agree with him.”

Tom swore silently. “What does he suggest?”

“He wants to go in, guns blazing.”

Tom lost his temper. “Call him back.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“I said, call him back.”

“What are you going to do?”

Tom leaned across the table. “If you don't call him back now, I'll go to the press and tell them how you bungled the investigation of Connor Delaney's murder. I'll explain that Kellie Delaney, a schoolteacher from Oxford, solved the case after you and your superiors ignored it for months, and how, after she brought Kevin Davies and Dennis McGarrety to justice, you allowed her to die in a police shoot-out that could have been avoided.”

Griffith dialed the number and handed the phone to Tom who repeated his threat to Cecil Marsh.

“Well?” asked John after Tom had disconnected.

“Marsh will close off Shannon Airport and cancel all flights.”

T
om was edgier than he'd been during his original meeting with Dennis. Kellie noticed it and didn't comment, but McGarrety did. “Is something troubling you, lad? You wouldn't be thinking of double- crossing old Dennis McGarrety, would you?”

“I owe you nothing,” Tom said bluntly. “But I will tell you this. You haven't more than prayer when it comes down to it. You'll not get away. All flights from Shannon to the States will be canceled.”

“You're not telling me anything I haven't thought of already.”

“What will you do?”

“I'd better keep that one to myself. There are other ways to get where I want to go. I'm taking Kellie as far as the airport.”

“I'm coming with you.”

McGarrety shrugged. “Suit yourself. You'll do the driving if you come along.”

“We'll be followed,” Tom warned him.

“Not for a bit,” said McGarrety. “They'll have to give me a head start before coming down on me. Otherwise I have no reason to give up my accommodating hostage.” He looked at the passport. “This is excellent, Tom. I appreciate the effort. Too bad every Brit on the island knows it for the forgery it is.” He grinned. “We'll take Kellie's car.”

McGarrety navigated while Tom drove, hugging the back roads, passing Clairecastle and Newmarket-on-Fergus. McGarrety maintained a constant vigil out the back window where the glow of headlights in the distance never quite disappeared. At Hurler's Cross the N19 met a narrow country road. “Turn here,” he ordered.

Tom turned the wheel quickly and swung onto the gravel path. They bumped over the next five kilometers to another road, and still another, until the glow behind them was gone and they were completely alone on the road.

“Bloody Brits,” McGarrety said. “Stop here.”

Tom shifted into Park and pulled the hand brake.

“What now?”

McGarrety opened the door and climbed out. He stuck his head back inside the car. “This is where I'll leave you.” He nodded at Tom. “You've done a good job for me, lad. I won't forget you. Your job is to tell them you dropped me at Shannon.”

“What about Claire?”

“You should see her back home by morning.” With that, he slipped off into the night.

Tom turned the car around and drove back in the direction they had come from.

“Do you think he'll make it?” Kellie asked.

“He has a chance.”

“What do you think he'll do if he can't get out tonight?”

“Lay low for awhile, a few months, maybe. Then find a ship out of Belfast Harbor.”

Kellie rubbed her arms against the cold and looked out the window. “Why did he want the passport if it's useless?”

“To fool the police.”

“I don't understand.”

“They'll be thinking he'll use it. They'll be looking for the man whose name is underneath the photo. McGarrety will slip through the cracks.”

“I hope they find him.”

Tom rested his hand on her knee. “Either way, we won't be seeing him again.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Intuition.”

“Does your intuition usually serve you well?”

“Usually. I knew you were the one for me the minute I saw you.”

“Really?” She stared at him, intrigued.

Tom's voice was low and serious. “Are you coming home with me, Kellie?”

Her answer was teasing and filled with laughter.

“Where else would I be going?”

“I never know what you're thinking,” he confessed.

“I suppose that's a good thing,” she reflected. “You won't be bored with me.”

“The idea never crossed my mind.”

The following morning Kellie woke, still groggy from sleep. Tom was already up and about. Perhaps he had houseguests. She heard voices downstairs and strained to listen. It wasn't the radio. He had a visitor, a woman. She recognized Claire's voice. Her stomach twisted and the usual hollow, anxious feeling she recognized as jealousy rose up into her chest.

Determined not to go downstairs and reveal her embarrassing insecurity, Kellie lay still for another ten minutes, humming softly to herself. Then she threw the comforter aside, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, rummaged through her overnight bag and headed for the shower.

The spray, hot and strong because there were no guests this week, soothed her aching muscles. She stayed under for a full twenty minutes lathering her body, working shampoo and conditioner into her hair, shaving her legs, luxuriating in the steamy blast.

Clean clothes, a warm turtleneck and soft jeans, felt heavenly against her skin. She spent a long time moisturizing her face and hands, applying lip gloss and mascara and pulling out her thick curls into attractive wisps around her face. Surely Claire would be gone by now. She pressed her ear against the door. Silence. She exhaled gratefully and walked downstairs to the kitchen, stopping in dismay at the door.

Claire sat at the table reading the morning paper. She looked up at Kellie and smiled. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

Kellie manufactured a smile, stopped at the stove to turn on the kettle and sat down at the table across from Claire. “Better, thank you, and you?”

“I'm fine. I was never in any danger with Colin. I've known him for years. He was as pleased to release me as I was to go.”

An awkward silence filled the room. “Where are Tom and Heather?” Kellie asked.

“Heather's at school and Tom is out of milk. He'll be back shortly.” She hesitated. “You're probably wondering why I'm here?”

“Yes,” Kellie said honestly. “I suppose I am.”

“I'm leaving for Galway. I've applied for funds to attend the university. My application was accepted.”

“That's wonderful,” Kellie said sincerely. “Congratulations. Will it be enough to sustain you?”

“Susan said she would help me, but I'm going to find work. She's very kind but I don't want to be dependent on her.”

“What about Heather?”

Claire bit her lip. Her eyes were bright and hard. “Heather will stay here. Banburren is her home and I won't be able to care for a child properly, not for quite a while. I'm hoping she'll want to come and stay with me when I have my holidays.”

Kellie nodded. “It's difficult for women with families. I don't know how they do it.”

“How did you do it?” Claire asked.

“I earned my degree after secondary school. I was very young and had no family to care for.”

“What was it like for you?”

Kellie frowned. “I don't know what you mean?”

“Not many women from the Falls attend Queen's. Was it difficult for you to adjust?”

“No. I loved it from the first day. I think you'll find Galway a lovely city.”

Claire nodded. “I want to leave the North. There's nothing left for me here, except Heather.”

“I hope you're not leaving Banburren because of me.”

“Not
because
of you, Kellie, although your presence in Tom's life had some influence on my decision,” Claire said honestly. “I want an education. I'd like to do something important in this world. Here, in Banburren, that isn't possible. I'm glad to be going.”

“This isn't really goodbye,” Kellie said. “After all, Heather is seven years old. Surely you'll come back to Banburren for special events in her life. You should be a part of that.”

“Of course.” Claire stood. Her smile was brittle. “I'll be leaving now.”

“I thought you were waiting for Tom.”

Claire shook her head. “I waited to talk to you. Goodbye, Kellie. Good luck to you.”

Kellie poured her second cup of tea without milk when Tom walked through the door. He held up the carton. “Sorry I was so long in coming back. I ran into Maggie at the store.”

“Claire left,” said Kellie tonelessly. “You just missed her.”

“I never miss Claire,” replied Tom. He opened the carton and poured milk into her teacup. “Did she tell you she's leaving Banburren?”

“Yes.”

Tom nodded. “It's for the best. She should have done so years ago. Staying here, marrying me, that was her mistake.”

Mean-spirited as it was, Kellie took comfort in hearing him criticize Claire. “It sounds as if her entire life has been a mistake,” she prompted.

“So far,” Tom agreed, “but she's thirty-three years old. Plenty of time to rectify it, to earn her degree, do whatever she wants with it, even marry again and have more children.”

“Where does that leave Heather?”

“With me, thank God.” He pulled her out of her chair and held on to her hands. “And with you, if you're willing.”

“I'm willing.”

“You're sure?” His eyes, blue and serious, were very close. “No more doubts about my loyalties?”

“Not a one.”

“Tell me you love me.”

She kissed one corner of his mouth and then the other. “I love you.”

“How much?”

“Desperately.”

“Completely?”

“Unreservedly.”

Kellie closed her eyes and met his kiss. Life, she thought, had a way of working out after all.

Susan Whelan, not accustomed to knocking on the door of her son's home, walked into the kitchen and came upon an intimate scene she would rather not have observed. She turned around abruptly. “I'm so sorry,” she gasped. “I didn't know—I wasn't—”

“It's all right, Mam,” Tom assured her, unembarrassed. “Kellie said yes. We're getting married.”

“Thank God,” said his mother, her hand still over her eyes. “I think I'll be leaving now.”

“That would be best,” agreed her son, “and lock the door behind you.”