Im teetotal, but I could do with a cup of tea.
Well, this is Ireland, and if you cant get a decent cup of tea here, where else would you? In the main concourse theres a decent café. Youve got a hire car, I see. You can follow me.
Which Billy did, noticing that Flynn had a uniformed driver, large and burly. They parked close to the main entrance, leaving the driver in charge.
Good man yourself, Donald, Flynn told the constable. Dont let them give you a ticket.
Good man yourself, Donald, Flynn told the constable. Dont let them give you a ticket.
They got the tea, sat in a booth at the café and Flynn lit a cigarette. So what have we got here?
And Billy told him: Mary Killane, the link with the IRA, Liam Bell everything except the circumstances surrounding Belov.
Flynn said, Twenty years in the job, nothing surprises me, but its a hell of a story. He shook his head. But Liam Bell.
You wouldnt be IRA yourself? Billy asked. I know what you bleeding Irish are like.
Flynn grinned. No, that was my elder brother as youre asking. Youre all right with me. There was a day, but its long gone and we should move on. Im surprised about Bell. I thought he was long retired.
Well, maybe not.
I assume this is all hush-hush. We shouldnt even be talking.
Which means you shouldnt be helping, Billy said. Ive got his home address and a mention of one or two places he might be.
Pubs, you mean. Thats easy. The Irish Hussar down on the quays by the river. Thats where all the old hands go, and a few hangers-on, trying to look big.
So what would you suggest?
Well, as Ive nothing better to do and it is my patch, Ill leave first with Donald, just to show you the way. You follow on and well take it from there. One thing, are you carrying?
Now, would I do a thing like that?
Absolutely. Just make sure it stays in your pants.
Billy smiled. This sounds like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
The police car led him to OConnor Street, number 15, a neat bungalow, with garden and garage, nothing special at all. Flynn and Donald kept on going. Billy pulled up in his car and tried the front door of the bungalow. The bell was only an echo in an empty house, he had that feel. He went round the back to check, returned to find a late-middle-aged lady peering over the fence.
Can I help you? Strangely enough, her accent was English.
Billy said, I was hoping for Mr. Bell.
Youre English, she said.
So they tell me.
So am I. My husband was Irish, but hes been dead for twelve years. I should have gone back, really.
Billy said, Like I said, I was looking for Mr. Bell. An insurance claim.
I dont think youll find him around. Hes left his keys with me in case there are any problems.
Did he say when hed be back?
No. I had to phone when there was a water board problem.
And spoke to him?
No somebody else. Drumore Place, they said. I left a message.
Youve been very kind, Billy told her, and left.
A couple of streets away, he pulled up behind Flynn and Donald and conferred. Flynn said, Drumore, now thats in County Louth on the coast, a known fact, so youve got your link with Kelly. You did a good job there, taking that bastard out.
We just need confirmation that Bell really has taken over.
Flynn said, Its a strong IRA area and Josef Belovs been a power in the land. Everybodys behind him, and that includes the IRA. Theyll never let go in Ballykelly and Drumore.
Fine. I just want to confirm that Bell is running things now, so what do I do?
Go to the Irish Hussar for your lunch and ask questions. Theyll suspect you straightaway, because you dont drink. Lets see what happens.
Great. Lead the way, Billy said.
The Irish Hussar was on a cobbled street fronting the River Liffey. The police vehicle coursed by and turned into a parking bay. They drove round to the side alley and went in.
The bar was old-fashioned, rather Victorian, everything an old-fashioned pub should be: plenty of bottles crammed behind the bar, mirrors, mahogany, a fresco painting of Michael Collins holding the Irish tricolor high on Easter, 1916. The modern changes were the tables crammed in, making the pub more a restaurant than anything else.
Billy chose a table by a bow window. A young waitress descended on him. Will you be eating?
Considering that the smells from the kitchen are driving me potty, yes I am.
So what can I get you?
Orange juice.
Three young men at a nearby table appeared to find this funny. Billy smiled. Please. And Ill have the Irish stew, since Im over from London for the day.
She hesitated. You dont have an Irish accent.
Well, when youre London Irish, that isnt likely. Whats your name?
Kathleen.
Well, Kathleen, Im an Irish Cockney who seeks orange juice and Irish stew.
She smiled. Coming up.
Billy tried Dillon on his mobile and found him. How are things?
Not too bad. Ive been mulling over whats happening about Killane and Hannah. Frankly, I think uniform branch at Scotland Yard are dragging their feet.
Be fair, Billy said. Maybe theres not much coming up.
You could be right. What about you? Billy went through it. Dillon said, I remember Flynn. Give him my best. Hes good, Billy.
Kathleen returned with an orange juice and his stew and crusty bread. There you go. Anything else?
Im here on business, Billy said. Supposed to catch up with a Liam Bell, only he seems to be away.
She stopped smiling and Billy attacked the stew. This is fantastic. So, youve no idea where he is? I understand he comes here all the time.
I wouldnt know. She turned and fled and the three men at the next table stopped talking and looked at Billy in silence.
The stew was so good, he actually finished it and washed it down with the orange juice. The looks from the three men said it all, and Billy checked the.25 Colt in his waistband at the rear. No point in delaying things. These bastards obviously wanted to have him, so they might as well get on with it.
He called Kathleen over and gave her a twenty-pound note. Jesus, thats too much.
Its been a sincere sensation, he said, and smiled. Dont worry, Ill be fine.
Suddenly, she smiled. My God, I dont know who you are, but I think you will.
Billy reached over, kissed her on the cheek, went out of the pub and turned into the alley at the side. The three young men from the next table erupted after him, and Billy turned to meet the rush, not afraid, he never was. Years on the street had taken care of that.
Now then, lads, whats the problem?
One of them grabbed him by the tie. Youve been asking after a good friend of ours, Liam Bell, you English bastard.
Now, thats not nice, Billy said. And me as Irish as all of you. Which was perfectly untrue.
One of them said, You dont even have an Irish accent.
I didnt know you needed one.
The man pulled his tie, the other two moved in, Billy pulled the Colt.25 from the back of his waistband and fired between their legs at the cobbles. He kept a hand on the one who clutched his tie and wiped the Colt across his mouth. The others jumped back.
Ill only say this once, otherwise you can have it in the knee. Wheres Bell?
The youth was quaking. He was recruiting for a job in Drumore up in County Louth last I heard.
Billy released him. There you go. It wasnt too hard, was it?
He replaced the Colt and one of the other two took a swing at him. There was a minor melee, and Flynn and big Donald came running round the corner. A few pokes from Donalds stick were enough. They went off, dejected, one with a handkerchief to a bloody face.
Flynn stuck a cigarette in his mouth. You dont take prisoners, do you?
I could never see the point.
Neither could I. Let me know what the outcome is. Im fascinated.
Thats a promise, Billy said. You can rely on it. Regards from Dillon.
He got in his car and drove back to the airport.
Dillon showered and changed, wondering how Billy would make out in Dublin, then drove round to Holland Park. He found Roper in the computer room with Ferguson. Any word on Billy? he asked.
Not yet. Youre expecting a lot, Dillon, but then you always did.
I just expect people to come up to expectations. Coming up with the goods is another way of looking at it, which Scotland Yard seems to be rather spectacularly failing to do in Hannahs case. He turned to Roper. Any news at all from the Murder Squad?
Its early days, Sean. Youre expecting too much.
Its one of their own were talking about, Dillon said.
Leave it alone, Ferguson said. This is a job for uniform and Special Branch and certainly not for us. You dont interfere.
Sounds definite enough, Dillon said. Ill give it my consideration. And he went out.
Levin had been on his tail since leaving Dillons cottage in Stable Mews, which could have been difficult with someone of Dillons experience, but there was London traffic to help. Not that he was exactly inexperienced himself, and he stayed well back and followed.
Dillon went to Mary Killanes place. He really was worried that the Murder Squad didnt appear to be making much progress. Where she had lived, Kilburn, was the most Irish area of London. There were pubs there that would make you think you were back in the old country. Republican, Protestant, take your pick.
Dillon was an expert on all of them, had lived there as a boy newly come from Belfast with his father, so if you were a nice Catholic girl who was going out for a drink, youd never go to a Prod pub, only a Catholic one. Mary Killane didnt have a car, so you were talking about walking unless shed a fella who picked her up at the flat. In any case, within a reasonable walking distance to here, there were a few Catholic pubs.
Most were clean enough. He showed her photo and got nowhere. There were others that had IRA connections, especially from before the Peace Process, there being little action in London these days. One such was the Green Tinker, the landlord one Mickey Docherty. A huge IRA supporter in the old days, hed been picked up twice although nothing had ever been proven.
Dillon found him just before noon, when the bar was empty except for two old men in cloth caps drinking ale at a corner table and playing dominoes. Docherty was reading the Standard at the bar, and the look on his face when he saw Dillon was comical.