So wheres this leading?
A job in England. A very lucrative job. Funds for our organization.
In other words we steal from someone, Keogh said.
We need money, Keogh, Ryan said. Money for arms. The bloody IRA have their Irish-American sympathizers providing funds. We dont. He leaned forward. Im not asking you for patriotism. Ill settle for greed. Fifty thousand pounds.
There was a long pause and Ryan and the girl waited, her face somber as if she expected him to say no.
Keogh smiled. Thats a lot of money, Mr. Ryan, so youll be expecting a lot in return.
Backup is what I expect from a man who can handle anything, and from the way youve carried yourself tonight you would seem to be that kind of man.
Keogh said, What about your own people? Youve as many gunmen out on the street as the IRA. More even. I know that from army days. He lit a cigarette and leaned back. Unless theres another truth here. That youre in it for the money, youre in it for yourself.
Kathleen Ryan jumped up. Damn you for saying that. My uncle has given more for our people than anyone I know. Better you get out of here while you can.
Ryan held up a hand. Softly, child, any intelligent man would see it as a possibility. Its happened before, God knows, and on both sides.
So? Keogh said.
I can be as hungry as the next man where money is concerned, but my cause is a just one, the one certainty in my life. Any money that passes through my hands goes to the Protestant cause. Thats what my life is about.
Then why not use some of your own men?
Because people talk too much, a weakness in all revolutionary movements. The IRA have the same problem. Ive always preferred to use what I call hired help, and for that I go to the underworld. An honest thief who is working for wages is a sounder proposition than some revolutionary hothead.
So thats where I come in? Keogh said. Hired help, just like anyone else you need?
Exactly. So, are you in or out? If its no, then say so. After what you did for Kathleen tonight youll come to no harm from me.
Well thats nice to know. Keogh shrugged. Oh, what the hell, I might as well give it a try. A change from the North Sea. Terrible weather there at this time of the year.
Good man yourself. Ryan smiled. A couple of Bushmills, Kathleen, and well drink to it.
WHERE ARE YOU staying? Ryan asked.
A fleapit called the Albert Hotel, Keogh told him.
Fleapit, indeed, Ryan toasted him. Our country too.
May you die in Ireland, Keogh replied.
An excellent sentiment. Ryan swallowed his Bushmills in a single gulp.
So what happens now?
Ill tell you in London. Well fly there, you, me, and Kathleen. Theres someone I have to see.
Keogh turned to the girl. An activist is it? A little young I would have thought.
I bloody told you, they blew up my family when I was ten years old, Mr. Keogh, she said fiercely. I grew up fast after that.
A hard world.
And Ill make it harder for the other side, believe me.
You hate well, Ill say that. Keogh turned back to her uncle. So thats it, then? He shook his hand. What am I really getting into? I should know more.
All right, a taster only. How well do you know the northwest of England? The Lake District?
Ive never been there.
A wild and lonely area at this time of the year with the tourists gone.
So?
A certain truck will be passing through there, a meat transporter. You and I will hijack it. Very simple, very fast. A five-minute job.
You did say meat transporter?
Ryan smiled. Thats what this truck is. Whats inside is another matter. You find that out later.
And what happens afterwards?
We drive to a place on the Cumbrian coast where theres an old disused jetty. There will be a boat waiting, a Siemens ferry. Do you know what that is?
The Germans used them in World War Two to transport heavy equipment and men in coastal attacks.
Youre well informed. We drive on board and sail for Ulster. Ive found a suitable spot on the coast where theres a disused quarry pier. We drive the truck off the boat and disappear into the night. All beautifully simple.
So it would seem, Keogh said. And the crew of this Siemens ferry? What are they doing?
Earning their wages. As far as they are concerned, its just some sort of illegal traffic or other. They do it all the time. Theyre those sort of people.
Crooks, you mean.
Exactly. The boat is tied up near Wapping at the moment. Thats why were going to London. To finalize things.
There was a pause and then Kathleen Ryan said, What do you think, Mr. Keogh?
That youd better start calling me Martin as it seems were going to spend some time together.
But do you think it would work?
Its greatest virtue, as your uncle says, is its simplicity. It could work perfectly just like a Swiss watch. On the other hand, even Swiss watches break down sometimes.
O ye of little faith. Ryan smiled. Of course it will work. Its got to. My organization needs the means to buy arms for our people. Its essential. Theres a passage in the Koran that says there is more truth in one sword than ten thousand words.
I take your point. Keogh stood up. Its late. Id better get back to my hotel.
Join us here for breakfast in the morning, Ryan told him. Well catch the noon plane. Ill take care of the tickets.
Ill say goodnight, then.
The bar is closed. Kathleen will let you out. Ill keep your Walther here. No way of passing through airport security with that, but it doesnt matter. Our London connection will provide any weapons we need. He held out his hand. Ill see you in the morning.
THE GIRL OPENED the door and rain drove in on the wind.
A dirty old night, she said.
You can say that again. Keogh turned up his collar. An Ulster fry-up will do me fine for breakfast especially if you cook it yourself. Two eggs and dont forget the sausage.
Go on, get on your way. She pushed him out and laughed that distinctive harsh laugh of hers and closed the door.
KEOGH HAD DIFFICULTY finding a phone box. Most of them seemed to be vandalized. He finally struck luck when he was quite close to the hotel. He closed the glass door to keep out the rain and rang the Dublin number. Barry was seated at the desk of his small study with his Chief of Intelligence for Ulster, a man named John Cassidy, when he took the call.
Its me, Keogh said. Worked like a charm. Im in it up to my neck. Ryans taken me on board.
Tell me everything.
Which Keogh did in a few brief sentences. Finally, he said, What could be in this meat transporter?
Gold bullion if its the job Im thinking of. It was put to the Loyalist Army Council about a year ago and thrown out as being too risky.
So Ryan has decided to do it on his own initiative.
Exactly, but then he always was the wild one. Thats why I wanted you in there when I got the whisper through an informer that he was up to something.
Up to something big, Keogh told him.
Thats right. Stay in close touch. Youve got those alternate numbers for the mobile phone, and watch your back.
Up to something big, Keogh told him.
Thats right. Stay in close touch. Youve got those alternate numbers for the mobile phone, and watch your back.
BARRY LEANED BACK thoughtfully and lit a cigarette. Cassidy said, Trouble?
Michael Ryan up to his old tricks. He ran through what Keogh had told him.
Cassidy said, My God, if it is gold bullion, the bastards would have enough money to arm for a civil war. What are you going to do?
I dont need to do a thing except have a suitable reception committee waiting when that boat delivers the truck somewhere on the Ulster coast. Then well have enough money to start a civil war.
And youre certain of knowing the time and place?
Oh, yes. The man on the other end of the phone just now is one of our own. Hes infiltrated under a false identity. Hell be going along for the ride every step of the way.
A good man?
The best.
Would I be knowing him?
Barry told him Keoghs real name.
Cassidy laughed out loud. God save us, the Devil himself, so God help Michael Ryan.
THERE WAS NO one at the reception desk when Keogh entered the hotel. He went up the stairs quickly and unlocked the door to his room. It was unbelievably depressing and he looked around with distaste. It certainly wasnt worth taking off his clothes. He switched off the light, lit a cigarette, lay on the bed, and went over the whole affair.
The astonishing thing was, as had been said, the simplicity of it. Hed have to consider that again once Ryan had taken him fully into his confidence, of course. Not a bad fella, Ryan, a man hard to dislike. And then there was the girl. So much hate there in one so young and all blamed on the bomb which had killed her family. He shook his head. There was more to it than that, had to be, and finally he drifted into sleep.
KATHLEEN RYAN TOOK a cup of tea in to her uncle just before she went to bed. Ryan was sitting by the fire smoking his pipe and brooding.
You think it will work? she asked.
Ive never been more certain and with Keogh along- He shrugged. Fifty million pounds in gold bullion, Kathleen. Just think of that.
A strange one, she said. Can you trust him?
Ive never trusted anyone in my life, he said cheerfully. Not even you. No, dont you fret over Keogh. Ill have my eye on him.
But can you be sure?
Of course I can. I know him like I know myself, Kathleen, my love. Were cut from the same bolt of cloth. Like me hes got brains, thats obvious. Hes also a killer. Its his nature. He can do no other, just like me. He reached up to kiss her cheek. Now off to bed with you.
She went out and he sat back, sipping his tea and thinking of a lonely road in the Lake District, a road that not even his niece knew he had visited.
LONDON
THE LAKE DISTRICT
1985
TWO
IF THERE IS such a thing as an Irish quarter in London, its to be found in Kilburn along with a profusion of pubs to make any Irish Republican happy. But there are also the Protestant variety identical with anything to be found in Belfast. The William amp; Mary was one of those, its landlord, Hugh Bell, an Orange Protestant to the hilt, performing the same function in London for the Loyalist movement as Sinn Fein did for the IRA.
In the early evening of the day they had arrived in London, Ryan, Keogh, and Kathleen sat with him in a backroom, an assortment of handguns on the table. Bell, a large, jovial man with white hair, poured himself a whiskey.