Drink With the Devil (6 page)

“Fine.” She opened a tin box and took out a cake. “Try this. I made it myself,” and she reached for a knife and cut it into slices.

T
HERE WAS A
motorcycle on its stand just inside the barn, a black leather biker’s jacket draped across it, and there was a helmet. Keogh recognized it at once. “Heh, where did you get this beauty, Benny, a Montesa dirt bike?”

“You know this model?” Ryan asked.

“Of course. Spanish. They’ll do half a mile an hour over rough ground if you want them to.”

“And is that good?” Kathleen asked.

“It is if you’re a shepherd operating in hill country,” Keogh told her. “These things will go anywhere.” He turned to Ryan. “You bought this for Benny?”

“Not really. A bit small for him. I thought it might suit our circumstances. I’ll explain later.” He said to Mary, “Let’s have a look at the truck.”

She turned to Benny. “Show us, Benny.”

He nodded eagerly, almost ran to the back of the barn, tossed some bales of hay to one side, then felt for a hidden catch. The wooden wall swung open. Inside in an extension of the barn stood a large truck painted green and white.

T
HE LEGEND ON
the side of the truck read
Shelby Meat Importers
. Keogh said, “Is this what I think it is?”

“An exact replica of the truck we’re going to heist.”

“So what’s the point?”

“A decoy, that’s all. Benny will dump this down on the coast road, all doors locked and so on. That should hold the police up nicely while they try to get inside. It’ll give us extra time, if we need it, to get away with the real McCoy.”

“Very ingenious. And Benny can handle this?”

“Benny can handle anything with an engine like you wouldn’t believe. Benny should be a Formula One driver only he’s too big.” Benny nodded delightedly.

“Right, let’s go back inside and have a cup of tea and then Benny can take us to the front line, so to speak.”

T
HE COAST ROAD
was down below, a secondary road joining it at the side of a wood. The Land Rover pulled in and Ryan got out with Keogh and Kathleen and Benny followed.

“So this is it?” Keogh asked.

“That’s right,” Ryan told him. “Four o’clock, Friday afternoon, give or take fifteen minutes, and the transporter reaches this junction. Take my word for it, all carefully checked.”

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Keogh said. “It’s all right saying the Howler takes out the truck’s security system, but how do you get the damn thing to stop in the first place?”

“A good point, but that’s where Kathleen comes in.” Ryan put an arm around her. “I’ll explain when we get back.”

T
HE SECOND BARN
was filled with farm machinery. There was also an old Ford van.

Ryan said, “Now if you were driving along a country road and you saw that van burning and a young girl lying in the road, blood on her face, would you stop?”

“I’d have to say I would,” Keogh said.

“And so will they.” Ryan put an arm around Kathleen. “A chance to earn your Oscar, girl.”

“I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. Now let’s go in and we’ll take it step-by-step.”

“A
S
I
TOLD
you, the transporter reaches the junction at approximately four o’clock on Friday.”

They were all there in the kitchen. Mary and Kathleen at the table with Ryan, Benny at the door, and Keogh by the fire.

Ryan said, “Kathleen and I will drive to the scene of the action in the Ford van. You follow on the Montesa. I’ve got a couple of two-way radios in the case. You’ll have one with you. You’ll carry on a couple of miles and wait for the transporter. When you see it, you call me. Use Eagle One as a call sign, I’ll use Eagle Two.”

“What do I do then?”

“Overtake the truck and join us. We’ll set fire to the Ford and Kathleen lies down in the road and does her thing. I’ve some of that false blood actors use. She’ll put it on her face.”

“Then they stop, or we hope they do, and you use the Howler to screw up the transporter’s whole security system.”

“They’ll be cut off from the world.”

“And if they fight?”

“No problem. I’ve got two AK rifles in my case, stun grenades, and gas grenades. Even Semtex and pencil timers, but the doors will be unlocked anyway thanks to the Howler. Fifteen minutes after we leave the farm, Benny will drive the replica transporter down to the coast road where he’ll dump it and clear off back to the farm on foot.”

“So, we neutralize the guards. What then?”

“You and Kathleen get the hell out of it on the Montesa, all the way to the jetty at Marsh End. I’ll follow in the truck.”

“But why can’t we all go together in the truck?” Keogh asked.

Ryan put an arm around Kathleen again. “Because the truck’s the vulnerable end of things. If anything goes sour, that’s where it will. I want her out of it. If things do go wrong, then as long as you and Kathleen get to the
Irish Rose
, there’s always the chance of getting away.”

Kathleen said, “What do you think, Martin?”

Keogh said, “That it’s going to be one hell of a Friday.”

I
N
K
ILBURN
,
JUST
before evening, Hugh Bell was sitting at the desk in his office when the door opened and the barman looked in.

“Some gentlemen to see you, sir.”

He was pulled to one side and a very large man in a navy blue raincoat entered, hands in pockets.

“So there you are, you old bastard.”

“Scully. What do you want?” and Bell knew fear.

“I’ve brought an old friend to see you.”

He stood to one side and a small man entered. His face was thin and wasted, he wore wire spectacles beneath an old trilby hat and a fawn raincoat.

“Mr. Reid,” Bell said, his mouth dry.

“Nice to see you, Hugh.” The Belfast accent was very pronounced. “A word would seem to be in order.”

“A word?” Bell said. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t?” Reid took off his hat and sat at the table. “And me all the way from Belfast on behalf of the Army Council.”

“But what would they want with me?”

Reid took out an old silver case and selected a cigarette. Scully lit it for him with his lighter. “Don’t fence with me, Hugh. The other year Michael Ryan put up a hare-brained scheme to knock off some bullion truck up in the northwest of England. Don’t deny it because you were involved. The Army Council turned it down.”

“That’s true,” Bell said lamely. “I do recall something of that.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Hugh. Things get out as things always do, and the whisper is that Michael is going ahead with this job on his own initiative, right now.” He smiled thinly. “It would seem obvious that you would be the man to know the truth of the matter.” He turned. “Wouldn’t you agree, Scully?”

“Oh, I would indeed, Mr. Reid.” And Scully’s smile was terrible.

He was in deep trouble, Bell knew that, but he also knew that disclosing what he did know would do him no good at all. When Scully was brought in, it always meant a bad end to things. He was not known as the Shankill Butcher for nothing. Bell made his decision and took a deep breath.

“Sure, I can’t deny I know something of the matter, Mr. Reid. Michael did come to me the other day and discuss certain aspects.”

“The word I got was that a bullion truck would be heisted, is that true?”

“Well, it was in the original plan submitted to the Army Council.”

“And trans-shipped to somewhere in County Down. Do you know where?”

“God save us, but I don’t.”

“Scully!” Reid said.

The big man took a Browning from his pocket and advanced. Bell said hurriedly, “No need for that. I know where Ryan is staying here in London. I’ll take you there now.”

Scully relaxed and Reid smiled. “Very sensible, Hugh.”

“I’ll get my coat.”

Bell went into the bedroom, picking up his jacket, put it on, then quickly opening the opposite door, darted along the corridor, exited into the alley at the side of the pub, and ran for the main road.

W
HEN THE PHONE
in the hall rang at Folly’s End it was Mary Power who answered it. She came into the kitchen and said to Ryan, “It’s for you. Mr. Bell.”

Ryan went out to the hall and picked up the phone. “Yes, Hugh?”

“We’re in trouble. Reid turned up from the Army Council with that sod Scully. They know, Michael, they’ve heard a whisper.”

“Did you tell them anything?”

“Did I, hell. I ran for my life, but they knew the plan. I mean, they would, wouldn’t they? You submitted it to them originally.”

“The original plan was sketchy, Hugh. No mention of Folly’s End or the precise target, and at that stage the boat was only an idea. Did you tell them about the
Irish Rose
? Did you tell them we’d be putting in at Kilalla?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Then we’ll get on with it. Keep your head down and mind your back, Hugh. Go to ground for a while.”

After replacing the phone he stood there in the hall, lighting a cigarette and thinking about it. No point in alarming anyone. No point at all.

He returned to the kitchen. “Hugh Bell. Nothing important.” He smiled at Keogh. “I’ll stay up here in case there are any more calls from Hugh. You’ll have to spend the night at the cottage down at Marsh End on your own. No room here. Take the Ford van.”

“I’ll be on my way, then.” Keogh swallowed his tea and got up. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

B
ELL DIDN’T KNOW
where he was going. He hesitated and started across Kilburn High Street. At that moment, an old Mercedes limousine turned out of a side street, Scully at the wheel, Reid beside him.

“He’s there,” Reid said, “crossing the road. Get him.”

Scully gunned the motor. Bell, alarmed at the sound, turned. He tried to run and slipped in the rain. The Mercedes hit him at fifty miles an hour, bounced him into the gutter, and moved on.

A woman screamed as a crowd converged, a uniformed Woman Police Officer pushed her way through, but by the time she knelt down beside Hugh Bell he was very dead indeed.

T
HE MORNING WAS
bleak, heavy clouds draped across the mountains. After breakfast, Ryan sat at the table drinking tea and thinking about things, wondering about Bell and Reid and that bastard Scully. On the other hand, there shouldn’t be any danger from them as long as Bell kept out of their clutches. The original plan submitted to the Army Council had been simply the idea of the thing. That he knew of a truck somewhere in the northwest of England that carried bullion, that he thought it could be lifted and taken to Ulster by boat. So Reid was at a dead end without Bell.

He decided to take a chance, went out into the hall and phoned the William & Mary. The barman answered at once.

Ryan said, “Ryan here, Angus. I was wanting a word with Hugh. Is he there?”

“He’s dead, Mr. Ryan. Killed in Kilburn High Street last night.”

“What happened?” Ryan said.

“He was knocked down crossing the road. Hit-and-run accident. The police found the car that did it abandoned a few streets away.”

“Have they traced who was in it?”

“The police sergeant who called earlier said it had been stolen in Hampstead a year ago. He thinks it must have been standing in some garage.”

“All very unfortunate,” Ryan said.

“Indeed it is, Mr. Ryan. Will you be coming in?”

“No, I’ve got business to attend to.”

“Well, if you let me know where you are and give me a phone number I’ll keep you posted.”

It was enough. Ryan smiled softly. “I’m away now, but just one more thing, Angus. Put Mr. Reid on the phone.”

“Mr. Reid? I don’t understand,” Angus said.

“Stop arsing around and put him on.”

Reid, who had been standing beside Angus listening in, took the phone from him and shoved the barman across to Scully.

“Michael, old son. Don’t you think it’s time to be reasonable?”

“Was it you or Scully at the wheel? Not that it matters. When the time comes, you’re my meat.”

“You always did have a touch of the theatrical about you, Michael. So you intend to carry out that hare-brained scheme of yours?”

“Goodbye, Reid,” Michael Ryan said and put down the phone.

He opened the back door, lit a cigarette, and stared into the rain thinking of Hugh Bell, good friend and comrade in arms for so many years. At least Scully hadn’t had the chance to squeeze the truth out of him. There was some comfort in that.

The kitchen door opened and Kathleen looked out. “There you are. Is everything all right?”

“Fine.”

“I thought I’d take Martin something to eat down at the cottage. Benny says he’ll drive me.”

“That’s fine. I want to go over the planning again, so don’t mind me.”

“I’ll see you later, then.”

She went back into the kitchen and Ryan stayed there, looking at the rain, thinking about Reid and Scully. They would have to go back home now, nothing else for it. There would be a confrontation eventually, had to be, but he would handle that when the time came.

He thought of Reid, the skull-like face and wire spectacles, and his smile was terrible to see. “You little bastard,” he said softly. “You want it all yourself, don’t you? Well I’ll see you in hell before I allow that to happen.”

K
EOGH HADN’T BOTHERED
with the bedroom of the small cottage at Marsh End, simply built up the fire and lay on the couch. He slept surprisingly well, got up at seven, and put the kettle on.

He stood at the open door looking out at the rain and noticed the creek on his right hand. On impulse, he went back inside, stripped, found a towel in the small bathroom, and ran naked across the yard.

He draped the towel over a bush and plunged into the creek, swimming strongly to the other side, passing into the reeds for a while, disturbing wildfowl and birds of every description, who rose in clouds into the rain, calling angrily. The salt water was cold and invigorating.