the Savage Day - Simon Vaughn 02 (v5) (17 page)

15
Fire From Heaven

We moved in towards the inlet below Spanish Head, Dooley in the helmsman's seat in the wheelhouse, his hands on the wheel. The ropes which held him in place were concealed by his reefer coat and I was satisfied that he would pass muster at any but the closest range.

I steered on my hands and knees peering out through a hole I had kicked in the panelling of the wheelhouse for that very purpose. The pain wasn't so bad now, but I felt strangely numb. It was as if nothing was real and anything could happen. The effects of mixing morphine, Jameson and nine millimetre bullets before breakfast. A dangerous combination.

We must certainly have been under surveillance for some considerable time for the mist had cleared now and visibility was quite good although it was still raining heavily.

The Ford truck was parked half way along the jetty at the end of the road, but there was no sign of the Land-Rover. Two of Barry's men waited at the jetty's edge. One was smoking a cigarette. They both carried Sterlings.

I called softly to Binnie who waited in the shelter of the companionway, 'No sign of Barry. Just the two of them. About a minute to go and when you hit, hit hard. We can't afford any mistakes at this stage.'

One of the men called, 'Heh, Mac, where are you?'

And then the other leaned forward and stared at Dooley, an expression of horror on his face. 'My God,' I heard him say. 'What's wrong with him?'

As something like the truth dawned on them, I yelled, 'Now, Binnie.'

He sprang from the shelter of the companionway, the Sten-gun bucking in his hands as he sprayed the top of the jetty. As I have said, the Sten Mk IIS is probably one of the most remarkable sub-machine-guns ever invented, the only sound as it is fired being the bolt clicking backwards and forwards. As that is not audible above a distance of twenty yards, there was no danger of anyone at Spanish Head being alerted to the holocaust below.

Binnie cut them both down in that first second, knocking one of them clean over the edge of the jetty into the water, using all thirty-two rounds in the magazine as far as I could make out. He went over the rail to make the
Kathleen
fast, then started up the steps.

'You get the truck started,' I called. 'I want to immobilize the engine, just in case anyone gets ideas.'

I got what I needed from the wheelhouse, went aft, and took off the engine hatch and did what I had to do. It only took me two or three minutes, but in spite of that Binnie was waiting in an agony of impatience at the edge of the jetty.

'For God's sake, Major, will you hurry.'

The second of the two men he had killed was lying face down near the truck. There was a Browning on the ground beside him. I picked it up, slipped it into my pocket and heaved myself painfully into the cab.

'Now what?' Binnie demanded as he drove away.

I felt strangely lightheaded and my side was beginning to hurt like hell again and for some reason I found his question rather irritating.

I said, 'As I don't happen to have my Tarot cards with me I can't answer that one, so just get us up to the house in one piece, there's a good lad, and we'll take it from there.'

He glanced at me frowning, opened his mouth to speak and obviously thought better of it. I leaned back in my seat and fought against the tiredness which threatened to overwhelm me.

We drove into the courtyard at the rear of the house very fast indeed and braked to a halt outside the back door. Binnie jumped down and was inside in a second. I summoned up my last reserves of will-power and energy and followed him.

He kicked open the kitchen door and went in, crouching. There was only one occupant, a man in shirtsleeves who sat at the table drinking tea and reading a newspaper.

Binnie had him against the wall in a flash and ran his hand over him, removing a Browning from the hip pocket and shoving it into his own waistband. He turned the man round and slapped him across the face.

'Right, Keenan, you bastard. Tell us what we want to know or I'll give it to you now.'

Keenan stared Death in the face and started to tremble. 'For God's sake, Binnie, take it easy, will you?'

'All right,' I said. 'Speak up and you won't get hurt. Who else is in the house at the moment?'

'Just Barry.'

'And who's guarding the girl?' Binnie demanded, ramming the muzzle of the Browning up under Keenan's chin.

'No one, Binnie, no one.' Keenan was shaking with fear. 'There's no need and her with Barry himself like always.'

Binnie was beside himself with rage and grabbed Keenan by the shirt-front. 'Come on then, lead us to them. Make any kind of wrong move and I'll kill you.'

'Just a moment, Binnie,' I said, and turned to Keenan. 'What about the Brigadier? Is he still in the cellar?'

'That's right.'

'Where's the key?'

'Hanging on that nail there.'

I took it down. 'We'll get him out now before we go any further.'

'Why should we, for Christ's sake?' Binnie exploded.

'He could be useful. If not now, later.'

Which was pretty thin, but the best I could do on short notice. I went out before he could argue, opened the door at the end of the passage and went down the cellar steps.

When I unlocked the door of the cell, the Brigadier was lying on the cot reading a book which looked suspiciously like the Bible. He looked at me calmly for a long moment over the top of it, then sat up.

'I must say you've taken your own sweet time about it. What kept you?'

'Oh, little, unimportant things like being shot in the arm and having my ribs kicked in, not to mention being chased over large parts of Ulster by what seemed, on occasion, to be the entire strength of the present British Army.'

'And at exactly what stage in the affair are we now?'

'Michael Cork is dead, I've found your gold, and Binnie Gallagher and I are about to see what we can do about Barry right now.' I took the spare Browning from my pocket and offered it to him. 'If you'd care to join in the fun, follow me, only keep that out of sight for the moment. I'm afraid Binnie thinks I'm Pearse, Connolly and Michael Collins all rolled into one. Very sad.'

He was looking at me strangely, which didn't surprise me for my voice seemed to be coming from somewhere outside me. I turned and led the way out through the wine cellars and mounted the stairs to where Binnie waited impatiently with Keenan.

'What kept you, for God's sake?' he demanded, then turned on the Brigadier without waiting for a reply. 'You follow close behind and keep your mouth shut, do you understand?'

'Perfectly,' the Brigadier assured him.

We went up, Keenan in the lead, and emerged through the green baize door into the hall. It was very quiet. He paused for a moment, listening, then started up that great stairway.

We moved along the corridor, past the stiff ladies and gentlemen of by gone years, set in canvas for all time. Someone was playing a piano, I could hear it quite plainly, a Bach Prelude, lovely, ice-cold stuff, even at that time in the morning. The music was coming from inside Frank Barry's sitting-room and when we stopped at the door, I paused, caught by the beauty of it.

'They're in there,' Keenan whispered.

Binnie put a knee into his crutch, turned as Keenan slipped to the floor with a groan, and burst into the room, the Sten at the ready.

Barry was seated at the piano and stopped playing instantly. Norah Murphy was in the chair by the fire. She jumped to her feet and turned to us, the dressing on her right cheek making her face seem misshapen and ugly.

'Norah?' Binnie cried. 'Are you all right?'

She stood staring at us, a strange dazed expression on her face, and then she ran forward suddenly and flung her arms around him. 'Oh, Binnie, Binnie I've never been so glad to see anyone in my whole life.'

In the same moment, she yanked the Browning from his waistband and moved back to a point where she could cover all of us comfortably.

'I would advise complete stillness, gentlemen, if you want to live, that is,' she said crisply in the harsh, pungent tones of the Norah Murphy I knew and loved.

Frank Barry stayed where he was, but drew a revolver from a shoulder holster. The Brigadier and I, being sensible men, raised our hands although I didn't get very far with my left.

'You know, I wondered about you from the beginning, sweetheart,' I said. 'The fact that Barry and his boys were waiting for us on the way in and the speed with which they ran poor old Meyer to earth. That really was rather hard to swallow.'

'But you took it.'

'Not really. It was the branding that finally persuaded me I must have been wrong. Now that was quite a show. What did you do, Barry, fill her up with pain-killer beforehand?'

'Just like going to the dentist,' he said. 'But it needed something as drastic as that to persuade Binnie she was in real danger. To send him running to the Small Man.'

'But she never was?' I said.

'We wanted to know where the bullion was, old lad, and Cork wouldn't even tell Norah that. Had a thing about holding it in reserve as a last resort if the talking failed and he needed more arms.'

'Talk,' Norah Murphy said. 'That's all he ever wanted to do and what good was it? He'd had his day, he and his kind. Now we'll try our way.'

'Force and even more force,' the Brigadier said. 'Terror on terror, and what have you left after that little lot?'

'It's the only way,' she said. 'The only way we can make them see we mean business. Frank understands.'

'Which is why you've been working together?' I asked her.

During all this, Binnie had stood as if turned to stone, the Sten-gun hanging from one hand by its sling, but this final remark seemed to bring him back to life.

'You mean you're one of them?' he whispered. 'You've been working for Frank Barry all along? A man who would murder - has murdered - women, kids, anyone who happens to stand in his road at the wrong moment for them?'

'Sometimes it's the only way, Binnie.' There was a pleading note in her voice as if she would make him understand. 'We can't afford weakness now. We must be strong.'

'You bloody murdering bitch,' he cried and took a step towards her, the Sten coming up.

She shot him twice at close quarters, he staggered back, spun round and fell on his face.

She stood there, the Browning ready in her hand for anyone else who made a move, very pale, but quite composed, showing no evidence of even the slightest remorse for what she had done.

But it was Frank Barry who took over now. 'Answers, Vaughan, and quickly or you get the same here and now. Dooley, McGuire - the men I sent down to the jetty to meet the boat?'

'All gone,' I said. 'Very sad.'

'And the gold?'

'On board the
Kathleen
.'

'All of it?'

'All that I could find.'

He stood there, thinking for a moment, then said to Norah, 'All right, we're leaving now in the boat. You get the Land-Rover from the garage and meet me out front.'

She went out quickly, stepping over Keenan, who still lay in the corridor moaning softly to himself and clutching his privates.

I said, 'What about us?'

'Behave yourselves and I'll let you go just before we leave. Now clap your hands behind your necks and start walking.'

I didn't believe him, of course, not for a moment, but there didn't seem to be anything we could do about it. We went along the corridor, down the great stairway and out through the front door.

There was no sign of Norah and Barry marched us across the gravel drive to the patch of grass with a balustrade from which one could look down into the inlet below. He finally told us to halt and we turned to face him.

'Is this where we get it?' the Brigadier asked him.

'I'm afraid so,' Barry said. 'But then I thought you'd prefer to have it outdoors and it really is a splendid view, you must admit.'

The Land-Rover came round the corner and braked to a halt a few yards away. Norah Murphy sat behind the wheel looking at us, waiting for him to get on with it.

'And behold how the evil ones shall reap fire from heaven,' I called. 'That's what the good book says. You'll get yours, Norah, never fear.'

Frank Barry smiled and opened his mouth to make some last
bon mot,
I suppose, but the words were never uttered. The air was full of a strange metallic chattering, bullets shredding his jacket, blood spurting from a dozen places, sending him staggering side-ways in a mad, drunken dance of death, to fall head first over the balustrade and disappear from view.

Binnie Gallagher lurched down the steps, clutching the Sten, and started across the gravel drive towards the Land-Rover. Norah sat there staring at him, frozen, waiting for the axe to descend.

He paused a yard or two away, stood there swaying, then suddenly said contemptuously, 'Oh, get to hell out of that, why don't you? You're not worth spitting on.'