the Savage Day - Simon Vaughn 02 (v5) (6 page)

'And who might you be?' she enquired.

'Dennis Riley, ma'am,' he said in a low voice.

'Well then, Dennis Riley, you really will have to put in some practice before your next free show. The score this time was a mother and her two children and a couple of eighteen-year-olds who'd just got engaged. No soldiers, I'm afraid.'

Riley collapsed into a chair and Binnie said quietly, 'The little girl - she died, then?'

'I'm afraid so.'

He turned to Lucas and Riley and the look on his face was the same look I had seen in the pub earlier when he had confronted the hooligans.

'Women and kids now, is it?' He kicked the table over, the Browning was in his hand by a kind of magic. 'You bloody bastards, here's for the two of you.'

Norah Murphy had his arm up as he fired, a bullet ploughing through the ceiling. She slapped him across the cheek. He turned, a strange, dazed look on his face, and she grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him as one might shake a recalcitrant child.

'What's done is done, Binnie. Quarrelling like this amongst ourselves won't help now.'

Lucas stood with his back against the wall, the Schmeisser ready, no more than a hairs-breadth away from cutting loose with it. Riley scrabbled on the floor at his feet for the Webley which he had lost when the table went over.

'Better to move on from here,' Norah Murphy said. 'All of us and the sooner the better. Someone might have heard that shot.' She turned to Mrs Kelly. 'I'm sorry, Ma.'

The old woman smiled and touched her face. I said, 'How are we going to work it?'

She shrugged. 'We'll have to split up, naturally. Better to take your chances on your own, Major. Did you notice a footbridge over the canal on your way here?'

'I did.'

'Cross over, take the towpath for a couple of hundred yards and a narrow passageway brings you into Delph Lane. Half a mile along that and you'll be in the centre of the city.'

'Why in the hell should he go first?' Lucas demanded.

She totally ignored him and said to Binnie. 'We ought to leave separately. It would be the sensible thing.'

'And how would I explain the loss of his niece to Michael Cork if anything happened to you?'

Which was an interesting disclosure.
She actually smiled for him, then turned to me. 'Off you go, then, Major.'

The old woman went out ahead of me. I turned in the doorway. 'Up the Republic,' I said. 'Right up!' Then I closed the door gently and moved along the passage.

Mrs Kelly had the door open, and beyond in the yard rain fell in a silver curtain through the lamplight.

I turned up my collar. 'Thanks for everything.'

There was a strangely uncertain look to her, a slight frown on her face as if there was something here she did not understand. The milk-white eyes stared past me vacantly and her fingers reached to touch my cheeks, to trace the line of my mouth.

And they found what they were searching for, those fingers, and fear blossomed on her face, the kind that a child might feel standing at the top of the stairs, aware of some nameless horror, some presence in the darkness below.

I said gently in Irish, 'This is not on you, old woman. None of it.'

She pushed me out into the rain and closed the door.

I found a dark corner of shadows near the footbridge with some bushes reaching over the wall above to give me some sort of shelter. I couldn't smoke. The smell would have been too distinctive on the damp air, so I waited as I had waited in other places than this. Different lands, hotter climates, but always the same situation.

There was the sound of cautious footsteps and a moment later, two figures emerged from the alley. Binnie and Norah. I saw them clearly in the light of the lamp as they went up the steps to the bridge. Their footsteps boomed hollowly for a moment, then faded as they passed along the other side.

I returned to my waiting. Strange the tricks memory plays. The heavy rain, I suppose, reminding me of the monsoon. Borneo, Kota Baru, the ruins of the village, the stench of burning flesh, acrid smoke heavy on the rain, the dead schoolchildren. They, too, had been butchered for a cause, just like the little girl and her sister in the square tonight. The same story in so many places.

A stone rattled in the alleyway and they emerged a moment later. Lucas was well out in front. He stood under the lamp, then went up the steps to the footbridge alone, probably to test the ground.

Riley paused in the shadows and waited no more than a couple of yards from me. I took him from behind with the simplest of headlocks, snapping his neck so quickly that he had no chance to make even the slightest cry.

I lowered him gently to the ground, found the Webley in his coat pocket, picked up his old trilby and pulled it on. Then I moved towards the bridge.

Lucas was half-way across. 'Will you get your bloody finger out, Dennis,' he called softly.

I went up the steps head down so that it was only at the last moment instinct told him something was wrong and he swung to face me.

I said, 'You're a big man with women and kids, Lucas. How do you feel now?'

He was trying to get the Schmeisser out from underneath his coat when I shot him in the right shoulder, the heavy bullet turning him round in a circle. The other two shots shattered his spine, driving him across the handrail of the bridge to hang, head-down.

His raincoat started to smoulder, there was a tiny tongue of flame. I leaned down, got him by the ankles with one hand and tipped him over. Then I tossed the Webley and the trilby after him and continued across the bridge.

5
Storm Warning

Most of Oban seemed to be enveloped in a damp, clinging mist when I went out on deck and there was rain on the wind, which was hardly surprising for it had been threatening ever since my arrival two days previously.

Beyond Kerrera, the waters of the Firth of Lorne, when one could see them at all, seemed reasonably troubled and things generally looked as if they might get worse before they got better. Hardly the most comforting of thoughts with the prospect of the kind of passage by night I had in front of me.

For the moment, I was snug enough, anchored fifty yards from the main jetty. I made a quick check to make certain that all my lines were secure and was just going to go below when a taxi pulled up on the jetty and Meyer got out.

He didn't bother to wave. Simply descended a flight of stone steps to the water's edge and stood waiting, so I dropped over the side into the rubber dinghy, started the outboard motor and went to get him.

He looked distinctly out of place in his black Homburg and old Burberry raincoat, a parcel under one arm, a briefcase in his other hand, and he obviously felt it.

'Is it safe, this thing?' he demanded, peering anxiously through his spectacles at the dinghy.

'As houses,' I said taking the briefcase he passed to me.

He hung on to the parcel, stepped gingerly into the dinghy and sat down in the prow. As we moved towards the motor cruiser, he turned to have a look at her.

'Are you satisfied?'

'Couldn't be better.'

'The
Kathleen,
isn't that what they call her? I must say she doesn't look much.'

'Which is exactly why I chose her,' I said.

We bumped against the hull, I went up the short ladder and over the rail with the line. As I turned to help Meyer a curtain of rain drifted across the harbour. He darted for the shelter of the companionway and I followed him down to the saloon.

'What about some breakfast?' I said as he took off his coat and hat.

'Breakfast?' He looked at me blankly. 'But it's almost noon.'

'So I got up late.' I shrugged. 'All right, tea then.'

I went into the galley and as I put on the kettle, Al Bowlly broke into
It's all forgotten now.
When I went back into the saloon, Meyer was sitting at the table lighting one of the fat Dutch cigars he favoured, the little cassette tape-recorder in front of him.

'When are our friends due?'

I glanced at my watch. 'About an hour. You're late. What kept you?'

'The Brigadier came to see me before I left so I had to get a later plane.'

'What did he want?'

'A final briefing, that's all. He's flying to Northern Ireland himself this afternoon to be on hand in case he's needed.'

The kettle started to whistle in the galley so I went in to make the tea. Meyer followed and leaned in the doorway, watching me.

'Perhaps I'm tired or maybe it's just that I'm getting old and I didn't sleep so good last night and that's always a bad sign with me.'

I poured milk and tea into two enamel mugs, topped them up with a largish measure of Jameson and handed him one. 'What are you trying to say, Meyer?'

'I don't feel so good about this, Simon.'

'Like you said, you're tired, that's all.'

He shook his head violently. 'You know me. I get an instinct for these things and I'm never wrong. The first time I felt like this was when I was seventeen years of age back in 1938.'

'I know,' I said. 'You've told me often enough. You got out of Munich half an hour before the Gestapo came to arrest you. Your uncle and aunt wouldn't listen and died in Dachau.'

He made a violent gesture, tea slopping out of his mug. 'Don't mock me, Simon. What about that time in Casablanca? If you hadn't listened to me then and left on the next plane they'd have arrested both of us.'

'All right, so you've got second sight.' I moved past him into the saloon. 'Have you tried telling the Brigadier you don't feel so good about things?'

He shrugged helplessly and sat down at the table opposite me. 'How do we get into such situations, Simon? It's crazy.'

'Because we didn't have any choice,' I said. 'It's as simple as that. Did you bring what I asked?'

'In the parcel.' I started to unwrap it and he added, 'Where's the cargo?'

'The Lahtis are in the aft cabin. You're sitting on the Uzis.'

I removed the last of the brown paper and opened the flat cardboard box it contained. Inside there was several pounds of what looked like children's Plasticine, but was in fact a new and rather effective plastic explosive called ARI 7. There was a box of chemical fuses to go with it.

There was also a cloth bundle tied with string, which when I opened it contained several clips of ammunition and a Mauser automatic pistol with a rather strange bulbous barrel.

'That damn thing's almost a museum piece,' Meyer observed as I hefted it on one hand. 'You've no idea the trouble I had finding one.'

'I know,' I said. 'But it's still the only really effective silenced handgun ever made.' I picked up the box and stood. 'Let's go up top. I want to show you something.'

It was raining harder than ever when we went out on deck. I led the way into the wheelhouse, put the box down on the chart table, reached underneath and pressed a spring catch. A flap fell down which held a Mark IIS Sten. There were several other spring clips and a shelf behind.

'A slight improvement,' I said. 'This is what kept me up so late last night.'

I put the ARI 7 on the back shelf with the fuses and spare ammunition clips, loaded the Mauser and fitted it into place, then pushed the flap up out of sight.

'Very neat,' Meyer observed.

'Nothing like being prepared.'

He glanced at his watch. 'I'll have to be away soon. I've got a hire car laid on by a local garage. They're going to run me down to Abbotsinch. I'll catch the evening plane to Belfast from there.'

'Then what?'

He shrugged. 'I'll get straight to the house I've rented and wait to hear from you.'

'You'd better show me where it is.'

I got out the right map for him and he found it soon enough. 'Here we are. About ten miles out of Stramore on this road. Randall Cottage. It's right at the end of a farm track beside a small wood. A bit tumble-down, but rather nice. The sort of place they rent to holidaymakers in the season. Here's the telephone number.'

It was easy enough to remember. I rolled the slip of paper into a ball and flipped it out through the side window. 'What did you tell the agent?'

'I said I was a writer. Belfast was beginning to get me down and I felt in urgent need of a little peace and quiet. I used the name Berger, by the way, just in case.'

I nodded. 'It all sounds pretty neat to me.'

He looked out across the Firth a trifle dubiously as rain drummed against the roof of the cabin with renewed vigour. 'Do you really think you'll get across tonight? It doesn't look too good.'

'According to the Met forecast, things should ease up considerably during the early evening, and even if they don't, we'll still make it. This boat was built to stand most things.'

There was a sudden hail across the water.
'Kathleen,
ahoy!'

Norah Murphy and Binnie Gallagher were standing on the jetty beside a taxi.

Meyer said, 'Take me across with you and I'll be on my way. I don't want to talk to her any more than I can help.'

He went below to get his hat and coat and when he returned he was stowing Al Bowlly away in his briefcase. I helped him over the rail, slipped the line and joined him.

His face was very pale as I started the outboard. I said, 'Look, it's going to be all right. I promise you.'

'Is that so?' he demanded. 'Then tell me why I feel like I'm lying in my grave listening to earth rattling against the lid of my coffin.'

I couldn't think of a single thing to say that would have done any good. In any case, we were already coming in to the steps at the bottom of the jetty.

I stayed to tie up the dinghy and Meyer went up ahead of me to where Norah Murphy and Binnie waited beside the taxi. The boy was dressed exactly as he had been on that rather memorable night in Belfast, but Norah Murphy herself was all togged up for Cowes week in a yellow oilskin. Underneath she wore a navy blue Guernsey sweater, slacks and rubber boots.

Meyer turned to me as I arrived. 'I'm just making my excuses to Dr Murphy, Simon, but I really must get moving now or I'll miss my plane.'

'I'll be seeing you soon,' I said and shook hands.

He got into the taxi quickly. The driver passed out a suitcase to Binnie, then drove away.

Norah Murphy said coolly, 'So here we are again, Major.'

'So it would appear.'

I led the way down the steps to the dinghy and Binnie followed with the case. He didn't look too happy, but he got in after a moment's hesitation and sat in the prow. Norah Murphy perched herself in the stern beside me.

As we pulled away she said casually, 'It's going to be a dirty night. Is the boat up to it?'

'Have you done much sailing?'

'One of my aunts was married to a retired sea captain. They had a house near Cape Cod.'

'Then you should have learned by now not to be taken in by top show. Take the
Kathleen.
Underneath that rather drab coat of grey paint there's a steel hull by Akerboon.'

'Only the best.' She looked suitably impressed. 'How is she powered?'

'Penta petrol engine. Twin screws. She'll do about twenty-five knots at full stretch. Depth sounder, radar, automatic steering. She's got the lot.'

I cut the motor and we coasted in. Norah Murphy took the line and went over the rail nimbly enough. Binnie was nothing like so agile and from the look on his face it was obvious that he was going to have a bad night of it whatever happened.

He was like a fish out of water. In fact, I doubt if he had ever been on a boat, certainly a small boat of that type, in his life before. When he took off that sinister black overcoat of his he looked younger than ever and the clothes he wore didn't help. A stiff white collar a size too large for him, a knitted tie and an ill-fitting double-breasted suit of clerical grey.

Norah Murphy opened one of the saloon cupboards to hang the coat up for him and found a neopryne wet suit, flippers and mask and an aqualung inside.

She turned, one eybrow raised. 'Don't tell me you still intend to go over the rail if the situation arises.'

'I'll take you with me if I do, I promise.'

She put the suitcase on the table, opened it and took out Binnie's Browning automatic. She held it in her right hand for a moment, looking at me, eyes narrowed slightly, then she tossed it to Binnie who was sitting down on one of the bench seats.

'Damn you, Vaughan,' she said rather petulantly. 'I never know which way to take you. You smile all the time. It isn't natural.'

'Well, you've got to admit the world's a funny old place, love,' I said. 'Definitely a laugh a minute.'

I went into the galley, got the bottle of Jameson and three mugs. When I returned she was sitting on the opposite side of the table from Binnie smoking a cigarette.

'Whiskey?' I said. 'It's all I've got, I'm afraid.'

She nodded, but Binnie shook his head. Admittedly we were dancing about a bit, for quite a ground swell was building up inside the harbour, but he already looked ghastly. God knows what it was going to do to him when we ventured into the open sea.

Norah Murphy said, 'Where's the cargo?' I told her and she nodded. 'What are we carrying?'

'Fifty Lahti anti-tank cannon and fifty sub-machine-guns.'

She sat up straight, frowning deeply. 'What goes on here? I expected more. A great deal more.'

'Impossible in a boat this size,' I said. 'Those Lahtis are seven feet long. Have a look in the aft cabin and see for yourself. It will take a couple of trips to get all your first order across.'

She went into the aft cabin. After a while she came back and sat down, picking up her mug again.

'Another thing,' I said. 'If we're challenged, if this boat is searched, we don't stand a cat in hell's chance, you realize that. As I'm not one of those captains who relishes the idea of going down with the ship, I'd appreciate it if you'd make it clear to Billy the Kid, here, that we don't want any heroics.'

Poor Binnie couldn't even manage a scowl. He got up suddenly and made for the companionway.

Norah Murphy said, 'I'm afraid he isn't much of a sailor. What time do we leave?'

'I've decided to make it a little later than I'd intended. Five o'clock or even six. Give this weather a chance to clear a little.'

'You're the captain. What about your friend Meyer? Will we be seeing him again?'

'I should imagine so - when the right time comes.'