Blood, Bullets and Blue Stratos

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

‘Wait!’ Michael Deery ordered. ‘Hold your fire!’

The men with the raised rifles remained completely motionless. Gene stopped, holding up the holster and the Magnum. Sam froze too, half crouched behind the Jensen, hardly daring to breathe.

There was a silent pause, broken only by the hiss and wash of the sea at the foot of the cliffs. The slow light of dawn began to filter across the landscape.

The game of statues came to an end when Michael Deery took a few steps forward, eyeing Gene coldly.

‘So,’ he said. ‘It’s you, is it? You’re the copper been following me and the missus around all this time?’

‘One of ’em, yes,’ Gene replied. ‘The other’s right over there.’

Sam felt his blood turn to ice.

Good God, Gene! he thought. What the hell are you doing?

Two of the rifles swivelled round and aimed at Sam. He instantly put his hands up, his body tensed in anticipation of the hail of bullets.

‘Drop the gun,’ ordered Deery. Gene obeyed. Deery peered across at Sam and said, ‘You too.’

Sam carefully held out his firearm, placed it on the ground and stepped back from it.

Deery muttered something to his companions, then came striding down the slope towards Gene, his own pistol still in his hand. He beckoned Sam over. As Sam obeyed, he watched the two sets of rifles that were trained on him track him carefully as he walked.

‘You can put your hands down,’ said Deery quietly. ‘Try anything, and the two of yous will be dead in a second. But you know that.’

‘And you know why we’re here,’ said Gene. ‘My colleague tried to spring your daughter from the compound last night. He nearly got his gums Black amp; Deckered for his troubles.’

Michael looked intensely at Sam, his face hard and hostile, as if he blamed Sam for his daughter’s plight.

‘Mary was okay when I saw her,’ said Sam. ‘Physically and mentally. She’s holding up. She’s strong.’

‘Anyone touched her?’ Michael asked aggressively.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘She getting enough grub?’

‘She’s no use to them dead,’ said Sam. ‘They’ll keep her alive and in one piece — just so long as they can keep squeezing guns and explosives out of you and your wife. Your daughter’s in no danger if you keep paying the ransom.’

‘But we can’t keep paying,’ said Michael, his voice low. ‘That’s why we’re here. We’re not here on a regular assignment. This is a private matter. No need for police involvement. You’re better off turning a blind eye till we’re through.’

‘Can’t do that, Mickey,’ said Gene. ‘It’s not the Wild West. We’re still the law round here — me and him, not you boys.’

‘The law doesn’t apply here today,’ said Deery. ‘Let me and my lads finish this. None of us want word of this to get out. What’s been happening of late don’t put me in a good light, nor the boys up there. And it don’t do the Cause no favours neither. Just leave us to deal with it. No one’ll miss them Red Hand bastards. This whole thing can be sorted — like it never happened.’

Gene shook his head slowly. ‘I want Peter Verden and his merry band of playmates behind bars, Mickey, not lying in body bags.’

‘Behind bars?’ said Michael with a cold smile. ‘They wouldn’t be the only ones you’d be looking to bang up, though, would they? You’d be after me and them fellas up there too. Can’t let that happen.’

‘You seem to have got the mistaken idea into your head that I’m negotiating with you,’ growled Gene. ‘I’m not asking for anything, Deery — I’m telling. You and your spud-suckers don’t dictate terms, not to CID they don’t; not to me. Am I getting through to you, Murphy?’

Sam felt his stomach clench. For this time and place, and with these people, Gene’s tone was all wrong. They weren’t dealing here with a bunch of bank robbers with stockings on their heads and their eyes on the wages van. These men were a different breed altogether. What motivated them was something far deeper than the desire for loot. They were idealists. They had the British Army on the ropes, and were destined to keep them there for decades to come. Damn it, this was the IRA.

And yet, as well as fear, Sam felt pride. Gene had come here as a representative of the law — and no amount of guns pointing at him was going to make him swerve from his sworn duty. He was no more going to roll over in the face of superior numbers than Michael Deery or his IRA companions up there on the hill. The unstoppable force was meeting the immovable object. Both sides saw themselves as being on the side of right. Neither side saw any need to capitulate.

‘There’s a lot of issues at stake here,’ said Sam. ‘But the top priority is your daughter, Mr Deery. Even if we accomplish nothing else here today, we’re not leaving without Mary. We’re going to bring her home to you, Mr Deery — safe and well, no matter what.’

‘I appreciate that,’ said Deery, keeping his voice low. ‘But we don’t need you two. We can deal with it ourselves. I give you my word — I swear on the Holy Blood of Our Lord — we’re just here to get my kid back and give them bastards what they’ve got coming to them. That’s all. No British targets to hit. No politics dimension. It’s private business.’

‘I don’t like you lot,’ Gene said suddenly, sticking his chest out. ‘In fact, I despise you for the cold-blooded, murdering scum that you are.’

‘The feeling’s mutual, I can assure you of that,’ said Deery.

‘But I’m a little strapped for manpower just at the moment,’ Gene went on. ‘I’ve got a hostage to release and a bunch of crazed pinko hippies with guns to bring home in chains, and there’s just me and him free to do it.’ He indicated Sam with a nod of the head. ‘But watching you and your lads in action just now, making short work of them herberts up on the hill, it got me thinking. I figured that, if we could temporarily put aside our differences, we might just get this job done — together.’

‘I already said, we don’t need you. Get back in your motor and go home.’

‘You’re not seeing the situation clear enough, Deery,’ Gene growled, leaning closer to Michael and eyeballing him fiercely. ‘You want to watch your kiddy growing up from between the bars of a prison cell? Well, do you? Because that’s what you can look forward to. Behind bars — that’s where you and your missus will be. I can have you both banged up for so long that by the time you get out your daughter’ll be celebrating your release in her bloody old people’s home.’

‘If you won’t go nicely, like I told you,’ said Deery, his voice cold and level, ‘then we’ll have to remove you from this business forcibly.’

‘Murdered coppers attract a lot of attention,’ said Gene. ‘And how much attention do you really want brought to the fact that you, Mickey, and your bleedin’ harpy of a wife have been pinching bombs from the IRA to supply to the RHF? Won’t you and Cait and your four mates up there get into hot water with your high command if they find out the right royal balls-up you’ve been making of things?’

‘They won’t find out,’ said Deery, a flash of real fear in his eyes. ‘Like I said, it’s a private matter.’

‘But it won’t stay private if you whack me and him,’ said Gene. ‘Your masters will know you’ve been siphoning off arms. Stealing, Mickey boy. Pilfering. Thieving. From your own people. And you know better than me the internal IRA disciplinary procedures. What’ll they do to you and your old lady, eh, Mickey? A kneecapping? A going-over with baseball bats? Something nasty in the eyes? Or will they want you both out of the picture altogether? Maybe they’ll pay you the ol’ three a.m. house call and march you and the missus off to the woods, where you’ll find two shallow graves conveniently waiting for you. Maybe they’ll just drown you in your own bathtub — ladies first, of course, so you can watch your wife snuff it, before it’s your turn. Maybe you’ll find yourselves looking up a rope. I don’t know, Mickey, I’m not the expert — but something tells me you know what you can expect.’

Michael Deery’s face went ashen. Sam realized for the first time just how desperate both he and Cait must have been — desperate to get their daughter back, desperate for word of the blackmail not to reach IRA high command, desperate not to find themselves in line for some serious punishment at the hands of their masters.

‘There’s no way a Republican unit can work with the British police,’ said Deery.

‘You know where your daughter is, don’t you?’ said Sam. ‘That fella up there told you, before you shot him.’

Deery looked at Sam for a few seconds, then gave a curt nod.

‘Tell us,’ said Sam. ‘Wherever she is, we’ll get her out of there.’

‘We’ll get her out of there while you boys cover us,’ added Gene. ‘I need backup and I ain’t got anyone else to draw on but you, you bloodstained pack of murdering bog-hoppers.’

Deery’s eyes narrowed as his brain worked feverishly. He could see the deal on the table: he would get Mary back, CID would get Verden and the RHF, and the whole sorry business of blackmail and misappropriated IRA arms would disappear. Everybody gets what they want — but only if they can all stomach working with their sworn enemies, just for one day.

As the dawn light grew stronger, Deery paced up and down, chewing his nails and swinging the pistol about nervously. The four gunmen up on the hill began to exchange looks.

‘Make up your mind, Mickey,’ Gene urged him. ‘Your friends are waiting.’

Deery ignored him, ran a hand through his unwashed black hair, then made a decision. He straightened, lifted his head, looked confrontationally at both Sam and Gene, and said, ‘My daughter’s right over there.’

He pointed. Half a mile or so from the rugged shore, a large cabin cruiser was becoming visible in the morning light.

‘Apparently there’s a couple of dinghies down on the cove,’ Deery added. ‘Take one. Leave the other for us.’

And with that, he turned to go. But Sam stopped him.

‘Mr Deery,’ he said, and Deery turned and looked at him. Sam held out his hand. Deery made no move to take it. ‘Please. Michael. For Mary’s sake.’

Sam waited, his hand still offered. Deery suddenly laughed bitterly, turned away, shaking his head, and headed back up the hill. In moments, he and the IRA team were gone, taking the bodies of the men they’d shot with them. All that remained was the ominous brick building overlooking the sea, and the distant white speck that was the Capella.

‘Jesus, Guv, you took a gamble there,’ breathed Sam when they were alone.

‘You reckon, Sam?’ said Gene, stretching his limbs and filling his huge lungs with air. He scooped up his holster and strapped it back across his chest. ‘I preferred our odds of getting them bog-brains on side than of going up against the RHF with just the two of us.’

‘I know Guv, but even so …’

‘Keep your hair on, Margaret,’ Gene grinned. ‘I told you before: we get paid to take risks. That’s what we do. We’ve all got to go someday, Sam — but it’s not today, not for neither of us.’

At those words, Sam felt his throat tighten, his chest gasp for air. As he watched Gene leading the way down to the cove, he felt for a moment that he was suffocating, that he would pass out entirely. Gulls cawed and shrieked in the air above him, and for a fleeting instant their calls became the cries of mourners following a coffin to its final resting place.

What have you done, Sam? he asked himself. Sam, what have you done?

‘Shift yourself, you idle sod!’ Gene called up at him.

Sam forced the bracing sea air into his lungs, defied the shadow of death that kept sweeping across him, grabbed his firearm from where he had dropped it and followed Gene down towards the rugged foot of the cliffs.