Day of Reckoning

11

SCOTLAND

IRELAND

Blake was flat out when Dillon called at Rosedene to check on his condition. Hannah was with him. Daz was at the university, but Martha was there.

'He'll be fine, but not particularly fit for a while,' she said, and frowned. 'He's not going to get up to any nonsense, I hope, Mr Dillon? I know what your lot are like, and he honestly isn't up to it.'

'I know, Martha. I know. We'll take it as it comes. I'm flying off to Scotland, so keep the Superintendent here informed.' 'Trouble again?' she asked.

Always is.' He kissed her cheek.

'Oh, well,' she said, and gave him the ancient toast. 'May you die in Ireland.'

'Oh, thanks very much.' Dillon laughed. 'See you soon.' He and Hannah left.

On the way to the Dark Man, she said, 'It could be a hard one, Sean.'

'I know, and Blake won't be up to it. Frankly, in his condition, he'd be a liability.'

'What do you want me to do?'

'Try and lose him. With luck, you won't have to do much. Maybe Martha could give him a pill.'

'Always the practical one, aren't you.'

'He's a good man, Hannah, I'm the bad one. I don't care about that, but I do care about him.'

'I'll never understand you.'

'I don't understand me. Join the club. I'm just passing through, Hannah, I'd have thought you'd have realized that by now.'

Dillon phoned ahead, and Billy was waiting outside the Dark Man with his uncle, Baxter and Hall.

Harry said, 'I actually care for this young bastard, so bringhim back in one piece, Dillon. Notice I didn't say try, so don't let me down, because if you come back alone. .'

'I get the picture,' Dillon said. 'In you get, Billy.'

The driver put the case in the boot and Billy sat in front, nervous and excited. 'Christ, Dillon, what have you got me into?'

'High adventure, Billy. You'll come back and join the Marines.'

'Like hell I will. Independent spirit, me.'

At Farley Field, the department's quartermaster, a retired sergeant major, waited with his list.

'All loaded, Mr Dillon. Walthers with Carswell silencers, three Uzi machine pistols with silencers. Stun grenades, and half a dozen of the fragmentation variety, in case you have trouble, plus the Semtex and timers.'

'What about diving equipment?'

'Standard suits and fins as issued to the Special Boat Service. Our local agent in Oban will put six air bottles in the stern rack. That should suffice.'

'Excellent.' Lacey was already in the Gulfstream with Parry; Madoc waited at the bottom of the steps.

Dillon kissed Hannah on the cheek. 'We who are about to die salute you.'

'Don't be stupid. I'll see you tomorrow.'

'I know, and watch Regan. He's a devious little sod.' 'I thought that was you.'

It was such a stupid remark, and instantly regretted, but Dillon smiled. 'Ah, the hard woman you are.'

He pushed Billy up the steps in front of him, Madoc followed and closed the door, and the Gulfstream moved away.

'Why?' Hannah whispered. 'Why do I say things like that?' And yet she knew that, for his past condemned him. All those years as the Provisional IRA's most feared enforcer, all the killing.

She looked up as the Gulfstream lifted. 'Damn you, Dillon,' she said. 'Damn you.'

In his suite at Pine Grove, Roper trawled the computer and came up with results. He checked again, then phoned Ferguson.

'Fox and his two goons are booked into the Dorchester for a week.'

'Anything else?'

'Murphy and Dermot Kelly are booked on an Air France flight from Paris, arriving in Dublin around what the Irish call tea time.'

'Any idea of the onward destination?'

'Come on, Brigadier, it must be Kilbeg. They think he's Robin Hood up there. If you want to check, why don't you call in a favour from that Chief Superintendent Malone at the Garda Special Branch?'

'What an excellent idea,' Ferguson said.

He thought about it, then rang through to Malone in Dublin. 'Charles Ferguson, Daniel.'

Malone groaned. 'What in the hell do you want, Charles?' 'A favour.'

At Dublin Airport, Murphy and Kelly landed at four-thirty, proceeded through customs with light luggage, went out of the concourse and approached an old Ford saloon car. The driver was named John Conolly, the man beside him Joseph Tomelty; both were hard-line Republicans and had been members of Murphy's group for many years, all boyhood friends. They shook hands with Murphy and Kelly.

'Good to see you, Brendan,' Conolly said. 'Did it go well?'

A total fuck-up,' Murphy said. 'Couldn't have been worse. Let's get out of it. Make for home and I'll tell you.'

They all got in and drove away, and Malone, sitting in an unmarked car with a driver, said, 'Jesus. Conolly, Tomelty, plus Brendan and Dermot Kelly. The old Kilbeg Mafia. There's no doubt where they're going, but follow at a discreet distance and let's make sure they're taking the right road north.'

Twenty minutes later and well outside Dublin, he tapped the driver on the arm. 'Turn back. It's got to be Kilbeg.'

A few minutes later, as the car returned to Dublin, he called Ferguson on his mobile and told him what had happened.

'So it's Kilbeg?' Ferguson said.

'I'd say definitely. Are you going to give us trouble here, Charles?'

'Don't be silly, Daniel, we're doing ourselves a favour and you a favour. Leave it alone and I'll keep you informed.'

'One more question. Since you're running this, it means Dillon's involved.'

'Obviously.'

'Then God help Brendan Murphy.'

Ferguson put down his phone and turned to Hannah, who had been listening. 'You heard? Murphy and company are on their way to Kilbeg.'

I'll let Dillon know, sir, in case it affects his plans.'

'It won't make much difference. You know what he's like.

He'll go in tomorrow night anyway, Murphy or no Murphy. Just like a bad war movie.'

'I know, sir. He has a kind of death wish.'

'Why?'

'God knows.'

'You really have it in for him, Superintendent.'

'You couldn't be more wrong, sir. Actually, I like him too much. He reminds me of Liam Devlin, that combination of scholar, actor, poet and absolutely cold-blooded killer.'

'Just like Sir Walter Raleigh,' Ferguson said. 'Very bewildering, life, on occasion.'

Dillon and Billy were delivered by an unmarked RAF car driven by two uniformed RAF sergeants named Smith and Brian.

'Checked it out earlier,' Sergeant Brian said. 'That's the Highlander two hundred yards out.'

'Well, it doesn't look much to me,' Billy told him.

'Don't go by appearances. It's got twin screws, depth sounder, radar, automatic steering. Does twenty-five knots at full stretch.'

'Good. Let's get cracking,' Dillon said.

'Right, sir, we've got a whaleboat to take your gear out.'

Forty minutes later, the gear was stowed, everything shipshape. Brian said, 'You've got the inflatable, with a good outboard motor. We'll get back now.'

'Thanks for a good job,' Dillon told him.

The sergeants departed in the whaleboat, and Dillon's mobile rang. It was Hannah Bernstein, bringing him up to date on the Kilbeg situation.

'Murphy being there, will it give you a problem?'

'Only if I can't shoot the bastard. How's Blake?'

'Still on his back.'

'Good, let's keep it that way. We'll see you tomorrow.'

Oban was enveloped in mist, and a fine rain was driving across the water, pushed by a light wind. Above on the land, low clouds draped across mountain tops, but beyond Kerrera the waters of the Firth of Lorn looked troubled.

'This is Scotland?' Billy said. 'What a bloody awful place. Why would anybody come here for a holiday?'

'Don't tell the tourist board, Billy, they'd lynch you. Now, we've things to do. We can go ashore and eat later.'

He laid out the diving equipment in the stern cabin. 'I don't need to explain this to you, you're an expert, but let's check over the arms.'

They laid the Walthers, the Semtex, the Uzis and stun grenades on the main saloon table. 'Let's give you a quick course on the Uzi, Billy. The Walther is simple enough.'

They spent half an hour going over things, then Dillon took one of the Walthers and led the way up to the wheelhouse. There was a flap to one side of the instrument board. He found a button, pressed, and inside was a fuse board. He cocked the Walther, slipped it inside, and closed the flap.

'Ready for action with ten rounds, Billy. Remember it's there. It's what is called an ace in the hole.'

'You think of everything, don't you?'

'That's why I'm still here. Let's go ashore and eat.'

He switched on the deck lights before they left and they coasted to the front at Oban on the inflatable and tied up. There was a pub close by that offered food. They went in, had a look at the menu, and opted for fish pie.

Dillon ordered a Bushmills, but Billy shook his head. 'Not me. I never liked the booze, Dillon. There must be something wrong with me.'

'Well, most things in life are in the Bible, and what the good book says is: wine is a mocker, strong drink raging.' He smiled. 'Having said that, I'll finish this and have another.'

Later, back on the Highlander, it started to rain harder. They sat on the stern deck under the awning, and Dillon went through everything from Katherine Johnson's death in New York to Al Shariz.

Billy said, 'These Mafia guys are fucks, Dillon, and Murphy's no better.'

'That about sums it up.'

'So we take them out?'

'I hope so.'

The rain drummed on the canvas awning and Dillon poured another whisky.

Billy said, 'Listen, Dillon, I know a little bit about you, the IRA hard man who switched sides. But every time I ask my uncle how it all happened, he clams up. What's the story?'

Maybe it was the rain, and maybe it was the whisky, but instead of giving him a hard look and telling him to mind his business, Dillon felt himself talking, the words coming slowly but steadily.

'I was born in Ulster, my mother died giving birth to me — a heavy load to bear. My father took me to London. He was a good man. A small builder. Got me into St Paul's School.'

'I thought that was for toffs?'

'No, Billy, it's for brains. Anyway, I liked the acting. Went to the Royal Academy. Only did a year and joined the National Theatre. I was still only nineteen. My father went home to Belfast and got caught in a fire fight between IRA and Brit paratroopers.'

'Jesus, that was a bastard.'

Dillon poured another whisky, looking back into the past. 'Billy, I was a damn good actor, but I went back to Belfast and joined the IRA.'

'Well, you would. I mean, they killed your old man.'

'And I was nineteen, but they were nineteen, Billy, mostly a lot like you. Anyway, the IRA had access to camps in Libya. I was sent for training. Three months, and there wasn't a weapon I didn't know inside out. You wanted a bomb, I could make it, any bomb.' He hesitated. 'Only that side I never liked. Passersby, women, kids — that isn't war.'

'That's how you saw it, war?'

'For a long time, yes, then I moved on. I was a professional soldier, so I sold my services. ETA in Spain, Arabs, Palestinians, also the Israelis. Funny, Billy, the job I've just done in Lebanon, blowing up a ship with arms for Saddam. Back in ninety-one, I worked for them.'

'You what?'

'Gulf War. I did the mortar attack on Downing Street in the snow. You wouldn't remember that.'

'I bleeding well do. I've read articles. They used a Ford Transit, then a guy on a motorbike picked up the bomber.'

'That was me, Billy.'

'Dillon, you bastard. You nearly got the Prime Minister and the entire cabinet.'

'Yes, almost, but not quite. I made a great deal of money out of it. I'm still rich, if you like. Later, I got into trouble in Bosnia. I was due to face a Serb firing squad, only Ferguson turned up, saved my miserable skin, and in return I had to work for him. You see, Billy, he wanted someone who was worse than the bad guys, and that was me.'

There was a kind of infinite sadness, and Billy surprised himself by saying quietly, 'What the hell, sometimes life just rolls up on you.'

'You could say that. The kid who was an actor at nineteen carried on acting just like in a bad movie, only he became the living legend of the IRA. You know those Westerns where they say Wyatt Earp killed twenty-one men? Billy, I couldn't tell you what my score is, except that it's a lot more.' He smiled gently. 'Do you ever get tired? I mean, really tired?'

Billy Salter summoned up all his resources. 'Listen, Dillon, you need to go to bed.'

'True. It's not much good when you don't sleep very well, but there's no harm in trying.'

'You do that.'

Dillon got up, rock steady. 'The trouble is, I don't really care whether I live or die any more, and when you're into the business of going into harm's way, that's not good.'

'Yes, well, this time you've got me. Just go to bed.'

Dillon went down the companionway. Billy sat there thinking about it, the rain beating down relentlessly, dripping off the awning. He'd never liked anyone as much as he liked Dillon, never admired anyone as much, outside of his uncle, anyway. He lit a cigarette and thought about it and suddenly saw a parallel. His uncle was a gangster, a right villain as they said in London, but there were things he wouldn't do, and Billy saw now that Dillon was the same.

He looked at the bottle of Bushmills morosely. 'Screw you,' he said, then picked it up, and the glass, and tossed them over the rail.

He sat there, the rain falling, feeling curiously relaxed, then remembered the paperback on philosophy, took it out of his pocket, and opened it at random. There were some pages about a man called Oliver Wendell Holmes, a famous American judge who'd also been an infantry officer in their Civil War: Between two groups of men that want to make inconsistent kinds of worlds, I see no remedy except force…It seems to me that every society rests on the death of men.

Billy was transfixed. 'Jesus,' he said softly, 'maybe that explains Dillon,' and he read on.

He awoke in the morning in the aft cabin, and was lying there, adjusting, when he was aware of a loud cry. He threw aside his blankets and went up the companionway in his shorts. It was still raining relentlessly and mist draped the whole of Oban harbour. As he looked over the rail, Dillon surfaced a few yards away.

'Come on, the water's wonderful.'

'You must be bloody mad,' and then Billy cried out. 'Behind you, for Christ's sake.'

Dillon turned to look. 'Those are seals, Billy. No problem. They're intelligent and curious. You get them a lot around here.'

He struck out for the ladder and climbed it, his shorts clinging to him. There was a towel on the table under the awning and he picked it up.

'What a bleeding place.' Billy looked out across the harbour. 'Does it always rain like this?'

'Six days out of seven. Never mind. Get dressed and we'll take the inflatable and go back to that pub. We'll get an all-day breakfast, just like in London.'

'Well, I'm with you there.'

Hannah Bernstein called in at Rosedene around nine-thirty and found Martha in reception.

'How is he?'

'Not wonderful. The bullet gouged deep. We thought twenty stitches and ended up with thirty. Look, I don't know what's going on, but he isn't fit to go anywhere. The professor is checking him out now. I'll go and see how he's doing.'

Hannah helped herself to coffee from the machine and was sipping it when Daz appeared.

'Listen, tell me the truth,' he said. 'He's as woozy as hell, yet he keeps trying to tell me he's got important things to do, and I presume by that he means the usual kinds of things you, Dillon and the Brigadier get up to.'

Absolutely, only this time it's something so dangerous that there's no way he can be involved in his condition. Dillon will handle it.'

'Yes, well, he would, wouldn't he? What do you want from me?'

'I know it sounds unethical, but couldn't you sedate him?'

'Hmm. That might be the best solution.' He turned to Martha. 'He really needs a sound sleep. You know what to do.' He smiled at Hannah. 'If you want to see him, better do it now.'

Blake was propped up, his right shoulder and arm bandaged, and looked awful, his face haggard. Hannah leaned over and kissed his cheek.

'How are you, Blake?'

'Terrible. I just need a rest. A couple of hours, and I'll be fine. When are we leaving?'

'Later this afternoon, but take it easy for now.'

'Christ, it hurts.'

Martha, lurking in the background, came forward with a glass of water and a couple of pills in a plastic cup. 'Here you go,' she said to Blake.

'What are these?'

'Painkillers. You'll feel a lot better soon.'

Hannah held his hand for a while, and slowly it relaxed and slipped away, as he stared blankly at her.

'There he goes,' Martha whispered. 'He'll be asleep for hours.'

They went out and found Daz at reception signing a few letters. He looked up. 'All right?'

'On his way to dreamland,' Martha told him.

'Good. I must go. I've got an operation scheduled at Guy's Hospital.' He smiled at Hannah. 'You'll monitor the situation?'

'The Brigadier will. I'm needed elsewhere.' She nodded to Martha and went out with him to where the Daimler waited. 'Can I give you a lift?'

'I was going to get a taxi, but, yes, a lift would help.'

'Ministry of Defence first, then you belong to Professor Daz,' she told the driver, and they drove away. 'I hate March weather,' she said. 'Bloody rain.'

'Oh, dear, it's like that, is it?' Daz smiled. 'As may not have escaped your attention, I'm a Hindu, Hannah. Personal vibrations are important to me, and I sense you're up to your neck in trouble again, the Dillon kind of trouble.'

'Something like that.'

'When will you learn?'

'I know. I'm a nice Jewish girl, unmarried, with no kids, but very good at shooting people.'

He took her hand. 'Hannah.'

'No, don't say a thing. Dillon and I will go off and save the world again, only increasingly, I wonder what for.'

In Ferguson's office, she said, 'So what's the situation? Dillon and Billy Salter are fine. They're both master divers and Dillon is an expert boat handler. That leaves me and Sean Regan.'

'And without Blake, you're one short.'

'Exactly, sir.'

Ferguson got up, went to the window, and looked out. He turned. 'This kind of black operation works best without official special forces intervention. That's why I haven't given the Kilbeg bunker to the SAS. It has to be the kind of job that never happened.'

'Yes, I see that, sir. On the other hand, we could do with another gun, just to be on the boat when Dillon and Billy are doing their thing on shore.'

'It's a difficult one. Do you have any thoughts?' 'Yes, I do actually. An excellent gun.'

'And who would that be?'

She told him.

Dillon and Billy were sitting in the window seat at a pub in Oban, just finishing a superb Scottish breakfast of kippers, poached eggs and bacon, washed down with hot steaming tea, when Dillon's mobile rang.

Hannah said, 'Blake isn't good. They've sedated him. He'll be out for hours.'

'So you'll be on your way with Regan?'

'Yes, but Sean, we've got a problem. With you and Billy on land, and me with Regan on the boat, we need another gun. No big deal, just somebody reliable who really knows what he's doing.'

'And who would that be?'

She told him what she'd suggested to Ferguson, and Dillon laughed. 'Why not? There's nothing like a professional soldier. When will you leave?'

'Two o'clock. Be with you about four-thirty.'

'I look forward to it.' Dillon closed his phone and smiled. 'There you go, Billy, you'll have to mind your manners.' 'What do you mean?'

So Dillon explained.

Ferguson accompanied Hannah to Pine Grove when she went to pick up Regan. He was in Roper's suite again, going over a few points, and Helen Black stood by, with Miller.

Roper said, 'Well, I think the bastard's told the truth, or his version of it, anyway.'

'I damn well have,' Regan said.

'You'd better.' Ferguson smiled coldly. 'If not, I'll see you stand in the dock, Regan. Fifteen years.' He nodded to Miller. 'Take him and prepare him to move out. Put the manacles on.'

Miller complied, and Ferguson said, 'Get on with it, Superintendent.'

Hannah said, 'We've got a problem, Sergeant Major. You are aware of most of the facts, but let me summarize. We're sailing to County Louth from Oban late this afternoon. There'll be Dillon and Billy Salter, and me to guard Regan. Blake Johnson is unwell after the treatment for his gunshot wound. We're short a gun.'

'I see.' Helen Black smiled. 'How long have I got to pack?' 'Half an hour.'

'Then I'd better get moving.' She was out of the door instantly.

Later, at the main entrance, Hannah led Regan down the steps and eased him into the Daimler onto one of the extra seats. The driver had put the luggage in the boot and Ferguson stood at the top of the steps with Helen Black, who wore a khaki jumpsuit. They were alone for a moment.

'I'm grateful, Helen.'

'Tony's in Bosnia at the moment,' she said, referring to her husband. 'The Household Cavalry has two troops there.' 'I know, my love.'

'There's no need to worry him, but you'll obviously see to things if anything goes wrong.'

'My dear Helen.' He kissed her cheek. 'Just believe in Sean Dillon. He is a bastard of the first order, but my God, he's good.'

'You didn't need to tell me, not with the years I spent in Ulster. See you, Charles, and thanks for asking me to the party.'

At Farley Field, the Gulfstream was ready. Madoc loaded the luggage, then took them in. As Parry and Lacey came on board, Hannah made the introductions.

Lacey said, 'There's a bit of a headwind. It'll be an hour and forty-five minutes, but could run to two.'

He joined Parry in the cockpit, the engines started, and they moved away, taking off very quickly and climbing steeply.

Regan held out his manacled wrists. 'Can I have these off? I'm not going anywhere.'

Helen Black laughed. 'That's true.' She took out a key and unlocked him.

Madoc appeared from the galley. 'Tea, ladies.'

'An excellent idea,' Hannah said.

'Personally, I'd like an Irish whiskey,' Regan told him. Madoc looked at Hannah, who nodded. 'Give him what he wants, Sergeant.'

Helen Black turned to her. 'Well, here I go, into the war zone again.'

As they returned to the Highlander, Billy said, 'Jesus, Dillon, not only two women, but both coppers.'

'Yes, Scotland Yard Special Branch variety and Royal Military Police. But remember one thing, Billy: they've both killed more than once in the course of duty. They both know what they're doing.'

'What have I got myself into?'

'Well, as Heidegger said, and you quoted him to me, life is action and passion. .'

Billy cut in. 'Okay, so it's going to be bleeding active and terribly exciting.'

'You'll love it, Billy,' Dillon said, as they coasted in and he reached for the Highlander's ladder.