Drink With The Devil

FIVE

THE FOLLOWING MORNING when Keogh rose at seven, the weather seemed to have deteriorated. There was heavy mist now over the marsh, and when he opened the front door, the rain was relentless.

He made a cup of tea and shaved at the kitchen sink. There was a small portable radio on the windowsill. He switched it on and managed to find the early morning BBC news broadcast. He continued to shave and was wiping his face clean when the weather forecast came on and he listened intently. For the Irish Sea it was winds three to four with some sea fog and rain squalls.

Which could have been worse. He finished his tea and started to dress when there was the sound of a vehicle outside. He pulled on his boots and went to the window and saw Kathleen getting out of the Ford.

Keogh took his reefer down from a peg and opened the door. “Another dirty old morning,” he said cheerfully.

“We thought you’d like a proper breakfast. I’ve come to fetch you.”

“Now isn’t that the kind thought?” He got into the passenger seat. “First we’ll take a run to the end of the jetty. I’d like to see how things are.”

“Fine by me.”

She drove along the broad track and moved on to the jetty stopping just before the end. Keogh got out and went and peered over and she joined him.

“Only a few feet of water down there at the moment,” he said. “The tide must be way out.”

“And that’s bad?”

“They wouldn’t get in. Still, it’s supposed to start turning around about ten-thirty.” He looked out to sea. “Pity about this damn mist. Irish Rose could be hove-to out there, but we can’t see.” He smiled suddenly and squeezed her shoulder. “Never mind, it’s going to be fine. I have a good feeling about it. Now let’s get that breakfast.”

AND THE IRISH ROSE, Muller at the wheel, was indeed hove-to about a mile out. Tully stood on the bridge with Dolan peering into the mist.

“God damn this weather,” Dolan said. “Can’t see a thing.” He turned to Tully. “Is it off?”

“Is it, hell,” Tully said. “If there’s one thing I do well it’s navigate, you know that. No, we wait for the turn of the tide and go in.” He turned fiercely. “Nothing stops me getting my hands on that truck. Nothing,” and he went into the wheelhouse.

IT WAS ABOUT half past ten and Keogh and Ryan were in the barn carefully checking the weapons again. Keogh picked up the Walther in the ankle holster.

“Can I take this? I’ve always liked an ace in the hole myself.”

“Be my guest.”

“I’ll put it on just before we leave,” and he put it in the pocket of his reefer.

“Everything else goes with us in the large case,” Ryan said. “I’ll bring it with me in the transporter.”

“Just in case we have to impress friend Tully?”

“Exactly.”

Kathleen looked in. “I’m going down to Marsh End in the Ford with Benny. He thinks he’s lost some sheep and they might have wandered that way.”

“All right,” Ryan told her. “But if there’s any sign of the Irish Rose, don’t go near. Martin and I will be along in a wee while in the Land Rover.”

“I’ll see you there,” she said and went out.

KATHLEEN LEFT THE Ford outside the cottage and she and Benny walked down the track into the marsh. It was still raining heavily and very misty. Suddenly there was the sound of a sheep baaing over on the right. Benny paused, a curiously intent look on his face, and then he smiled and nodded and moved off at surprising speed considering his size, and Kathleen went after him.

There were five sheep, standing in water up to their bellies, marooned from the look of it, as miserable as any living creature could be. Benny laughed, waded through the creek, picked one up, and carried it across to dry land.

“Good,” he said.

Kathleen nodded. “I’ll walk down to the jetty,” and she turned away as he waded back to the other sheep.

She walked along the track, cocooned in mist, and somewhere a dog barked and then the Irish Rose emerged as she went forward, moored stern first against the end of the jetty. The ramp wasn’t down yet for the tide was still too low, and a boy of perhaps twelve in a hooded anorak stood watching. He had a fishing rod in one hand and a small terrier at his heel.

The legend Irish Rose was plain across the stern and the boy moved forward to examine it. As he did so, Tully vaulted over the rail.

“Now then, you little bastard, what do you want?”

He grabbed the boy by the front of his anorak and shook him, and Kathleen Ryan ran forward. “You great bully, let him go.”

She struck out at Tully, who released his grip in astonishment, and the boy turned and ran away followed by the dog.

Tully grabbed for the girl’s wrist. “So it’s you, is it?”

“Leave me be.”

She slapped his face and Dolan and Fox appeared at the stern, laughing. “A hot one there, Captain. Needs sorting out. Are you up to it or do you need help?”

Tully was angry now as she slapped at him again. “You little bitch. I’ll teach you.”

He had both her wrists now and pulled her toward him and somewhere there was a terrible cry and Benny arrived on the run. He grabbed Tully from behind, pulling him away, and threw him to the ground. Then he turned to the girl.

“You go now.”

Tully scrambled up and punched him in the back. Benny swung an arm backwards and knocked him down again with casual ease and Tully cried out, “Dolan, get down here.”

Dolan and Fox vaulted the rail, Fox carrying an iron bar. Benny took a fist in the face from Dolan with no apparent ill effect, but punched him in the breastbone in return, knocking him onto his back.

Kathleen screamed, “Stop it!”

Fox rushed in wielding his iron bar. Benny actually took the blow on his left arm, twisted Fox’s wrist so that he dropped the bar. Then he gave him a slap backhanded that spun Fox around and sent him on his face.

“Benny, look out!” Kathleen called.

Tully had got to his feet and picked up the iron bar. He swung at Benny’s skull, but the big man turned just in time so that it bounced off his shoulder. He tore the iron bar from Tully’s hand, then wrapped his great hands around his throat and actually lifted him off his feet.

There was a shot, flat in the rain, and Keogh and Ryan ran out of the mist. “Benny, no!” Ryan called out.

Benny paused, still holding Tully off the ground, then gently lowered him. Tully collapsed groaning, sitting on the ground, head on his knees.

“What brought this on?” Ryan asked.

She told him. When she was finished, Keogh said, “So some boy saw the boat. So what? It might mean something later, but not now.”

“I agree.” Ryan turned to Benny. “Good lad, Benny, for looking after Kathleen. Back to the farm with you now.” He nodded to her. “Go with him. We’ll sort things here.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Michael.”

“Not your fault, girl. It comes from having to deal with scum.”

She took Benny’s hand and led him away. Tully, Dolan, and Fox were on their feet, distinctly the worse for wear. Ryan stood looking at them.

“What a sorry bunch of shites you are. Go on, get on board before I forget myself and shoot the lot of ye.”

IN THE WHEELHOUSE Tully sat at the chart table, the rest of the crew grouped around him. Ryan said, “The only reason I’m talking at all is that I need you. We’ll be back here between four-thirty and five with the transporter, so you be ready for sea, do you understand?”

The crew shifted uncomfortably. It was Tully who said, “Yes, we’ll be ready to go.”

“You came snooping at the William and Mary,” Ryan said, “so Mr. Keogh informs me. Now why would you do that?”

“I was worried,” Tully said. “I just wanted to make sure everything was kosher.”

“It’s kosher enough for me to promise to blow your fucking head off if you try anything on the trip to Kilalla. Do you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Good, we’ll be off now and you be ready to leave at the appropriate time.”

He went down the ladder followed by Keogh and then crossed to the rail and dropped down to the jetty.

“What do you think?” Keogh asked.

“Oh, they’ll try to cut our throats halfway across.”

“And doesn’t that bother you?”

“Why should it? That’s why I have you along, Keogh.”

DOLAN SAID, “WHO was that bloody great ape, King Kong?”

“I don’t know,” Tully replied and massaged his neck. “I thought I was on the way out.”

“So what happens now?” Fox demanded.

“We wait. We do as we’re told. Just remember one thing. When we put to sea, King Kong won’t be along for the ride. The boot will be on the other foot then.”

JUST BEFORE THREE, Keogh stood beside the Montesa in the barn and pulled on the biker’s leather jacket. He lifted the dark cord slacks he was wearing above the right ankle and strapped the Walther into place. He slipped the silenced version into the back of his waistband under the jacket and was ready to go.

Kathleen was wearing a denim jacket and jeans and she carried the Colt.25 in an inside pocket. Ryan inspected the inside of the weaponry case, then snapped it shut and put it in the back of the Ford.

He turned to them, embracing Mary Power, then took Benny’s hand. “We’re going now, Benny, you understand?”

Benny nodded eagerly. “Yes, Uncle Michael.”

“You do as Aunty Mary tells you.”

“Yes, Uncle Michael.”

“You’re a good lad.” Michael Ryan turned to Kathleen and Keogh. “Time to go then, the moment of truth.”

AND IT WAS just like the test runs, Keogh told himself, trailing the Ford on the Montesa and the damn rain. Didn’t it ever stop up here? The Ford pulled into the lay-by, he swerved to one side and halted. Ryan was round the back of the Ford, the door wide and opening the big case. He took out one of the AK assault rifles, stock folded, came across, unzipped Keogh’s leather jacket, and shoved it inside.

“On your way, boy.”

Keogh gunned the engine, reaching eighty in fifteen seconds, arriving at the junction in three minutes. He pulled in and waited.

WHEN THE GREEN and white transporter with Shelby Meat Importers on the side drove by so exactly the same as the replica, it had a dreamlike quality to it as if it was not really happening, and he hurriedly switched on his radio.

“Eagle One to Eagle Two. Target on course.”

There was a pause and then a crackle. “Eagle Two – message received. Come home.”

Keogh put the radio away, gunned his engine, and went after the truck fast. For a few seconds he trailed it, then pulled out to overtake, one arm raised in salutation, went round a bend ahead, and disappeared.

“Crazy bastard,” the transporter driver said to the two security guards sitting in the cabin behind him. They wore blue serge suits, for uniforms would have given the game away, but each man carried a Browning in a shoulder holster.

“Probably kill himself one of these days,” one of them said. “Guys like that usually do.”

“Well, that’s his business,” his friend told him, “so let’s have a cup of coffee.” He opened a Thermos and somewhere up ahead there was the muffled sound of an explosion and smoke lifted into the air.

“Jesus, what’s that?” the driver demanded and they went round the corner leading to the junction.

KEOGH SWERVED INTO an open field gate, got off the motorcycle, and pushed it up on its stand. The suitcase containing the weaponry was on the ground by the wall and he saw Kathleen at the side of the road smearing the false blood on her face as Ryan ran to the back of the Ford. A moment later there was a muffled explosion and flames flickered around the vehicle. A larger explosion followed as he ran, and black smoke lifted into the sky.

The transporter came round the corner and skidded to a halt at the horrific scene. Keogh pulled out his AK and unfolded the stock, but it wasn’t necessary. Ryan switched on the Howler and punched the buttons.

“The door,” he cried to Keogh. “The door.”

Keogh ran to the off-side door, pulled on the handle, and it opened to his touch. He was aware of the driver, the two behind, one already with a gun in his hand. Ryan lobbed in a stun grenade. It was enough. A moment later, he had the driver from behind the wheel, dazed and bewildered. Keogh pulled out the two security guards. They dragged them behind the field wall and secured them with the plastic handcuffs.

Kathleen was on her feet, wiping the blood away. Ryan said, “Good, you got your Oscar.” He ran to the back of the truck and opened the doors, revealing the containers inside.

“Would you look at that now?” Keogh said.

“Would you, indeed.” Ryan picked up the suitcase with the weaponry and shoved it up into the cabin of the transporter. “Go on, Martin, get the hell out of it.”

Keogh folded the AK and put it back inside his biker’s jacket. “Come on, girl,” he said to Kathleen.

He flung a leg across the motorcycle. She jumped onto the pillion behind him and put her arms around him. As they drove away, Ryan switched on the engine of the transporter and followed leaving only the burning van hissing in the rain and the three men slowly regaining their senses behind the wall. It was almost half an hour later that a local farmer in his station wagon came upon the scene of carnage.

WHEN KEOGH AND Kathleen on the Montesa reached Marsh End and turned along the track to the jetty, the Irish Rose already had the ramp down. Tully was waiting on deck with Dolan and Fox, and Keogh ran the Montesa straight on board and braked to one side. Kathleen slid from the pillion and Keogh dismounted. He had the AK out in seconds and unfolded the stock.

“There’s no need for that,” Tully said. “Did it work?”

“Like a dream.”

“Then where is it? We’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got the engines turning over and a man on the wheel.”

“Take it easy,” Keogh said. “He’ll be here. Go and make sure everything’s ready.”

Tully turned away reluctantly and Keogh smiled at Kathleen and took out a cigarette. “We did it, Kate, we did it.”

She was incredibly excited. “I know, I know, Martin, but where is Uncle Michael?”

“He’s coming, girl dear. That transporter isn’t as nippy as the Montesa.”

But it was another agonizing twenty minutes before the green and white transporter appeared from the mist, came along the jetty, and bounced on board. It rolled to a halt and braked and Ryan got out.

“I thought I’d had it. The damned engine died on me.”

Already Dolan and Bert Fox were hurriedly clamping the huge wheels to the deck.

Kathleen said, “What happened?”

“There’s an automatic choke system. It was jammed full on. Must have been the blast from the stun grenade. Once I’d got it in I managed to get going again.”

Tully called from the bridge, “Can we go for Christ’s sake?”

Ryan waved. “As soon as you like.”

The Irish Rose slipped out into the estuary and fled into the mist leaving the land behind.

“We did it,” Ryan said.

“We certainly did.” Keogh offered him a cigarette. “Only one matter of interest still to be resolved.”

“And what’s that?” Ryan asked, accepting a light.

“Oh, exactly at what point on the way to Kilalla they intend to hit us.”

“Well, the best way of handling that is to impress them,” Ryan said. “Get your AK out and I’ll do the same. Conspicuous display at all times.”

“And I’m carrying, too,” Kathleen said. “I’ve got my Colt in my inside pocket.”

“For God’s sake, stay out of it, girl, and leave it to Martin and me.”

He got back in the cab, opened the case, and took out the other AK. He got down again, held it against his thigh, and moved to the rail. There were a couple of ship’s boats on either side at the stern suspended in davits and an inflatable in yellow plastic with an outboard motor.

“Handy for his illicit runs ashore,” Ryan observed.

“The outboard looks pretty good to me,” Keogh said. “Close to brand new.”

“Probably stolen if I know Tully.”

“So what do we do now?” Keogh asked.

“Give him time. He’s got to work the ship. We’ll wait till we’re a few miles out to sea, then we’ll have words.”

He looked up at the wheelhouse and saw Tully looking down at them from the stern window. Ryan waved, grinning.

IN THE WHEELHOUSE, Muller was again at the wheel. Tully sat at the chart table, Dolan standing beside him. Grant and Fox were below in the engine room.

“You see what they’re carrying?” Dolan demanded.

“Yes, AKs.”

“Those things could cut us to pieces.”

“I know. We’ve got to box clever. Hide your gun in the chart drawer, Muller’s too, then go below and tell Fox and Grant to stow theirs somewhere in the engine room. I’ll keep mine in my pocket.”

“But I don’t understand.”

“Look, it’s obvious he’s leaving us to make our way out to sea. After a while, he’ll be coming to see me, and armed like that there’s nothing we can do. They’ll search the lot of us at gun point and won’t find anything.”

“Except yours.”

“Which might make Ryan think that’s all there is.” Dolan looked dubious and Tully pushed him. “Go on, get moving. I’ve got a course to lay.”

Dolan went out and Muller said in his heavily accented English, “So, we still go to Kilalla?”

“Well, we can’t exactly turn due south. Ryan’s no fool. For the time being we’ll simply make for the coast of County Down in a general way until we see what happens.”

“With guns such as they have it could be difficult.”

“You worry too much,” Tully said. “It’s going to work, and I’m going to take that truck from them one way or another, I promise you.”

RYAN WAITED FOR an hour before making his move. “Right,” he said, “you stay up in the cab, Kathleen, nice and comfortable, while Martin and I go and sort out the bad guys.”

“I could die for a cup of tea.”

“Well, if you look in the case beside the weapons you’ll find a damn great Thermos flask, courtesy of Mary Power. There’s an old cake tin in there, too. No cake, just ham and cheese sandwiches.”

“Uncle Michael, you’re the wonder of the world. You think of everything.”

“Not this time. Thank Mary Power.” He turned to Keogh. “Here we go, Martin, moment of truth.”

TULLY WATCHED THEM coming, Ryan in the lead, and debated for a wild moment trying to shoot him as he mounted the steel ladder to the bridge, but hastily abandoned the idea as Keogh stood back, AK raised to cover Ryan. Ryan reached the bridge safely and stood outside the open door covering Tully, Muller at the wheel, and Dolan.

“Top of the morning,” Ryan said and raised his voice. “Come away up, Martin.”

Keogh joined him a moment later. “There you are, Tully, how’s the ear?”

Tully glowered at him. “It’s been better.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Search them,” Ryan told him.

Keogh quickly ran a hand over Muller, then Dolan. He found the Smith amp; Wesson revolver Tully had in his pocket.

“Very naughty,” Ryan said. “I’m surprised at you.”

“I’m the captain,” Tully protested. “What do you expect?”

“Oh, almost anything from you. Where are the other two?”

“Grant and Fox are in the engine room.”

“We’ll pay them a visit and take another look at this pig boat on the way.”

“As you like.” Tully shrugged and went to the voice pipe and whistled. Fox replied and Tully said, “Mr. Ryan wants a look at the engine room. We’re on our way down.”

“Good,” Ryan said. “Let’s get moving.” He nodded to Dolan. “You too.”

FROM THE DECK below the wheelhouse a companionway led to a narrow passage, door on either side. One of the doors had Toilet painted on it. Keogh opened it and found a stall lavatory, a wash basin, and a shower.

“Is this for the whole boat?”

“No, I have a separate one,” Tully said. “It goes with my cabin. That’s under the wheelhouse.”

“And these other doors?”

“Crew quarters.”

Keogh opened the doors and had a glimpse of untidy bunks and general disorder. “What a stink. Doesn’t anybody wash on this boat?”

Tully was enraged but kept his mouth shut. Ryan said, “So where’s the engine room?”

“End of the passage.”

“Right, lead the way the both of you.”

Tully opened a door at the end and the throbbing of the engines became very pronounced. They went down a companionway and found themselves in the engine room itself, Grant and Fox oiling the pistons and other moving parts.

They paused in their work and Tully said, “Is everything okay?”

“As much as it ever will be with this old bag of bones,” Grant told him.

Keogh said, “Hands high, boys.”

Ryan raised his rifle and, sullenly, they did as they were told. Keogh retired, satisfied. “Clean as a whistle.”

“Fine,” Ryan said. “We’ll go back, then.”