Drink With The Devil

SIX

THE SEA WAS building up as they went out on deck, and the Irish Rose was already beginning to roll from side to side. Rain swept in clearing the mist a little. They went back up to the wheelhouse climbing the ladder one by one.

Tully sat down at the chart table. “So what now?”

“I’ve done a boat crossing from the Lake District coast to Ulster twice over the years,” Ryan told him.

“Is that a fact?”

“Yes, so I know where the Isle of Man is – halfway between the two and we pass south, skirting what they call the Calf of Man?”

“If you say so.”

“Oh, but I do, and there it is on your top chart. I’d say we should be seeing the lighthouse there at midnight.”

“So what?”

“That should give us a landfall at Kilalla around three.”

“It depends on the weather.”

“And so it does, but keep on course. I have a marine compass in any case, and I’d be very hurt if I discovered we weren’t proceeding in a westerly direction.”

“All right,” Tully said sullenly. “Now what happens?”

“Well, as there is nowhere else I’d particularly like to spend the night on this disgusting pig boat, we’ll use the cab of the truck. It even has a bunk behind the driver’s seat.” He turned to Keogh. “Give him your radio, Martin.”

Keogh took it from his pocket and put it on the chart table. “There you go.”

“What’s this?” Tully demanded.

“Two-way radio. I have one, too, so we can keep in touch, us down there and you up here. Another thing. You have one of your men standing on the deck down there where I can shoot him if anything untoward happens.”

“You bastard.”

“I always was, but I keep my word, and I’m going to give you a chance to be sensible.” He took an envelope from his pocket and threw it down. “That’s the fifty thousand pounds Mr. Keogh took from you.”

Tully was truly shocked. “My God!”

“Count it when we’re gone. It’s all there.” Ryan smiled looking like the Devil himself. “No bloodshed, no aggravation, and you get another fifty thousand at Kilalla in a few hours. Think about it.” He nodded to Keogh. “Let’s go. You first, Martin. I’ll mind your back and you cover me.”

They went down the ladder one after the other, and Tully opened the envelope and examined the money. “Damn him!” he said.

“What’s he playing at?” Dolan asked.

“He’s giving me a way out, isn’t he? Play the game and settle for a hundred thousand.”

“And will you?”

“There’s fifty million pounds in gold sitting out there, Dolan, fifty million.”

“All right,” Dolan said, “but these are hard bastards.”

“Well so am I.”

Tully sat there frowning and examining the chart. Dolan said, “Have you any ideas?”

“Not at the moment. If we don’t pass the Calf of Man he’d know it. On top of that he’s got a marine compass.” He shook his head. “No, we’ll have to stay on course and wait for our chance. There’s bound to be one. Maybe in the early hours of the morning when we’re closer to Ireland.”

Dolan nodded. “They’ll be tired then.”

“And seasick with any luck. I didn’t tell the bastard, but I checked the weather forecast and it’s deteriorating. Winds gusting to seven around midnight, and you know what this old tub is like in rough weather.”

“The original beast.”

The radio crackled and Keogh’s voice sounded. “As the song says, is that the captain of the ship?”

Tully pressed the answer button. “What do you want?”

“A man on deck.”

“All right.” Tully turned to Dolan. “Down you go, Mick. Two hours, then I’ll have Muller relieve you, and you’d better take an oilskin. You’ll need it.” He smiled savagely. “See, it’s started to rain again.”

DOLAN’S SHIFT BEING over, it was Muller who stood by the ladder, clearly visible in the sickly yellow glow of the deck lights, a miserable-looking figure as he tried to shelter from the rain under the lower canopy of the wheelhouse.

“Now isn’t that the great sight!” Keogh demanded as he devoured one of Mary Power’s ham sandwiches.

Kathleen laughed as she passed him a cup of tea. “You’re a terrible man, Martin.”

Ryan said, “His bad luck he’s on the wrong side. Here, I’ll put the heater on for a while.”

A warm glow spread throughout the cabin within seconds. “God, but that’s nice,” Kathleen said.

Ryan took another sandwich. “You’ll be fine back there in the cabin. Nice and cosy on that bunk bed. You get your head down and get some sleep.”

“What about you and Martin?”

“Oh, we can snatch an hour or two just sitting here. We’ll take it in turns.”

They finished eating and she put the rest of the sandwiches and the Thermos away and looked out into the darkness where the sea was angry, whitecaps driving in, rolling the Irish Rose from one side to the other.

Kathleen clutched at Keogh’s arm. “Exciting, isn’t it?” he said sardonically.

“Damn you, Martin, I’m bloody terrified and you know it.”

“It always gets worse before it gets better, that’s the way of it,” he teased her.

She punched him in the shoulder. “You can stop that.”

Ryan looked at his watch. “Nine o’clock. Get on the bunk and try to sleep. You’ll be better off.”

“Yes, well, first I want to go to the toilet.”

“The one thing we don’t have,” he said.

“It’s all right for you and Martin. You can stand at the side of the truck. I can’t do that.”

“Dear God.” Ryan picked up the radio and called the wheelhouse. “Tully, come in.”

“What do you want?” Tully demanded.

“My niece wants the toilet. Keogh is going to escort her, and just to keep you in order he’ll take Muller with him.”

“All right,” Tully said.

Keogh opened the door on his side and stepped down, his AK at the ready, the stock folded. The wind was much stronger now driving in the rain as he approached Muller.

“The lady needs the toilet, so you lead the way and watch yourself.”

Muller glared at him but did as he was told, opening the door to the companionway and leading the way down. Keogh followed, the girl at his heels. He kept Muller covered while she went inside.

When she came out, Keogh said to Muller, “Go on, you first.”

Muller obeyed sullenly and took up his station under the wheelhouse canopy whilst Keogh and Kathleen returned to the truck and climbed inside.

“Lie down now,” Ryan told her. “There are blankets there. Try and sleep.”

She did as she was told and Keogh and her uncle sat there, looking out as rain streamed down the windscreen and the ship rolled.

“Better than a roller coaster, this,” Ryan said.

“The Germans built them for inshore work,” Keogh told him. “The bottom’s almost flat.” He lit a cigarette. “I’ve been thinking. Very convenient, Tully having the one pistol.”

“I know. I wouldn’t believe that for one minute.”

“That ploy of yours giving him the fifty thousand back. Will it work?”

“I’d like to think so, but I doubt it. He’s a greedy animal, that one, but it was worth the try.”

“So what’s your best guess?”

“Oh, he’ll stay on course because I can check with my marine compass. I should imagine he’ll wait till we’re close to the Irish coast. The early hours would be best. They’ll expect us to be tired, so I suggest you get your head down for a while and I’ll keep watch.”

AND KEOGH, WITH the soldier’s habit ingrained of snatching an hour of sleep when he could, simply leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and was asleep in the instant. His breathing deepened and Ryan watched him for a while. Hell on wheels, this one, and capable of anything, but who are you, Martin? he thought. Who are you really? He sat there, the AK in his lap, watching Muller, occasionally glancing up at the light in the wheelhouse, and waited.

KEOGH CAME AWAKE with a start, Ryan’s hand on his shoulder. He checked his watch and saw that it was midnight. “You should have wakened me, Michael. You need your sleep, too.”

“Less than you do. I’m older. Will you look over there.”

Keogh saw the light at once flickering out there in the darkness. “Would that be the Calf of Man?”

“That’s right and we’re dead on course. I’ve checked with the compass.”

“So far so good, then. I’ll just step out for a moment. Call of nature.”

He opened the door and stepped down, the wind so strong that it bounced against him. It was Dolan on duty again and Keogh waved cheerfully.

“Try to smile, you miserable sod,” he called and relieved himself at the side of the truck.

He climbed back inside and Ryan said, “Now me,” and got out on his side.

Tully, watching all this from the stern window of the wheelhouse, suddenly clenched his fist, excitement surging through him. “That’s it. Christ, that’s it.” He turned to Muller. “I’ll take the wheel. Relieve Dolan. Tell him to get up here. Go on, it’s important.”

Muller did as he was told and a few moments later Dolan came in, water streaming from his oilskins. “What’s up? I only did an hour.”

“I think I’ve got it,” Tully said. “That girl is going to want to go to the toilet again, she’s bound to.”

“So what?”

“Well, try this for size. Keogh held Muller at gunpoint while she went in?”

“That’s right.”

“What would happen if there was someone waiting in there with a shooter? Someone who’d bring her out with the barrel under her chin? What would Mr. Bloody Keogh do, what could he do?”

“My God, it’s a thought,” Dolan said.

“Yes, well you can’t do it. They’ll miss you if you’re off the deck too long, so get down to the engine room and get Fox. Grant will have to manage on his own. Tell Fox to get his shooter and go to that toilet now. He can sit there and wait.”

“How long for?”

“As long as it bloody well takes. Now get out of here,” and he hung on to the wheel as a sudden squall hit the Irish Rose from the north.

IT WAS JUST after two, the wind very strong now, and Ryan checked his watch. “We must be close. Three o’clock was a fair arrival time.”

Kathleen came awake with a groan and sat up. “Jesus, I feel awful. What time is it?” Ryan told her and she swung her legs to the floor. “I’ll have to go to the toilet again.”

“All right. Give me a minute.” He called Tully.

“What do you want?” Tully replied.

“My niece needs the toilet. We’ll handle it the same as last time.”

“That’s okay,” Tully replied, then shaking with excitement he got the two guns from the chart table drawer and passed one to Muller. “When the right moment comes, put the wheel on the chain lock.”

“In this weather?” the German asked.

“It’ll only be for a moment.” Tully whistled down the voice pipe, and when Grant answered he said, “Jock, we’re in business. Get your gun and wait at the top of the engine room companionway. The girl’s going to the toilet.”

“I’ll be there,” Grant answered.

Tully punched the chart table with one fist. “It’ll work, it bloody well has to.”

DOLAN WENT DOWN the companionway and stood sullenly under the threat of Keogh’s AK. “I shan’t be long,” Kathleen said.

Fox, hearing the voices, had moved into the shower, pulling the curtain closed. She went into the toilet cubicle and he waited, pouncing when she came out, twisting her left wrist behind her back, and ramming the muzzle of his pistol into her neck.

“Now then, you bitch, get that door open.”

She cried out, “Martin, watch yourself!” and Fox released her wrist, got the door open, and pushed her out between Keogh and Dolan, his pistol still against her neck.

“Give that rifle to Dolan,” he ordered. “Go on, do it!”

Kathleen screamed, “Shoot them, Martin, the both of them. Don’t mind me.”

“I’ll kill her, I swear it!” Fox cried.

“No need. Just cool it.” Keogh handed the AK, butt first, to Dolan, who stepped back covering him with it, a look of unholy pleasure on his face.

“Now then, you bastard.”

The door to the engine room companionway opened at the end of the passage and Grant stepped out, a revolver in his hand. “I’m here, boys,” he called.

Fox lowered his pistol and turned to look at him and everything happened at once. Kathleen half turned, her hand slipping inside her denim jacket. She found the Colt.25, pulled it out, rammed the muzzle in Fox’s stomach, and pulled the trigger twice. Keogh hitched his right trouser leg revealing the Walther in the ankle holster, dropped to his left knee, pulling the gun out in one fluid motion, his first bullet catching Dolan in the left shoulder. He dropped the AK, spinning round, and Keogh’s second smashed his spine. Grant got off one wild shot. Keogh fired back, creasing his shoulder, and the Scotsman disappeared fast.

Keogh picked up the AK and put a hand on the girl’s arm. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” She laughed shakily. “I did what you told me and you were right. Hold it against them and you can’t miss.”

“So let’s get out of here.”

He got the door of the companionway open and called across to the truck. “Michael, they tried to jump us.”

“Are you all right?” Ryan called, opening his door and sheltering behind it.

“Fine. Cover us. We’re coming through.” He pushed Kathleen out. “Keep behind my back, girl,” and he turned, looking up at the wheelhouse, and fired a quick burst into the air when he saw a movement up there at the window.

Kathleen reached her uncle in safety. “Get back into the rear cabin. You’ll be safe there.” She did as she was told and he called to Keogh, who was sheltering behind the passenger door. “What happened?”

Keogh told him. “So you were right after all.”

“I usually am. A bad habit.”

IN THE WHEELHOUSE it was several minutes before Grant reached the bridge by a circuitous route involving the engine room hatch. He was very pale, eyes wild, blood staining his left shoulder. He pulled off his jacket, found a piece of engine room rag, and tried to bandage his shoulder.

“That little bitch shot Fox. She had a gun, then Keogh killed Dolan and had a go at me. What do we do now?”

“I don’t damn well know, do I?” Tully answered.

He went to the stern window, killed the wheelhouse light, then opened the window keeping in the shadows and peered down. He saw the truck doors standing open like wings and realized Ryan and Keogh must be standing behind them. He took careful aim at Keogh’s side, aiming below the door in the hope that he might get lucky and catch feet or ankles. He emptied his revolver, firing six times. The response was terrible, as both Ryan and Keogh fired a long burst back, dissolving the wheelhouse windows into a snowstorm of flying glass.

Tully and Grant went down on the floor fast, but Muller wasn’t so lucky, several rounds catching him in the back. He fell, the wheel started to spin, and Tully crawled to it and, half crouching, pulled it round, then secured the wheel with the chain lock.

“That’ll hold for a while.”

“But how long for and what do we bloody do?” Grant asked.

“I don’t know, do I?”

IT WAS TEN minutes later that the radio crackled and Ryan said, “You there, Tully?”

“Yes, there’s still three of us,” Tully lied. “Muller, Grant, and me.”

“Are you going to be sensible?”

“Why should I be? You need me more than I need you, Ryan.” The Irish Rose rolled heavily as the wind howled in. “Unless you can handle a ship like this and I don’t think so, especially not in weather like this.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“I don’t know. Only one thing’s certain. You can’t touch us up here if we keep our heads down and we can’t get at you. I’d call that stalemate.”

“So, what do you suggest?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

“He’s right,” Keogh called across to him. “No way of storming the wheelhouse. They’d have every advantage.”

“And even if we did and by some miracle succeeded in knocking them off, where would be the advantage?” Ryan said. “Could we sail this thing on our own, you and me, Martin? I doubt it.”

“Keep pointing it at Ireland is about the best you could do as long as the engines kept going.”

“With no one to handle them?” Ryan shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

NOTHING HAPPENED FOR some fifteen minutes and then Tully’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Ryan, are you there?”

“What do you want?”

“We’re three miles off the Down coast.”

“Still aiming for Kilalla? You could still land us there, take the other fifty thousand, and go your way and no harm done.”

“I don’t believe you. You’d shoot me like a dog after that’s happened. It’s not on and Kilalla is miles away north of here, anyway.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“I can turn this tub round and put out to sea again any time I want.”

“And we sail on forever like the Flying Dutchman, you up there in the wheelhouse and us down here?” Ryan said. “And where would that get us?”

“Nowhere from your point of view.” Tully went off the air again.

“It’s no good,” Keogh said. “I’ll have to try and rush the ladder and you can give me covering fire.”

“Covering fire? Are you mad or what?” Ryan said. “You wouldn’t stand a chance and you know it.”

CROUCHED DOWN IN the wheelhouse, Tully said to Grant, “How’s the arm?”

“It hurts like hell, but it was only a crease. I’ll survive.”

“With you in the engine room and me up here we could still sail back to England, couldn’t we?”

“I suppose so. What are you suggesting?”

“I’m going to try him with an offer one last time.”

TULLY’S VOICE SOUNDED over the radio. “Ryan?”

“What do you want?”

“I could turn out to sea like I said, we could go round in circles till the diesel oil runs out, then we’d just drift until someone called the Coastguard and they came to investigate and then the fat would be in the fire for all of us.”

“True enough,” Ryan said. “So what do you suggest?”

“Why not cut your losses? There’s the big yellow inflatable behind you in the stern with a good outboard motor. We’re only two miles off the coast now as far as I know. You could make it easily now that the wind’s dropping.”

“And leave the gold to you?” Ryan demanded. “So what do we get out of this?”

“Your lives,” Tully said.

“And you trying to pick us off as we get in the inflatable.”

“I can’t even see it from the wheelhouse. The truck’s in front of it. Think about it. I’ll give you five minutes and then I’ll turn this thing around.”

He went off the air and Kathleen said angrily, “We can’t do it, Uncle Michael, not after all we’ve been through.”

“I know, girl, I know.” He turned to Keogh. “What do you think, Martin?”

“I don’t think we have much choice.”

“So it’s live to fight another day?” And then Ryan smiled that unholy smile of his. “Of course there is another possibility, which is to make sure Tully doesn’t get the gold, either.”

Kathleen gasped and Keogh said, “And how would you do that?”

So Ryan told them.

A MINUTE LATER he called Tully. “All right, you’re on. Give me a few moments while Keogh checks that you really can’t see that inflatable because of the truck and I’ll come back to you.”

In the wheelhouse, Tully laughed hoarsely and turned to Grant. “It’s worked. The bastard’s going to go. We’ve won.”

“If he means it.”

“Of course he does. No other way out. Nothing for him here now.”

Ryan’s voice sounded again. “Okay, Tully, everything checks. I’ll see you in hell one of these days.”

The transmission ended and Tully laughed exultantly. “I’ve beaten the bastard. Fifty million pounds and it’s all mine.”

“All ours you mean?” Grant said.

“Of course.” Tully smiled. “We need each other, so let’s get this tub turned around.”

SHELTERED BY THE truck, Keogh and Ryan slid the inflatable over the stern rail and tethered it by its line. Keogh went over first and got to work on the outboard motor. It roared into life instantly with a strong heartbeat.

“Over you go, girl,” Ryan told Kathleen.

Keogh helped her in and the inflatable tossed this way and that in the choppy sea, the stern of the Irish Rose rising up and falling again just above them.

“Come on, Michael, for God’s sake,” Keogh called.

“Not before I leave Tully his going-away present.” Ryan held it up. “A half pound block of Semtex and a one-minute timing pencil.” He pulled open the stern deck hatch, dropped the Semtex inside, and closed the hatch again. He was over the rail on the instant, untied the line, and Keogh gunned the motor.

They were perhaps fifty yards away when the stern of the Irish Rose exploded into the darkness in a vivid tongue of flame. The end was incredibly quick, the ship tilting, the prow rising dramatically, and it slid backwards under the surface, vanishing in seconds in a hiss of steam.

“And you can chew on that, you bastard!” Michael Ryan said and put an arm around his niece. “All right, Martin, take us to some sort of shore.”

IT WAS FOUR o’clock in the morning, the sky lightening just a little, when they coasted into a wide beach, the land rising on the other side cloaked with trees. Keogh killed the outboard motor, jumped over with the line, and waded out of the water. Ryan helped Kathleen over the side and followed her.

“What do we do with the inflatable?” Keogh asked.

Ryan was inspecting it in the light of a small torch. “No name on it as far as I can see. Shoot a couple of holes in it, Martin.”

Keogh waded in again and pushed the inflatable out to sea again. It drifted for a while, then an eddy took it out some distance. He took careful aim with his silenced Walther and fired twice. After a while the inflatable went down.

“And where do you think we’d be, Uncle Michael?” Kathleen asked.

“God knows, girl, but it hardly matters. We’re home.” He turned to Keogh. “What now, Martin?”

“I think it best we part company,” Keogh told him. “You go your way, Michael Ryan, and I’ll go mine.”

“Martin?” Kathleen sounded distressed. “Can’t we stay together?”

“I don’t think so, Kate. Your uncle will have his plans and the Army Council and Reid to consider. One trip back home to dear old Ireland has been exciting enough for me. I’ll say goodbye, Michael.” He shook Ryan’s hand.

The girl grasped his arm, reached up, and kissed his cheek. “God bless you, Martin, and thanks for all you’ve done.”

“I didn’t have the chance to pay you,” Ryan said. “I’m sorry.”

“Not to worry.” Keogh smiled. “It was a great ploy.”

He started to walk away and Ryan called, “Who are you, Martin, who are you really?”

“God save us, there are days in the week when I don’t know that myself,” and Keogh turned into the trees.

HE DISAPPEARED AND Ryan said, “Off we go, girl. We’ll find a road, follow it, and see where we are.”

He led the way up through the trees, a ghostly passage as dawn came so that it was comparatively easy to see the way. They came to a narrow country road in a few minutes. There was a turning opposite and a signpost.

“You stay here in shelter and I’ll see where we are.”

He walked through the rain to the signpost, examined it, and came back, standing beside her in the shelter of the trees to light a cigarette.

“Drumdonald three miles to the left. Scotstown five miles the other way. We might as well go for the shorter walk.”

They stayed there for a moment and she said, “All for nothing. We don’t even know where the Irish Rose went down.”

“Don’t we?” He laughed and took another black instrument from his pocket that looked rather like the Howler. “Another gadget that young electronic genius at Queen’s University found for me. It’s called a Master Navigator. I gave him Marsh End and Kilalla and he programmed in their positions. This thing has given a constant reading of course and position all the way across. I know exactly where the Irish Rose went down.”

“My God,” she said, “and you never told me.”

“There are things I keep close to myself.”

“So what do we do now? Reid will be looking for us and that swine Scully.”

“And the Army Council,” Ryan said. “No, time to take a trip, I think. They say America’s grand at this time of the year. We’ll get to the safe house at Bundoran. False passports there. You know how careful I am. They’re always in stock.”

“But money, Uncle Michael, what about that?”

“Oh, I wasn’t exactly honest with Martin. I still have the second fifty thousand pounds I was to pay Tully in an envelope in my breast pocket.”

“My God, what a man you are.”

“It should keep us going for a while. When it runs out I’ll think of something.”

“Such as?”

“I’ve robbed banks in Ulster and got away with it. No reason I can’t do the same in America.”

“Sometimes I think you’re a raving madman.”

“And sometimes I am, but let’s get going.” He took her arm and they started along the road to Drumdonald.

There was silence, only the rain, and then Keogh stepped out of the trees where he had sheltered while listening to the conversation.

“You bloody old fox,” he said softly and there was a kind of admiration there.

He turned and started to walk the opposite way toward Scotstown.

IT WAS SIX o’clock in the morning and in Dublin Jack Barry was half awake, lying in the big bed beside his wife, when the portable phone he’d placed at the side of the bed sounded. He slid out of bed, picked it up, and went into the bathroom.

“Yes.”

“A reverse charge call for you from a Mr. Keogh. Will you take it?”

“Of course,” Barry said.

A moment later Keogh’s voice sounded in his ear. “That you, Jack?”

“Where are you?”

“A public telephone box in a village called Scotstown on the Down coast.”

“What’s going on? I have twenty men from the County Down Brigade waiting at Kilalla.”

“Send them home, Jack, the Irish Rose won’t be coming.”

“Tell me,” Barry ordered.

Which Keogh did. When he was finished, Barry said, “Christ, what a ploy and to end like that.”

“I know. Quite a fella, Michael Ryan.”

“I was thinking,” Barry said. “Standing in the trees listening to him talk to his niece you could have shot the bugger and taken that Master Navigator thing. We’d have known the location of the damn boat then.”

“A major salvage operation to get that gold up, Jack.”

“That sounds like an excuse. Have you gone soft on me?”

“I liked him, Jack, and I liked the wee girl. The bullion didn’t reach its destination, the Loyalists won’t be able to arm for a civil war. Let it end there.”

Barry laughed harshly. “Damn you, right as usual. Scotstown, you say? There’s a pub there called the Loyalist, but don’t believe it. The landlord, Kevin Stringer, is one of our own. I’ll phone him now and tell him to expect you. I’ll send a car for you later.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Watch your back.”

Keogh came out of the phone box and stood there for a moment in the rain thinking of Michael Ryan and his niece, aware with some surprise that he wished the enemy well, then he lit a cigarette and went down the village street in search of the pub.