A woman screamed as a crowd converged, a uniformed Woman Police Officer pushed her way through, but by the time she knelt down beside Hugh Bell he was very dead indeed.

FOUR

THE MORNING WAS bleak, heavy clouds draped across the mountains. After breakfast, Ryan sat at the table drinking tea and thinking about things, wondering about Bell and Reid and that bastard Scully. On the other hand, there shouldn’t be any danger from them as long as Bell kept out of their clutches. The original plan submitted to the Army Council had been simply the idea of the thing. That he knew of a truck somewhere in the northwest of England that carried bullion, that he thought it could be lifted and taken to Ulster by boat. So Reid was at a dead end without Bell.

He decided to take a chance, went out into the hall and phoned the William amp; Mary. The barman answered at once.

Ryan said, “Ryan here, Angus. I was wanting a word with Hugh. Is he there?”

“He’s dead, Mr. Ryan. Killed in Kilburn High Street last night.”

“What happened?” Ryan said.

“He was knocked down crossing the road. Hit-and-run accident. The police found the car that did it abandoned a few streets away.”

“Have they traced who was in it?”

“The police sergeant who called earlier said it had been stolen in Hampstead a year ago. He thinks it must have been standing in some garage.”

“All very unfortunate,” Ryan said.

“Indeed it is, Mr. Ryan. Will you be coming in?”

“No, I’ve got business to attend to.”

“Well, if you let me know where you are and give me a phone number I’ll keep you posted.”

It was enough. Ryan smiled softly. “I’m away now, but just one more thing, Angus. Put Mr. Reid on the phone.”

“Mr. Reid? I don’t understand,” Angus said.

“Stop arsing around and put him on.”

Reid, who had been standing beside Angus listening in, took the phone from him and shoved the barman across to Scully.

“Michael, old son. Don’t you think it’s time to be reasonable?”

“Was it you or Scully at the wheel? Not that it matters. When the time comes, you’re my meat.”

“You always did have a touch of the theatrical about you, Michael. So you intend to carry out that hare-brained scheme of yours?”

“Goodbye, Reid,” Michael Ryan said and put down the phone.

He opened the back door, lit a cigarette, and stared into the rain thinking of Hugh Bell, good friend and comrade in arms for so many years. At least Scully hadn’t had the chance to squeeze the truth out of him. There was some comfort in that.

The kitchen door opened and Kathleen looked out. “There you are. Is everything all right?”

“Fine.”

“I thought I’d take Martin something to eat down at the cottage. Benny says he’ll drive me.”

“That’s fine. I want to go over the planning again, so don’t mind me.”

“I’ll see you later, then.”

She went back into the kitchen and Ryan stayed there, looking at the rain, thinking about Reid and Scully. They would have to go back home now, nothing else for it. There would be a confrontation eventually, had to be, but he would handle that when the time came.

He thought of Reid, the skull-like face and wire spectacles, and his smile was terrible to see. “You little bastard,” he said softly. “You want it all yourself, don’t you? Well I’ll see you in hell before I allow that to happen.”

KEOGH HADN’T BOTHERED with the bedroom of the small cottage at Marsh End, simply built up the fire and lay on the couch. He slept surprisingly well, got up at seven, and put the kettle on.

He stood at the open door looking out at the rain and noticed the creek on his right hand. On impulse, he went back inside, stripped, found a towel in the small bathroom, and ran naked across the yard.

He draped the towel over a bush and plunged into the creek, swimming strongly to the other side, passing into the reeds for a while, disturbing wildfowl and birds of every description, who rose in clouds into the rain, calling angrily. The salt water was cold and invigorating.

“What a grand way to start the day,” he said softly as he emerged from the creek and reached for the towel.

He went back to the cottage, toweling himself vigorously, then he dressed and made a cup of tea. There was milk, bread, eggs, and bacon in the larder. He stood there, sipping tea, wondering whether to cook something, when there was the sound of an engine in the yard. He looked out and saw the Land Rover with Benny and Kathleen.

IN LONDON AT the William amp; Mary Reid and Scully were getting ready to leave. Their search of Bell’s small office had yielded no clues.

Scully said, “Nothing, Mr. Reid. What do we do?”

“We go back to Belfast,” Reid said. “Don’t worry. Ryan has got to come home and no place for him to hide. We’ll bide our time, but we’ll get the bastard in the end.” He raised his voice. “Angus, get in here.”

Angus stumbled through the door. “Yes, Mr. Reid.”

“Anything – anything at all you can tell me?”

“They took a train, that’s all I know. I did hear the Glasgow Express mentioned.”

“Glasgow?” Scully said. “Why would they go there?”

“Not Glasgow, you fool. That line goes up through the northwest. They’ll get off somewhere.” He turned back to Angus. “Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.” Angus brightened. “Oh, yes. The other week I overheard Mr. Bell on the phone. It must have been a shipping office because he said he needed to charter a flat bottom ferry. The kind that could transport vehicles. After a while I heard him say the Irish Rose, Captain Tully, and it’s here in London.” Angus nodded. “Yes, that’s what he said.”

“Did you hear him mention that name again?”

Angus nodded. “Just before they left I was in the stillroom checking bottles. I heard Ryan say to Mr. Bell the Irish Rose is well on her way by now, so we’ll see her Friday morning.”

“But he didn’t say where?”

“Definitely not.”

“All right,” Reid said. “You’ve got my number. You phone me in Belfast if you hear anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Another thing. Keep your mouth shut. Give me any trouble and I’ll send Scully to give you a seeing to. They’ll find you in the Thames with your balls cut off.”

Reid went through the door and Angus, plainly terrified, stood back. Scully patted his face. “You mind what Mr. Reid says, there’s a good boy,” and he went out.

KEOGH ATE THE ham sandwich she had brought sitting at the end of the table, and she sat opposite, a mug of tea in her hands. Benny had gone back to the farm. Keogh finished it and lit a cigarette.

“How are you? How do you feel?”

“About the job you mean?” She shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I’ve done things for Uncle Michael before, dangerous things. I can look after myself.”

“At your age you shouldn’t have to.” He stood up. “Come on. We’ll get a breath of air.”

The mist drifted in creating a strange and somber world. Reeds lifted on either side of the creek, water gurgled in the mud flats, and as they walked along the broad track birds lifted in protest on either hand.

“A strange place, this,” Keogh observed.

“Yes, I’m not sure that I like it.” She frowned. “It makes me feel uneasy.”

“I know what you mean.”

They reached the jetty and paused. The tide was out and iron girders were exposed, corroded by rust.

“I wonder what it was built for?” she said.

“God knows. Been here for years. Victorian from the look of it, but it still looks substantial enough.”

They walked along it, waves lapping around the girders below with a hollow booming sound. There was no rail at the end, only at the sides. Keogh peered over and noticed a jumble of granite blocks in the shallows.