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.”