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.”