LITMIR.BIZ

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again. ‘All right, this way.’

      The boat was very flat, the central section including the wheelhouse rising up from the deck three quarters of the way along. She was about five hundred feet in length.

      ‘What do you think?’ Ryan whispered to Keogh as they followed.

      ‘That they weren’t designed for heavy weather,’ Keogh told him.

      They went up a ladder to the wheelhouse, stopped on the landing below. Their escort opened a door and stood to one side.

      ‘Here we are then.’

      ‘Thank you, Mr Dolan.’

      The man who sat behind the chart table wore a seagoing officer’s coat, had hair down to his shoulders and a face that was so ravaged by drink and bad living that it was impossible to determine his age.

      ‘Mr Ryan, here we are again.’ He stood up and extended his hand. ‘And who might this gorgeous young lady be?’

      ‘My niece, Captain Tully. You might well remember that. This is my associate, Martin Keogh.’

      ‘Mr Keogh.’ Tully shook his hand enthusiastically. ‘A real pleasure.’

      ‘I’m sure it is,’ Keogh told him.

      ‘To business then,’ Tully said.

      Ryan opened the briefcase he was holding and took out a folded chart. ‘There is your destination. Marsh End, south of Ravenglass on the Cumbrian coast. You have two days. Can you manage that?’

      Tully unfolded the chart and examined it. ‘No problem. What then?’

      ‘I’ll arrive by truck which we’ll take across to Kilalla on the coast of County Down.’ He took out another chart. ‘There’s a disused quarry pier there. We put the truck on shore and you sail away.’

      ‘We do indeed, Mr Ryan. There is, of course, the small matter of recompense.’

      Ryan took a large envelope from the briefcase and passed it across. ‘Fifty thousand pounds there. Another fifty on the termination of the contract at Kilalla. Satisfactory?’

      ‘Oh, very, Mr Ryan, I can assure you of that.’

      ‘Excellent, then we’ll see you on Friday morning at Marsh End.’

      ‘No problem,’ Tully said. ‘We won’t let you down.’

      ‘Good. We’ll be off then.’

      As they walked along the waterfront Kathleen Ryan said, ‘I didn’t like anything about that bowser.’

      ‘You aren’t expected to.’ Ryan turned to Keogh. ‘What about you?’

      ‘He’ll cut your throat if he thinks there’s a pound in it.’

      ‘Which is why I have you along, so let’s get back,’ and Ryan walked to the corner and waved to a taxi.

      The man who had greeted them at the gangway was Dolan. When he went back into the chartroom he found Tully examining the charts Ryan had given him.

      ‘What do you think?’

      ‘It’s big,’ Tully said. ‘Fifty thousand now and another fifty when we hit the Ulster coast. Whatever is in that truck must be worth more.’

      ‘So?’

      ‘The number he gave me to contact him. It’s a pub in Kilburn called the William & Mary, I think I’ll go up there and have a nose around.’ He folded the charts. ‘You look after things here.’ He moved to the door and turned. ‘This could be a big pay day, Mick.’

      ‘Well I’m with you on that,’ Dolan said. ‘Whatever it takes.’

      ‘Good man,’ Tully said and went out.

      The saloon bar of the William & Mary was packed, men standing shoulder-to-shoulder at the bar as they drank. It was a cheerful enough scene and very noisy as Tully peered in through one of the windows.

      He decided to take his chances round the back and followed a narrow alley that brought him to a high wall, a gate opening into a yard. There was a chink of light showing at a window, curtains partly drawn. He approached cautiously and peered inside.

      Ryan, Bell and Kathleen sat at a table, a map unfolded before them. Keogh stood by the fire. Ryan laughed as Bell said something to him, but Tully couldn’t hear what it was. It was then that he noticed the back door in the shadows. He tried the handle gingerly and the door opened to his touch.

      He found himself in a narrow corridor. There was no light on and he groped his way forward, aware of coats hanging from a peg rack. At that moment a door opened, light flooding out, and Bell appeared. Tully froze, trying to bury himself in the hanging coats and Bell called, ‘I’ll only be a minute.’

      He went down the corridor, opened a door and went inside. A few moments later there was the sound of a toilet flushing. He returned, went into the back room and closed the door. Tully went forward and put his ear to the door and was instantly aware of everything being said inside.

      ‘Right, then, cards on the table,’ Ryan said. ‘It’s time you knew what the rest of us do, Martin.’

      ‘I’m all in favour of that,’ Keogh told him.

      ‘I put this job together a year or so ago. Hugh here helped with the planning of the English end of things. Unfortunately the Army Council turned it down flat, thought the whole thing too risky.’

      ‘Bunch of old women,’ Bell said.

      ‘So what’s it all about?’ Keogh demanded. ‘What’s on the meat transporter?’

      It was Kathleen who answered. ‘Gold, Martin. Gold bullion. Fifty million pounds.’

      ‘God save us,’ Keogh managed to look astonished. ‘And why would it be transported in such a way?’

      ‘Let me explain,’ Ryan said. ‘Bullion used to be landed at London Docks on the Thames, but over the past twenty-five years the waterfront has been in decline. Shippers prefer Amsterdam. However bullion deliveries were rerouted to Glasgow.’

      ‘How long has this been going on?’

      ‘Five years. Ever since they built a new smelter at Barrow-in-Furness. See it there on the map right at the bottom of the Lake District? Mainly shipbuilding there. The latest atomic submarine came out of their yards.’

      ‘So what’s the smelter got to do with things?’

      ‘They melt the gold down and re-process it into smaller ingots. The banks prefer it that way. Gold is heavy stuff.’

      ‘I see,’ Keogh said.

      Ryan continued. ‘The transporter travels from Glasgow to Carlisle then cuts across to Maryport on the coast and follows the coast road down to Barrow.’

      ‘And we hit it somewhere on that road?’

      ‘Exactly. This coming Friday.’

      ‘But how do we stop it and, what’s more to the point, how do we get in?’

      It was Bell who answered. ‘It’s no ordinary truck. There’s a driver and two armed security guards in the cabin behind him. The truck looks standard, but it’s reinforced in every possible way and there’s a battery of electronic security devices and a first-class radio system.’

      ‘And how do you handle that?’ Keogh asked.

      Bell opened a drawer in the table and took out a black hand-held computer with several rows of buttons and a read-out screen.

      ‘I know this looks as if you use it to turn your television on and off, but it’s a bit of pure genius called a Howler. You see, privileged information again, we know the code for the security system of the truck. The Howler has already selected it. You press the red button three times and the entire security

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