LITMIR.BIZ

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is sympathetic to our cause.’

      Keogh nodded slowly. ‘And the driver and the guards? What happens there?’

      ‘A stun grenade should take care of them.’ Ryan looked bleak for a moment. ‘Mind you, I’ll kill them if I have to. This is serious business.’

      Keogh nodded. ‘All right, what happens after the heist?’

      ‘We drive it to Marsh End where the Irish Rose will be waiting.’ He smiled. ‘We’ll be well out to sea and on our way and the police running round in circles.’

      There was a long silence while Keogh brooded. Finally he nodded. ‘You know, you’re right. It could work.’

      Ryan laughed delightedly. ‘Good man yourself, Martin. Let’s have a drink on it.’

      Bell got up, opened a cupboard and took out a bottle of Bushmills and three glasses and at that moment there was a crash in the yard outside as a trash can went over.

      When Ryan suggested the drink, Tully decided it was time to go. He opened the back door, closed it softly behind him and started across the yard. It was then that he blundered into the trash can, dislodging the metal lid which clanged as it fell to the stone flagging. He carried on, got the gate open and ran along the alley. As he reached the far end Keogh emerged into the alley but by then it was too late as Tully crossed the busy main road and was lost in the evening crowd.

      When Keogh returned, Bell had turned on the yard light and was standing at the back door with Ryan and the girl.

      ‘Was there someone?’ Ryan demanded.

      ‘Oh, yes,’ Keogh said. ‘And you’re not going to like it one little bit. I just caught a glimpse of him as he turned into the road. It looked remarkably like Tully to me.’

      ‘The bastard was checking up on us,’ Ryan said and led the way back into the parlour.

      ‘So what do we do now?’ Bell demanded. ‘This blows everything.’

      ‘No, I don’t agree,’ Keogh said. ‘He wants to see the affair go through because he wants the rest of his money.’

      ‘That makes sense.’ Ryan nodded.

      ‘I’d say he was simply sniffing around to find out more.’

      ‘Which means he’s a shifty swine,’ Kathleen put in.

      ‘Who now knows more than he did before, if he overheard our discussion.’ Keogh pulled on his reefer coat.

      ‘Where are you going?’ Ryan demanded.

      ‘Back to the Irish Rose.’ Keogh took out his Walther and checked it. ‘I’m going to do some sniffing around myself.’

      ‘I’ll come with you,’ Ryan told him.

      ‘No need, I can handle it.’ Keogh smiled. ‘After all, that’s what you’re paying me for.’

      As he turned for the door, Kathleen Ryan said, ‘Take care, Martin.’

      ‘Ah, but I always do, girl dear.’ He smiled and went out, there was the sound of the yard gate opening and closing and he was gone.

      It was raining again as Keogh paid off the taxi and turned along Cable Wharf. It was a place of shadows, a touch of fog in the air. He kept to those shadows by the old disused warehouses and paused when he was close to the gangway. There was no sign of life. He thought about it for a while then decided to take a chance and darted across to the stern of the ferry which at that point was lower than the wharf.

      He dropped down to the deck, paused for a moment, then moved through the darkness to where the central section and the wheelhouse reared into the night. There was a light up there. Keogh went up an iron ladder to the landing below the wheelhouse, then approached, crouching. He could hear voices, smell cigarette smoke. They were all in there, Tully and his crew. Keogh stood, protected by a life raft, and listened.

      He heard the man Dolan say, ‘Gold? Are you kidding us, Frank?’

      ‘No. I’m bloody not. The truck that we pick up at Marsh End will be loaded with the stuff. They’re going to knock it off on its way to the smelters in Barrow-in-Furness.’

      ‘But who are they?’ Dolan demanded.

      ‘Well, they’re Irish, that’s for certain. I’d have said IRA, but I don’t think so.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Two things. Our destination, Kilalla. That’s Ulster, not the Republic. Another thing. The William & Mary in Kilburn. That’s a Prod pub, not Catholic. I think they’re probably the other side.’

      ‘Loyalists?’ Dolan asked.

      ‘Same difference, as far as I’m concerned,’ Tully told him. ‘I couldn’t care less which side they’re on. All I’m interested in is that gold.’

      There was a stirring amongst the crew. Dolan said, ‘You mean we’re going to knock it off?’

      ‘Who knows?’ Tully laughed. ‘After all, lads, anything can happen at sea, but let’s get moving. Prepare to cast off. We’ve only got two days to get up there.’

      Keogh crouched behind the life raft as the crew emerged and descended to the deck. He stayed there thinking about it then stood up and moved to the wheelhouse door.

      Tully, leaning over the table, was aware of a small wind that lifted the chart for the Cumbrian coast a little. He looked up and found Keogh leaning against the door lighting a cigarette.

      ‘As they used to say in those old Agatha Christie plays, all is revealed. I was outside, old son, and I heard your little speech to that motley crew of yours.’ Tully tried to open a drawer and Keogh’s hand came out of his pocket holding the Walther. ‘Don’t be stupid.’

      Tully glowered at him. ‘What do you want?’

      ‘Well, I know you were at the William & Mary. By rights I should put a bullet between your eyes, but I’ll settle for the fifty thousand pounds Ryan gave you earlier.’

      ‘You can go to hell.’

      Keogh raised the Walther and fired. There was the usual dull cough and the lobe of Tully’s right ear disintegrated. He cried out sharply and clutched at the ear, blood spurting.

      ‘That was for starters,’ Keogh said. ‘Come on, the envelope.’

      Tully got the drawer open with his free hand, took out the envelope and tossed it over. Keogh put it in his pocket. Tully took a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his ear.

      ‘My God, look what you’ve done.’

      ‘So what’s the difference?’ Keogh said. ‘You couldn’t look worse than you do.’

      ‘Fuck you.’ Tully opened a cupboard one-handed, took out a bottle of Scotch and pulled the cork with his teeth. He took a long swallow. ‘Now what?’

      ‘Now nothing,’ Keogh told him. ‘I’ll see you at Marsh End on Friday.’

      Tully looked astonished. ‘You mean it’s still on?’

      ‘Too late to get anyone else now,’ Keogh told him. ‘This is what I call an “I know that you know that I know” situation, so behave yourself and you’ll get this envelope back plus the other fifty thousand pounds when we reach Kilalla.’

      ‘Sod you!’ Tully said.

      ‘Yes, I know that,’ Keogh told him, ‘but you will be at Marsh End on Friday.’

      ‘Yes, damn you, I will.’

      ‘Good man yourself. Now you can escort me to the gangway and we’ll say goodnight.’

      The engines rumbled into life at that moment. Tully led the way out, negotiating the ladder with difficulty, blood streaming from his ear. Only Dolan

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