‘I never looked that closely,’ said Alice, turning her postcard over and scrutinising it.
‘Neither did I until few minutes ago. Is yours postmarked Dublin too?’
Alice nodded. ‘Yes. What do you think it means?’
‘Maybe he’s not in Tipperary. Or maybe he was, but now he’s in Dublin.’
‘But according to what he’s written, he’s working in Tipp.’
Stella nodded. ‘That’s the worrying part. If Johnny’s misleading us, I can only think of one reason why.’
‘You think…he’s back working for the rebels?’
‘I really hope not. I couldn’t bear if anything happened to him’
‘Me neither,’ said Alice. Johnny had nearly been killed the previous week when the town was burned, and she dreaded to think of him surviving that, only to put himself at risk once more.
‘If he’s spying again,’ said Stella, ‘this is the kind of card he might send.’
‘You think so?’
‘Yes. To stop us worrying, and to make sure we’re not linked to him if things go wrong and he’s caught.’
‘Could that be reading too much into it?’ asked Alice. ‘Maybe we’re adding two and two and getting five.’
‘So how do you explain the Dublin postmark?’
‘Maybe he gave it to someone to post for him. Maybe they were coming to Dublin and posted it when they got here.’
‘Possibly,’ admitted Stella. ‘And I’d love if that’s it. But I’m worried that it’s not.’
Alice looked at her friend. ‘I hope you’re wrong. But I’ve a bad feeling you’re right.
* * *
Johnny kept his eyes closed as he sat on his bed, softly playing the clarinet. Mastering the instrument had been the one good thing to come out of his time in St Mary’s orphanage, and he had taken the clarinet with him when he left St Mary’s the previous year. Despite the many adventures that he had while spying for the rebels in Balbriggan, he had always found time for music. Even when other developments were exciting – and meeting his hero Michael Collins today was a thrilling prospect – he could usually calm his mind by losing himself in the music.
Right now he was playing ‘Gortnamona’, one of Percy French’s most-loved songs. The popular composer had died earlier in the year, resulting in a renewed interest in his work. Many of French’s songs were lively and upbeat, but Johnny loved the haunting melody of ‘Gortnamona’ and he played it with tenderness. Suddenly his playing was interrupted by a knock on his bedroom door.
Johnny opened his eyes and put down the clarinet. His single bedroom on the first floor of Hanlon’s Boarding House was small and plain, the only decoration being a crucifix over the bed and a drawing of an Irish Wolfhound on the wall. But it was spotlessly clean, the bed was comfortable, and he had settled in well since his arrival two days previously. This afternoon he had been told to be on standby, and now he had to make a conscious effort to control his excitement as he crossed the room and opened the bedroom door. Mrs Hanlon was on the landing, smartly dressed in an expensive looking coat.
‘It’s time, Johnny,’ she said.
‘Great.’
‘Try not to look too excited. To anyone seeing us, we’re just going about our normal business.’
‘OK. Where are we headed?’
‘Vaughan’s Hotel. It’s not too far.’
‘Grand.’
Johnny closed the bedroom door and followed Mrs Hanlon down the stairs. They stepped out into Gardiner Place, and despite the hazy sunshine there was a nip of autumn in the air.
They began walking towards Denmark Street, and Mrs Hanlon spoke to Johnny in a low voice. ‘What I said to you before, about security?’
‘Yes.’
‘You really need to take it seriously. Only today Countess Markievicz was arrested.’
Johnny knew that Countess Markievicz was a leading rebel who had fought in the Easter Rising. He looked at Mrs Hanlon anxiously. ‘What was she arrested for?’
‘We don’t know the charge yet.
‘Will that affect what we’re doing?’
‘No. Countess Markievicz will tell the police nothing. Besides, she doesn’t know about what we’re planning.’
‘Right.’
‘But the authorities are clamping down. You can’t be too careful, Johnny. You mustn’t breathe a word of anything you’re involved in. Not to a soul.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’
They crossed to the far side of the road, heading towards the city centre, then after a moment Mrs Hanlon indicated to turn left into a narrow side street.
‘Are we not going to Vaughan’s Hotel?’ asked Johnny, aware that the hotel’s entrance was on Rutland Square.
Mrs Hanlon gave him a tight smile. ‘There’s more than one way into a hotel.’
They continued down a pungent laneway, then Mrs Hanlon suddenly stopped. Taking a key from her pocket, she opened a wicket gate in a large wooden door with VH written on it. ‘Fewer prying eyes, this way,’ she said, and she indicated for Johnny to follow her into a yard in which were stored wooden barrels and casks. She closed the wicket gate, crossed the yard, and entered a rear door to the hotel.
Johnny was tempted to ask how she got the key. But he remembered Mrs Hanlon’s comments about security, and he said nothing. They came to a back stairs, and Mrs Hanlon immediately began ascending. So far they had encountered no hotel staff, but on the second landing a stocky, well-dressed man approached them. Johnny recalled the instruction to behave normally, and he tried to act like he and Mrs Hanlon were hotel guests heading back to their rooms.
The man looked him in the eye, and Johnny nodded pleasantly and said, ‘Good afternoon.’
The man held his gaze, then smiled. ‘He’s a cool one,’ he said to Mrs Hanlon. ‘The Boss is expecting you.’
Suddenly the penny dropped, and Johnny realised the man was a bodyguard for Collins.
Before he could react, Mrs Hanlon crossed to a bedroom door, knocked twice and entered. Johnny followed her, excited that he was about to meet Collins.
The room they entered wasn’t particularly large, but it had a table and chairs in a corner near the window. As Johnny closed the door a tall, well-built man with a neat moustache and sparkling eyes rose from his chair and came forward. He was wearing a collar and tie and a smartly cut suit, and he smiled and extended his hand.
‘You must be Johnny,’ he said, shaking hands firmly.
‘Eh… yes,’ answered Johnny, awestruck at meeting his hero, and not sure what else to say.
‘Have a seat, please,’ said Collins.
Johnny and Mrs Hanlon took two of the chairs, and Collins sat opposite them in the other one.
‘I’ve heard good things about you, Johnny. You did well in Balbriggan.’
‘Thanks.’
‘We’ve another job in mind for you. But before we go into it, there’s something I have to explain.’
‘OK.’
‘I know you took risks when you were gathering intelligence for Oliver O’Shea. But what we have in mind now…it could be more dangerous.’
‘I’m not afraid of taking risks,’ answered Johnny, his confidence boosted by the way Collins was taking him seriously. ‘I’m a soldier fighting for Ireland – and all soldiers have to take risks.’
‘Indeed. Though I’d prefer if young lads like yourself didn’t do any soldiering.’ Collins raised his hands in a gesture of apology. ‘But we don’t have the luxury of fighting the way we’d like to. The enemy has more men, more arms, more money, more equipment – so we use whatever we can.’
‘I understand. Mr O’Shea explained it to me in Balbriggan.’
‘Good.’
‘But now we face a new threat, Johnny,’ said Mrs Hanlon. ‘Maybe the most dangerous we’ve ever faced.’
‘Yes?’
‘The one area where we’ve a clear advantage over the enemy is intelligence,’ said Collins. ‘We’ve sympathisers everywhere. Maids, barmen, taxi drivers, o
ffice clerks, you name it. They pass vital information up the chain to our intelligence officers. We couldn’t take on the British without that information.’
‘And now that’s all at risk,’ said Mrs Hanlon.
‘How’s that?’
Collins sat forward in the chair and spoke in a low, urgent tone. ‘The British have sent a group of agents to Dublin. Their role is to wipe out our intelligence officers. If they succeed the war is lost. We’ve got to get to them before they get to us.’
Johnny was taken aback, but he tried to marshal his thoughts. ‘So…where do I come in?’
‘We know who these men are, ‘said Collins, ‘but it’s vital we track their movements.’
‘You know who they are?’ said Johnny, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.
‘We’ve sympathisers in the police,’ answered Collins matter-of-factly, ‘and in the civil service, even inside Dublin Castle. So yes, we know who they are. But like I say, we need to track them. Where they go, who they meet, when they meet, what their routines are. We want you to help gather this information.’
‘We’ve lined up a job for you as a messenger in the post office.’
‘A telegraph boy can go anywhere without looking suspicious,’ explained Collins. ‘You can tail someone, then suddenly stop as though checking an address. It’s the perfect cover.’
‘We need to build up a detailed file on each of these agents,’ said Mrs Hanlon. ‘And the sooner the better.’
‘Fine. When can I start?’
Collins smiled. ‘I like your attitude, Johnny.’
Mrs Hanlon nodded her approval too. ‘I’ll talk to our contact tomorrow. You can probably start the next day.’
‘Great.’
‘There’s one other job where we could use you,’ said Collins. ‘You said you’d like to help regarding Oliver O’Shea.’
‘Absolutely! Are you going to try and spring him?’
‘I can’t go into details. Don’t take offence, Johnny,’ said Collins, but it’s good security not to know more than you have to.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to––’
Collins raised a hand to cut him off. ‘It’s all right. But if, for argument’s sake, a rescue bid was happening – that would be riskier than tailing agents. In fairness, you need to know that.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Johnny. ‘Mr O’Shea could have squealed on me when the Tans took him, but he didn’t. So, please, count me in.’
‘All right, we’ll get back to you. That’s everything settled, so.’
Collins stood, and Johnny realised that the meeting was over when Mrs Hanlon rose also. He quickly got to his feet as Collins approached smilingly.
‘Good to have you on board, Johnny, we’re in your debt,’ he said shaking hands. ‘I hope we can repay it someday.’
‘I don’t need paying, Mr Collins, I’m proud to play my part.’
‘I know that, son.’
Johnny was about to go when a thought struck him. Michael Collins seemed to have contacts everywhere. Could he use that influence with the brothers at the orphanage? Johnny ached to know why he had been put into St Mary’s, yet if he asked Collins to find out about his parents it might make him sound childish. But he would never get a chance like this again. Before he knew what he was doing he blurted it out. ‘There is something,’ he said, barely believing his own nerve.
Collins raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘I really want to know who my ma and da were. Could you… could you find that out?’
Collins didn’t reply at once, and Johnny feared that he had blundered in seeking a favour.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but…I just want to know what happened them.’
‘I can’t make a promise on something like that,’ said Collins.
Johnny tried to hide his disappointment. ‘Well…sorry for asking.’
‘But I’ll have it looked into. Leave it with me.’
‘Thank you so much!’ said Johnny.
Collins gave a friendly nod of farewell, then Johnny found himself out on the landing with Mrs Hanlon.
‘Where did that come from about your parents?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. It’s something that’s nagged at me for ages.’
‘Well, if we can help, we will. But your priority now is your new job. Agreed?’
‘Absolutely,’ answered Johnny, then he nodded to the bodyguard on the landing and happily followed Mrs Hanlon down the back stairs of Vaughan’s Hotel.
Chapter Five
Alice felt like kicking herself. She was playing chess with Stella in front of a log fire in the sitting room of her family quarters in the Mill, and she had just made a bad move. Sure enough, Stella spotted her mistake and quickly took her castle. Alice told herself to concentrate, though she knew that she was never going to be able to give her full attention to the game.
In reality, the chess match was a cover, to provide Alice and Stella with a chance to use the Goodman’s private telephone line as soon as Alice’s mother left. As the owner of the Mill Hotel, Mrs Goodman had status in Balbriggan, and tonight she was to attend a meeting for business people who wanted to regenerate the town after the disastrous fires of the previous week.
Alice tried to focus on the game. She told herself that Stella must be just as distracted as herself. Maybe even more so, as Stella was the one whose suspicions had been aroused by the Dublin postmarks on Johnny’s cards from Tipperary. And despite being the daughter of a serving RAF officer she was particularly close to Johnny, having saved his life the night that the Tans had gone on the rampage. Alice suddenly wished that he was still here. Stella was a great friend, and they had good fun together, but she really missed Johnny – they both did. Alice looked down at the chess board, recalling how skilful a tactician Johnny was. Maybe that tactical skill would help him to evade capture, if he was working again with the rebels. Alice’s musings were suddenly cut short when her mother came into the sitting room.
‘I’m heading off now, girls,’ she said, buttoning up her overcoat.
‘See you later, Mrs Goodman,’ said Stella.
‘Have you finished all your homework, Alice?’
‘Yes, Mam. And I’ll brush my teeth and wash behind my ears!’
Her mother smiled and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I shouldn’t be too late.’
‘OK, bye.’
Mrs Goodman left, closing the door behind her.
‘I can’t think of chess for another second!’ said Stella, rising and turning away from the board.
‘I’m glad it’s not just me,’ said Alice with a grin as she too stood up. ‘But let’s give it a minute, in case Mam forgot anything or pops back for some reason.’
‘All right.’
‘What was the exact wording again on your card from Johnny?’ asked Alice. ‘The part about work?’
Stella took the postcard from her pocket and read. ‘Very busy settling in to the new job, will write when things quieten down.’
‘OK, there’s no two ways about it. He should be busy working in the pub in Tipp.’
‘And maybe he is,’ said Stella. ‘I sure hope so.’
‘Let’s find out.’
The two girls turned away from the chess set and crossed to the polished sideboard where the telephone stood. Alice’s plan was based on the fact that although Johnny had been vague about his location, she had a clue to his whereabouts. Before leaving Balbriggan, Johnny had claimed that he was being met at the train in Thurles and didn’t know the precise address of his future employer. But on secretly slipping a parting gift into Johnny’s jacket pocket, Alice had seen the name Ryan’s Bar written in Johnny’s hand on a sheet of paper. If the telephone operator had a listing for a Ryan’s Bar anywhere near Thurles, it might be possible to make contact with their friend.
‘I’m kind of nervous,’ said Alice, ‘now it’s come to it.’
‘Just ring as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.
’
‘All right.’
‘Do you want me to do it?’ asked Stella.
Alice was tempted to relieve herself of a tricky undertaking. But Stella had a clipped Canadian accent, and Alice reckoned that someone with an Irish voice might stand a better chance of getting information. ‘No, it’s OK.’
Alice lifted the handset, then dialled for an operator. She turned to Stella, and with her free hand crossed her fingers. Stella nodded encouragingly and gave her a thumbs-up.
Suddenly a woman came on the line, ‘Hello, caller, what number do you require?’
‘I’m looking for Ryan’s Bar in Thurles, County Tipperary, please,’ said Alice, in the most confident tone she could muster.
‘One moment, please.’
Alice found herself holding her breath and she forced herself to breathe deeply. Her heart quickened as she rehearsed in her head what she was going to say. After a few moments there was a click on the line.
‘Putting you through, caller,’ said the operator.
‘Thank you.’
There was a ringing tone, and Alice swallowed hard, more nervous than she had expected to be. The call wasn’t answered, however, and Alice found her nervousness being replaced by frustration. Come on, she thought, pick up the phone!
‘No luck?’ said Stella, when it continued to ring out.
‘No.’
Alice was about to replace the handset when a male voice came on the cackly line.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello,’ said Alice excitedly, ‘is that Ryan’s Bar?’
‘Yes, this is Ryan’s.’
‘Ryan’s Bar in Thurles?’
‘No, Ryan’s Bar in Kathmandu!’
‘What?’
‘Yes, Ryan’s Bar in Thurles.’
Alice realised that she had sounded foolish, and she gathered herself briefly before continuing.’ I’m looking for Johnny Dunne, please.’
There was a slight pause, then the man answered. ‘Sorry, no Johnny Dunne here.’
‘Are you sure? Johnny Dunne, recently arrived from Balbriggan.’
‘Say you’re a friend,’ suggested Stella in a whisper.
‘I’m Alice Goodman, a friend of his, and I just wanted a quick word,’ added Alice, trying to make her tone sound reasonable.
Spies Page 3