England's Janissary

  ‘Better than none, in theory, but I am beginning to wonder! Now stop being such an old woman and be quiet! I don’t want everyone knowing our business. We need to be extremely discreet,’ Kelleher snapped and Flynn sensed that the pressure was getting to the inspector more than he was letting on. He still didn’t know who was pulling the inspector’s strings but it was obviously someone important, someone with clout, someone who didn’t like being disappointed.

  Flynn climbed into the driving seat of their car. Kelleher got into the front passenger seat next to him and pulled out a service revolver, checked it was loaded, then shoved it into his coat pocket. Flynn checked his own revolver and popped it back into his shoulder holster when he noticed Kelleher sliding a small automatic pistol into a holster strapped to his shin. ‘Insurance,’ the inspector said with a grin. ‘Look, Sergeant, I’m not stupid. I know that these people would kill you or me without any hesitation but there are bigger things at stake than you and me …’ Not in my book, Flynn thought. ‘And if we have to take a few risks, well so be it.’

  Flynn started the car and slipped it into gear. The gate sentry lifted the barrier and waved their car through, the Auxiliaries had got used to Kelleher’s comings and goings and knew better than to ask questions, mostly because they knew that they wouldn’t get a straight answer. ‘So, sir, what makes you think that this isn’t a set-up then?’ Flynn asked. He couldn’t see the inspector’s face in the dark but he could tell that he was smiling again.

  ‘Curiosity, Sergeant, simple curiosity, that’s why. Don’t you think that they haven’t been sitting around trying to work out what I’m up to, who I work for, why I want to talk to Collins? Of course they have and I’m willing to stake my life that they will go through with this meeting,’ Kelleher said confidently. ‘And besides, I think young Miss Kiernan has taken a shine to me. She’ll not let them shoot me!’ he joked.

  ‘For all our sakes I hope that you’re right, sir, I really hope so,’ Flynn muttered quietly.

  ‘Who knows,’ Kelleher said suddenly, ‘we may be able to stir up some trouble amongst the Shinners. The sooner our country is shot of people who think that they can build a better country by killing people, the better. You know, I came home thinking that life would be better after the war. I thought that people had had enough of killing. How wrong I was.’

  Flynn had never heard his boss speak like that before. Suddenly he thought he caught a glimpse of car headlights in the rear-view mirror. ‘Hang on a minute, sir, but I think we are being followed,’ he said. ‘Shall I try and give them the slip?’ Flynn asked but Kelleher shook his head, his eyes shining in the moonlight.

  ‘Ah, the game’s afoot,’ Kelleher said, quoting straight from a Sherlock Holmes novel. ‘No, let them keep on us. If they are part of this, they’ll know where we are going anyway.’

  ‘They’re still behind us, sir,’ Flynn told Kelleher as their car passed through the outskirts of Granard, heading for Main Street and the Greville Arms Hotel. It was quarter to nine and the streets were almost deserted. Flynn shrank into the depth of his overcoat. It started to rain.

  McNamara sat in the passenger seat nursing a Mauser automatic pistol. ‘Keep up with them,’ he hissed at Hegarty, who was doing his best to follow the tail lights of Kelleher’s car through the winding lanes to Granard, and snapped the wooden holster onto the weapon before pushing a clip of bullets into its magazine. Hegarty watched him from the corner of his eye. He didn’t like McNamara much, the man seemed a little unhinged to him, but MacEoin had been adamant.

  ‘Stick with him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,’ MacEoin had ordered.

  ‘Jesus, boss, don’t I get the lunatic to babysit!’ he’d declared and MacEoin had flashed him a winning smile.

  ‘He’s a good fella,’ Fitzgerald added, ‘just a little excitable, that’s all.’

  ‘Grand!’ Hegarty muttered. ‘Just grand!’

  CHAPTER 23

  Sunday, 31 October 1920, Greville Arms Hotel, Granard, County Longford

  MAGUIRE LOOKED AT his watch; it was almost nine in the evening. Everything was quiet and the room was dark. Doyle eased his fingers into the gap between the curtains and glanced nervously at the Greville Arms Hotel opposite. He hated waiting; he hated it almost as much as what almost inevitably followed the wait.

  ‘May we come in, sir?’ Maguire had politely asked the bewildered balding householder fifteen minutes before who, well into his sixties, was obviously terrified of the gunmen. ‘Don’t go worrying yourself, you’ll come to no harm,’ Maguire had reassured as he pushed past without waiting for a response, followed by Doyle. A scared-looking old woman peered down the hall from the kitchen. ‘Good evening to you, ma’am,’ Maguire said, ‘sure I could murder a cup of tea. Would you be a love and put the kettle on?’ He smiled again and the old woman nodded. Maguire looked back at the old man. ‘My friend and I will be making use of your front room for a wee while,’ he said. ‘This is army business. Now, I know you won’t do anything foolish, so why don’t you get yourself into the kitchen and stay quiet.’

  The man’s eyes widened with fear and he scurried away to the kitchen and, once inside, Doyle switched off the gas lamp and the room went dark. He looked over at Maguire; cool as a cucumber settling into a comfy chair, the black shadow of a gun just visible in his lap. He still couldn’t get over how calm Maguire always seemed to be just before they went into action. ‘Ah, will you stop your fidgeting and sit down,’ Maguire said gently.

  In the back room of the Greville Arms, MacEoin and Fitzgerald sat quietly, waiting. MacEoin had just checked his weapon for the third time and Fitzgerald slid a loaded magazine into his Colt 1911 .45 pistol. ‘Are you ready?’ MacEoin asked Fitzgerald as he tucked the loaded gun into the waistband of his trousers. ‘Jeez, but you’ll be careful doing that unless you go shooting your arse off!’ MacEoin quipped.

  Fitzgerald laughed. ‘Don’t go worrying about me!’

  Lawrence Kiernan poked his head in through the door. ‘There’s still no sign of them,’ he said nervously as the rain rattled noisily off the window pane like a crazed, ragged tattoo of drums.

  ‘Will you stop fussing. My boys have got every angle covered. It will run like clockwork.’ MacEoin flashed him a beamy smile but Kiernan wasn’t reassured as he retreated into the lounge bar where Kitty sat in the corner sipping a glass of ginger ale, looking worried, really worried. It had all seemed so straightforward when MacEoin had told her to cultivate her contact with Kelleher but now that MacEoin and the inspector were due to meet, she felt sick and petrified. Kiernan walked over to his sister.

  ‘You look worried, Kitty,’ Kiernan said.

  ‘Says you!’ she exclaimed. ‘You look like you’ve drunk a bottle of castor oil yourself!’ She smiled weakly and Kiernan sat down next to her and looked at his watch.

  ‘Did you say yer man Kelleher would be here at nine?’ he asked.

  ‘I did,’ she replied, looking out the window.

  ‘Sean has everything under control, he said not to be worrying,’ her brother replied, more to himself than Kitty. She tensed as the lume of a car’s headlamps groped their way through the squall outside.

  ‘They’re here,’ she said to her brother, who nodded and walked to the door behind the bar, poking his head through. Kitty couldn’t hear what her brother said but she guessed he was warning MacEoin that Kelleher had arrived.

  ‘It’s still not too late,’ Flynn said hopefully to Kelleher as he watched the windscreen wipers fighting a losing battle against the torrent of rain. His heart was pounding.

  ‘Ours is not to reason why!’ Kelleher said with a nervous grin, his eyes hidden.

  ‘You know, sir, I’ve never really liked the next line!’ Flynn replied and his boss shot him a disapproving look as he made to get out of the car.

  ‘No, you stay here,’ Kelleher said. ‘I’ll go in, make contact and if I need help, I’ll call. If you hear anything unusual, come in!’

  An
ything unusual! Flynn thought. The whole bloody set-up is unusual. But he’d learnt to keep his opinions to himself. ‘Are you sure? I don’t think this is a good idea, you going in there on your own,’ Flynn pleaded.

  ‘Sergeant, you have your orders. Stay here. I’ll call if I need help,’ Kelleher said sternly as he climbed out of the car into the sheeting rain. His eyes glinted in the pale streetlight with a mixture of fear and excitement. Flynn had seen that look dozens of times in the eyes of men about to go on a raid. Some men fell in love with the buzz it gave them and he wondered if Kelleher was such a man.

  Kelleher pushed open the front door of the Greville Arms and walked boldly into the middle of the lounge bar where several men sat drinking, ignoring him. He took off his hat, shook the water from it and undid his dripping wet trenchcoat, then he walked across the room to where Kitty was sitting. Behind the bar, Kiernan mechanically towelled a glass and watched the policeman cross the room, like an extra from a bad western. One of the drinkers nodded at Kiernan, got up and crept over to the front door, where he quietly slid the bolt shut before sitting back down.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Kiernan,’ Kelleher said, the very personification of charm. He smiled and she looked nervous and played with her glass. ‘Is everything ready?’ he asked. Kitty nodded.

  ‘Lawrence,’ she said, calling over to her brother, ‘could you fetch the gentleman a drink?’

  Kiernan nodded. ‘Sure, and what will you be having?’

  ‘Another of whatever Miss Kiernan is having and a dry sherry,’ Kelleher said and there was a slight stir in the room. Not many of Kiernan’s regulars asked for sherry. The Greville wasn’t a sherry kind of bar.

  ‘Very good,’ Kiernan said as he popped open another bottle of ginger ale and poured out a schooner of sherry then placed them on the table before withdrawing back to the bar. Kelleher looked at Kitty and didn’t notice Kiernan slip through the door to the back room.

  As Maguire watched Kelleher from the shadows he slowly screwed a silencer onto the muzzle of his pistol. ‘Best get ready, Pat,’ he said to Doyle, matter-of-factly. ‘It’s show time.’ Doyle nodded and massaged the grip of his pistol in nervous anticipation, his stomach churning and his skin tingling with excitement.

  Out of sight, around the corner from the pub, Hegarty pulled up and applied the car’s handbrake. ‘Well, this is it. We wait here until we get a signal to move.’ McNamara looked at Hegarty with a mixture of frustration, anger and disappointment. There was an unnerving glint in his eye.

  ‘I want to be in at the kill!’ McNamara declared with an unsettling leer. ‘One of those bastards was there when they killed my brother and I want the shite to pay!’

  ‘All in good time,’ Hegarty said quietly, trying to keep McNamara calm, resenting MacEoin’s orders to babysit a madman.

  ‘Sod this!’ McNamara hissed as he jumped out of the car and splashed off towards the pub.

  ‘Shit!’ Hegarty spluttered and jumped out in pursuit but McNamara had already reached the corner before he caught up with him and, grabbing his sleeve, yanked him back from the corner – but not before Flynn thought he saw a shape poke around the corner then jerk back out of sight.

  ‘I really have a bad feeling about this,’ Flynn muttered as he went to open the car door but stopped when he felt something cold and hard press against the back of his head.

  ‘And so you should, peeler! So you should!’ a familiar voice said from behind. He recognized the voice; it was the man with the missing thumb. He cursed for allowing himself to be distracted and failing to notice Maguire and Doyle as they came out into the street behind his car and crept up on him. ‘Now, don’t move,’ Maguire continued, ‘or you are a dead man.’

  Flynn thought that he saw a movement by the front door and felt confused and angry. You stupid fool, he thought. How on earth did they creep up on me! The pressure against the back of his head increased and he momentarily thought about trying to escape. A bag went over his head and it went dark.

  ‘Lie across the front seat and put your hands behind your back!’ Maguire hissed and Flynn meekly complied, as he lay down and felt them tie his hands. ‘Now come with me and if you try anything I will kill you! Is that clear?’ Maguire said as he punched Flynn hard in the kidneys and dragged him from the car.

  Hegarty stood on the corner and watched Maguire and Doyle drag the policeman into the street. ‘Maguire’s got one of them,’ Hegarty said and McNamara smiled cruelly, his face menacing in the shadow of the gaslight.

  ‘Grand. I just hope that the boss lets me shoot the bastard! I want to hear him beg for his miserable feckin’ life!’ He beamed as he strode off towards Maguire. Hegarty rolled his eyes.

  ‘Get up, you shit, and move!’ a venomous voice spat in Flynn’s ear and he felt a boot thud into his back as he fell to his knees. The ground was awash and water soaked through his trousers while someone grabbed his collar and wrenched him to his feet. Every time he stumbled a rain of blows brought him back to his feet. Suddenly, he was jerked to a halt and a hard blow drove deep into his groin, plunging him to his knees, fighting back the urge to vomit as more blows thudded into his head, legs and body.

  ‘Easy!’ Maguire barked at McNamara. ‘The boss doesn’t want him dead, yet! Get him in the car and let’s get out of here.’ Flynn felt himself being thrown into the back of a car and, as he lay there dazed, the engine spluttered into life and he felt the car begin to move.

  ‘Just sit there quietly,’ a voice said. ‘You may get to live a little bit longer.’ Flynn felt miserable, alone and very, very afraid, then he felt a blow on the back of his head and then nothing.

  Kelleher heard a car engine start outside. ‘What was that?’ he asked Kitty.

  ‘Nothing,’ came a voice from behind him, making Kelleher look up suddenly and turn to see MacEoin and Fitzgerald standing at the end of the table, looking down at him. He recognized MacEoin from his picture in the intelligence file but not the other man. Kitty blanched. ‘Would you give us a minute, please, Kitty,’ MacEoin said quietly and Kelleher half rose politely as she stood up to leave.

  ‘Until next time, Miss Kiernan,’ Kelleher said as she walked away but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him – she knew there wouldn’t be a next time. Fitzgerald slipped his hand around the butt of his pistol, sliding it slowly from the back of his trouser waistband.

  ‘So you wanted to meet with me?’ MacEoin said flatly.

  Kelleher looked up at him and took another sip of his sherry, his heart racing. ‘I had rather hoped that your people would have sent someone more … er … how can I put it, senior?’ he said. MacEoin smiled noncommittally.

  ‘Don’t worry yourself, Inspector Kelleher,’ MacEoin said, ‘the big fella himself has authorized me to deal with you on his behalf.’

  ‘Has he now?’ Kelleher looked sceptical as MacEoin sat down opposite the inspector.

  ‘Please, Inspector, before we get down to business, do finish your drink,’ he said and Kelleher narrowed his eyes whilst he studied MacEoin’s face, trying to fathom out what sort of man he was dealing with. Kelleher finished his drink with a flourish as the rain battered against the window. The street outside was still.

  ‘It’s a foul night,’ Kelleher said, placing his glass back onto the table. ‘Now down to business,’ he added with a smile.

  ‘Aye, down to business,’ MacEoin sighed. Fitzgerald pulled the Colt .45 from behind his back and pointed it at the policeman, whose eyes widened in surprise.

  ‘Now just one minute …’ Kelleher faltered as he stared down the barrel of MacEoin’s pistol.

  ‘I think our meeting is just about over,’ he said, pulling the trigger, shattering Kelleher’s face and splattering his blood and brains on the wall behind him. The inspector’s body slumped heavily onto the floor and then Fitzgerald pumped a further couple of rounds into him just to make sure. ‘I’m sorry about the mess,’ MacEoin said casually to Kiernan as he walked towards the door. Within minutes, the bar was e
mpty.

  Upstairs, Kitty sat rocking in an armchair, hugging a cushion, tears welling in her eyes and streaming down her face as the volley of shots made her jump. She felt sick as she looked out of the window. Lights were coming on up and down the street and she knew that it would only be a matter of minutes before the police arrived.

  CHAPTER 24

  Monday, 1 November 1920, an abandoned croft, County Longford

  IT WAS VERY dark. Flynn was in no man’s land. A machine gun jabbed glowing red and green tracer rounds, lancing into the night, searching for a kill. He pressed himself flat against the ground, deep into Mother Earth, but it was cold and unyielding and his heart thudded erratically against his ribs whilst blood rushed, like a breaking tide, in his ears. He eased himself forward and slid quietly into the trench, landing softly on the firing step with a gentle crunch. He shifted his grip on the sharpened entrenching tool in his hands, his eyes shining in the pale moonlight. A shadow moved and he raised the spade, ready to strike.

  Suddenly, the heavy impact of a work boot thudded into his side. ‘Wakey! Wakey!’ brayed a harsh, unfriendly voice followed by another blow that crashed painfully into his ribs, making him groan in pain, wrenching him away from his nightmare and forcing him into a sitting position. The bag was torn from his head, exposing his eyes to stabbing needles of light. He hurt all over, his mouth tasted of stale blood and the room stank of damp and disuse mixed with excrement. As his head cleared he could see grainy fingers of sunlight groping through cracks in the boards that shielded the room’s one window, obliterating the view.

  McNamara landed another hefty kick to his ribs and Flynn doubled over once more in a fit of painful coughing. His face throbbed and he could barely open one eye and as he ran his tongue around his mouth he could feel that it was cut and swollen. At least they haven’t broken my teeth, Flynn thought.