by Zoe Sharp
It was supposed to have been my first posting when I came out of Special Forces training. Straight into the thick of it in Shankhill. The army were conducting surveillance operations throughout the six counties and, much as they hated to admit it, women were more effective, more unobtrusive, than some big hairy squaddie who, especially in the favoured civvy garb of jeans and tan Cat boots and a bomber jacket, stood out a mile for what he was.
So although I’d never set foot there I knew a lot about Northern Ireland, but the wrong things. I knew about the soldiers killed at Warrenpoint, about the skirmishes in Newry and the running battles on the Bogside. If I dredged my memory I could probably still tell you which parts of Belfast were safe and which were no go areas. Not quite what the Tourist Board had in mind.
And, now I came to think about it, I couldn’t help a prickle of unease about going there as a civilian.
***
If there was one thing the Devil’s Bridge Club didn’t do on the ferry crossing, it was sit still in one place for any length of time. Paxo announced he was going to try his luck on the slot machines he’d noticed in the bar and Jamie went with him. Sean went out shortly afterwards and although he didn’t say anything I knew he was still hoping to spot whoever was keeping an eye on us. Daz still hadn’t returned with Tess, so that left me and William. And I wasn’t quick enough.
“I think I’ll just go and see if I can find myself a good paperback in the shop,” he said. “You don’t mind staying and keeping an eye on our gear, do you, Charlie?”
Resigned, I shook my head and found myself alone in a sea of lids and backpacks.
The First Class lounge had a selection of newspapers and I grabbed one of those, scanning the headlines without too much interest. The next time I glanced outside, Daz and Sean were standing talking by the aft rail.
Actually, ‘talking’ was too mild a way of putting it. Sean was standing with his arms folded and his head on one side, listening intently, and Daz seemed to be pleading with him about something. There was no way I could hear what they were saying but I stared intently, knowing the dark tint on the cabin windows would mean they couldn’t see in.
Eventually, Daz seemed to talk himself out. He stood, shoulders tensed, as though waiting for a judgement. Sean took his time about delivering his verdict but then, at last, he gave a short reluctant nod. Whatever it was he’d just agreed to, he wasn’t happy about it.
Daz almost sagged with relief. It gave his smile a brittle, artificial brightness. He moved forwards as if to clap the other man on the shoulder but Sean froze him with a single look. Daz turned down the volume on his smile, his manner sheepish now, grateful. Instead, he offered Sean his hand again and they shook, like they were sealing a pact. Then Daz stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jeans and walked away quickly. As though, if he stayed around, Sean might change his mind about something.
But what?
Sean stayed by the railing for a moment longer. As I watched, he turned his head and stared straight at the glass towards me. It made me draw in a sharp breath, though I was certain he couldn’t see me. With Sean you could never quite tell. The normal laws of physics sometimes didn’t seem to apply to the man.
After a few moments he pushed himself away from the railing and strolled back round towards the doors into the main cabin. A few moments later, he was back in First Class taking the seat opposite me.
“Well?” I demanded.
“Well what?” he said, playing the infuriating card to best effect.
“Come on, Sean,” I said, speaking fast in case any of the others walked back in. “I saw you out there with Daz. What are they up to? What did he say to you? Come on, spill it!”
Sean regarded me without expression for a moment, then he gave me a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, Charlie,” he said, “but I can’t tell you.”
“What do you mean you can’t tell me?” I said between clenched teeth, trying to keep to a frantic whisper and stop my voice rising with outrage like an air raid siren. Even Sean looked vaguely alarmed.
“Calm down,” he said. “Daz has just admitted something to me in absolute confidence. He’ll tell the rest of you when he’s ready but until then I really can’t say anything – even to you.”
“But—”
“No,” Sean said, in a voice that brooked no argument. There were no buts when that voice came out. “I gave him my word,” he said, more gently. “Look, it’s important, but it has nothing to do with why we’re here.” He saw the sheer frustration on my face and smiled again. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”
Eighteen
The last forty-five minutes of the trip was at a much slower pace than the rest of the crossing. As we reached the entrance to Belfast Lough the captain throttled back to barely ten knots and ambled towards the city port.
“When they first started running the fast cat service they used to come steaming up the Lough at full chat,” William explained when Daz asked him why, “until they discovered that the wake was actually washing dog walkers off the coastal path. Now they have to slow it down a bit.”
Just before we docked, Paxo dug in his backpack and distributed a set of walkie-talkies with headsets and microphones that velcro’d in to the lining of our helmets.
“They’ll work up to about a mile apart,” he said, “and the mic’s voice activated, so don’t sing while you’re riding along or we’ll all have to suffer it.” He gave Sean a look of insincere apology that there weren’t enough to go round. “Sorry mate – didn’t know you were coming.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Sean said easily. “I’m sure I’ll manage to keep up and, anyway, I know where you’re going.”
That comment netted him some sharp glances, not least from me, but he forestalled any further questions by picking up his gear and following the announcement for all vehicle drivers to return to the car decks.
Thanks in part to William’s influence, we were among the first allowed off the ferry when it docked.
The Super Blackbird Sean had borrowed turned out to be a beautiful example in sparkling silver. Irritatingly, despite the fact he hadn’t ridden for more than three years and it wasn’t even his bike, he looked very much at home in the saddle.
We swept out of the port in convoy. Daz was in front on the Aprilia with Tess riding pillion and, in my humble opinion, wrapping herself round his back more closely than his smooth riding style strictly required. Nobody said anything about a running order but Sean naturally fell in at the rear. Maybe he just wanted to be where he could keep an eye on the rest of us.
The docks area was industrial and scruffy the way docks are the world over. On the other side of the water from the fast cat terminal the landscape was overshadowed by the huge cranes from the Harland and Wolfe shipyard.
There wasn’t time to do more than grab a basic impression of the city itself as we shot through it. I was too busy trying to make sure I didn’t get separated at lights or cut up by other traffic. The bit of it I saw was just a city like any other. Part worn-down, part ultra modern as regeneration snuck in where opportunity let it get a skip outside the door.
Daz led the way confidently onto the M2 motorway that swung round the top end of Belfast, heading west for Londonderry. Then he veered east, taking the exit for Larne. As we bunched up at the roundabout at the bottom of the slip road, Sean came up alongside me and thumbed his visor open a crack.
“Tell them to pull over at the next available point,” he ordered, just loud enough to be heard over the bike engines. “We’ve got company.”
I resisted the urge to look behind me, giving him a short nod as I repeated his instruction over my radio. There was a long pause, during which time Daz and Jamie had already merged out into traffic. William launched, then Paxo, leaving just me and Sean waiting for our chance. Damn! Getting split up like this when we might be coming under threat was asking for trouble. My finger ends had begun to tingle with tension.
Then came a bu
rst of static and wind noise before Daz’s voice sounded casual and almost relaxed in my ear. “What’s up, Charlie – you getting left behind already?”
“Not especially,” I snapped. “But Sean reckons we might have a problem.”
“What do you think?”
I tried to avoid grinding my teeth. “I think we should pull over at the next available point.”
“OK, keep heading for Larne and I’ll come off and wait for you at the next roundabout.”
The next roundabout was reached along a short section of dual carriageway leading up a long hill. Sean and I opened the bikes up and romped away up the incline, leaving the slower moving cars and a couple of trucks floundering behind us.
By the time we crested the brow there was no sign of the others and I felt my heartrate step up a little, squirting adrenaline into my system on a just-in-case basis. We dropped down towards the roundabout Daz had mentioned, braking hard. I checked my mirrors but could see nothing suspicious.
“We see you, Charlie,” I heard William’s voice say. “Take the first exit. Hotel car park on your right.”
Sean had moved up to my outside quarter, covering my back. I jerked my head to him to indicate that he should follow me, and peeled off left. He stuck with me all the way like a shadow.
We found the others grouped together near the hotel entrance, visors open, apparently unconcerned.
“What’s the problem, Sean?” Daz wanted to know as soon as we joined them.
Sean didn’t answer right away. His head was turned to scan the fast main road running alongside the hotel. A dark grey Vauxhall Vectra shot onto the roundabout and carried straight on towards Larne. There were four men inside who made a big show of not looking at us as they belted past. Sean watched it go by with slightly narrowed eyes.
“That Vectra,” he said, nodding in the direction the car had taken. “It picked us up outside the ferry terminal and he’s been with us ever since.”
“Oh come off it,” Paxo argued. “We’ve barely gone five miles and you’re already seeing ghosts behind every rock! It’s just a Vauxhall, for God’s sake.”
“On tweaked up suspension but standard wheels, with twin aerials on the back and no dealer stickers, four up,” Sean said, shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”
Daz frowned. “So who do you think they were?” he asked.
Sean shrugged. “Security services, cops, maybe even the paramilitaries,” he said softly. “I was rather hoping you might be able to tell me that.”
“There’s no reason for any of that lot to be after us,” William said, his voice even and apparently guileless. “Why would there be?” But he glanced at Daz as he spoke, as if looking for confirmation that the other man hadn’t told Sean anything during their little heart-to-heart.
“Really?” Sean said. “Well, in that case, it must be me.”
At first I thought he was joking but, when he didn’t smile, I realised he meant it.
“I think it might be best if I went my own way today,” he said when nobody spoke. “I’ll meet up with you at the hotel tonight.” With that he nodded, shut his visor, and toed the Blackbird into gear.
“Sean! Hold up a minute!”
He’d already begun to move off when he caught my shout and stopped again, putting his feet down. I nudged the side-stand down on the ‘Blade and climbed off to go and talk to him. It was easier than having to paddle the bike round. I yanked my helmet off as I reached him and he did the same. Only difference was that I’d forgotten about the radio wire that I’d threaded down the neck of my leathers and damn-near strangled myself until I unplugged it.
“What the hell’s going on?” I demanded quietly.
Sean eyed the rest of the group, who were watching us with undisguised curiosity. He flicked his eyes back to me. “I haven’t been back to Northern Ireland since I came out,” he said flatly. “I operated here, Charlie, and trust me when I say I did some serious damage. It’s been a while, but some people have long memories. That Vectra might be following this lot, or it might be following me. Better to find out for sure, don’t you think?”
“But how did they know you were coming?”
He shrugged again. “It’s not difficult to find out,” he said. “The ticket was booked in my name and that might have raised a few flags. It was only done yesterday, which might explain why they’ve been so clumsy about the tail – short notice.”
I thought about that for a moment. I didn’t like it, but I could see the sense. “OK,” I said, stepping back. “I’ll keep my eye on them. You take care, Sean.”
“Yeah,” he said with a grim smile, “you too.”
***
After Sean had gone, heading back towards Belfast, I took station at the back and spent as much time watching my mirrors as the road ahead of me. That turned out to be easier said than done.
Daz set up a furious pace, taking no prisoners as far as making sure the group stayed together was concerned. He sliced past slower-moving traffic on his side of the road with blatant disregard for what might be coming the other way. This time, Tess’s intimate grip seemed a lot more necessary. She was wrapped round his back with her head tucked in like she couldn’t bear to watch.
Paxo matched him, one wild move after another, hunched over the tank of his Ducati, sliding across the seat to just about put his knee down on every roundabout.
William was less inclined to suicide and, I noted with relief, Jamie seemed content to follow him rather than try and keep pace with the lead pair. One less thing for me to worry about.
We dropped down into Larne, leapfrogging a line of trucks all bound for the freight boats to Cairnryan and Stranraer. Daz headed off up the A2 coast road, and then I had the scenery to watch as well.
I hadn’t expected the Antrim coast to be quite so spectacular but in places it took your breath away. The road ran right along the edge of the Irish Sea and at one point it had actually been cut through the rock which rose over the top of our heads like a rugged gothic archway.
Eventually, Daz broke his silent concentration long enough to report, “OK, lads, this is it,” and we pulled over into the gravel car park of a sprawling stone-built hotel overlooking a small bay. I couldn’t help but be relieved that we’d all survived the first part of our journey intact and, despite Sean’s concerns, unmolested.
We slotted the bikes in alongside each other and cut the engines. After the combined edgy roar of our exhaust notes, the gentle grumble of the surf rolling up onto the shingle was like a kind of furry silence.
“Nice choice,” William said approvingly, looking first at the deserted beach and then at the hotel entrance. He didn’t seem at all ruffled after the energetic ride, his broad face carrying its usual impassive mask of calm.
On the other hand, when Paxo thrust off his helmet he was panting like he’d been starved of oxygen in there. His narrow face was sliding with sweat and even his mini mohican had wilted. He glared at Daz.
“Mate, what is wrong with you?” he demanded. “You got a fuckin’ death-wish all of a sudden?”
Daz turned on him with a grin that had overtones of manic about it. “What’s up, Pax?” he shot back, close to jeering. “Never thought I’d see the day when you couldn’t keep up with me when you’re solo and I’m carrying ballast.” He ignored – or was too hyped up to see – the scathing glance Tess fired off in his direction. “You losing your nerve or what?”
Paxo moved in close, bristling, the way I’d seen him do with Jamie that day outside the hospital.
“My nerve’s good, mate,” he gritted. “Can you say the same?”
“Cool it, you two,” William said. “Not in front of the children, eh?”
It was drawlingly delivered and contrived to insult both Jamie and myself in equal measure. Jamie pretended to be too caught up in unhooking his tank bag from the Honda to have heard the comment. I had no such qualms.
“I agree with Paxo,” I said calmly. “You’re riding like an idiot. There’s
a thin line between brave and stupid and you’re way over the other side of it. What are you trying to prove, Daz? If I’d known this trip was going to be about macho bullshit, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
Instead of snapping back at me, Daz’s grin just grew all the wider. “If you can’t stand the heat, Charlie . . .” he said and with that he picked up his gear and sauntered across the road towards the hotel entrance.
“Speakin’ of macho bullshit,” Tess said suddenly when he’d gone, “what happened to this tail we was supposed to have picked up?”
The others turned to look at me, challenge in their faces as they diverted their anger from one of their own to a comparative outsider.
“No one followed us after we left that car park,” I admitted reluctantly.