Underdogs

by Jack Fiske

“What did he want you to do David?”

  “To kill them. The two men.”

  “I see. Did you know who these two men were?”

  “Colin Walker and Liam Quinn.” Garrett replied.

  Garrett was starting to slur his words and his breathing was not as regular as before. Stamford checked his pulse again and then went back to the relaxation exercises for a moment or two until Garrett was calmer.

  “Why does McArthur want to get rid of Walker and Quinn?” Stamford asked in a calm, unhurried voice.

  “They know about Sean Patrick.”

  “The politician?” Stamford asked, with a genuine note of surprise in his voice.

  “Yes,” Garrett confirmed.

  “What do they know about Sean Patrick?”

  “Quinn used to be in The Brigade with him.”

  “The Brigade . . . ?”

  For a moment Garrett seemed to be struggling to get the information out, but then he continued, “The North Belfast Brigade. In the 1980s.”

  “Why is that important?” Stamford asked.

  “They’ve got proof,” Garrett replied.

  “Proof . . . ?” Stamford prompted again.

  “Proof that Mr Patrick did it.”

  “Did what David?”

  “The bomb. The bomb in Donegall Place.”

  Stamford glanced at his watch again. There were still plenty of questions on the sheet, but he couldn’t keep going for much longer. The man was starting to throw off the effects of the drug surprisingly quickly.

  “Just one or two more questions David and then you can relax. Tell me. What were you to do once you had killed Walker and Quinn?”

  “Another job,” was the slurred reply.

  “What type of job?” Stamford asked.

  “Someone else,” Garrett replied, breathing heavily. “Another target.”

  Stamford put a hand reassuringly on the man’s shoulder. “Tell me?” he asked gently.

  “Don’t know any more,” Garrett continued, “only know where.”

  “Can you tell me where then?”

  “Southampton,” Garrett replied. “McArthur will tell me who when I get there.”

  Garrett was now visibly agitated and Stamford gestured to the other two that he would need to stop. Archie nodded and Stamford began to wind things up. A few inoffensive questions about Belfast, sport and whether or not Garrett had a girlfriend, calmed him down and then Stamford started to give instructions.

  “David I want you to forget these questions. Do you understand?”

  “Forget them,” Garrett confirmed.

  “That’s right, you won’t remember them at all. Now breathe slowly and relax. Let yourself sink into the bed as if you’re floating. All of your worries and all your memories of our conversation are drifting away. Just let them go. There they go, let yourself float in space as they all wash away.”

  Garrett was obviously doing just that. The look of agitation had disappeared completely, to be replaced by a slightly vacant look as he stared into the distance.

  “That’s good,” Stamford said. “Now you’re feeling sleepy David. Very sleepy. You’re still floating, but when I tell you, I want you to let yourself drift away into sleep. Don’t speak, but if you understand nod your head.”

  Garrett nodded slightly.

  “When you wake up, you’ll feel completely relaxed and you won’t remember anything about this conversation. You’ll remember having your antibiotic and then seeing me leave the room and close the door behind me. Right David, you’re floating away now, you’re drifting closer and closer to sleep. You’re letting go of any thoughts that are going through your mind. And sleep………….sleeeeeeeep.”

  Stamford held the last word, letting it tail away gradually to silence and then waited a moment or two before feeling Garrett’s pulse one last time.

  Archie glanced at Andy. The poor chap had been up all night and was nodding off himself. Archie nudged him with his elbow and Andy sat upright with a start, giving him an apologetic smile.

  Stamford removed the tape from the recorder, handed it to Archie and then gestured for the two of them to leave quietly. A moment later he followed them out of the room and closed the door gently behind him. One of the armed police turned the key to lock their prisoner in once more and the three made their way back to a quiet spot at the end of the corridor where they could discuss the interview.

  “I’m afraid I missed some of your questions,” Stamford said, handing the piece of paper back to Andy. “The trouble with the drug we use is that its effect varies considerably from person to person. I’m afraid your man started to come out of it rather quickly. You’ll have to wait at least three or four days now before you can repeat it.”

  Andy folded the paper and put it back in his pocket. “That’s o.k. doctor. I think you covered most of the important things. We can always get back to you if we need to repeat it.”

  “Good,” Stamford said. “Now if you two want to get away, please do. I’m going to stay here for an hour or so and see if I can track down an old colleague. Then I’ll check up on our man before I leave.”

  Andy thanked Stamford, shook his hand and they left him in the corridor packing his drugs and stethoscope back into his briefcase.

  “What do you know about Sean Patrick?” Andy asked, as they made their way back to the car park.

  “Only that he’s a key figure for Sinn Fein in the Stormont Assembly.”

  Andy looked over his shoulder as they walked down the corridor. “Not just a key figure. I’d say he’s the key player. The Ulster Unionists are only in the assembly because of his efforts to try and compromise on their demands. If this comes out, the whole assembly will collapse.”

  Archie raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t we know about Patrick’s past?”

  “Not the detail.” We knew that Patrick had been blackmailed and we had an idea what they might have on him, but this puts it all firmly into the area of fact, rather than speculation.”

  “What about Garret’s other job?” Archie asked. “Do you think that was Jim Turner?”

  “Hmmm . . . don’t know. If he was going to Southampton that puts him in the right place, but then O’Hara’s there already.”

  “True, but he’s too involved with our guys. It looks like Garrett’s working independently.”

  “Maybe the other target was the buyer?” Andy suggested. “All our intelligence on the Arab end is through an IRA connection in the Middle East. It’s quite possible they know more about the buyer than they’re passing on.”

  Andy produced his car keys as they crossed the hospital car park and unlocked the car. Archie checked his watch. It was nearly eleven and he wondered if Armstrong had postponed the morning debrief, or whether it had gone ahead without them.

  “We might get some answers when we get back,” Archie suggested.

  Andy yawned as he put the car into gear and pulled away. “I just hope nothing urgent has cropped up. I could do with a few hours sleep.”

  Ronnie Dunn checked his watch for the third time. It was twelve-fifteen and their man should have arrived by now. He climbed to the top deck of the small motor yacht and with one hand shading his eyes against the sun that reflected from the surrounding water, he scanned the length of the marina.

  “Any sign of him?” a voice asked from below.

  “No nothing,” Dunn said, but then checked as he saw a car turn in from the main road.

  “Hang on, there’s a car. That could be him.”

  As he watched, the car made its way around the small cluster of buildings that housed the marina office, past a number of larger craft and drove in their direction.

  “That’s him,” Dunn confirmed, as he climbed down the steep wooden steps to the main deck.

  The only other person on board was a small balding man with a dark complexion. Dressed in a lightweight grey suit and rather too much jewellery, Dunn only knew him as Mr Flores. They had met at the marina earlier that morning and his job was
to check that the electronics were genuine. Dunn didn’t know whether his real name was Flores, or if anything they had talked about for the last hour was true, but the man fitted the description that Walker had given him and he had since spoken to Walker on the phone, so Dunn was satisfied.

  The Ford Escort came to a stop opposite the mooring and Johnny Miller got out. Dunn did know Miller. Employed by Walker on the South Coast, he made the journey to London regularly to meet up with the boss. He and Dunn were at a similar level in the organisation and they’d been involved in more than one job together.

  Miller collected a package from the passenger seat of the car and walked over to the boat.

  “Permission to come aboard?” he asked with a laugh as he saw Dunn standing by the rail.

  Dunn flicked the end of his cigarette into the water and without replying, hauled on the mooring rope to swing the boat nearer to the quay.

  “Any problems?” Dunn asked.

  “No nothing,” Miller replied. “Picked this up on time and came straight here. Reckon there were police involved though. There was a police helicopter flying around Cadnam and I passed at least two marked cars watching the traffic from the bridges over the motorway.”

  “You’re sure you weren’t followed?” Dunn asked.

  Miller shook his head. “No chance. That’s why I’m late. I took a bit of a detour to make sure.”

  Flores came out of the cabin to the rear deck and Dunn introduced them.

  “Mr Flores is here to check the goods,” Dunn explained.

  Miller handed the package over and Flores unwrapped the black plastic to have a look at the K2 unit underneath.

  “Looks right,” he said, turning the unit over to inspect it from the other side. “Let me wire it up to the computer and we’ll see if it does what it’s supposed to.”

  Flores disappeared into the cabin, where he had a laptop computer and some other electronics and Dunn and Miller left him to it.

  “Got anything to drink?” Miller asked, taking a seat in the shade at the back of the boat.

  “Coke?” Dunn asked.

  “Don’t suppose you’ve got a beer have you?” Miller said, swinging his feet onto the seat opposite.

  “There is,” Dunn replied, “but you know what Walker’s like if he finds out you’ve been drinking on the job.”

  Miller muttered something under his breath. “O.k. give us a Coke then.”

  Dunn ducked into the small cabin and came back with two cans from the fridge, one of which he handed over.

  “Who is he?” Miller asked, nodding towards the cabin where Flores was probing the K2 unit with a multi-meter.

  “Don’t know,” Dunn replied. “I only met him this morning. He knows the boss, but Mr Walker says we’ve to watch what we say around him.”

  “Not one of us then?” Miller asked.

  “Apparently not.”

  “You dropping him off somewhere after this?”

  “No,” Dunn said, taking a drink and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “He came by car. I’ve just to move the boat and then I need to get back.”

  “Time for a pint and a bite to eat?” Miller asked.

  Dunn checked his watch. “Doubt it. Depends what the boss says. We’ve to phone him once we’re finished.”

  As if on cue, Flores appeared at the cabin door.

  “It’s a fake,” he pronounced, squinting to see them properly as he moved from the dark cabin to the brightness outside.

  “Give me a hand will you. I want to see what’s inside, but I can’t get the bloody cover off.”

  The three went back into the cabin, where Flores had the unit upside down on the built-in upholstery. A screwdriver lay next to it, but it was obvious that he hadn’t made much progress on the screws that Mark Brennan had glued in.

  Flores handed the screwdriver to Dunn. “Here, you have a go at the screws and I’ll hold the thing down so that it doesn’t move about.”

  Dunn did as requested, without any more success than Flores and then moved over to let Miller try. All they succeeded in doing was to strip the heads off two of the screws and bend the corner of the casing slightly.

  “It’s not going to work,” Miller said, handing the screwdriver back. “You’ll need to drill these out to get into it. Are you sure it’s not genuine?”

  “I’m sure,” Flores said testily, as if unhappy that his judgement might be questioned. “It looks right. In fact it’s a good copy, but it doesn’t do anything that it should do. I think that if we could get the lid off, there would just be some simple circuits to make the display work. Whoever put it together must have soldered or glued the screws in place so that it can’t be taken apart.”

  Miller looked at Dunn. “You’d better phone the boss. He’ll not be pleased.”

  “You’re not kidding,” Dunn agreed.

  Dunn went to get the phone from his jacket, where it hung behind the boat’s wheel and took a seat there, while he phoned Walker.

  The phone rang for a while and then Spencer picked it up at the other end.

  “Spencer. It’s Ronnie. Is the boss there?”

  “Hang on. I’ll get him.”

  There was silence for a moment and then Walker picked up at the other end.

  “Hello.”

  “Boss?”

  “Ronnie. How are things? Has Flores checked it out yet?”

  “He has.” Ronnie paused, anticipating the reaction he would get. “You’re not going to like this boss. It’s not the real thing.”

  Walker cursed. “Put Flores on. I want to speak to him.”

  Dunn took the phone into the cabin and handed it to the smaller man. “Mr Walker wants a word.”

  Flores walked back out to the rear deck where the phone had a better signal and Dunn and Miller left him to speak to Walker in private. He returned a few moments later and handed the phone to Dunn.

  “He wants to speak to you again.”

  Dunn followed Flores’ example and went out to the rear deck, whilst Flores started to tidy up his equipment.

  By the time he returned, Flores had just about finished packing his laptop computer and electronic equipment into a small suitcase.

  Dunn put the phone away and waited for Flores. “I’m afraid it’s not good news for us Mr Flores, but thanks for your time. We’ll let you get away. Mr Walker says he’ll be in touch in a day or two to let you know what’s happening.”

  “Fine.” Flores picked up his case. “If you need me, Mr Walker knows how to reach me.”

  Dunn stepped outside to see Flores off the boat, pulling in the mooring rope so that he could step ashore. Then he watched him walk across the tarmac to where his car was parked outside the marina buildings.

  “Now what?” Miller asked, joining him at the back of the boat.

  “You’ve got another job,” Dunn replied, as they watched Flores’ car pull out of the marina and onto the main road. “The boss wants to hang on to the electronics, but if the police have been brought in he doesn’t want the thing hanging around to link any of us to the job.”

  “So what does he want us to do with it?”

  “It’s all yours,” Dunn replied, picking up the unit and handing it to Miller. “He wants you to put it somewhere safe, where you can get your hands on it quickly if he wants it back again.”

  Miller looked worried. Dunn let him stew for a moment or two and then laughed.

  “Don’t worry. He suggested that you leave it in one of the left luggage lockers at Southampton bus station.”

  “Oh that’s o.k.” Miller said with relief, thankful that Walker didn’t expect him to look after it personally.

  “I’d dump it as soon as possible if I were you,” Dunn said. “It’s pretty hot.”

  Miller turned and looked for the black plastic that the unit had come in. “You’re right. I’ll go now and get rid of it. What about you?”

  “The boss wants me back at the farm. I’ve just got to take the boat back to her usual spot an
d then I’m finished.”

  “Well, I’ll see you then.” Miller picked up the unit that he had re-wrapped in its bin liner, tucked it under his arm and stepped carefully over the rail and down onto the concrete below.

  Dunn watched him drive away and then untied the boat both fore and aft, before pushing away from the quay with a boat-hook. A moment later the boat’s twin engines rumbled into life and she swung slowly away from the mooring, picking up speed as she moved out into deeper water.

  FOURTEEN

  Jim opened the back of the Land Rover, reached in to rub Wolf behind the ears and then stepped aside to let him out. Wolf jumped down and trotted around the car, nose firmly pressed to the ground, completely unaware of the reason for their visit to the woods.

  Jim leant against the back of the car and waited. Everything was quiet. The helicopter and motorbike had faded into the distance and the only sound to be heard was the faint calling of the crows in the distance. He was desperate to get back to the office or to phone Stephen, but he knew very well that if he left it would look suspicious and if he phoned, the call would most likely be intercepted. When it became clear that no-one was in a rush to come and speak to him, or even to call him, he took out his phone and dialled O’Hara.

  The phone was answered straight away in a strained tone.

  “Where are you?” O’Hara asked.

  “Haven’t moved,” Jim replied. “What’s happening?”

  O’Hara’s hand was placed over the mouthpiece for a moment while he spoke to someone else.

  “We’ve got a bit of a problem. We’ve lost them at the moment. We’re not getting a signal from the tracking unit, but we’re hoping the helicopter will be able to pick them up.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Jim asked.

  Again, O’Hara’s hand was placed over the mouthpiece so that he could get instructions.

  “Stay where you are. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  In fact, it was more like ten, before a white Renault Espace turned into the car park and O’Hara and Trent got out.

  “Well?” Jim asked.

  O’Hara looked a little uncomfortable, but Trent just shrugged.