"Indeed I do.'
I watched with fascination as the bartender did his best to empty the bottle into a glass. In Ireland a glass of whiskey is a tenth of a bottle and the men are noble drinkers. Alison said, 'One of them is for him -- his name is Sean O'Donovan. You talk to him and I'll join the ladies at the other end of the shop. Men can talk to each other better over a drink.'
Talk to him I' I said. 'That's easy, but what do I do when he talks back?'
'Oh, Sean O'Donovan speaks English,' she said, and drifted away.
'Yes,' said O'Donovan in a soft voice. 'I have the English. I was in the British army during the war.' He put the glasses on the counter. 'You'll be here for a bit of a holiday?'
'Yes,' I said. 'Having a look around -- a travelling holiday. You have a beautiful country, Mr O'Donovan.'
He cracked a grin. 'You English have always shown a fancy for it,' he said sardonically. He lifted his glass and said something in Irish which I didn't catch but the action was obvious so I returned the toast in English.
We talked for a while about the things a man talks about to a bartender in bars, and finally I got down to the meat of it. 'All over Ireland I've been crossing the tracks of a friend of mine,' I said casually. 'But I haven't caught up with him. I was wondering if he's been here. His name is Jones.' That sounded silly, but I said it all the same.
'Would he be a Welshman?' asked O'Donovan.
I smiled. 'I doubt it. He's English.'
O'Donovan shook his head. 'I have not heard of the man. He may be at the Big House, but they keep to themselves entirely.' He shook his head. 'They buy their provisions in Dublin and not a thought do they give to the local trader. My father, now, who had this place before me, supplied the Big House all his days.'
That sounded promising. I said sympathetically, 'Standoffish, are they?'
He shrugged. 'Not that Himself is here often. He comes only once or twice a year -- from the Other Island, you know.'
It took me a good twenty seconds to realize that O'Donovan meant England. 'So the owner is English?'
O'Donovan gave me a sidelong glance. 'It would seem he is another Englishman who has taken a fancy to a piece of Ireland.' I looked at O'Donovan's tough face and wondered if he was an active member of the IRA; he appeared to like Englishmen only in so far as they stayed in England, although he chatted pleasantly enough to me.
He held up his hand. 'I said "seems" and that is what I meant, for I was reading in the paper only the other day that the man is not English at all.'
'So he gets his name into the newspapers?'
'And why wouldn't he? He speaks in the Parliament of the Other Island. Now isn't that a strange thing, and him not an Englishman.'
'It is, indeed,' I said. My acquaintanceship with members of the British Parliament was limited, to say the least of it, and I didn't know the rules of entry. 'So what is he if he isn't English?'
'Ah, now; that I forget entirely. Some small place far away in Europe he comes from. But it's a rich man he is. He has all the money in the world that the American Kennedys haven't laid their fists on already. He comes here in his big yacht which is now anchored in the bay and it's as big as the British royal yacht, if not bigger. Such a pleasure boat has never been seen in these waters before."
A wealthy and foreign Member of Parliament! It wasn't as promising as I had thought, although it had its curiosity value.
O'Donovan shook his head. 'Maybe Mr Wheeler is richer than the Kennedys, after all.'
Wheeler!
Every nerve cell in my cerebrum sprang to attention simultaneously. That was the name of the MP Mackintosh had seen the day before being hit by the car. I put down my glass slowly. 'I think we'll have another, Mr O'Donovan.'
'And that's a kindly thought,' he said. 'I'm thinking you'll be from the newspapers yourself.' I opened my mouth to speak, and he winked at me. 'Hush, now; you've no need to fear I'll give you away. We've had other London reporters here -- ay, and one American -- all trying to find out things about the Wheeler man to publish in their papers but not one of them had the wit that you have -- to bring an Irish girl with you to do a bit talking in the Gaelic.'
'I thought it might smooth the way,' I said prevaricatingly.
He leaned over the counter and looked into the shop where Alison was talking animatedly to a group of black-shawled women. 'Ah, but she did not learn her tongue in the West: in Waterford, maybe.'
'I believe she mentioned that she lived there,' I said guardedly. 'But she lives in Dublin now.'
O'Donovan nodded in satisfaction, pleased to have been proved right. He picked up the glasses, and then paused, looking over my shoulder. 'Look, now; here comes Seamas Lynch from the Big House. I'll not tell him what you are.'
I turned and looked at the man who was walking up to the bar. He was a black Irishman, dark as a Spaniard, and tall, lean and muscular. O'Donovan put our whiskey on the counter, and said, 'And what will you have, Seamas?'
'I'll have a half,' said Lynch.
O'Donovan picked up a glass and turned to fill it, throwing a question over his shoulder. 'Seamas, when is Himself leaving in his big boat?'
Lynch shrugged. 'When he takes it into his head to do so. Sean O'Donovan.'
O'Donovan put the glass in front of Lynch. I observed that half an Irish single whiskey was about as big as an English double. 'Ah, it's nice to be rich,' he said. 'And have all the time in the world.'
I said, 'Maybe the House of Commons isn't sitting.'
'Then he should be talking to his constituents -- and he has none here, ' said O'Donovan. He turned to Lynch. 'This gentleman is having a fine time seeing Ireland.'
Lynch looked at me. 'So you think Ireland is a fine place, do you?'
It wasn't what he said but the way he said it that made my hackles rise; his tone of voice held a thinly veiled contempt. I said, 'Yes; I think it's very nice country.'
'And where are you going next?' asked O'Donovan.
I had an inspiration and told a true story. 'I believe my grandfather on my mother's side was harbour master at Sligo many years ago. I'm going up there to see if I can trace the family.'
'Ach,' said Lynch. 'Every Englishman I meet tells me of his Irish ancestry.' His contempt was now open. 'And they all claim to be proud of it. You'd think from the way of it that the British Parliament ought to be in Dublin.'
I nearly lost my temper but kept my voice even. 'Maybe it's true. Maybe it's because your Irish girls can't find good husbands at home so they have to cross the Irish sea,' I said coolly.
Lynch's face darkened and his hand tightened on his glass. As he straightened up from leaning on the counter O'Donovan said sharply, 'Seamas, that's enough, now. You've got as good as you've given, which does not happen too often, so put your glass back in your mouth or on to the counter. I'll have no breakages in my house unless it's your head with a bottle I'll be holding.'
Lynch sneered at me and turned his back. O'Donovan said, not very apologetically, 'You'll understand the English are not well liked hereabouts.'
I nodded. 'And with good reason, from some of the things I've heard. As it happens, I'm not English -- I'm Australian.'
O'Donovan's face lightened. 'Are you, now? I ought to have known from your pleasant ways and your good manners in the face of provocation. That's a great country-it is, indeed.'
I finished my drink as I saw Alison giving me a come-hither look. O'Donovan watched approvingly as I sank the full Irish measure in four seconds flat. I put down the empty glass. 'It's been nice talking to you, Mr O'Donovan,' I said. 'I'll be back.'
'And you'll be welcome,' he said.
I went to join Alison at the door. As I passed Lynch he stuck his foot out backwards but I neatly evaded it and carried on. I wasn't looking for a fight. Alison opened the door and went outside. I was about to follow her but stood aside as a big man entered. He walked past me and then paused uncertainly.
I ran for it. It was Taafe, and while his thought processes might hav
e been slow they hadn't stopped altogether. While he was making up his minuscule mind about what action to take I dashed outside and grabbed Alison's arm. 'Run for the car! I said urgently. 'We've found trouble.'
What I liked about Alison was her quick comprehension.
She wasted no time insisting on having an explanation, but immediately took to her heels and ran. She must have been in superb physical condition because she could cover the ground faster than I, and within a hundred yards she was ten yards ahead.
Behind I heard boots thumping the ground as someone chased behind and I reckoned the someone was Taafe. It was now dusk and the light was ebbing from the western sky which is why I didn't see the fishing net spread out to dry about twenty yards from where we had left the car. I got my feet tangled in the netting and pitched forward to the ground.
That made it easy for Taafe. I heard the crunch of his boots as he ran up, and then the rasp of the engine as Alison started the car. The next thing I knew was Taafe had put the boot into me good and solid. He had boots like a skinhead, probably steel-tipped, and one of them crunched into my side with terrifying force. He made no sound apart from a heavy breathing.
I rolled over, desperately trying to free my feet, and his foot whistled past my head so closely that I felt the draught. If he kicked me in the head it would be lights-out for Stannard -maybe permanently. The engine of the car roared and then we were illuminated as Alison switched on the headlights.
I looked up and saw Taafe loom over me, his teeth drawn back over his lips in a snarl as he manoeuvred for another kick. I rolled frantically and saw a stab of light from the direction of the car, and heard a report as from a dud firecracker. Taafe made a gargling sound in his throat and suddenly collapsed on top of me. He made horrible noises as I heaved him off and then he writhed on the ground clutching his left knee:
I ripped the netting from my feet and ran to the car. The passenger door was open and Alison was revving the engine impatiently. As I tumbled in she was putting a small pistol into the glove compartment and, before I got the door closed, she was away, swinging the car around and barely avoiding Taafe who still wriggled on the ground.
I gasped, 'Where did you shoot him?"
'In the kneecap,' she said. Her voice was as steady and cool as though she was discussing a shot on the target range. 'It seemed the best thing to do. He was going to kill you.'
I turned and looked back. Although it was dark I could see someone bending over Taafe. It was someone tall and lean and it could very well have been Seamas Lynch.
IV •Wheeler,' I said thoughtfully. 'What can you tell me about him?'
It was next morning and we were having breakfast in my bedroom. If the management thought this an irregular procedure they showed no sign of it, and, in view of the previous evening's brouhaha. I didn't feel like being pinned down to a static and open position in the public dining room.
She spread marmalade on toast. 'MP for Harlingsdon East, very wealthy, not too popular with fellow Commons members, so I understand.'
'And a foreigner?'
She wrinkled her brow. 'I believe he is. But he must have arrived in England a long time ago. He'll be naturalized, of course."
'Can a foreign-born person become an MP?'
'Oh, yes; there have been quite a few,' Alison said indistinctly past the toast.
An American President must be American born,' I said. "What about an English Prime Minister?'
'I don't think there's any rule about it,' she said. 'We'd have to look it up in Erskine May.'
'What's his standing? In politics, I mean? Is he a Minister or anything like that?'
'He's a very vociferous back-bencher."
I snapped my fingers. 'That's where I saw his name before. He was blowing off steam after Slade and I escaped. Going on about "gangsters in our English streets". I read about him in the Sunday Times.'
'Yes,' said Alison. 'He made quite a noise about it in the House. The PM put him down quite firmly.'
I said, 'If what I'm thinking is correct then he's got a hell of a nerve. Try this on for size. Mackintosh sees Wheeler and he's hit by a car -- a hit-and-run car. I take a notebook from Jones which mentioned Clonglass. In Clonglass we run across Wheeler; we also run into Taafe -- and too bloody hard, if I might say so -- and I know that Taafe is one of the Scarperers. Wouldn't you think it would be too much of a coincidence for Wheeler not to be implicated with the Scarperers?"
Alison buttered another piece of toast; the girl had a healthy appetite. 'I'd say he's in it up to his neck,' she said concisely. She paused. 'What I don't understand is why Taafe didn't shout; he didn't make a sound even when I shot him.'
'I don't think he can shout,' I said. 'I think he's dumb. I've never heard him speak. Let me have a look at that pistol of yours.'
She leaned over, picked up her bag, and produced the pistol. It was a very natty little weapon, only .22 in calibre and with a total length of less than four inches -- hardly the gun for accurate shooting in uncertain light at any range over twenty feet. I said, 'Did you intend to hit Taafe in the kneecap?'
'Well,' she said. 'He had one foot off the ground but even then these bullets are so small that if I'd hit him anywhere else it wouldn't bring him down. I could have gone for a head shot, of course, but I didn't want to kill him.'
I looked at her with respect. As I had thought, Mackintosh gathered around him people with talents. 'So you did intend to hit him where you did.'
'Oh, yes," she said, and put the ridiculous little gun away.
I said, 'Let's get back to Wheeler. What kind of a foreigner is he? Or was he? Where did he come from?'
'I don't know. I haven't taken much interest in him. But the details ought to be in Who's Who.'
'I'm thinking of Slade,' I said. 'He was taken out of the house near Limerick four days ago. That yacht is very convenient. If it has been anchored at Clonglass for more than four days and Wheeler decides to take off on a Baltic cruise this summer then there'll be a bloody good chance that Slade is on board. It's just a hypothesis, mind you.'
'I like it.'
'I've got a few more. What about this one? Let's say there's a man called X who is either a Russian or favours the Russian philosophy; and let's say he devotes his time to springing Russian spies from British gaols. He'd need assistance and where would he get it?' Alison opened her mouth to answer but I ploughed on. There's a fair amount of anti-British feeling in Ireland, especially now that Northern Ireland has blown up, and the IRA is still an active force. I detected a bit of that ill feeling last night.'
'Was that the man you were talking to at the bar?'
'He was Seamas Lynch and he seemed to hate my guts on principle. What's more, he works for Wheeler and I think I saw him helping Taafe when we left last night. But I digress. Let's say Mr X organizes the Scarperers from elements of the IRA. He has the money to get it started but from then on it's self-financing because the Scarperers don't confine their attention to spies. The IRA need the money and it's a better way of getting it than holding up banks, so they're happy. Mr X is also happy because the IRA are doing a good job for him. How does that stri ke you?'
She raised her eyebrows. 'Mr X being Wheeler?' She shook her head sadly. 'Self-made millionaires aren't usually enthusiastic communists.'
'How did he make his money?'
"I think he made his first fortune in the property boom of the 1950s and early '60s. Then he got into the property market in the United States and made another fortune. Time had a front cover article about him; they called him "Wheeler-dealer". Since then he's diversified into nearly everything you can think of that makes money.'
'And he still has time to be a Member of Parliament! He's a busy little man.'
'Too busy to be a Russian spy,' said Alison.
'Maybe.' I had my own reservations about that. I said, 'I'd like to know how Mackintosh is getting on. Will you telephone?'
'I was going to,' she said. 'I think we ought to get rid of the car. It
will have been seen at Clonglass.' She hesitated. 'I'll go out and get another. I don't think you ought to walk the streets of Galway just now.'
'But . . .'
'They're not likely to know much about me yet,' she said. 'We weren't conspicuously together last night.'
'Providing Sean O'Donovan has kept his mouth shut,' I said.
'I'll have to chance it,' -she said, and picked up the telephone.
She put a call through to London and talked to someone at the hospital. Her words were brief and she did more listening than talking but I knew what was happening by the expression of her face. She put down the handset and said bleakly, 'Still no change. He's fighting hard -- but he would.'
I lit a cigarette. 'Have you known him long?'
'All my life,' she said. 'He's my father.'
That led to an argument. My immediate reaction was to say that I'd get on with the job myself while she went back to London.
'Damn it!' I said. 'You ought to be there. You'll never forgive yourself if he dies in your absence.'
'And he'd never forgive me if Slade gets away because I'm too damned sentimental,' she said. 'You don't know my father very well, Owen, if you think he'd want that. He's a hard man.'
'And you're a hard woman,' I said. 'A chip off the old block.'
She said tautly, 'An unnatural daughter?'
'I think you ought to go back,' I said stubbornly.
'And I'm staying,' she said, equally stubbornly. 'I have two jobs to do here. One is to help you to get Slade. You can't run up against this crowd by yourself.'
'And the other?'
'To stop you getting yourself killed, you damned fool!'
I was turning that over in my mind while she opened her suitcase and impatiently ripped open a brown-paper parcel, revealing more money than I've seen anywhere outside a bank. For a moment that diverted me. 'How much have you got there, for God's sake?'
'Five thousand pounds,' she said, and tossed me a bundle of fivers. 'There's five hundred. We might get separated and you'll need the money.'
I said drily, 'Her Majesty's Treasury is becoming unreasonably reckless. Do I sign a receipt?'
Bagley, Desmond - The Freedom Trap Page 16