by Jack Higgins
'But not just yet.' Dillon yawned. 'We could stay on for a day or so, since we're here. Roper will take care of everything for moving Mickeen. We could rent a car. Go for a drive.'
'To where?'
'My mother died giving birth to me in Collyban. I lived with Mickeen as a child, while my father was away working, then he returned and took me away with him to London when I was twelve.'
'So you haven't seen much of your uncle over the years?'
'Two or three times by night when I was on the run during the Troubles, and I paid him a flying visit the other year on business for Ferguson. The truth is, the old sod's the only close relative I've got left. I was surprised at the sense of loss I felt looking at him in that hospital bed.'
'So where is this leading?'
'Paddy O'Rourke, his mechanic at the garage, found him. I wouldn't mind going to see him. I could let him know how Mickeen is.'
'You're talking nonsense, Sean, that would only depress him. What's really eating at you?'
'Okay, so I hadn't been in touch with Mickeen since God knows when, and I phoned him on a whim because I thought he'd be able to tell me the time and place of the Talbot funeral.'
'And he could. So what's that got to do with anything?'
'I don't know, except that somehow I feel responsible.'
'I don't see how you could be, but if you feel like that, give O'Rourke a call and we'll drive down and see him. How far?'
'Fifty miles, here or there. I'll get in touch with him in the morning. Are you carrying?'
'One of the advantages of diplomatic privilege.' Holley pulled up his right trouser leg and showed the ankle holster with the Colt.25. 'No well-dressed man should be without one.'
'I couldn't agree more.' Dillon put his foot on a chair and showed an identical Colt. 'Silenced, with hollow points.'
'Why settle for less? That will always do the job. But why are you asking?'
'Collyban was always Republican territory, IRA bandit country. I used to be a hero to people there who'd never even seen me, and then Ferguson came along and somehow I doubt they'd still be feeling the same.'
'Once in, never out – that's been the motto of the IRA since its inception, hasn't it? So screw them, we're still Provos, whether they like it or not,' Daniel told him. 'I'm away to bed.' At eight o'clock the following morning, they were working their way through breakfast in the cafe when Roper called Dillon.
'Ferguson got in just after three this morning. He asked me if I had anything special to report.'
'And you said nothing, I presume?'
'Exactly. I just hope I don't regret it. Anyway, your Mr Frank Jordan doesn't let the grass grow under his feet. Mickeen Oge Flynn will be picked up at nine and taken to Belfast City Airport to board the air ambulance for London. Rosedene is waiting for him.'
'Excellent.'
'In fact, Jordan has decided to go along. He said he'd like to keep an eye on Flynn, and, besides, it's costing so much he might as well get something out of it!'
'Roper, you've done wonders,' Dillon said. 'I'm truly grateful – and hopefully, so will be Mickeen.'
'So what are your plans?'
'We've ordered a car and we're driving down to Collyban.'
Roper was concerned. 'What in the hell are you up to, Sean? I'd have thought it very unwise to visit anywhere in that area. And, dammit, you're only fifteen miles from Crossmaglen where Holley's mother was born, so he's as bad as you are. What's this obsession with living dangerously?'
'Oh, Roper, it'll be just a quiet day out in County Down. What could be nicer? You worry too much.' And he switched off.
'We have to put the cat amongst the pigeons,' Holley said.
'No, that happens when Ferguson wakes up and finds out what happened, but we'll deal with that when the explosion takes place.'
He found the piece of paper with O'Rourke's number on it, poured himself a second cup of tea and called him. 'Who's that?' O'Rourke's voice was wary.
'Paddy, me ould son,' Dillon told him cheerfully. 'It's Mickeen's only nephew, Sean Dillon.'
O'Rourke gasped, 'Jesus, Sean, where are you?'
'In Belfast, Paddy. I flew in last night thinking Mickeen was going to die on me. Four hours they operated on him. The brain was damaged, you see, and him in a coma.'
'What do you mean?' O'Rourke asked cautiously.
'He's in a deep sleep, and nobody knows if he'll wake up. Anyway, I'm having him transferred to London in an air ambulance. There's a special hospital where I'll be able to keep an eye on him.'
'And when's that?'
'Nine o'clock.'
'Well, that's fantastic. I found him, you know. I don't know how to thank you.'
'Save it till I see you, Paddy.'
'See me?' O'Rourke said.
'I've got a friend with me called Daniel Holley. We've hired a car and we're driving down. You can show me where it happened, and I can discuss what we're going to do with the garage.'
O'Rourke was flabbergasted. 'But you shouldn't come here to Collyban, Sean. There's plenty who wouldn't like it. No knowing what they might do.'
'Not to worry, Paddy, I can look after myself.'
'Well… if you're sure. What time would you be coming?'
'We should be there by eleven. If you're not at the garage, we'll look for you in the pub.'
'The Green Man?' O'Rourke was horrified. 'Never in there, Sean. It's IRA to the hilt.'
'And didn't I join as a volunteer at nineteen when my father was shot by Brit paratroopers? Do you say I have no right to go in?'
'Not me, Sean, but others would.'
'Well, enough talk. You know when to expect us.' He switched off and said to Holley, 'Did I stir the hornets' nest enough?'
'That's an understatement,' Holley said. 'Let's get moving.' Martin Curry was working behind the bar at the Green Man, washing glasses. There was not a soul in the place when Paddy O'Rourke entered through the side door, which was hardly surprising at nine o'clock.
'Jesus, Paddy, isn't it a bit early, even for you?'
'Will you give me a large one, Martin, for pity's sake, and me having the shock of my life.'
'And what would that be?' Curry asked.
'I've just had Sean Dillon on the mobile. He's been to see Mickeen in the hospital in Belfast. He says he's coming down to see me this morning to discuss what's going to happen to the garage.'
Curry was thunderstruck 'He must be mad.' He poured Paddy a double whiskey. 'Drink that down and tell me exactly what he said.' Jack Kelly was sitting at his desk in the back office of the Kilmartin Arms, doing his accounts, when Curry phoned. He ended by telling Jack, 'I'll have two or three of the boys in. We'll sort the bastard out.'
'Take it easy, Martin. The old days are gone. We have to be careful how we go.'
'Christ, are you going chicken on me after what we've been through together? Sean Dillon is a disgrace to the village where he was born.'
'You're right, Martin. He's a turncoat who's been serving the Brits for years now, taking orders from Charles Ferguson, one of our biggest enemies in the old days – but we've got to go carefully here. I don't want to do anything that would bring in the police. I've got the Talbots to consider. They've only just seen off Colonel Henry, for God's sake.'
'So what do I do if the bastard tries to come in the Green Man?'
'We'll handle it, Martin, and I'll be there to stand with you. Do as I say. Take it as a direct order from your old commander.'
'And the other business he told Paddy about? Having Mickeen flown out to London?'
'Black news that, but there's nothing to be done about it.' Jean Talbot and Justin enjoyed breakfast together, but her pleas for him to sit for her again fell on deaf ears. He intended to go riding and that was that. She retreated to her studio and got to work. The weather outside was dark and oppressive, and there was a hint of rain. It had become incredibly stuffy in the studio overnight and she opened the exit door before starting work on the portrait again.
An hour went by and then she heard a car arrive. She went to a window and saw Jack Kelly getting out of his old Morris. She was about to go out on the platform and speak to him when she saw Justin galloping fast across the meadow, only reining in his mount at the last moment so that it reared up and kicked out before settling. He walked it in to the yard through the archway, and dismounted.
'You're a stupid boy still, but then I've been telling you that for years. You'll kill yourself doing that one of these days, Justin.'
'Is that so? What's got into you this morning? Come into the stable. The boy's gone to the village, so I've got to unsaddle myself. Is there a problem?'
'You could say that. Sean Dillon's coming. Curry told me. He'll be at Collyban at eleven o'clock to discuss Flynn's garage with him.'
Talbot was stunned. 'So I'll actually get the chance to meet him.'
'I'm damned if you will. Now get that horse inside. We need to talk.'
Upstairs, Jean was moving fast, hurrying across the studio, opening another door, because a few wooden steps gave access to a landing overlooking the stalls where Justin was unsaddling.
'Tell me all about it,' he was saying to Kelly. It had started to rain when Kelly was finished, and Justin went to the door, peering out and thinking about it. 'What a mess, Jack, so what's to be done? Do we shoot the bastard?'
'For Christ's sake, will you listen to me, boy? You do nothing, because it's got nothing to do with you. So Dillon works for Ferguson, as does Daniel Holley these days, apparently. They've no idea you're Shamrock. As far as I know, they haven't even heard of the Preacher. Dillon is here to sort out Flynn's garage with O'Rourke. What would Justin Talbot, Chairman of Talbot International, have to do with that?'
'You mean I shouldn't even meet him?'
'Absolutely not, and I want your word on it.'
'If you say so,' Justin said wearily. 'Frankly, it's all getting a bit on top of me. How long can we hope for Mickeen to act the sleeping beauty in London?'
'From what Jordan says, a long, long time. Even if he does wake up, he could well not remember a thing about it.'
'It's not good enough, Jack.' Justin's eyes glittered again, his body crackling with energy. 'I've got to find a solution to all this.' He grinned and slapped Kelly on the back. 'When I do, you'll be the first to know what it is, but I'll leave Dillon and his friend to you.'
Kelly got in his Morris and drove off. The stable boy appeared and took charge of the horse. Justin went up to the studio, but his mother wasn't there. He stood looking at the portrait. She was good, he reflected; too bloody good really, as he had recently told her. She didn't just go for appearance, she got what was inside, too. She got the disturbed wildness in him, which made him feel uncomfortable, and he went back down the iron stairs to the yard.
At that moment, the maroon Shogun emerged from the garage, his mother at the wheel. She waved briefly, but didn't stop. He wondered where she was going – not that it mattered. He had enough on his mind with the whole damn situation. The Preacher, Ferguson, Shamrock. He went through the house to the study to get a drink and think about it. Paddy O'Rourke was not happy. If the garage was closed down, it would be a serious inconvenience for the villagers who would have to drive as far as Kilmartin to find another, so Martin Curry's orders were plain. If Dillon made him a job offer, which he probably would, O'Rourke was to take it, then send him on his way, which meant anywhere he liked to go as long as it wasn't the Green Man.
Paddy sat on a stool just inside the garage, the main door open, smoked a cigarette between his finger and thumb, and waited, watched by two hard young men named Dempsey and Farrel from behind a half-drawn window curtain.
'Where the fug are they?' Farrel said, and the silver BMW came down the hill and halted on the forecourt. Paddy stood up and Dillon got out, followed by Holley who had been driving.
'Which one is Dillon, I wonder?' Farrel said.
'Neither of them looks like much to me,' Dempsey nodded. 'Let's see what happens.' 'It's me, Paddy, Sean.' Dillon smiled and grasped a reluctant hand. 'I was twelve years old when I last saw you, so how could you remember me?'
O'Rourke tried to smile. 'It's grand to see you and looking so well.'
'This is my good friend, Daniel Holley. He might sound English, but his mother was from Crossmaglen and that's not too far from here.'
'And that's a fact,' O'Rourke said, but before he could say anything else, the Shogun came down the hill, swung in and parked beside the BMW.
'Christ Jesus,' Dempsey said. 'It's the lady from Talbot Place. What's she doing here?'
'I'd better get Curry on my mobile,' Farrel said, and did so straightaway.
'What are they doing?' Curry demanded.
'She hasn't got out of her car yet.'
'Just keep watching and I'll call you back.' Curry rang off, then called Jack Kelly, who answered at once. 'I've got a problem,' Curry said, and told him.
'What the hell is she playing at?' Kelly demanded. 'Never mind. I'll be straight over.'
Curry called Farrel. 'Stay with it, but let me know the moment they start moving anywhere.' He switched off his mobile and turned to the seven or eight people in the bar. 'Drink up and move on. I want you out of here in five minutes.' The three men turned to look at Jean and she opened the glove compartment and took out a short-barrelled Smith amp; Wesson.38 revolver, one of a number of weapons Colonel Henry had kept around the house. She slipped it in her trenchcoat pocket and got out of the Shogun.
'Sorry if I'm intruding,' she said. 'Remember me, Paddy, from Kilmartin? Jean Talbot, Colonel Henry's daughter?' He looked slightly dazed and she took his hand. 'I was so sorry to hear about what happened to Mickeen.'
'That's kind of you.' He seemed to come to life. 'This is Sean Dillon, Mickeen's nephew, over from London on hearing the bad news.'
She turned and didn't offer her hand, simply stood there with hands in her pockets, looking him over. 'Sean Dillon.' She frowned slightly, 'A familiar name. I'm sure I've heard it before.'
'And my friend, Daniel Holley.'
She smiled at Holley. 'So how is Mickeen?'
'What can I say?' Dillon shrugged slightly. 'He's had a massive operation which has left him with a titanium plate in the head, and he's comatose. He's been flown to London by air ambulance.'
'So what happens here?'
'The garage, you mean? That's quite simple. I'm offering Paddy a full partnership to keep things going while we see how Mickeen makes out.'
Suddenly, O'Rourke was smiling. 'By God, that's a fine offer, Sean, and I'll take it.' He spat on the palm of his hand, held it out and Dillon shook it.
Jean said, 'May I suggest we adjourn to the Green Man and seal the bargain with a drink?'
Paddy's face fell. 'Well, now, there could be complications about that.'
'What complications? Don't be silly, Paddy.' She took Dillon's arm. 'Shall we go?'
'It's entirely our pleasure, Mrs Talbot.' They walked away, Holley and Paddy following.
Farrel called Curry at once. 'They're on their way to the pub, Mr Curry.'
'Then move your arses and get down here fast. Use the back lane.'
Curry was coldly angry. He reached under the bar and produced a sawn-off shotgun, which he loaded and then replaced under the bar. There was no solution there. The woman was a wild card in this game. She was untouchable.
The door opened and she led the way in, just in front of Dillon, Holley and O'Rourke behind.
'Mr Curry, how nice to see you, it's been a while. You may know Mr Dillon here.'
'He certainly does, we're of an age,' Dillon said. 'We were at the village school together. How goes it, Martin?' His smile was mocking.
Curry was struggling to keep control, but before he could make any kind of reply, the back door crashed open and Dempsey and Farrel entered.
'What's happening?' Farrel demanded.
'We're all having a drink to celebrate Paddy being made partner at the garage,' Jean said.
'Why don't you join us?'
'I'm damned if I'll drink with these shites or you, you Protestant whore,' he said, producing a pistol.
Dillon kicked him under the right kneecap and, as he doubled over, raised his knee into the descending face and sent him back to trip over a chair and bounce off the wall, blood oozing from a broken nose as he slid to the floor, dropping his pistol. Curry reached under the bar, producing the sawn-off shotgun. Holley picked up the glass jug of water on the bar, threw it in his face and yanked the shotgun from him by the barrel. He tossed it into the corner, kicking Dempsey in the face as he leaned down to pick up Farrel's pistol.
Jean Talbot took the Smith amp; Wesson from her pocket and fired a shot into the ceiling. 'Now can everybody calm down?'
The door opened and Jack Kelly stepped in. He surveyed the scene, Dempsey and Farrel crouched on the floor by the wall, Curry drying his face with a bar towel. O'Rourke looked terrified.
Kelly said to Dillon, 'Have you given Paddy the job?'
'I don't know who you are, but, yes, he's now a partner.'
'Excellent. I'm Jack Kelly, estate manager at Talbot Place.'
'Ah, I mind that name from days when you were doing something else,' Dillon said. 'Do you know my friend Daniel Holley?'
'We have mutual friends in Crossmaglen. If you're finished here, Jean, I'll see you home.'
'That's kind of you.' She turned to Dillon and Holley, 'Shall we go?'
'Certainly,' Dillon turned to Curry. 'It's been a sincere sensation, Martin.' He ducked as Curry threw a glass at him.
Outside, Jean was getting into Kelly's Morris. 'He's just running me up to my car. Nice meeting you, gentlemen. It's good to be able to put a face to the name.'
They walked back up the street. 'I feel bad about leaving Paddy in there,' Dillon said.
'He'll be all right,' Holley grinned. 'They've got to get their petrol from somewhere.'
'Yes, he'll survive, but what a bloody place. Thank God my father got me out of it at twelve. Let's get going.' As Holley drove, Dillon called Roper. 'What's the situation with Ferguson?'
'He's not stirring yet, so I'm leaving well enough alone. Have you been having fun?'
Dillon told him what had happened, because Roper had a talent approaching genius for making sense out of everything.