Peter dismounted quickly from his bicycle, crossed to the door of Willow Cottage and knocked firmly. He had no address for Mr Mac or Finbar, but the smoke rising from the cottage chimney confirmed that Ned was at home, so he would at least get to deal with him.
The door wasn’t answered immediately, and Peter knocked again. This time, he heard someone approaching, then the door swung open. Ned looked shocked at seeing him, but before he could say a word, Peter walked past him into the front room, swinging the door closed behind him.
‘What do you think you’re doing?!’
‘We have to talk,’ answered Peter coldly.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘I need some answers.’
‘You shouldn’t be here. You’ve been stood down.’
‘That was between me and Mr Mac. How did you know?’
Ned looked a little flustered. ‘I, eh … he mentioned it to me.’
Peter stared hard at him, and he sensed from the other man’s unease that Ned had slipped up. Peter decided to go for broke while Ned was on the back foot. ‘You’re all in it together, aren’t you?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’
But Ned was a bit too quick with his denial, and Peter knew instinctively that the other man was lying.
‘I’m talking about Annie Reilly,’ said Peter.
‘I don’t know anyone of that name. But I know this. You were given an order. And soldiers obey orders – or else.’
‘Or else what?’
‘They face the consequences.’
‘I’m not afraid of you,’ said Peter angrily. ‘And Annie is a friend. I won’t abandon her.’
Ned looked at him appraisingly, then took a more reasonable approach. ‘I’m sure Annie – whoever she is – will be just fine,’ he said meaningfully. ‘All right?’
Peter didn’t answer, and the older man looked him in the eye.
‘But if you want things to be fine for yourself, you need to follow orders. That means you turn around, walk out that door and go home. Do it now, Peter, if you know what’s good for you.’
Annie jiggled the tip of a hairclip in the door lock. It was a trick that she had read about in an adventure story. She hoped that she could copy the heroine, and escape by picking the lock in the door through which she had entered the barn. She had discovered that the bigger door at the rear of the barn was out of the question, being without a lock, but firmly closed on the outside – presumably with a bolt. That just left the door on which she was working, but the problem was that the book hadn’t explained exactly how you picked a lock. She hoped that if she jiggled the hairclip around enough she might click back a lever in the same way that a key did. So far however, she had had no success.
She stopped jiggling and peered again through the keyhole. She could make out a darkened space with a line of light at its furthest end, and she presumed this was a passageway leading back to the farmhouse. Her interest now, however, wasn’t in what she might see, but in what she had heard. It had sounded to Annie like raised voices, and she strained to hear further. Who was doing the arguing, she wondered? And what was the argument about? Could it be about the kidnap – and whether or not she should be freed tomorrow? Or maybe it was about Da and what might happen him? Before she had time to worry further, the voices grew louder. She couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, yet one of the voices sounded strangely familiar.
Annie strained her ears, desperately wanting to identify the speaker. Then there was another, louder exchange, and she opened her eyes wide in disbelief. The older man who had brought her the stew had shouted, ‘I told you to go home!’ And a younger voice had answered, ‘Not till you tell me what’s happening!’ There was no doubt about it. Annie was shocked to her core to recognise the younger voice as belonging to Peter.
‘Will you cop yourself on?!’ said Ned. ‘This isn’t some game. Lives are at stake!’
‘Yeah, like Annie Reilly’s. And don’t bother saying you don’t know her.’ Peter was making a conscious effort to remain calmer than Ned. But the older man had hinted earlier that he knew about Annie, and Peter wasn’t going to be fobbed off now.
‘Do you know what day this is, Peter?’
‘Friday.’
‘Execution day. Five of our men, good men, went to their deaths today.’
‘And that’s all wrong,’ said Peter. ‘But it’s not Annie’s fault. And using her – that’s all wrong too.’
‘I’m not justifying myself to a pup like you!’
Peter moved closer to Ned and looked straight into his eyes. ‘Is this where you’re keeping her?’ he asked.
Just for a fraction of a second he saw a look of discomfort in Ned’s eyes, but it was revealing enough for Peter, and he sensed that his guess was right.
‘There’s no-one here,’ said Ned. ‘Now get to hell out of it before I give you a hiding.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Fine, we’ll do it the hard way,’ said Ned.
Even though he was in his sixties, Ned was a heavily built man, and Peter knew he couldn’t have overpowered him in a fight. He didn’t retreat, however, and not wanting to let his nervousness show, he tapped into his anger instead and raised his voice. ‘Yeah, let’s do it the hard way!’ Quickly reaching into the inside pocket of his coat, he pulled out a Webley revolver. He had retrieved it from the arms cache in the Botanics, and now he pointed the loaded weapon at the older man, his finger on the trigger.
‘Take it easy, son!’ cried Ned, instinctively taking a step back.
Peter made no reply, but felt a surge of satisfaction at the change in the man’s attitude. He remembered the night he had escaped from the soldiers here, and he guessed where Annie was likely to be hidden. ‘Give me the keys to the barn,’ he said.
Ned stared at him, and from the look in the man’s eyes Peter sensed that perhaps the older man was recovering from his initial shock at seeing the weapon. It would be important to get the keys quickly, while he still had the upper hand.
‘The keys!’ cried Peter.
But something had shifted, and Ned seemed more confident now. He didn’t reply for a moment, then he spoke quite calmly, ‘You’re not going to use that, son.’
‘Am I not?’
‘No. So hand it over.’ Then Ned held out his hand for the weapon and walked towards Peter.
Annie was rooted to the spot at the barn door. Her first emotion had been total confusion at hearing the voice of her friend so unexpectedly. Then her instinct had been to call for his help. But something had stopped her. This was the lair of her kidnappers – yet Peter was here. What did that mean? The idea that he might have betrayed her was staggering. She felt sick in her stomach at the thought. She strained her ears to hear at the door, but she couldn’t make out what was being said now in the farmhouse, and instead her mind raced in circles. Could Peter really have set her up as a way of getting at some government official, via Da? Surely he wouldn’t do such an awful thing. But the kidnappers were anti-Treaty rebels, and so was Peter. And today’s executions by the government had probably infuriated them.
Even so, her mind rebelled at the thought of Peter agreeing to her kidnapping. She really liked him, and she knew that he liked her. She had also taken a big risk to save him on the night that she had lied to the police. Surely after all that he wouldn’t put her at risk – and Da too, with whom he had got on really well the day they had gone on the picnic.
And yet, no-one but the kidnappers knew that she was here. And very few people knew that Da drove important government officials. Peter did, though. And Peter was here. Her heart told her that he wouldn’t have betrayed her, but her head told her that someone had. And the evidence looked damning. She stood at the barn door, her feelings in turmoil as she waited for what would happen next.
Peter levelled the gun at Ned. His fingers felt shaky, but he steadied the heavy revolver by supporting it with both hands.
‘Put i
t down, Peter, you know you won’t shoot me.’
‘Unless you make me. So don’t make me!’
Ned gave a half smile. ‘Not a bad line,’ he said. ‘But we both know you won’t shoot me in cold blood.’
‘It won’t be cold blood if you force me. Now back off!’
‘We’re on the same side, Peter. Give me the gun and I’ll forget this ever happened.’
Ned had been slowly advancing, and Peter took a step backwards, not wanting to allow him within sufficient range to lunge for the weapon. ‘I warned you!’ he said. ‘Stay back. And throw me the keys of the barn.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Ned. ‘And by the way, Peter, bad move with the Webley. Never take out a weapon you’re afraid to use.’
‘I’m not afraid,’ said Peter, aware even as he said it that his palms were damp with sweat, but hoping that Ned wasn’t as confident as he was making out to be.
‘Yeah, you are, you’re terrified,’ says Ned, still slowly drawing nearer. ‘And you’re right to be scared. We know all about you. Where you live, everything. And we know how to deal with traitors.’
‘You’re the traitor!’ Peter cried. ‘You’re the ones who betrayed me!’
‘Hurt your feelings, did we? Maybe she’s your sweetheart?’
‘She’s my friend. You shouldn’t have touched her.’
Peter had been slowly retreating to keep his distance from the older man, but now he felt his back coming up against the dresser, and he could retreat no further.
‘I’m losing patience, son,’ said Ned. ‘Give me the gun and maybe I won’t give you the hiding you deserve.’ He held out his hand confidently. ‘Last chance, Peter. Give me the gun, right now.’
Annie heard raised voices again, and her hopes rose a little. The first time she had made out Peter’s voice the other man had been shouting at him to go home. Things had obviously calmed down since then but there had been a second flare-up during which she had heard Peter crying, ‘You’re the traitor!’ Now the voices were getting angry again, and the more Annie thought about it, the more she felt that this was a good sign.
Supposing Peter hadn’t been involved in her kidnapping? As her friend, he would be angry, then, if he found out, wouldn’t he? And he might well argue with her captor. Annie wanted with all of her might for that to be true – for if Peter had betrayed her, that would be unbearable. But even if Peter was fighting her cause, it didn’t mean that he would be able to persuade the other man to free her. Maybe he would argue only that she was to be treated well, and allowed to go free tomorrow, as promised. Or maybe he was arguing that Da shouldn’t be put in undue danger – while still agreeing to their mission going ahead. Except that Annie somehow didn’t feel it was that kind of argument. Something about it sounded more immediate, and she strained at the barn door to hear what was being said.
She made out Peter shouting, ‘Back off!’ and the other man shouting, ‘Don’t be stupid!’ There was the noise of a scuffle and a chair being knocked over. Then Annie jumped back from the doorway, startled at the most awful sound she had ever heard. A single gunshot rang out, followed by an eerie silence. Annie sank to her knees, trembling, more scared than she had ever been in her life.
The smell of cordite hung in the air, and after the noise of the arguing and the loud bang of the shot, the room seemed unnaturally quiet. Peter stood unmoving, hardly able to believe that he had just shot a man. Ned lay sprawled against the kitchen wall. Bright red blood seeped through the leg of his trousers from the wound in his thigh. Initially Ned had looked to be in shock, but now his gaze cleared a little and he looked at Peter, his eyes blazing,
‘You’ll pay for this!’ he said.
Peter was feeling a bit shocked himself, but he tried to keep his voice steady. ‘Where’s the barn key?’ he demanded.
Ned ignored him, and instead pulled a scarf from his pocket. He wrapped the scarf around his thigh and began tightening it as a tourniquet to try to stop the bleeding.
Peter was relieved that he didn’t seem to have done Ned life-threatening damage, but now he needed to find Annie.
‘I said, where’s the key?!’
‘Go to hell!’ snapped Ned.
Peter felt a stab of anger. Having come this far, he really had to find Annie and free her. He raised the Webley once more and pointed it at Ned. ‘Don’t make me use it again,’ he said.
The older man kept the tourniquet tightly in place and looked at Peter, hatred on his face. He didn’t answer, and Peter felt a little uncertain. Could he really shoot a man who was already lying against the wall, bleeding? Maybe not – but he had to act like he could. ‘Give me the key or the next bullet is in your chest,’ he said grimly. He aimed the gun at Ned’s heart.
Still the older man stared at him angrily, and Peter wondered what he would do if Ned stubbornly refused to budge. He knew he couldn’t shoot him in the heart. Even if he shot him in the other leg Ned might lose so much blood that he would be in danger of dying. No, Peter thought, he would have to bluff.
‘OK,’ he said, ‘if you want to die, fine. You didn’t believe I’d shoot the last time. Don’t believe me now either.’ He used both hands to take careful aim, then Ned’s nerve broke.
‘OK! Don’t shoot!’ Taking one of his bloodied hands off the tourniquet for a moment, Ned reached into his jacket pocket and took out a key ring.
‘Throw it!’ said Peter.
Ned steadied himself, then threw the keys.
Peter caught them, slipped the Webley into his pocket, and made for the doorway that led to the barn.
Annie shrank back in fear on hearing the key turning in the lock. She had sat unmoving since the gunshot, her mind going round in circles. What had happened? Who had fired the gun? Could Peter have been shot? Annie heard the lock clicking open, and her heart pounded even faster. She knew that she should turn and face the wall, but her worry over Peter put her beyond caring about the kidnappers’ rules.
Suddenly the door swung open, and there he stood, his face flushed despite the cold of the November air.
‘Peter!’ she cried.
‘Annie…’
‘Thank God you’re OK! I was … I was afraid you’d been shot.’
‘I fired the gun.’
‘Oh God,’ said Annie.
‘It’s OK, he’ll survive.’
‘You didn’t … you didn’t help them kidnap me?’
‘No!’
Annie looked at Peter, wanting to believe him, but still confused by his presence here.
‘But you’re with these people, aren’t you? They’re the rebels you’ve been helping.’
‘Yes. But I swear, Annie, I’d no idea that they’d take you. I’d never have agreed to that – never!’
Annie could see that he was telling the truth, and it felt like a weight lifting from her.
‘It was Mr Mac who did this,’ said Peter.
‘Mr Mac?’
‘He’s the one I’ve been working with. But he’s stabbed me in the back. He’s used us both.’
Annie was dumbfounded. She had always sensed that Mr McMahon was a strong nationalist, but she was horrified by Peter’s revelation. ‘I can’t … I can’t believe it.’
‘He just used us. He doesn’t care.’
‘So how did you end up here?’
‘It was a guess, after your mother called to the house looking for you.’
‘God, poor Ma!’
‘She thought you’d been kidnapped so people could threaten your father. And she said that not many people know about him driving for the government. But Mr Mac did – he overheard us talking one night.’
‘Yeah?’
‘And Mr Mac told me to stand down for no proper reason. It all fell into place in my head then. So I came to see if you were here, and if I could free you.’
Annie felt a surge of affection for Peter, and before she knew what she was doing, she hugged him.
‘Oh Peter. You’re a great friend!’
H
e hugged her in return, then drew back. ‘We really should get out of here,’ he said. ‘Come on!’
Annie followed him down the dim passageway that led from the barn to the farmhouse. She was shocked to see a heavily built older man – presumably her unseen captor from earlier – whose leg was soaked in blood. His face was scrunched up in a grimace as he twisted the scarf that had served as Annie’s blindfold around his leg, using it as a makeshift tourniquet.
‘You’ll pay for this, I swear it!’ he shouted at Peter, spittle flying from his mouth. Despite the fact that Peter was hustling her out the door, Annie took a good look at the man’s face, telling herself that she would give the police an accurate description of him.
Peter pulled open the front door of the cottage, and Annie followed him out.
‘Where are we?’ she asked.
‘Cardiffs Bridge.’
‘Cardiffs Bridge?’ Yes, that made sense! thought Annie. She remembered the day of the picnic, and how Peter had knocked over their water, then gone to a cottage to get a refill. There had been something unconvincing about his clumsiness at the time, and now she saw that it was an excuse to visit this cottage. But this wasn’t the time to go into that. She had to get home and raise the alarm.
As if reading her mind, Peter pulled his bicycle away from the wall and thrust it forward. ‘Take this!’ he said.
‘What about you?’
‘I’ve stuff to do here,’ he said. ‘You save your dad.’
Taking Sides Page 14