is the only reason we are not cancelling tonight’s concert. Is there anything you don’t understand in all this?’
‘No,’ she said coldly, her face white and strained. ‘I understand only too well.’
‘Good,’ he said. Then go back to the hotel now and get some rest.’
She turned, Turkin opened the door for her, a slight, twisted smile on his mouth. She brushed past him, followed by a thoroughly frightened Natasha Rubenova and Shepilov and Turkin moved in behind.
In Kilrea, Devlin had not been long back at the cottage. He didn’t have a regular housekeeper, just an old lady who came in twice a week, knocked the place into shape and did the laundry, but he preferred it that way. He put the kettle on in the kitchen, went into the living room and quickly made the fire. He had just put a match to it when there was a rap on the French window and he turned to find McGuiness there.
Devlin unlocked it quickly. ‘That was quick. I’m only just back.’
‘So I was told within five minutes of you landing at the airport.’ McGuiness was angry. ‘What’s the score, Liam? What’s going on?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Levin and Billy, and now Mike Murphy’s been pulled out of the Liffey with two bullets in him. It must have been Cuchulain. You know it and I know it. The thing is, how did he know?’
‘I don’t have any fast answer on that one.’ Devlin found two glasses and the Bushmills and poured. ‘Try this for size and calm down.’
McGuiness swallowed a little. ‘A leak is what I think, at the London end. It’s a well-known fact that the British security service has been heavily infiltrated by the Soviets for years.’
‘A slight exaggeration, but some truth to it,’ Devlin said. ‘As mentioned earlier, I know that Ferguson thinks the leak is from your people.’
To hell with that. I say we pull in Cherny and squeeze him dry.’
‘Maybe,’ Devlin said. ‘I’d have to check on that with Ferguson. Let’s give it another day.’
‘All right,’ McGuiness said with obvious reluctance. ‘I’ll be in touch, Liam. Close touch.’ And he went out through the French windows.
Devlin poured another whiskey and sat there savouring it and thinking, then he picked up the phone. He was about to dial, then hesitated. He replaced the receiver, got the black plastic box from the desk and switched it on. There was no positive response from the telephone, nor indeed from anywhere in the room.
‘So,’ he said softly, ‘Ferguson or McGuiness. It’s one or other of the buggers that it’s down to.’
He dialled the Cavendish Square number and the receiver was picked up at once. ‘Fox here.’
‘Is he there, Harry?’
‘Not at the moment. How was Paris?’
‘A nice girl. I liked her. Pretty confused. Nothing more I could do than present the facts. I gave her the material your bagman brought over. She took it, but I wouldn’t be too sanguine.’
‘I never was,’ Fox said. ‘Will you be able to smooth things down in Dublin?’
‘McGuiness has already been to see me. He wants to move on Cherny. Try some old-fashioned pressure.’
That might be the best solution.’
‘Jesus, Harry, but Belfast left its mark on you. Still, you could be right. I’ve stalled him for a day. If you want me, I’ll be here. I gave the girl my card, by the way. She thought I was a failed romantic, Harry. Have you ever heard the like?’
‘You give a convincing imitation, but I’ve never bought it.’
Fox laughed and rang off. Devlin sat there for a while, a frown on his face, then there was another tap on the French window. It opened and Cussane entered.
‘Harry,’ Devlin said, ‘you’re sent from heaven. As I’ve often told you, you make the best scrambled eggs in the world.’
no
‘Flattery will get you anywhere.’ Cussane poured himself a drink. ‘How was Paris?’
‘Paris?’ Devlin said. ‘Sure and I was only joking. I’ve been to Cork. Some university business to do with the film festival. Had to stay over. Just driven back. I’m the original starving man.’