As Keogh entered, Mary said, “She told me what you did for her. God bless you.”
Keogh sat on the edge Of a table and lit a cigarette.
The girl was still talking. “No, I’ll be fine now. I’ll be at the Dram in twenty minutes. Don’t fret.” She put the phone dowrfd turned, her face calm. “My uncle Michael. He worrios about me.”
“And why not?” Keogh said. “Desperate times.” “You don’t take prisoners, do you?” “I could never see the point.”
“And you’re carrying. A Walther from what I saw.”
“Very knowledgeable for one so young.”
“Oh, I know guns, mister, I was raised on them.
What did you do after I left?”
“I sent them on their way.”
“Home was it with a pat on the head?”
“No, the nearest casualty department. They needed
a lesson. They got one. The one who seemed to be in charge will be on sticks for a while if that’s a comfort to you.”
She frowned, her eyes dark. “What’s your game?” “No game. I didn’t like what was going on, that’s all.” He stood up and stubbed out his cigarette.
“Still, you seem fine now so I’ll be on my way.”
He got the door open. She said quickly, “No, hang on.” He turned and she added, “You can walk me to my uncle’s pub. That’s the Orange Drum on Con-nor’s Wharf. It’s about a quarter of a mile. My name
is Kathteen Ryan. What’s yours?” “Martin Keogh.” “Wait for me outside.”
He did as he was told and saw her go to the phone again. Probably speaking to her uncle, he thought. A few moments later, she joined him, this time carrying a large umbrella.
As she put it up against the driving rain, he said, “And wouldn’t a taxi be safer?”
“I like the city at night,” she tolcrhim. “I like the rain. I’ve a right to go my own way and to hell with those Fenian bastards.”
“A point of view,” he replied as they started to “Here, get under this,” she said, pulling him under
the umbrella and took his arm. “A sailor, you said?” “Just- for the past couple of years.”
“A sailor from Belfast raised in London who carries a Walther.”
There was a question in her voice. “A dangerous place this old town as you saw tonight.” “Dangerous for you, you mean, and that’s why you’re carrying.” She frowned. “You’re not a Fenian or.you wouldn’t have done what you did to that lot.” “I’m not anybody’s, girl dear.” He paused to light a cigarette.
She said, “Give me one.”- “I will not, you with your green years ahead of you. God, but you’ re one for the questions, Kate.” She turned to glance at him. “Why do you call me that? No one else does.” “Oh, it seems to suit.” They were walking along the waterfront now, container ships anchored at the quay and further out, the red and, green lights of a freighter moving out to sea.
Kathleen Ryan said, “So, the gun? Why are you carrying?” “Jesus, it’s the persistent one you are. A long time ago I was a soldier:. Did three tours of duty in this very town, and there’s always the chance of someone with a long memory and agrudge to work off.” “What regiment?” “One Para.” “Don’t tell me yOU were at Bloody Sunday in Londonderry?” “That’s right. Like I said, a long time ago.” Her hand tightened on his arm. “God, but you lads gave those Fenians a roasting that day. How many did you kill? Thirteen, wasn’t it?” The lights of the pub were plain across a cobbled quay now. Keogh said, “How old are you?”
t4 “Sixteen.” “So young and so full of hate.” “I told you. The IRA killed my father, my mother, and my wee sister. That only leaves Uncle Michael.” The sign said The Orange Drum and one was painted on the brick wall beside it with the legend Our Country Too. The girl put the umbrella down, opened the door, and led the way in.
THE INTERIOR WAS A TYPICAL BELFAST PUB WITH several booths, a few tables and chairs, and a long mahogany bar. Bottles of every kind of drink were ranged on shelves against a mirrored wall. There were only half a dozen customers, all old men, four of them playing cards by an open fire, two others talking softly to each other. A hard-looking young man with.