I thought you were dead.”.
“And that says it all.” Ievlin laughed. “Away with you, girl, and bring me the Bushmills.” DEVLIN TOOK HIS TIME, RAISING POLmCS ONLY when they had eaten and were enjoying a pot of .Barry’s tea.
“So where are we with the pea, ce process?” he finally asked.
“Still roadblocked,” O’Brien told him. “It’s the bloody British Government with their demands that we get rid of all our arms, Liam. That’s too much. I
mean, do they imagine the other side aren’t stockpiling?”
“I suppose you see Gerry Adams and McGuinness regularly; What’s the good word?”
“Hope, Liam, that’s the good word. Anybody who thinks Gerry and Martin don’t want this peace to last is crazy, but peace with honor.”
“And what about the Loyalist side of things?” “Difficult, that. They think the British Government have sold them out or will do and there’s some truth in that, but they must face the fact that the day will come when they’ll have to take their place in a united Ireland. That will take change.”
“From the Catholic side, too,” Devlin said. “Anyway,’how do the old warhorses see it? What’s Jack Barry up to these days?”
“Not much since he retired and not needed with the peace movement making changes. I see him now and then, but not often. You know his wife died?”
“Yes, I heard that. God rest her. Is he still in Abbey Road by the park?” ‘
“As far as I know. I don’t know how he fills his “Out to rass like me.” Devlin got up. “Well, I’ve enjoyed the crack, Colum. We used to say our day will come. Let’s hope it has.” IT WAS YEARS SINCE HE’D VISITED JACK BARRY’S house in Abbey Road, but when he drove there and parked the car, it all came back and he found the house easily enough. He tried the knocker on the front door and waited. He had no intention of confronting Barry about the Irish Rose affair. Just an old friend who happened to be passing, but in any event he was disappointed. He went round to the small garden at the back and peered through the kitchen window.
A voice said, “Can I help you?” and he turned and found a young woman taking wash off the line next door.
Devlin gave her his best smile. “I was looking for Jack Barry.” “I saw him getting into the big station wagon early this morning. He parks it in the street. If it isn’t there now he’ll be away somewhere. Is it important?” “Not tt all. An old friend who happened to be in the neighborhood, that’s all. So, you’ve no idea where he might be?” “He’s here most of the time. A lovely man. Used to be a schoolteacher, then ‘ wife died. They used to go away to the country at weekends. They had a cottage or something like that.” “Would you know where?” “I’m afraid not.” “Ah, well, if he turns up, tell him Charlie Black called,” Devlin lied cheerfully and went back to his Car.
He was smiling as he drove away, wondering what she’d say if she knew that the nice man next door had once been Chief of Staff of the Provisional IRA.
z43 THE WAREHOUSF, ON THE.TRAI)ING F, STATF, ON the outskirts of Dublin was called Seahorse Supplies.
The owner was a man named Tony Bradley, middle-aged and balding with a distinct beer belly. An IRA activist in his youth, a five-year sentence in Portlaoise Prison fifty miles from Dublin had cooled his ardor.
His sympathy and support were still with the Republican cause, however. He had been a great fundraiser when he came home from the North Sea oilfields, where he had been a diver, and had set up Seahorse.
The warehouse was packed with diving equipment of every kind and Bradley stopped at a goods table and took out an order pad. “Great to see you again, Jack. In fact, a great honor.” “List time was in the pub at Ballyburn when I was spending a weekend at my farmhouse,” Barry said.
“And that was just a happy chance, me passing through. So what c– I do?” “My friend, Mr. SollaZo, needs some diving equipment.