ster, a man named ‘John Cassidy, when he took the call.
“It’s me,” Keogh said. “Worked like a charm. I’m
in it up to my neck.’Ryan’s taken me on board.” “Tell me everything.”
Which Keogh did ia a few brief sentences. Finally, he said, “What could be in this meat transporter?”
“Gold bullion if it’s the job I’m thinking of. It was put to the Loyalist Army Council about a year ago and thrown out as being too risky.”
“So Ryan has decided to do it on his own initiative.”
“Exactly, but then he always was the wild one.
That’s why I wanted you in there when I got the whisper through an informer that he was up to something.”
“Up to something big,” Keogh told him.
“That’s right. Stay in close touch, yoU’ve got those alternate numbers for the mobile phone, and watch your back.” ‘al’ BARRY ‘LEANED BACK THOUGHTFULLY AND LIT A cigarette. Cassidy said, “Trouble?”
“Michael Ryan up to his old tricks.” He ran
i through what. Keogh had told him.
Cassidy said, “My God, if it is gold bullion, the
‘: . bastards would have enough money to arm for,a civil
:.’ war. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t need to do a thing except have a suitable
reception committee waiting when that boat delivers
· the truck somewhere on the Ulster coast. Then we’ll
have enough money to start a civil war.”
“And you’re certain of knowing the time and place?
“Oh, yes. The man on the other end of the Phone just now is one of our own. He’s infiltrated under a false identity. He’ll be going along for the ride every
step of the way.” ‘ “A good man?” “The best.”
“Would I be knowing him?” Barry told him Keogh’s real name.
Cassidy laughed out loud. “God save us, the Devil himself, so God help Michael Ryan.” THERE WAS ,,NO ONE AT THE RECEPTION DESK when Keogh entered the hotel. He went up the staffs quickly and unlocked the door to his room. It was unbelievably depressing and he looked around with distaste. It certainly wasn’t worth taking off his clothes. He switched off the light, lit a cigarette, lay on the bed, and went over the whole affair.
The astonishing thing was, as had been said, the simplicity of it. He’d have to consider that again once Ryan had taken him fully into his confidence, of course: Not a bad fella, Ryan, a man hard to dislike.
And then there was the girl. So much hate there in one so young and all blamed on the bomb which had killed her family. He shook his head. There was more to it than that, had to be, and finally he drifted into sleep.
KATHLEEN RYAN TOOK A CUP OF TEA IN TO HER
uncle just before she went to bed. Ryan was sitting
by the fire smoking his pipe and brooding.
“You think it will work?” she asked.
“I’ve never been more certain and with Keogh along–” He shrugged. “Fifty million pounds in gold bullion, Kathleen. Just think of that.”
“A strange one,” she said. “Can you trust him?” “I’ve never trusted anyone in my life,” he said cheerfully. “Not even you. No, don’t you fret over Keogh. I’ll have my eye on him.”
“But can you be sure?”
“Of course I can. I know him like I know myself, Kathleen, my love. We’re cut from the same bolt of cloth. Like me he’s got brains, that’s obvious. He’s also a killer. It’s his nature. He can do no other, just like me.” He reached up to kiss her cheek. “Now off to bed with you.”
She went out and he sat back, sipping his tea and thinking of a lonely road in the Lake Dct, a road that not even his niece knew he had visited.
LONDON THE LAKE DISTRICT
CHAPTER TWO
IF THERE IS SUCH A THING AS AN IRISH QUARTER in London, it’s to be found in Kilbum along with a profusion of pubs to make any Irish Republican happy. But there are also the Protestant variety identical with anything to be found in Belfast. The William & Mary was one of those, its landlor,’ Hugh Bell, an Orange Protestant to the hilt, perfofihing the same function in London for the Loyalist movement as Sinn Fein did for the IRA.