once above his head, stood on a stool, unclipped it,
and pulled himself through. A moment later, Hannah
heard him on the companionway and the door
opened. She followed hn out on deck and they saw
the green inflatable disappearing into the mist. Dillon
went into the wheelhouse and switched on the eh-
gines. He turned back toward ScotstOWn.
“Here, you take the wheel and I’ll 8o and
change.”
When he returned, Hannah said, “She’s crazy, Sean, over the edge.”
“She always wasa bit that way,” Dillon said.
“Something there, something really heavy, and I never knew what. Now she thinks she killed her uncle.
By the way, is that.Jack Barry’s raincoat on t, he peg there? If so, I might just find those two Walthers he took off me.” He searched the pockets and turned.
“There you are, one for you and one for me. I’ll take the wheel.” “What did she mean that the gold wasn’t there in the first place?” “Remember I told you I felt there was something wrong when I went through the files and the newspaper clippings.” “Yes.” “Now I know what it was. Michael Ryan had a replica truck at Folly’s End and Benny was to dump it on the coast road to put th police off for a while.” “So.?” “It didn’t strike me at first, but there wasn’t a single mention of that truck in any police report or newspaper file. Now why would that be?” “Oh, my God!” Hannah said.
“Exactly. ATter the robbery I took off for the Irish Rose on the motorcycle with Kathleen. Michael followed in the truck only he was late. Told us the automatic clutch was giving trouble.” “Which it wasn’t.” — “Of course not. He was late because he called at Folly’s End and switched trucks. The bullion never went down with the Irish Rose because it was never on board. It’s locked away in that hidey hole at the back of the barn at’the farm, at Folly’s End. Isn’t that the biggest laugh you’ve had in years?”
THE LAKE DISTRICT
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
KATHLEEN RYAN COASTED IN OUT OF THE MIST and grounded on the ilipway beside the jetty. She didn’t bother tying up, simply left the inflatable where it was, and went up to the quayside and crossed to the Loyalist. She went round to the yard at:the rear and found Barry’s station wagon. When sltried the door it was locked. She stood there thinking about it.
She had to get out of it, had to keep moving, so she crossed to the back door.
Kevin Stringer sat at the table drinking tea and reading yesterday’s newspaper. He looked up in surprise.
“What are you doing here?”
“Jack Barry’s keys for the station wagon, where are they?”
“On the sideboard.”
She reached for them and put them in her pocket. “I need my shoulder bag. I left it in the bedroom.
I’ll go and fetch it, then I’ll be off.”
She went out and left Stringer there, very disturbed.
It was quiet, no staff due in for a couple of hours, and for some reason he knew fear.
He heard her coming down the stairs and she came in. She’d got rid of the reefer coat she’d worn on the boat, was wearing a long raincoat and her old black
beret. The bag hung from her left shoulder.
“Do you know where Ladytown is?”
“It’s on the far side of Newcastle on Dundmm
Bay. You just follow the coast road.” “How far?” “Twenty miles.”
“Good, I’ll be away, then.” It was noticeable that the American accent had disappeared and now she had reverted to the hard Belfast accent of her youth.
Stringer got up and moved to block her way.
“What the hell is going on? Where’s Jack?”
“Dead. Martin killed him, Martir Keogh. He killed Sollazo and the other fella, too. He;s still on the boat with that woman. I locked them in the cabin, and came back in the inflatable..”
Her voice was flat and monotonous and Stringer felt strangely light-headed. “Not Keogh–Dillon.
Have you lost your wits, girl? They can’t all be dead, not all three.”
“Oh, yes they are. Anyway, I’ll be off.”