In the early evening of the day they had arrived in.
London, Ryan, Keogh, and Kathleen sat with him in a baclcroom, an assortment of handguns on the table.
Bell, a large, jovial man with white hair, poured himself a whiskey.
“A. nything you like, Michael, and there’s more where that came from.”
Ryan selected a Browning, hefted it, and put it in his pocket. Keogh found a Walther. “Would you have a Carswell for this?” he asked.
“A man of taste and discernment, I see,” Bell observed.
He got up, went to a cupboard, rummaged inside, and came back. “There you go. The latest model.”
Keogh screwed it onto the end of the Walther.
“Just the ticket.”
“And the young lady?” Bell asked.
“My niece doesn’t carry,” Ryan told him.
The girl bridled instantly. “I’m as good a shot as you, Uncle Michael, and you know it. How am I expected to protect myself?. Kick them in the balls?”
Bell laughed. “I inight have a solution.” He went back to th cupboard and returned with a small automatic.
“Colt.25, quite rare. Slips in a lady’s handbag or stocking quite easily.”
“And no bloody stopping power,”’ Ryan told him.
“Enough if you’re-etose enough,” Bell said.
The girl took the weapon from him and smiled.
“This will do me just fine.” She slipped it into her handbag.
Ryan said, “All right. What about the Irish Rose?” “Siemens ferry, tied up in Wapping near the Pool of London. Captain Frank Tully, but you know that.
The kind of mt who’ll do anything for money. The worst kind of drugs, anything that pays. He’s twice
run arms for the IRA to the Republic.”
“What about his crew?”
“There’s four.” Bell opened a drawer and took out a piece of paper. He put reading spectacles on the end of his nose. “Mick Dolan and Jock Grant–they’re from Liverpool. Bert Fox from London, and a Kraut named Muller–Hans Muller. They’ve all got form all been inside.” “Well, at least we know what we’re dealing with,” Keogh observed.
“That’s right,” Ryan told him. “Just your average scum.” Bell said, “These aren’t, good people, Michael. I hope you know what you’re doing.” “I usually do.” Ryan grinned and took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “These are my requirements.
See i.f you can fill the bill.” Bell had a look. “Stun grenades, smoke grenades.
That’s fine. Two AK assault rifles. Okay. Semtex? Is that essential?” “I might have to blow my way into my target.” “All right, I’ll see what I can do.” “That’s it, then.” Ryan smiled at hi niece and Keogh. “Something to eat and then well go and see Tully.”
IT WAS VERY COLD ON THE THAMES, TOWER Bridge on the right and the floodlit Tower of London just beyond it. A couple of ships passed from the Pool of London, red and green lights clear in the evening darkness as the taxi stopped at the end of’ Cable Wharfe, and Ryan, Kathleen, and Keogh got out. The taxi moved away and they walked along the waterfront.
The ferry was moored at the far end, cables reach33
ing to the pier. In the sickly yellow light of two lamps they could see the legend on the stera plain. Irish Rose.
“Enough to make a man feel at home,” Ryan said.
“I’m not sure that’s the right word for it,” Keogh told him.
They started up the gangway land a man in reefer coat and peaked cap appeared. “And where do you think you’re going?” he asked in a hard Liverpool voice.
“We’re expected,” Ryan said. “Tell Captain Tully.” The man laughed out loud. “Captain Tully? Is that what he calls himself?.” He laughed again. “All right, this way.” The boat was very flat, the central section including the wheelhouse rising up from the deck three quarters of the way along. She was about five hundred feet in length.
“What do you think?” Ryan whispered to Keogh as they.followed. ‘ “That they weren’t designed for heavy weather,” Keogh told him.
They went up’a ladder to the wheelhouse, stopped on the landing below. Their escort opened a door and stood to one side.
“Here we are, then.” “Thank you, Mr. Dolan.” The man who sat behind the chart table wore a seagoing officer’s coat, had hair down to his shoulders, and a face that was so ravaged by drink and bad