‘When you visited Sean Rogan in prison, it was to arrange details of his escape?’ Vanbrugh demanded.
‘That’s right. On the night he got out, Pope was waiting with a car and a change of clothes.’
‘Who laid everything on?’
‘A man called Colum O’More.’
Gregory frowned and looked at Vanbrugh. ‘That’s a familiar name.’
‘It should be,’ Vanbrugh said. ‘He was a big man in the I.R.A. in the thirties and during the early part of the war.’ He turned back to Soames. ‘So the I.R.A. are in this after all? Funds for the Organization, I suppose?’
‘That’s what Rogan believed.’
‘Let me get this straight,’ Vanbrugh said. ‘Morgan and Fletcher were working for wages, right?’
‘Five thousand apiece. Rogan was just working off a debt. O’More persuaded him that he owed the Organization one last favour for breaking him out.’
‘So the rest of the haul goes to I.R.A. funds?’
‘That’s what O’More told Rogan.’
‘But you know different?’
‘You’re telling me. The old spider wants the bloody lot for himself.’
Vanbrugh shook his head. ‘It won’t wash, Soames. I know Colum O’More, everything about him. He isn’t the type to pull a stroke like that.’
Soames shrugged. ‘He’s a sick man, cancer or something. That kind of thing changes people.’
Gregory looked at Vanbrugh quickly. ‘I’ll buy that.’
Vanbrugh nodded. ‘Where’s O’More now?’
Soames moistened his lips. ‘Can we make a deal?’
‘I wouldn’t cut you down if you were hanging/ Vanbrugh said calmly. ‘Now tell me where O’More is or I’ll kick you from here to the door and back again.’
‘He’s at an old farm just off the coast road near Whit-beck/ Soames said sullenly. ‘Marsh-End, it’s called.’
‘Anyone with him?’
Soames shook his head. ‘He’s on his own. Rogan was supposed to drive over tomorrow with the money.’
‘But you and your friends had ide?s of your own about that?’ Vanbrugh turned to Gregory. ‘At least that gives us some sort of explanation for the shooting that’s been going on here. They probably tried to get their hands on the loot and Rogan objected. Do you know this place, Marsh-End?’
‘No, but I know Whitbeck. It’ll take us about forty-five minutes to get there in weather like this.’
‘Then let’s get moving.’
Vanbrugh walked out quickly and Gregory and Dwyer went after him. Soames looked around him hurriedly for a possible exit and a middle-aged police sergeant came through the door, a broad grin on his face.
‘Didn’t think we’d forget you, did you?’
In that moment the full realization of what had happened to him hit Soames with sickening force. Outside the patrol car moved away carrying Vanbrugh, Gregory and Dwyer. As he stood there listening to the sound of the engine fade into the distance, he felt more lonely than he had ever felt in his life before.
The ditch was half-full of water and Morgan waded along it for some fifty yards, then darted across to the shelter of the fir trees on the other side. A few moments later, a police car swept by, followed by another.
By now, they would have sealed every main road through the mountains, that much was obvious. It would take a miracle to get through and yet he had to reach the coast. His one chance of escape lay at Marsh-End with Colum O’More.
As he started to work his way through the plantation of firs, a motorcyclist passed along the main road and slowed to a halt thirty or forty yards further on. Morgan went forward cautiously and paused behind a bush.
A police motorcyclist stood beside an A.A. box, his
machine parked a few feet away. He was examining a map. As Morgan watched, he slipped a cigarette into his mouth and flicked a lighter.
Morgan didn’t even think about it. He gripped his revolver by the barrel, jumped forward and struck hard at the nape of the neck. The policeman gave a stifled cry and slumped to his knees. Morgan grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back into the bushes. Then he ran out into the road, kicked the stand from under the motorcycle and pushed it under cover in the plantation.