She looked desperately at Rogan. ‘I don’t understand?’
‘Give him a moment to pull himself together.’
O’More ran a hand over his face, shook himself and reached for the glass of whiskey. He took it down with a single swallow and shuddered. ‘God save us all, but that’s better,’ he said in English.
When he looked up there was a different expression in his eyes and he seemed more alert. ‘But what are you doing here? What’s gone wrong?’
‘We’re a day early, that’s all,’ Rogan said, ‘and every peeler in the country on the prowl for us. We’ll have to be moving, Colum.’
‘You’ve pulled it off?’
Rogan dumped the two mailbags on the table. ‘That we have.’
The old man stared at him incredulously. ‘What time is it?’
‘A little after seven.’
‘But that can’t be.’ Colum O’More shook his head vigorously. T had a bad attack just after I got up this morning so I took some of my pills. Maybe more than I should have done.’
‘Now that, I can believe. Are your things packed?’
‘There’s a suitcase in the bedroom, it’s got everything I need.’
Rogan turned to Hannah. ‘Make him a hot drink. Ill send Brendan on ahead to the boat with the suitcase. There are one or two things he can be doing to help us make a quick exit.’
Hannah nodded and went out and Rogan got the suitcase from the bedroom and took Brendan across the courtyard at the rear of the farm to where the track through the marsh began.
‘You’ll come to a stone causeway a couple of hundred yards from here,’ he said. ‘Just beyond it, there’s a narrower path to the right. Follow that and you’ll come to a motor launch. She’s tied fore and aft. Cast off and hold her ready on a single line. We’ll be along in ten minutes.’
The boy nodded eagerly and moved away, the case bumping against his right leg. Rogan went back into the house. O’More still sat in his chair by the fire and as Rogan entered the room, Hannah came in from the kitchen with a coffee pot and cups on a tray.
‘What happens when we get to Ireland?’ she said as she started to pour. ‘Do we just sail boldly in?’
Colum O’More chuckled. ‘Hardly that, girl. There’s a quiet place I know and good friends not far away. That’s where I’ll be leaving you and Sean.’
She looked up at Rogan. ‘Then what?’
‘We’ll go to my father’s place in Kerry. I never made things easy for a peeler in my life, not even an Irish one. They can come for me, there.’
Her face clouded over at once. ‘Prison again?’
O’More laughed harshly. ‘But not for long, girl, make no mistake about that. What you might call a necessary formality. You’ll be back in his arms inside a month.’
She looked up at Rogan anxiously. ‘Is that the truth?’
‘Since when have I lied to you?’ Rogan kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘Get your coat on, we’d better be making a move.’
He felt her stiffen in his arms as she looked behind him and a cold wind gently touched him on the back of the neck. In the mirror above the mantelpiece, he saw the door swing open, framing a police motorcyclist, strangely anonymous, broad goggles masking his eyes beneath the peak of the white uniform crash helmet.
He unfastened his chin strap, pulled off his helmet and goggles and Harry Morgan smiled out at them.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MORGAN’S face was lined with fatigue and the revolver he was holding trembled slightly. ‘Make any kind of a wrong move and I’ll kill you, I swear it,’ he said harshly. ‘Clasp your hands behind your neck.’
He moved to the table and patted the mailbags with his free hand. ‘So the two we grabbed back there at the farm were dummies? I’ve got to hand it to you for nerve, Rogan. Turn round.’
Rogan did as he was told. When he raised his arms, his jacket gaped, revealing the Colt automatic in his waistband.
Morgan nodded to Hannah. ‘Take out his shooter with your left hand and toss it across.’ She hesitated and he raised the revolver quickly. T shot a copper back there at Scardale. I’ve nothing to lose now.’