“I get the point.”
“Hitler gave him the Iron Cross First Class. Devlin falls about laughing when he tells you that.”
“And then the Troubles?”
“Yes. He was one of the original architects of the Provisional IRA. On the British Army’s most-wanted list.”
“Which is when you met him?”
“He taught me everything I know, but Liam was an old-fashioned revolutionary and I was going through a Marxist phase; all purity of violence, being young and foolish. Shots were exchanged, but no great harm done. We made up in recent years.”
“A strange man.”
“A great man, the best I’ve ever known.”
Blake nodded. “This name on your false passport, Martin Keogh. Any significance?”
Dillon shrugged. “An alias I’ve used on and off for years.”
Blake nodded. “So you think Devlin might be able to help us find Riley?”
“If anyone can. Once we have Riley, we haul him back to London to identify that phoney lawyer from the Wandsworth security cameras. Once we have his face, we’ll move on to his identity.”
“You sound confident!”
“I am. With luck, he could be a stepping stone to Judas.”
Blake nodded slowly. “It’s not much.”
“It’s all we’ve got, and another thing. If we do find that place where Judas is holding her, it won’t do any good to call in the Navy Seals or any kind of special forces. He’ll kill her stone dead at the first sound.”
“You mean you’d want to go in on your own?”
“I’d need backup,” Dillon told him. “But I did see a fair amount of the interior. I know she’s on the third floor and things like that.”
“But one man.” Blake shook his head. “That’s crazy.”
“He only has five Maccabees with him,” Dillon said. “And no indication of staff. But then he wouldn’t have staff for obvious reasons. So, five plus Judas is six.”
“And you’d do that on your own?”
“Why not? You’ve heard the old joke about the tailor in the fairytale by the Brothers Grimm? Five at one blow? I’ll make it six.”
“That was flies on a slice of jam and bread,” Blake said.
“Same difference.” Dillon called Kersey. “Another Bushmills and I’ll turn in.”
“Right away, sir.”
“You know,” Blake said, “there’s one thing that really bugs me about the whole business.”
“And what’s that?” Dillon asked, taking the drink that Kersey brought.
“From what Marie de Brissac told you, the general knew from that anonymous letter only that his wife had spent the night with an American officer. He didn’t know it was Jake Cazalet.”
“So it would appear.”
“So only Marie and her mother and the President knew the secret.”
“You’re forgetting Teddy Grant.”
“Okay, but that means only three left when the countess died. So how in the hell did Judas find out?”
“God knows. All that matters is he did.” Dillon switched off the overhead light. “I’m going to sleep while the going’s good,” and he tilted back his seat.
Devlin parked his car on a quay on the River Liffey and walked through soft rain to the pub called the Irish Hussar. It was a pleasant, old-fashioned place with booths and a mahogany bar with a mirror behind it, rows of bottles on the shelves. Normally much favored by Republicans and Sinn Fein supporters, at that time in the morning the clientele were mainly workers of every kind tucking into a full Irish breakfast. He found his quarry, one Michael Leary, in the end booth just starting his meal.
“Liam, you old dog.”
“Same to you,” Devlin told him.
A young woman, all smiles, for Devlin was a great favorite, came to the table. “And what can I get you, Mr. Devlin?”
“The same and lots of breakfast tea, and mind I can stand the spoon in it.” He turned to Leary. “Is the work going well, Michael?”
“That thriller I did sold nicely in the airports. To be honest, Liam, I’ve cleared fifty thousand pounds in the past twelve months and it seems to be climbing.”
“And still working through the night?”
“It’s the leg. I get a lot of pain. Can’t sleep,” and he banged it with his fist.
Leary, an active member of the Provisional IRA for more than twenty years, had lost the leg when a bomb he was supposed to run across the border in an old truck had exploded prematurely, killing his two companions and taking his leg. At least the incident had kept him out of a British prison, but it had brought an end to his career as an active member of the Movement.