The young woman brought Devlin his breakfast and a pot of tea and withdrew and he started to eat.
“What is it, Liam? What do you want?” Leary asked.
“Fifteen years ago when I was sixty and should have known better, I saved your life in County Down. When the RUC peelers shot you in the shoulder, I got you over the border.”
“True,” Leary said, “but false as my left leg in one respect. You weren’t sixty, you were seventy.”
“A slight digression from the truth, but you owe me one and I’ve come to collect.”
Leary paused, frowning slightly, then resumed eating. “Go on.”
“We both know you’re still heavily connected with the organization. You were still running the intelligence section in Dublin for the Chief of Staff until the peace process started.”
Leary pushed his plate away and the young woman came and took it. “Is this IRA business, Liam?”
“Only indirectly. A favor for a friend.”
“Go on.” Leary filled his pipe from a pouch.
“You’ve still got your ear to the ground. Would you know if Dermot Riley got back in one piece? You see, last I heard, he was in Wandsworth Prison doing fifteen years, then it seems he got out. I understand that when last seen, he was using an Irish passport in the name of Thomas O’Malley.”
“Who saw him?”
“My friend, but it’s confidential.”
“Well, there’s more than one would like to see Dermot, including the Chief of Staff. All right, he’s back. He passed through security at Dublin airport three days ago in the identity of Thomas O’Malley. A security man recognized him. As he’s one of our own, he simply checked him through, then reported the matter to the Chief of Staff.”
“And what did he do?”
“Put in a call to London, then sent two enforcers, Bell and Barry, to pay a visit to Bridget O’Malley on her farm by the Blackwater River. That was yesterday. She swore he hadn’t been there. Thought he was still in prison, so they came back.”
“Knowing those two, I’m surprised they didn’t try burning her with cigarettes.”
“You think he’s there, Liam?”
“Or thereabouts. Where else would he go?”
There was a pause as Devlin drank his tea, and finally Leary said, “The thing is, it stinks. We have friends everywhere, you know that, even at Wandsworth Prison. It seems Riley was booked out on a warrant signed by Brigadier Charles Ferguson a few days ago.”
“Do you tell me?” Devlin lit a cigarette.
“And we all know who his strong right hand is these days—Sean Dillon. Would he be this friend of yours, Liam?”
Devlin smiled. “Now how would I be knowing a desperate fella like that?”
“Come off it, Liam. You taught him everything you know. You used to say he was your dark side.”
Devlin got up. “A grand breakfast, and you the successful author now, Michael, I’ll let you treat me. If you run into Dermot Riley, I’d like a word.”
“Don’t be stupid, Liam. Even the living legend of the IRA can come to a bad end.”
“Jesus, son, at my age who cares? Oh, and you can tell the Chief of Staff when you phone him that this isn’t an IRA matter. He has my word on it.”
He walked away and Leary sat there thinking about it and then it came to him. Why would Ferguson take Riley out of Wandsworth? Obviously for some sort of deal, and Riley had done a runner or if he hadn’t, was he in Ireland on a false passport to do some job or other for Ferguson?
In any case, only one course of action was open and he got up and left, walking quickly to his car.
He sat in the parlor of the small suburban house that was the Chief of Staff’s home. His wife served tea and the Chief sat there stroking the cat on his lap, listening.
When Leary was finished, the other man said, “Get hold of Bell and Barry and send them to me.”
“And Liam?”
“Nobody likes him more than I do, but if the old bugger turns up there, especially if Dillon’s with him, then Bell and Barry can stiff them both.”