Day of Reckoning (9 page)

who still held literary seminars as a visiting professor at
Trinity College, but also a lifetime member of the IRA who
had killed many times.
'Jesus, girl, you look wonderful.' He embraced her. 'You
look grand. Come away in.'
'You're not looking too bad yourself.'
He led her to the sitting room.
He turned. 'Would you like a drink or something?'
'No, I'd like to get on with it.'
She sat down and he took the opposite chair. 'Get on with
it, then.'
'Do you know a man called Brendan Murphy?'
His face hardened. 'Is that dog in this?'
'A bad one?'
'As bad as they come.' He took a cigarette from the old
silver case and lit it. 'You'd better tell me.'
When she was finished, he sat there, frowning. 'Yes, that sounds like Murphy.'
'I was thinking. Where would Murphy get the kind of
money he'd need to pay for an underground arms bunker
and weaponry?'
'Drugs. Protection. This early release of prisoners the
government's been doing has handed Ulster back to the
Godfathers on both sides, Loyalist and Catholic.'
'Have you any information on what Murphy could be up
to?'
'Only in general. The word is that he did time in Libya,
not only in training but also working for various Arab
outfits. He'll be the one supplying the contacts for Fox in
this Lebanon business.'
'Nothing more specific?'
He shook his head, then his eyes narrowed. 'However, I
might know somebody who could help. But I want your
words as regards confidentiality.'
'IRA?'
'Exactly.'
She nodded. 'My hand on it.'
He reached for the phone. 'Let's see.'
In Dublin, Michael Leary was just pulling on his raincoat to
go out when the phone rang.
'Leary,' he said.
'Michael, my old son, Liam Devlin.'
'Jesus, Liam, my heart's sinking already, because that can only mean you want something.'
'And don't I always? I'll meet you at the Irish Hussar
for a snack, and I'll have a Special Branch superintendent
with me.'
'What? The Garda I don't need.'
'No, this is the Scotland Yard variety, name of Bernstein.
A woman with brains and beauty, Michael. Works with Sean Dillon.'
'My God.' Leary groaned. 'I don't want to know.'
'You'll love it, son. See you soon,' and Devlin put the
phone down.
In Hannah's limousine on the way to Dublin a short while
later, Devlin pulled the glass screen across and filled her in
on Michael Leary.
'A nice lad. He went to Queen's University, Belfast. Read English literature. Taught for a while.'
'And then took up the glorious cause.'
'He had his reasons.'
'But an educated man taking up guns and bombs.'
'You mean all members of the IRA should be off a building
site and wear hobnailed boots? Hannah, after the Second
World War the Jews who fought to create Israel, the mem
bers of Irgun and the Stern gang, used guns and bombs, and many of them had been to the finest universities in Europe.'
'Point taken.'
He found a cigarette and opened his window to let the
smoke blow away. 'I might also mention, with my usual
modesty, that I was educated by Jesuits myself and took a
first class honours degree at Trinity.'
'All right, I surrender. I can't talk. I've killed people myself. It is just that I don't like bombs.'
'And neither do I.'
'So, more about Leary.'
'Michael was on the active list for years. We worked together, except that he liked the bombs more than you
or I do. He was running one in a truck over the border
to Ulster, and it went off. Killed the two men with him and took off half of his left leg. The good news was he
was still in the Republic, so he didn't end up in the Maze
prison.'
'So his active career was over?'
'Oh, he ran the Dublin intelligence section for the chief of staff, but once the peace process started he'd had enough. He
knows Dillon well, from Derry in the old days, when they
were facing soldiers.'
'And now what?'
'He writes thrillers. The kind you see on the stalls at
airports, and doing well.'
'Good God.' She frowned. 'Will he help?'
'Let's put it this way: He's like a lot of people these days.
Big for peace. We'll see.'
Devlin directed the driver to a quay on the River Liffey, where they parked outside the Irish Hussar.
'It's a favourite with good Republicans and Sinn Fein
supporters, and the food is excellent,' Devlin told her.
The bar was very old-fashioned with mahogany and mir
rors, bottles offering every kind of drink. It was busy, people
sampling good simple pub food. Leary sat in a booth in the
far corner. He had a pint of Guinness at his right hand, a
plate of Irish stew in front of him.
'Don't getup,' Devlin told him. 'This is my friend Hannah,
so let's start with that.'
Leary looked at her, a good-looking man of forty-five,
black hair streaked with silver. He hesitated, then held out
his hand. Hannah also hesitated, then took it.
'Sit down.'
'The stew looks good,' she said, as a waitress appeared. 'I think I'd like to sample that.'
'And you, Professor Devlin?' the waitress asked.
'Ah, now you're stroking me.' He turned to Hannah.
'Eileen's a student at Trinity. For her sins, she comes to
my occasional seminars.'
'Nonsense, you're the best, everyone knows that,' Eileen
said.
'Which gets you an A for your next essay. An all-day
breakfast for me. A grand old playwright and novelist called
Somerset Maugham once said that to dine well in England
you should eat breakfast three times a day. Bushmills Whis
key for me, my love.'
'A mineral water would do fine for me,' Hannah said.
'Still writing through the night, Michael?'
'The leg, Liam. Hurts like hell at night, so I can't sleep
and I refuse to take the morphine.'
'I'd stick to the Bushmills if I were you.'
Eileen brought the drinks and departed. Leary went back
to his stew. 'So, what's it about?'
'Brendan Murphy. Friend of yours?'
'Nobody's friend, that one. As far as I'm concerned, he's
a gangster. A disgrace to the movement.'
'Would the chief of staff share your view?'
'Certainly. All the old hands want peace to work, Liam,
except for people like Murphy . . .'
'Who have a vested interest in keeping things going,'
Hannah said.
'Exactly. Splinter groups like the Continuity IRA, the Real IRA, they all have other agendas.'
The breakfast and the Irish stew arrived and they started
to eat.
'And where would Murphy be now?' Hannah asked.
'God knows, Superintendent.' Leary pulled up short. 'As
you must know better than most, these days in the Republic,
Ulster, and the UK, they're letting them out, not locking
them up. Murphy can come and go as he pleases. He's only
in trouble if he crosses the line with the Provisional IRA.'
'Would he be dealt with?'
'Certainly. No question. We're an army, Hannah, with
rules and regulations. Now what's all this about and why
should I help?'
'Because fifteen years ago I saved your life in County
Down after you were shot. Got you over the border.'
'Liam, I paid off on that one when you, Dillon and that
Yank were after Dermot Riley, and I told you he was back and
probably at the farm at Tullamore, and down you went.'
And you told the chief of staff, who sent Bell and Barry
down. Two walking ape men. They tortured Bridget Riley,
with cigarette burns on the face.'
And Dillon killed Bell and you shot Barry in the back.
We got it all from Dermot.'
'Yes, disgraceful in a man of my age.' Devlin nodded. 'All right, tell him, Hannah.'
Which she did. The underground bunker in County Louth, Fox, the Lebanese connection. Everything.
Leary sat there frowning, then said, 'Let me make one thing clear, and I'm speaking for Provos in general here.
We won't give up our arms. History has shown that to be
an unwise thing to do.'
'So, you're happy to think that this bunker might exist
and Murphy's in charge.'
'No, I'm damn well not, and the chief of staff won't be
pleased.'
'You'll tell him?' Hannah asked.
'I have no choice.'
'Ah, well, for once, you've got something in common, you two,' Devlin said. 'So what can you do, Michael?'
'We can trawl County Louth, but it's a hell of a lot of
county and Murphy has a lot of hard-line friends there, so
I'm not hopeful.' He frowned suddenly. 'I've just thought
of something. Sean Regan. Remember him, Liam?'
'From Derry,' Devlin said. 'Shot a military policeman and cleared off to America. As I recall, the peeler recovered.'
'That was two years ago. Regan came back and was working with Murphy in Europe. Apparently, he was on a plane from Paris to Dublin three weeks ago that was diverted to Heathrow because of fog. His name came up on the computer security check and he was lifted.'
'I wonder why I don't know about this.' Hannah
frowned.
'Well, according to my information, the Secret Intelligence Service picked him up at Heathrow on one of their special warrants and spirited him away. I'd have thought you'd have known that. Don't your departments share information?'
'Only some of the time.'
Devlin turned to Hannah. 'What do you think?'
'If Regan's been working for Murphy, he might well know something. Frankly, it's our best lead.'
'I can't see that there's anything else I can do,' Devlin said.
'Michael here will spill the beans to the chief of staff, and if
I do get any crumbs from the table, I'll let you know.'
They got up and walked to the door. Outside, Leary shook
Hannah's hand. 'Superintendent, it was a sincere pleasure,
but don't let's make a habit of it,' and he walked away.
Devlin smiled. 'A decent enough stick. Anyway, back to
the airport in that grand limousine of yours. I'll drop you
off and the driver can take me back home.'
Leary sat in the parlour of the chief of staff's suburban
home, and the great man listened while his wife served tea
and scones.
'Did I do right?' Leary asked.
'Of course you did. Murphy's a poisonous animal. I've no time for him and neither has the Army Council.'
'So what do we do?'
'I'll have our people check out things in Louth, although
I don't expect much from that.'
'So?'
The chief of staff smiled. 'If Ferguson's on this case with
Sean Dillon . . .' He smiled. 'Well, for once we're on the
same side. Sean can do our dirty work for us.'
At the airport, Hannah's limousine drove into the hangar
where Lacey and Parry waited. The Gulfstream was outside in the rain. As Hannah and Devlin got out, the Garda police
car returned and Malone emerged.
'Liam, you old sod,' he said.
'And stuff you, too,' Devlin said genially, and they shook hands.
Malone said, 'Anything come up?'
Hannah looked uncertain, and Devlin said, 'Go on, he's
on your side.'
She told him about the meeting with Leary.
Malone said, 'So anything Murphy's involved with cer
tainly isn't official with the IRA.'
'What about this thing with Sean Regan?' she asked.
'Not a word, and I'd have known.,'
'So somebody's playing silly buggers,' Devlin said. Hannah nodded. 'I'll have to sort that out when I get back.' She held out a hand. 'Liam, you're a treasure.'
'Hell, you can do better than that, girl.' He kissed her.
'Take care, and tell Sean to watch his back.'
'That's something he's good at. Goodbye, Superintendent.'
Lacey and Parry were already inside, and Flight Sergeant Madoc gave her a hand up the steps. The door closed, the engines turned over, the Gulfstream moved away.
'A hell of a woman,' Malone said.
'You can say that again.' Devlin smiled. 'Now you can dismiss your car, join me in my luxurious limousine that the good Superintendent has loaned me, and we'll return
to the Irish Hussar, where you can buy me a very large
Bushmills.'
'Me, in that hotbed of Republican gunmen?'