Shadows of Deceit (20 page)

“You bastard!” he shouted as he pushed Darlath away from him. At that moment Harry returned to the room.

“What the hell is going on?”

Darlath replied, “I’m OK, but a couple of glasses have been smashed.”

By this time Steve had ripped open the buttons on his shirt to reveal lacerations across his chest. Harry went to assist.

“Sit down Steve. I’ll see if any glass is in there.”

Still somewhat in shock Steve did as he was told. Harry pulled the shirt open and used a couple of napkins to wipe the wounds. “They’re clean and not too deep, just apply some pressure to stop the bleeding. Is there a first aid kit here?”

“I’ll go and ask Michael.”

Darlath was still remarkably placid as he walked out of the room.

Harry turned to face Steve,

“I suppose you started this?”

Steve’s face dropped, he was unable to look at Harry.

“You can’t resist being the bully. You could easily have killed him if you’d really let fly. I know there’s always been some needle between you two but what was it tonight?”

“Oh forget it. He just irritates me at times; you know his ways, his manner, what he is.”

Harry understood more than Steve realised. Darlath returned with a reel of plasters and scissors.

“Will this do?”

“Yes that’s fine.”

Harry applied a couple of strips of plaster to the wounds.

“There, you’ll live.”

Steve buttoned his shirt and stood up to leave.

“I’ll go and drive Dermot back.”

Darlath, who was standing by the door, held out his hand to Steve, “I’m sorry for what happened. It was an accident.”

Steve paused momentarily unable to decide what to do. Harry moved forward into Steve’s peripheral vision. Steve’s eyes flashed across to Harry and then back to Darlath. As he walked through the door he exchanged a weak, fleeting handshake with Darlath.

Harry grinned. He couldn’t resist the opportunity of shouting after him,

“Well that’s tit for tat for you ruining my shirt!”

Harry turned to Darlath,

“What was all that about Darlath?”

“Nothing of importance, don’t worry about it. It was just an accident.”

The ferry arrived at Dun Laoghaire in the late afternoon. At the quayside Harry waited for a bus to take him into the city. When it eventually came it was already overcrowded with passengers. He had to stand all the way to the centre so from there he decided to walk to Darlath’s flat in Quinn’s Lane. It was about two years since he’d last been here and he was pleased to be back in Ireland, and especially Dublin.

The city hadn’t changed much in that time, the same pubs, same shops and a general feeling of peace. Apart from a few misdirected bombings by the Germans, mistaking Dublin for Belfast, Eire had remained neutral in the war and this feeling of tranquillity was noticeable, even to Harry.

“Harry, welcome, come in.”

He was shown up to Darlath’s flat on the second floor of a large Georgian terraced house.

“Throw your bag in there, that’s your room. I’ve got some food in but will you have a drink first? I know travelling can be so tiresome.”

“Yes, thanks, a drink first.”

“How’s Eileen?” Darlath asked.

“She’s good. A bit envious of me coming over to Dublin though. She would have enjoyed the shops perhaps. But she’s doing some extra shifts at the Stuart, so another time maybe.”

Darlath returned with the drinks,

“Well you’re both welcome to stay whenever you can.”

Later after a meal they settled down to discuss the project.

“Harry, the trunk containing our money is being landed at Cork. That’s why I can’t get away to go down there, it’s too far for me right now. This trunk, plus twenty cases of spirits, will be for us. There’s a couple of dockers that I want you to meet up with. They will organise the lifting of our haul and onward transport.”

“Where will it be taken to?”

“It’ll be stored at Tullow, that’s in County Carlow, south of Dublin. Look I’ve got a map of Cork here; you’ll meet these men in a pub. The ‘Shanagarry Lounge’ in Cobh, just here. I’ve told them that it’ll be you coming instead of me this time. I’ve tried to describe you to them but they also, understandably, want a password to recognise you and that will be ‘the Brazen Head on Bridge Street’, apparently that’s their favourite bar when in Dublin!”
“The Brazen Head on Bridge Street. OK - and their names?”

“Peter Creggs and Thomas O’Leary, they’re both six footers and about your age. Creggs has thinning fair hair and usually wears a white scarf tucked into his shirt, he dresses a bit shabbily despite his wealth. O’Leary has dark curly hair and is easily recognisable because of a tattoo of a cross just above the knuckle of the middle finger on his left hand. So if you look out for O’Leary and the cross then you should find them quite easily. They will take you to their lock up so that you can view what is ours. You then pay them half of what is owed; the remainder is to be passed to them when the goods arrive safely at Tullow.”

“I understand. When do I meet them?”

“The best thing to do is travel down there tomorrow and find some digs for a few days. They are going to telephone me one evening to arrange for you to meet them the following day. Once you’re down there just ring me each morning and I can then tell you when. Is all that clear?”

“Yes, but where do I contact you?”

“Here’s my office number, I promise that once I know the arrangement is fixed I will be at my desk the morning you ‘phone. If you ring one day and you’re told that I’m not at my desk then assume nothing has yet been sorted.”

“That’s all clear, I understand.”

“Now, money. Have you enough to pay for travel and hotel?”

“Yes no problem, Andrew provided me.”

Darlath lifted a parcel from his desk drawer,

“This package represents fifty per cent of the cash we are to pay up front. Keep it secure on you at all times and only hand it over once you’ve seen the goods.”

Darlath then unlocked a floor safe,

“I’ll leave it in here until the morning. You are to travel back up here straight away after handing the cash over. We then wait for a day or so as they move our goods up country. Then your next task is to meet them at Tullow and hand the rest over, which I will give to you.”

“That’s clear, fine, OK.”

“Here’s a money belt to wear under your clothes. When you’re down south you can always appear to be looking for work in the docks or something. Just prepare a little story in case anyone asks. Any queries Harry?”

“No Darlath, I know what to do.”

“Now, change of subject, do you fancy a real pub stout before bed?”

Soon afterwards they were standing at O’Donoghue’s bar in Merrion Row.

“Harry, I never really had the chance to thank you for being so discreet when I met you again at Michael’s cottage. That was an awkward moment for me, I appreciate what you did.”

“Think nothing of it. It remains a secret. As I recall that was a strange evening for me as well. You know the tattoo and Steve’s knife.”

“Yes, you deserve an apology for that action.”

“Well things have worked out alright for me since then, so I can’t really complain too much.”

Harry sipped his pint as he looked around the bar,

“Tell me something Darlath, this is a question that’s been troubling me for a while, do you know who Duffy is?”

“Duffy, why do you ask?”

“Well back home in Glasgow there’s an Irish family that was living next door to a house I rented. One night there was an almighty row between the mother and her son who had just turned up after being away for months apparently. During the commotion she shouted something like ‘go and get Irish Duffy to find you a bed’ I just wondered who he is, do you know?”

Darlath laughed,

“She’s probably referring to Eoin O’Duffy.”

“Go on.”

“Well in Germany the Nazi followers joined the Brownshirts; in England you have Moseleys Blackshirts. In green, beautiful green, green Ireland what do we get, we have Eoin O’Duffy setting up the ‘
Blueshirts
’. It could only happen to the Irish. Blue shirts I ask you!”

“Ah that explains it perhaps.”

“He tried to set up rallies to attract more followers. It was reported that some of the Irish community in England did come over to join him I remember.”

“Is he still leader over here?”

“Yes, but realistically he’s losing any influence he may have had. The war is slipping away from the Nazis. There are occasional newspaper reports about his contacts with the German Legation in Northumberland Road, but even they, we think, are tired of him.”

“Oh well that answers it. Thank you, cheers.”

“Slainte.”

Next morning Harry caught an early train to Cork and booked himself into a small eight bedroom hotel near the top of St Patrick’s Hill. As the remainder of the day was his, he walked around the city looking at various sights and stopped every hour or so to sample the local stout. Later in the afternoon he returned to the hotel to change and was surprised to discover a monument to ‘The Apostle of Temperance, Thomas Mathew’ at the top of Patrick Street. ‘This is a bit inconsistent with the culture of stout drinking in Ireland’ he thought.

Once he’d freshened up he decided to check the bus routes to Cobh just in case Darlath confirmed his meeting with his contacts was going to occur the next day. After collecting the bus timetables he felt that another beer was called for. He came across a small working men’s pub on the road out to Douglas and enjoyed a couple of pints whilst reading a newspaper. The Landlord was the only person that spoke to him,

“Are you new here?”

“New to this pub yes, but I’ve been in Cork a few times in the past.”

“Well we serve the best stout around here for miles. Are you on business then?”

“Yes, just for a few days. I had some spare time this afternoon and did a little sightseeing as well.”

“Apart from pubs you’ll not see many sights in this part of town.”

“No, but as you say the beer’s good.”

“Aye it is that. Are you involved with the ferries then?”

Harry thought quickly,

“Aye, yes I am. Swansea to Cork.

“So you’re on a mission for a few days?”

“Sort of - ,”

Harry had to end the conversation, it was becoming too inquisitive and deep.

“ - you see, with the tide of the ‘emergency’, as you call it, turning in the Allies’ favour and with all the Yank bases now being set up in England it makes sense to land their stores at the nearest U.K. port. So I’m meeting with a few of their people, who happen to be in Cork at the moment, to establish alternative destinations, you know Bristol, Sharpness, Poole, Southampton as well as Swansea.”

“Oh I see.”

“But don’t broadcast it; the Free State is still officially neutral, if you know what I mean?”

“Aye, thank you.”

The Landlord was distracted by another customer and Harry drank up and left. ‘That story will be the talking point in the pub later.’ He thought.

Outside in the fresh air Harry was surprised to see that the street lights were shining brightly: ‘the benefit of neutrality’ he thought. As he walked alongside some shops being renovated he found that his pathway was diverted around piles of site rubble and waste bins.

“Do ya have the time?”

Two scruffy youths appeared from the shadows,

“I don’t carry a watch,” Harry lied.

“Do ya have any fags then?”

“Nope.” Harry said still feeling confident and fearless.

The youths moved quickly round the bins and were now standing in front of him blocking his route. The taller one of the two took out a knife,

“Well you must ‘ave some cash then?”

“Piss off!” Harry shouted and on impulse turned right into a lane between the buildings and started walking away from them. He soon realised that his move from the main road was a rash error; he’d entered a blind alley. Harry looked to the pavement and saw the long shadows of his assailant’s just discernable moving behind his own. ‘Sod it, why did I come down here?’

Turning to confront them was his only means of escape. With that thought he turned and the two assailants stopped briefly. The one with the knife stepped forward, his arm outstretched ready to attack. The distance separating them was only about fifteen feet and closing. ‘Think fast Harry boy.’ His eyes scanned the surroundings, ‘Only one chance.’ He picked up and threw the lid of a nearby dustbin towards them. That action was sufficient to divert their attention briefly but in that time he was able to heave the full bin to chest height and run forward with it as fast as he could. He guessed that the one with the knife would try to crouch down and lunge the weapon into him from underneath. His presumption was correct; the youth lowered himself just before Harry crunched the bin heavily down onto his shoulders forcing his head to slam into the pavement. Harry jumped around him and ran forward to confront the other but he’d already turned and fled the scene. Back on the main road Harry turned immediately right and crossed over and gratefully stepped aboard the first bus that was already approaching the stop. ‘Why does it always happen to me?’ He thought, now eager to quickly find the safety of the bar at his hotel.