The Chinaman (32 page)

It was after midnight when he eventually reached the hill overlooking Hennessy's farm. He lay down close to the summit, careful that he didn't break the skyline, and studied the farm buildings through his binoculars for more than an hour until he was satisfied that he had spotted all the guards. The starlight wasn't strong enough to illuminate their faces but he could see that they were carrying shotguns. There was one in front of the cottage, another close by in the gap between the barns and the stables and three standing guard close to the farmhouse. One of them was smoking a cigarette, he could see the small red dot hovering in the air. He sniffed but could smell nothing. There had been times, Nguyen remembered, when he could smell a campfire two days' march away in the jungle, or smell the toothpaste or chewing gum or tobacco of an American who had passed by three hours before, but he was younger then and his senses were more acute.

During the hour he watched, the men walked up and down, occasionally talking to each other, but they did not bother patrolling the perimeter of the farm. Static sentries, thought Nguyen. The easiest to deal with.

He moved slowly down the hill and then crawled across the fields towards the barns, giving a wide berth to the stables and the cottage. He lay in the grass about a hundred yards from the barns and concentrated on them, checking that he hadn't missed a guard, and then began to crawl towards them. He moved only one limb at a time, left arm, right leg, right arm, left leg, keeping his body an inch off the ground to minimise noise while at the same time reducing his silhouette. It took him half an hour to cover the hundred yards to the nearest barn. He hugged the wall and slipped inside among the tractors and farm equipment. The barn was the furthest away from the farm but it would have been his first choice anyway because the other contained nothing but hay and the idea was to cause a diversion not to start a huge blaze that would have fire engines rushing over from the nearest town.

He put the can of petrol under a blue tractor and took off his rucksack. He knelt down and carefully removed the clock, the matchbox and its wire, and from his pocket he took out a fresh battery. He connected short lengths of wire to the hands of the clock and set them at quarter to and quarter past and then connected the battery and the matchbox and its match heads into a continuous circuit. He unscrewed the cap of the petrol can and poured half of it on the floor around the tractor then stood it under the cab. He lowered the matchbox into the can so that it was suspended above the liquid. It was important that the match heads were ignited in the vapour and not swamped with petrol or there would be no explosion. He wound the wire around the handle of the can so that the matchbox couldn't accidentally slip lower. He had thirty minutes to get into position. Plenty of time. He put his rucksack back on and eased himself out of the barn and slithered slowly along the ground, back the way he'd come, and then he crawled clockwise around the barns until he could see the side of the farmhouse and the gap that led to the courtyard.

He waited. The petrol bomb exploded with a whooshing noise followed by the crackle and hiss of the tractor burning. There were shouts and yells and the men at the front of the farmhouse ran towards the barn. Lights went on in the farmhouse and the door to the cottage flew open. When the guards had run through into the courtyard Nguyen made his way to the outbuildings and lay down in the shadows. Hennessy came out of the back door along with two other men, he in his dressing-gown, they in pullovers and jeans and holding handguns. Nguyen had planned to climb the drainpipe and get in through the bathroom window but he saw that Hennessy had left the back door open. The kitchen light hadn't been switched on so the doorway was in darkness. He waited until he was sure that no one else was coming out of the farmhouse and he moved along the wall, hugging the shadows like a cockroach, and then slipped through the door into the kitchen, listening carefully.

He moved on the balls of his feet, knees slightly bent, ready to move quickly if he had to, but it was all clear and he crept into the hall and up the stairs. The stairs turned to the left and he reorientated the map of the farmhouse that he held in his head and when the stairs opened into the first-floor hallway he knew immediately which way to move so that he would pass the bathroom and find Hennessy's bedroom. He unclipped the hunting knife from its scabbard on the strap of the rucksack and held it blade up as he put his hand on the bedroom door and pressed his ear to the warm wood. He hadn't seen the woman leave the house. She might have left during the day but there was a chance she was still in the room. He turned the doorknob slowly and smoothly and eased the door open. The light was on and the bed was empty. He pushed the door and stepped into the room. At the foot of the bed was a wicker dog basket and a brown dog growled at him and then began to bark. Nguyen closed the door as the dog got to its feet and moved towards him, barking and snapping, its tail down between its legs and the fur standing up along the back of its neck.

‘Good dog,' said Nguyen, holding the knife to his side.

Hennessy stood with his hands on his hips as he watched two of his men spray the burning tractor with fire extinguishers, the foam hissing and bubbling on the hot metal. Joe Ryan had run a hosepipe from the stables and he yelled over his shoulder for his daughter to turn the water on. The hosepipe squirmed and kicked and then water burst from the nozzle and he played it over the walls of the barn.

The rest of the men were busy moving equipment away from the fire, either to the far side of the barn or out into the courtyard. Kavanagh stood at Hennessy's shoulder. In the distance Hennessy heard Jackie bark. ‘Still think I've got enough guards, Jim?' he asked. Kavanagh remained silent, not sure if Hennessy was getting at him or not. ‘Any idea what caused it?' Hennessy asked.

‘There's a can under the tractor and some melted plastic. It's The Chinaman, right enough. We were lucky that the can didn't explode, it could've been a lot worse. By the look of it the flames came shooting out of the top of the can like a jet engine, spraying fire across the wall and setting light to the tractor's tyres. It's a lot worse than it looks.'

‘He cocked it up?'

‘Looks like it.'

‘Thank God he didn't set fire to the other barn. If the hay had gone up we'd have never got it under control.'

The men with the fire extinguishers put out the burning tractor and moved to help Ryan douse the burning side of the barn. The tractor's tyres had melted and warped and the tractor was blackened and burnt and smeared with bubbly white foam. The smell of burnt rubber was choking and Hennessy and Kavanagh moved back into the courtyard. Hennessy looked up at his bedroom window. Jackie had stopped barking. ‘Still think we should go back to Belfast?' asked Hennessy.

‘No question about it, Liam.'

‘And if he sets fire to my house? Could you stop him doing that?'

Kavanagh realised that whatever he said he'd be in the wrong, so he said nothing. They stood together and watched the men douse the final flames.

‘Morrison should be back tomorrow,' said Hennessy eventually. ‘He's bringing someone with him who might be able to help. Kerry Geraghty.'

‘Micky Geraghty's girl?'

‘Yeah. She's going to try to track down The Chinaman. Micky was going to do it but he's got a broken leg, though from what Sean tells me she's every bit as good. We'll give her a go. While she's trying I'll have to stay here otherwise The Chinaman will just disappear, but if it doesn't work then we'll go back to Belfast and we'll handle it in the city. OK?'

‘It's your call, Liam,' said Kavanagh.

‘You mean it's me he's after,' said Hennessy. He smiled ruefully. ‘And you're right, of course. Look, there's nothing we can do here. I'm going back to bed and I suggest you do the same. I doubt if he's going to do anything else tonight and there's nothing we can do in the dark.'

‘I'll wait here until the men've finished,' said Kavanagh. Hennessy began walking back to the farmhouse. Kavanagh called after him and Liam turned round. ‘I'm sorry about all this,' said Kavanagh.

‘Not your fault, Jim,' said Hennessy. ‘And I didn't mean to imply that it was. I'm just a bit tense, that's all. This Chinaman is getting under my skin. I'll talk to you tomorrow.'

He went into the kitchen and switched the light on. He poured himself a double whiskey and carried it upstairs to his bedroom. He hung his dressing-gown on the back of the bedroom door and placed the tumbler of whiskey on his bedside table. Jackie lay on the floor at the side of the bed. Hennessy was disappointed that she hadn't welcomed him back with her normal tail-wagging and frantic licks. She was probably sulking because he'd kept her in the room. ‘Come on, Jackie,' he said softly, and patted the bed. Mary didn't allow the dog into the bedroom, least of all on the bed, but when she was away Hennessy reckoned that he should be allowed to give Jackie a treat. He patted the bed again and clicked his tongue, but still she ignored him. He went over to her and knelt down. ‘Come on, Jackie, old girl,' he said, and stroked her neck. There was no reaction and Hennessy began to panic. He stood up and switched on the bedroom light and immediately saw that there was blood pooling around the dog's neck. ‘Oh God, no,' he groaned. He bent down to pick up the dog but as he did he realised that he was not alone in the room. In the gap between the large oak wardrobe and the wall he saw a pair of legs in baggy camouflage trousers and he looked up sharply.

‘You!' he said.

Nguyen stepped forward out of the shadows. In his left hand he carried a gun which he pointed at the head of the kneeling man. In his right he held two wires between his fingers and around his neck was hanging what appeared to be a length of grey tubing. He'd used a length of insulation tape to suspend the tube so that it lay against his stomach. Various nails and screws had been stuck to the tube with more tape. To Hennessy it appeared that Nguyen had undergone a complete transformation. It wasn't just the outfit, though the camouflage and the gun gave him a military appearance that was a far cry from the down-trodden Oriental who had turned up at his office, it was more a question of bearing, the way he carried himself. There was a new air of confidence about the man and for the first time Hennessy felt afraid. He looked down at Jackie and ran his hand along her fur.

‘You didn't have to kill my dog,' he said, shaking his head sadly.

‘He was barking.'

‘She. Not he. And you didn't have to kill her.'

‘I am sorry,' said Nguyen. He walked behind Hennessy and bolted the bedroom door. ‘Please sit in the chair.' He pointed with the gun at a pink armchair in a corner away from the window. The curtains were closed but Nguyen didn't want shadows to be seen by the men in the courtyard below. Hennessy stood up and slowly lowered himself into the chair. From where he was sitting he could see Jackie's head, her eyes nothing more than milky orbs, her tongue hanging grotesquely from the side of her mouth.

‘Can I cover her?' he asked Nguyen. Nguyen took the dressing-gown from the hook on the back of the door and draped it over the dog's body.

‘What is it you want?' asked Hennessy. He felt naked sitting in the chair wearing only his pyjamas.

‘You must talk quietly,' said Nguyen. He nodded down at the tube on his chest and held up the hand which was holding the wires. ‘This is a bomb, the same type I used to destroy the car. If anyone comes into this room all I do is put the wires together. Then we all die.' He held up the gun. ‘And I have this. If we talk quietly nobody will hear us. Do you understand.'

‘Yes,' sighed Hennessy. ‘I understand. But what do you want to talk about?'

‘The names. I want the names.'

‘I cannot help you.'

‘You know that I am serious. You have seen what I can do.'

‘Yes.' Hennessy looked down at the dead dog. ‘Yes, I know now what you can do.'

‘So you know that I can kill you? That I will kill you?'

‘Killing me will make no difference, no difference at all. You see, I have absolutely no idea who is behind the London bombings.'

Nguyen looked confused. ‘They are in the IRA?'

‘Maybe.'

‘I do not understand.'

Hennessy sighed because deep down he didn't understand either. ‘I'll try to explain,' he said. ‘They're saying that they are in the IRA, but I don't know who they are. Nobody in the official IRA knows who they are. You must believe me, we don't want to kill innocent citizens. I'm doing everything I can to find out who's responsible.'

Nguyen walked from the wardrobe to the end of the bed and sat down, facing Hennessy. Hennessy could see light glistening on the sweat that covered the man's hands. The wires that would set off the lethal package were less than two inches apart. Nguyen saw him looking at the wires and smiled. ‘Do not worry,' he said. ‘It will only explode if I want it to explode.'

‘Killing me won't get your family back,' said Hennessy quietly.

‘I do not want to kill you, Mr Hennessy. But I cannot allow the men to be unpunished.'

‘This is getting us nowhere,' sighed Hennessy.

‘The explosives the men use. Do they make their own?'

Hennessy shook his head. ‘They've been using our explosives. We have it stored in several places in Britain. It looks as if they've been stealing it.'

‘Semtex?'

‘Yes.'

‘Which sort? Semtex-H?'

‘Yes.'

‘It would be,' said Nguyen. ‘Everything moves in circles.'

‘You know about Semtex?'