The House by the Liffey (2 page)

‘There must be. I've just been given this message.' He handed the slip to David who read it and handed it to Chuck.

‘Anything I can do to help, Tommy?' Chuck had seen how some of the colour had drained out of the young man's face.

‘Thanks, but I won't know 'til I've spoken to Lo.'

He left to make the call and David said to Chuck:

‘I hope it's nothing really bad. In spite of his kicking over the traces so often, I've always liked the boy and now I understand so much more about him. I've never believed that he grew up in a tinker's caravan on the banks of some river, but the information on his documents tells little more than things like address in Ireland. Well “Riverside” could mean anything.'

‘I know, and next of kin would be recorded as Miles, not Milo, which wouldn't have rung any bells for you. Same address too.'

‘Well what's his home background like then? Do you feel free to tell us?'

Chuck started to laugh again.

‘Oh I think it's perfectly in order to tell you – it's certainly no dark secret! The Butler family is one of the wealthiest living in and around Dublin, including Tommy, who is a rich young man in his own right. His father left him very comfortably off. His home, Riverside
House
, is set in extensive grounds which run down to the banks of the River Liffey. As a result, for generations the Butlers have been superb oarsmen and very skilled at other water sports too. The lovely old Georgian house has one wing divided off and this legally belongs to Tommy. Their father died just after the end of the war so Milo, married to Finoula or “Noola”, is now head of the family.'

‘Well I'll be damned! Did you hear all that, Jenny?'

‘Yes, I certainly did and just wait 'til I get my hands on him. I'll wring his neck! But I'm mean enough to have to smile thinking of the Mortons' reaction when they hear all that. Poverty-stricken tinker indeed – and let him ever dare use that fake accent again!'

* * * * *

It took some time for Tommy to get through and when he did he was appalled. Milo answered the phone and, quite uncharacteristically, was barely coherent.

‘They've taken her, Tommy, they've taken her and we don't know who they are or where they've gone.'

‘Lo, who have they taken and who are “they”?'

‘Please can you come home at once, Tommy, we need you here. They've taken her . . . and we know for sure Bob is involved in it somehow.'

‘Lo, you're making no sense. You're obviously terribly upset. Please let me speak to Noola or Maggie.'

It occurred to him that whatever was wrong Noola must be equally distraught – unless, of course, it was Noola who had been “taken”. Maggie came on the line.

‘Hello, Tommy darlin'.'

‘Maggie, thank goodness,
please
tell me what's happened. I've never in my life heard Lo in such a state.'

‘There's no way I can break this to you easily, darlin', but little Izzy has been kidnapped and it seems that your Uncle Bob is somehow involved.'

‘Oh not little Izzy! Please, God, not gentle little Izzy.'

‘Yes, darlin', now you understand poor Milo's distress.'

‘Of course I do, but
Uncle Bob
involved? He's in an asylum, Maggie, how could that possibly be?'

‘Well he escaped and must have had very professional help to manage it. Turned up here with several others, all armed, and took Izzy, in the process badly injuring your Aunt May who tried to protect her.'

‘Oh poor Aunt May. Is she going to be all right?'

‘We think so. She's been taken to hospital to be patched up.'

‘But what on earth is it all about? Who's taken Izzy and why? I suppose it must be for ransom, but who would want to extort money from us? Oh . . . wait! I've suddenly realized who it could be. They're becoming quite active again and always looking for funds – large funds.'

‘We must be careful what we say on the phone, but we've not been contacted yet. We're waiting!'

‘Okay, Maggie, I understand – we're always being warned that the civilian lines here aren't necessarily secure. I get the picture and that's enough. I'll speak to my “boss” and with any luck should be home tomorrow. Let me have a word with Lo before I hang up.'

‘Tommy?'

‘Yes, Lo, I'm almost certain I'll get there tomorrow. Chuck Wilson's here on a visit and you know he'll do everything in his power to help in any way possible.'

‘Thank God. Give Chuck my best and, if I know when you're arriving, I'll be at the airport to meet you.' He sounded so relieved.

‘Thanks and, Lo, we'll get her back – somehow or another we'll get her back – promise.'

‘God Bless! 'Bye, Tommy.'

Thank goodness they all had Maggie, he thought. Dear, dependable Maggie, adored by the whole family. She had been both Milo's and Tommy's substitute mother when each in turn had been orphaned. Now in her late sixties, she was still as feisty and active as ever. Tommy's thoughts and feelings were in turmoil. He prayed to God that they would get Izzy back alive. He certainly hadn't expected such frightening news.

When Tommy got back to the Keller Bar he went straight to where the Group Captain, Bill Welch and Chuck were chatting. He addressed the Group Captain.

‘Sir, could I please have a word with you in private, and Bill too?'

David Shelly looked at the face now drained of all colour.

‘I'll ask Hans if we can use his office, Tommy. Would you like Chuck to come along too?'

‘That would be great, if you don't mind, Chuck – er, Sir!'

‘Only too happy to help if I can and, Tommy, when we're off duty and out of uniform it's quite all right to call me Chuck. We
are
old friends.'

‘Thanks, that means a lot at this moment. Lo sends his best.'

In the small office Tommy then told these three senior officers the story so far as he knew it. David Shelly responded with horror.

‘How absolutely appalling! Let's do what we can to help. We'll get you out to the UK as early as possible tomorrow morning, then I'll make sure transport is arranged to take you to Heathrow. From there you can get a civilian flight to Dublin, which is the way I imagine you travel when going on leave. Who do you think is behind this, Tommy?'

‘It could be some faction of the IRA. As you know, Sir, they're becoming quite active, skirmishing along the border again. On the other hand, I suppose it could be some other group wanting to make a fast buck, jumping on their bandwagon and letting them take the blame – that's not unknown. But it's hard to say for certain. They've obviously been given some secure number to use at home, one I don't recognize, but nevertheless we've to be
so
careful what we say on the phone.
I
wasn't using a secure line.'

‘Of course!' David Shelly paused for a few seconds then continued. ‘You know, Tommy, we've people based in Northern Ireland who are part of a highly-trained team and very adept at dealing with this sort of situation. I've connections I could use to alert them and have a couple of them diverted to slip over the border and help your family. Obviously they would be completely undercover and I'm wondering what would be the best way to play this so that they don't aggravate the situation. Even when, as we hope, the whole thing is successfully dealt with, it must remain absolutely confidential between you and Milo and, gentlemen, regard this as strictly classified information. For everyone's sake there's no way their involvement must be betrayed. Would that help?'

‘It would be marvellous, Sir, but I'd have to get my brother's agreement, although I can't see him objecting to anything that's going to help us to find Izzy. But if they come to stay at the house, which I think is maybe what you had in mind, won't they stick out like sore thumbs?'

‘Oh I think they'll see to that – they're used to having to blend into the background. If Milo goes along with the idea the two of you could probably work out some sort of cover story that would stop anyone getting suspicious.'

‘Could work, Sir. But what about the Irish authorities: police, army? How would they react if they suspected anything? Milo's wife Noola has a cousin who is very senior in the Garda, the Irish police that is, and she and Milo are bound to want to involve him.'

‘You'd be surprised how closely we liaise sometimes with the Irish authorities, quite off the record. Could work very well indeed.'

‘This is pretty horrible for you in so many ways, Tommy. Not only has your beloved Izzy been put at serious risk, but your Uncle Bob involved! What a rotten deal.'

‘Oh, Chuck, Uncle Bob is such an embarrassment.' Looking at the other two men he explained, ‘He's quite crazy and in an asylum: has murdered members of the family, including my
mother
, and is quite capable of doing so again, even a child. That's what's so terrifying in this situation.' Looking at Chuck he added. ‘I tell you I never mention anything about
him
. And something else – maybe I could go the same way!'

David Shelly understood, more and more, Tommy's reticence in talking about his family and his risk-taking. Did he subconsciously
want
to kill himself off, solve his problem once and for all? Surely not, but maybe without even realizing it?

‘Don't worry, Tommy,
we
certainly aren't going to chatter about it.'

‘Thank you, Sir.'

They continued to discuss the ways and means, slightly changing some of the ideas as they went along. Eventually Chuck said to him:

‘You'll want to go off and pack I know, but come on down and have a drink with us before you go. Liz and Isabel would be so disappointed not to have a chance to say goodbye.' His eyes twinkled. ‘I have a feeling that Isabel would be especially cut up if you went off without saying goodbye to her!'

With his fair skin, much to his irritation, Tommy flushed easily. Now some colour came back into his face and he did manage a small but typical Butler lopsided grin.

‘I wouldn't want to go without seeing her either. Oh and Liz too, of course!'

‘Of
course
, Tommy!' The twinkle grew to a broad grin. He'd seen the young man's face when he looked at Isabel.

They went back downstairs and David insisted on getting a brandy for Tommy.

‘Don't argue, boy, just drink it.'

‘Thank you, Sir.'

‘Is everything all right, Tommy?'

‘No, Liz, it's not but, I'm sorry, I can't talk about it here. Chuck will give you the details. I've got to go home though, as soon as possible. It's too late to get all the way this evening, so I'll wait until first thing in the morning. With any luck I'll be there around lunch time and Lo will meet me. He and Noola would want me to give you their love.'

Isabel was listening closely, hardly able to take her eyes off him.

‘I'm sorry you've to go so soon, Tommy, when we've only just met again.'

‘So am I, but I could write to you. Will you write back?'

‘Oh yes, and maybe you'd come out to Cyprus to have a holiday with us? Would that be all right, Mum?'

‘Now do I really have to answer that? Come out any time you like, Tommy.'

‘I'd love to, thank you. Who knows, some day I might get a posting there. I've never been and, by all accounts, it's a beautiful island.'

‘Hey, wouldn't that be fun? The rest of your family could come for a visit too.'

‘Thanks, Liz.'

Chuck raised an eyebrow at David who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Earlier that day, after weeks of miserable weather, the sun had come out and the temperature had risen across the whole of the east coast area of Ireland, with the forecasters predicting the fine weather would last at least a week. It was a Thursday and, regardless of what the weather conditions had been, this was the day that The Champions of Justice had planned to snatch Izzy. However, the warm weather played right into their hands. It meant getting into Riverside would be relatively easy, since doors and windows were likely to be open.

It was the schools' and universities' holiday period. They knew from their informant that Milo would be in his office in the city. His children, Mageen and the twin boys, would be there with him, earning holiday money and learning the stockbroking business, the company having been owned by the Butler family for several generations. They also knew that Mageen's devoted boyfriend and fellow student, Freddie, who spent a lot of time at Riverside in term-time, wouldn't be around. Apparently he had gone home to England for the summer vac.

Younger than the other three, Sarah and her Flynn cousins, with at least one adult keeping an eye on them, would be some distance from the house, pottering around, enjoying some of the water sports so beloved of them all. This was a certainty, for, during the holidays, short of a cloud burst or violent storm, apart from Izzy, the family remaining at home on any day would be down by the river. Here different kinds of boats were kept in a neat boathouse and a dock had been built extending out into the water, facilitating use of the river for a variety of pursuits.

Although thoroughly competent in that area, water sports were not Izzy's first choice of leisure pursuit. By preference, she would, without any doubt, be in the large sitting room, playing the Steinway baby grand piano, which, on discovering her talent, her parents had bought for her. House staff should not present a problem. Most should be either in the kitchen area or upstairs cleaning the bedrooms, that being the well-established routine.

The kidnappers knew that they were taking a lot for granted and it was a big gamble that it would work out exactly as planned, but, as it happened, their calculations were absolutely spot on. Their information had been accurate to the smallest detail.

The plan for Bob's escape, like all the best plans, was simple. One of the ancillary staff in the asylum had been vulnerable to a bribe. After breakfast the inmates were usually allowed some supervised recreation, if possible outside. Rory was responsible for the final check that all the relevant doors were locked once the prisoners were back in their cells. It was, therefore, easy for him to unlock Bob's door at this time.

Bob had been agitated since early morning and couldn't wait for his opportunity to slip away. His recent dose of medication would last for some time, so he was still lucid and, in spite of his impatience to be free, he managed to remain controlled enough not to rush out of the door as soon as he heard the key turn in the lock. It had been impressed upon him by Rory that he
must
wait for the signal.

Suddenly from the main reception area came the sound of a fire alarm. Rory, by the simple means of a live cigarette butt and some volatile cleaning fluid, had managed to start a fire in a closet where cleaning materials were stored. This was tucked well away from the main hub of the building and so the fire was not spotted until it had taken a firm hold. Since Bob's block was set quite far from the affected area there was no need to evacuate his part of the asylum, this a policy approved long ago by the fire service and with which Rory was quite familiar. While the usual chaos ensued, with all the associated emergency organisations involved, nobody noticed Bob creeping away around the back area of the complex, wearing a well-worn mackintosh provided by Rory. Neither did anyone spot Rory slipping back to lock the cell door, having ensured Bob had used the almost childish ruse of putting pillows in the bed to look as if there was someone there. It would be some hours before any detailed check would be made and his escape discovered.

Bob followed Rory's instructions to the letter:

‘Whatever you do when you get out of the building
don't run
. That will only attract attention. Try to stroll along quite casually and, with that grubby old mack, in the distance you could just pass for one of the gardeners.'

‘
Yes
, Rory! You've told me so many times – I've got the message!'

‘Fine, but don't let yourself be panicked into rushing things.'

Frequently glancing back over his shoulder, Bob made for the wooded area on the periphery of the asylum. The temptation to run was so strong but he walked as casually as possible, every nerve in his body taut with apprehension. He relaxed slightly when he reached the sheltering trees, then ran until he eventually emerged at the high perimeter wall, topped with rows of barbed wire and shards of glass fixed in a covering of cement. He made his way along this until he came to a side entrance. He had to wait, shielded by the trees, until the two guards there were preoccupied with the excitement of the fire. The moment eventually came when they had their backs turned and curiosity had taken them away from the immediate area of the entrance, so they didn't notice Bob slip through the gates and start towards the main road as instructed. Again there was great temptation to run but he resisted, even when someone called after him from the gates. Turning slightly, he simply raised his hand in a casual wave, and continued walking, so identification was highly unlikely. However, anticipating further challenge, the hairs on his scalp rose and he bit his lip so hard it started to bleed. The challenge never came.

As he approached a side lane a rather shabby-looking van, with false number plates, emerged and came to a stop beside him, and he was bundled into the back. Contrary to its appearance, the van had a high-powered engine and was designed to make a remarkably speedy getaway. There were three others in the van, plus a driver.

Not wishing to draw unwanted attention to themselves, they drove at a sedate pace along the road towards Riverside House and parked outside the estate. The other three in the van addressed each other as Willie, Eddie, and Mac. Eddie was a doctor and had come along to drug the little girl and make the kidnapping as easy and soundless as possible. All three were armed and, including Bob, had donned balaclavas.

‘Why can't I have a gun too? I should be armed like the rest of you,' Bob complained angrily.

‘Ah would you shut your gob! There's no way we're going to arm you. Just be grateful that we've got you out of that place.'

Only a fool would argue with mighty Mac. He was a big man who looked like a prizefighter. They parked outside the estate entrance.

‘Now, Shamus, remember, once we're out of sight, drive
slowly
down that long drive and swing right around to face outwards again. Keep the engine running and, if challenged, pretend you've come to the wrong address to deliver a parcel.'

‘Yes
yes
, Mac, you've told me
so
often. I don't need to have it rammed down me throat over and over.'

‘Just get it right!' Shamus didn't miss the threat in the voice.

Bob, still lucid for the moment, showed them how to skirt around the east side of the house, through a copse of trees, and so avoid being observed by the grounds staff. As anticipated, they could see, even from some distance, that many of the windows were open. He knew exactly how to get to the terrace behind the house and locate the sitting room. They could hear the piano well before they reached the room and, as quite accurately predicted, the French doors had been opened wide, giving clear and easy access. Jackpot! thought Mac. They crept along, and, at Mac's signal, crouched down behind some potted palms. He crawled along and eased his head around the open door.

Izzy was playing away contentedly, totally absorbed in her music. She made an attractive picture, with her wonderful, strawberry-blond hair, hazel eyes and a skin that was almost transparent. Unlike the other Butlers, who were in rude health, she contracted infections easily and suffered from dermatitis, which broke out whenever she was in any way distressed. All this took its toll and she actually looked really fragile, in fact quite fairy-like, with an almost ethereal aura. She was the darling of the whole family, and they all watched over her fiercely, at times giving the almost tangible impression of spreading protective wings around her. On this occasion it was Aunt May who was watching over her, sitting reading her newspaper, more than happy to keep Izzy company and be on hand should this vulnerable child need help of any kind. They were quite unaware that someone was spying on them.

Mac saw the child and noted her fragility with satisfaction rather than compassion. He was relieved that she, at least, would not be capable of putting up any sort of resistance, although the old woman could be a different proposition. He crept back down the terrace and whispered his instructions.

‘Willie, run across and open the door to the hall so we can get out of the front entrance quickly. Eddie, grab the child and give her the sedative. I'll take care of the old woman and, Bob, just stay out of the way, you've done your bit. Then all head for the van as fast as you can. Remember,
no shooting
unless absolutely essential. We don't want to attract attention and at this stage we're not trying to kill anyone!'

However, the effect of his medication was beginning to wear off and Bob's return to Riverside triggered all the old feelings of hatred. He was sure Tom was in there and no way he was going to stay out of things, no way he was going to miss this chance. As the other three rushed into the room he tore off the balaclava and went in after them. Eddie reached Izzy who screamed but the sound was abruptly cut off as he put his hand over her mouth. He jabbed the needle into her and the powerful drug flew through her delicate little body. She collapsed and Eddie threw her over his shoulder and headed for the door, now conveniently opened by Willie. May had jumped to her feet and hurled herself at Eddie, in an attempt to protect Izzy, but Mac intercepted her and hit her hard on the jaw, knocking her out cold. However, just before the blow landed, she had caught sight of Bob. Mac hurried after the others to the front entrance door and suddenly realized Bob wasn't with him. Running back into the room he was just in time to see him stooping over May, with his hands around her throat, trying to strangle her.

‘I'll get one of you, I'll get one of you. If Tom isn't here you'll do. I remember you, you old bitch: you're another bloody Butler!'

Mac drew his gun and grabbed Bob by the scruff of the neck.

‘If I have to use this on you I will. Now get out as fast as you can.'

The sight of the gun did sober Bob and, cursing Mac, he slunk ahead of him across the hall and out into the van, where Shamus was revving the engine impatiently.

They got away without anyone seeing them. In the huge house Izzy's scream hadn't been heard and it hadn't carried down to the riverbank. May lay on the floor until, a short time later, Kitty, the cook-housekeeper, came along to tell her and Izzy that lunch was ready. Kitty stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds as the implications of what she was looking at hit her: no Izzy, piano stool knocked over, music scattered about and May, unconscious on the floor, with a badly swollen jaw and dreadful marks on her throat.

‘Oh, Holy Mother, no! Please, God, no! Mrs Burke, wake up, wake up.'

But Kitty couldn't rouse May and so, fear lending her feet a rare turn of speed, she ran down to the river, where Noola and Maggie were sitting watching the children and enjoying the sunny weather. Trying hard not to panic, as soon as she was within shouting distance she couldn't help screaming to them.

‘Quickly, come quickly – Izzy's gone and Mrs Burke's badly injured. Hurry, hurry.'

Noola and Maggie leapt to their feet.

‘Everyone up to the house –
now
!'

Nobody argued, for they had all heard and were very frightened. They dropped everything and ran, followed by the two women, who felt sick but both were level-headed. In spite of the overwhelming fear that gripped them, they managed to stay in control, realizing how vital this was for everybody else. Maggie called to Kitty as they ran, heading towards the scene of disaster:

‘Kitty, take the children to the kitchen. Get someone to find Mickeen and tell him to take some men with him and search the house thoroughly and I don't care what they arm themselves with!'

She knew it was important not to upset the children any more than absolutely necessary, and seeing May injured and unconscious, with Izzy gone, would be horrifying. Noola, she realized, must be in a state of severe shock and she felt she had to take over. She was quite right. Noola was frozen with fear, but the two of them had to get to the sitting room at once.

* * * * *

Noola made a frantic call to Milo. He was out of the office so it was some time before he got her message and called back. He listened to her story, told through floods of tears, and went cold all over. He found it hard to speak.

‘Dear God! Our little Izzy! Oh, Noola, what are we going to do? Who has taken her and why? Have you any clue?'

‘None at all, Milo, it makes no sense.' Her voice was reaching hysteria pitch. ‘Just get here as fast as you can. Bring Mageen and the boys with you. Don't say why in the hearing of anyone else. No police and no press.'

‘I'm on my way.'

Before they arrived back at Riverside, Sean Flynn, a Senior Inspector in the Garda detective section, or Special Branch, had set up an Operations Room in the library and had called in one of his very competent junior officers to help him. While waiting for Milo's return call, Maggie had contacted him, addressing him only by his first name. He was her nephew and cousin to Noola. When she told him what had happened there was a moment's silence before he responded.