Allegiance: A Dublin Novella (10 page)

Kelly shoved his rifle back into his coat, still grinning. “Quit mucking about,” he said to Adam. “Let’s get this done.”

“Put it back in your trousers, Jesse James,” David smirked.

Adam winked at him and uncocked the shotgun, tucking it smoothly back into his jacket. A breeze ruffled the strands of hair peeking from beneath his gray cap, and William shuddered and went back to his work with extra energy.

Adam nudged him on the shoulder. “You alright, Glasgow? Sorry if we startled you. There’s naught to worry about.”

“I’m fine,” said William.

“Leave him be, Adam,” Andy said. “You probably upset him, waving your guns about foolishly like that. William’s not used to that sort of thing.”

William kept his eye on his lifting and said nothing.

After that they got to work in earnest; it took about a quarter hour to get everything sorted. When the boxes were all loaded, David took a step back and surveyed the job, wiping his brow on one sleeve.

“There now, right as rain. Let’s get ourselves to the pub before the sweat freezes on our backs.”

Hans gave them all a little bow. “Good evening, gentlemen. Always a pleasure to work with you. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Obliged, mate,” Adam said. “Tell your boss these will be put to good use.”

Hans grinned. “Too bad you do not know by whom.”

“Aye
– I prefer my neck unstretched and my head without extra holes.”

Andy was already heading for his gangway. “I’ll see you lot in two days,” he said. “I’ve got a shipment to make before I get this month’s pay. Some of us actually work for a living.” He reached for the door, stifling an enormous yawn, as the others called out their good-nights. When the ship’s lights went dark, the rest of the men turned to each other.

“I suppose you
’
ll want to ride with me?” Daniel said. “Or would you prefer to walk on this fine Dublin evening?”

The wind picked up with a gust and Kelly snapped, “Bugger that, I’m with you.”

“Me too,” said David, “And I’m in the front. Let Adam and Glasgow ride in the back.”

“I see how it is,” Adam said. “I’ll remember that when next it’s buying time.”

David and Kelly were already climbing into the lorry, grinning. Adam called “Bastards!” after them, chuckling, then turned to William and gestured to the rolled-up tarp at the back of the lorry.

“After you, sir, I insist.”

William climbed in with Adam behind him, and the Model T drove off into the darkness.

William found a place to sit between two boxes. He drew his knees to his chest and hugged himself against the frigid drafts blowing in through gaps in the tarp, whipping loose cords as the lorry sped through the streets. There was no light in the back; only the occasional streetlamp filtered through for a moment and winked out again when it passed. William’s eyes had just begun to adjust to the darkness when a flash of orange light made him squint; the small space began to glow as Adam cupped his hands to his face and lit up a cigarette.

“Should you really be doing that in here?” William said.

Adam shook out the match and took a long, lazy drag. “I’m not completely stupid, Glasgow,” he said. White smoke drifted up from between his lips. “There’s only the gun parts in here. Someone else will be getting the ammo.” Looking at William’s face, Adam plucked the smoke from his mouth and held it out. “Here – it’ll warm you up.”

William took the cigarette gratefully. It was a hand-rolled smoke, smelling of sweet-spiced tobacco; William took a long drag and held the smoke in his lungs until his fingers began to tingle, then handed the cigarette back to Adam and exhaled into the air between them.

“Cheers,” he said.

They fell silent as the lorry jostled along. William curled around himself, shivering beneath his coat and pondered what he had just witnessed. The German’s words confirmed what William already knew: this group knew nothing of the big picture. William watched Adam smoke his cigarette. The boy was a leader, that much was certain. He had all three Cs – charisma, cockiness, and charm – but he was not the money-runner William had first taken him for. He thought of the bank notes on the bar the night they met, the coins perpetually jingling in Adam’s pockets. Adam dressed neatly but not expensively; he bought lasses flowers but not diamonds. He had money, and he was not using it. Where was it going?

“Why do you do this?”

Adam looked as surprised by the question as William was himself. He had his knees drawn up and his arms crossed atop them, his cigarette dangling from his fingers; his head rested against the box behind him and lolled a bit with the swaying of the truck.

“I have my reasons,” he said.

William was immediately sorry he had spoken. The cold must be affecting his brain. “I’m sorry – it’s none of my business.”

To his surprise, Adam smiled. He took a final puff of his cigarette, stubbed it out on the floor and flicked it through a flap in the tarp. He blew out the last thin stream of smoke and regarded William calmly.

“Why do
you
do it?”

William thought of the stacks around them: unmarked crates of varying sizes, each branded with
Fisher’s Fine Grocery and Baked Goods.
He thought of Gerald and Mary waiting for them back at the pub. He thought of the folder in Lord Christopher’s desk and the brand new notebook beneath the floorboard in his room. He thought of David’s quiet voice:
It’s the army you have to look out for.

“This is the only way I can make it worthwhile.” he said.

Adam’s face took on that inscrutable expression. He glanced at the scar on William’s neck, and William let him; then he nodded and rested against the box again.

“Aye,” he said.

13.

23 March, 1922

Dearest Meg,

I hope this letter finds you well. I’m sorry it has been so long since last you heard from me. I meant to write to you sooner, but things have been quite busy around here these past few weeks. I scarcely get a moment to myself anymore. It’s no excuse, I know – I expect a full reprimand the next time I see you. I only hope my chastisement will come soon. I trust my last wire reached you with no delay – if you didn’t receive it, go to the office and they will advance you until I return. I know you don’t need it, but please, humour your brother and take it anyway so that I might feel that I at least tried to take care of you while I’m away.

This assignment has lasted much longer than I expected. I’m not sure how much longer it may go on, but it looks as if I will be here for some time more – a few weeks at least. I’m sorry for it, but it can’t be helped. I cannot leave until my duty is done. I know that you understand. And it’s true, my confinement could be much worse. Dublin is becoming quite familiar to me, and its people welcome friends. It’s colder lately than I would like – no worse than Glasgow, of course, but being far from home makes the chill go a bit deeper. It looks like spring will be here soon, though – the snow has stopped, at any rate. I’ll be glad of it. Being cooped up indoors in the cold puts people on edge. I’m counting on the warmer weather to bring the work in and give folks something to keep themselves out of trouble. Get them back to providing for their families, remind them of what is really important. Then I can get away from here all the sooner.

I do hate that I must write to you in riddles, Sis. The truth of it is, I could really use your advice right now. More and more these days I wish I could sit and talk with you as we used to. You have a clearer head than mine, a way of putting things so sensibly whenever I think too much. I could use that sense on nights like this. I’ve always known why I keep doing this, year after year, when I’d rather be at home with my family. I always thought I was needed, you know? That I was doing something no one else could do – that making any place better would make every place better. I had things figured out so simply, but it isn’t really like that, is it? You always knew that. You always saw. I can’t trust what I see now, Meg, and how I wish you were here to show me.

This thing is not what I had imagined, not by half. I’m in it too deep and I fear I’m not thinking as plainly as I should. I don’t know how I let it happen. I don’t know why this time should be any different. But it is. It is different. I wish you could know them, Sis. You would feel the same, I’m sure of it. There is one boy
– I wish you could meet him. I am a man who has based his life around the certainty of right and wrong. The lines have been drawn for me since I was very small. But all those lines are blurring now. Nothing is certain anymore. And you know I have never done well with uncertainty.

I’m sorry, Meg. I shouldn’t be going on so. I’m afraid I have let this letter get away from me. I don’t mean to frighten you or make you worry. I’m alright, really I am. It’s just a bit too late at night for musing, I think, especially on things that cannot be helped. Likely I will toss this page in the fire and start another. Or better yet, wait until tomorrow.

If nothing else, I think this assignment is the final sign that I have had enough of this kind of life. If I can just handle this thing right, our future will be assured. I must keep my focus on that and not allow anything else to get in the way. Make the best of it while I can, and hope that when the time comes, I will know the right thing to do. You’ve always seen that in me as well.

Give my love to the lasses. Kiss them for me, and don’t let them forget their Uncle William. Tell them if they are good, I shall bring them back a faerie. They deserve better than what we had, Meg. Tell them I am doing this for them.

All my love,

William

14.

March 29, 1922

“I think we’ve finally seen the last of the winter,” Adam said.

“I won’t be sad to see it go,” William replied.

The morning air was crisp, but the sky was blue and fair as they strolled through the Saturday market. The weather had brought out the crowds: men standing around lamp posts, passing the news and lighting cigars; women idling among the stalls, sizing up the merchandise and the latest gossip; young people arm in arm about the flower stands; children rolling hoops through the streets, calling to each other over the disapproving stares of old women. It was a pleasant scene, a
good
scene, one that warmed William as much as the spring sun.

“You’re awfully chipper this morning,” Adam said, grinning.

William looked up into the sunlight and smiled. “I am.”

Weeks had passed since the Liffey run without incident of any kind. Daniel had stopped by the pub three days after, and leaned over the bar to whisper into Gerald’s ear before sharing a pint with Adam and a dance with a yellow-haired lass. The next night, after closing, William heard a truck pull up to the kitchen door; he, Gerald, and Adam pulled the boxes from the basement and loaded them onto the back of a lorry that drove away into the night and left the three of them shivering in the alley. Since then there had been no more secret meetings in the basement room, no more whispered exchanges between Adam and Gerald. Even Kelly’s wary glare had begun to ease. William worked his tap and saved his coin and danced with a lady or two whenever Adam managed to pry him from his duties. The days went by; the snow melted, and the gray sky turned blue. It was easy to forget anything was amiss.

They had brought Ruan along on their outing; Adam had the lead wrapped twice around his wrist and his hand tucked snug in his jacket pocket. The setter trotted along ahead of them, joyfully sniffing everyone and everything that crossed their path; he stopped to lick an apple core in the gutter, and William snapped his fingers.

“I’d best get those apples Mary was wanting or she’ll have my hide. Let’s go back to that stand on the corner, aye?”

William picked through the piles of winter apples and tossed worthy specimens into a sack. The lad behind the stand greeted them both by name, then turned back to the girl he was chatting with. Adam leaned against the awning pole, watching William turn each apple in his hands.