call off the hounds. He wondered how Devlin would feel when he finally realized the truth.
He landed on a small beach close to Ballywalter and dragged the inflatable up into the shelter of a clump of gorse bushes. Then he retraced his steps up to the wood where he had left the motorcycle. He strapped his bag on the rear, put on his crash helmet and rode away.
It was another fishing boat from Ballywalter, theDublin Town, out night-fishing, which was first on the scene. The crew, on deck handling their nets about a mile away, had seen the explosion as it occurred. By the time they reached the position where theMary Murphy had gone down, about half an hour had elapsed. There was a considerable amount of wreckage on the surface and a life-jacket with the boat's name stencilled on it told them the worst. The skipper notified the coastguard of the tragedy on his radio and continued the search for survivors or at least the bodies of the crew; but he had no success and a thickening sea mist made things even more difficult. By five o'clock, a coastguard cutter was there from Dundalk, also several other small fishing craft, and they continued the search as dawn broke.
The news of the tragedy was passed on to McGuiness at four o'clock in the morning and he, in turn, phoned Devlin.
'Christ knows what happened,' McGuiness said. 'She blew up and went down like a stone.'
'And no bodies, you say?'
'Probably inside her, or what's left of her on the bottom. And it seems there's a bad rip tide in that area. It would carry a body a fair distance. I'd like to know what happened. A good man, Sean Deegan.'
'So would I,' Devlin said.
'Still, no more Cussane. At least that bastard has met his end. You'll tell Ferguson?'
'Leave it with me.'
Devlin put on a dressing gown, went downstairs and made some tea. Cussane was dead and yet he felt no pain for the man who, whatever else, had been his friend for more than twenty years. No sense of mourning. Instead a feeling of unease like a lump in the gut that refused to go away.
He rang the Cavendish Square number in London. It was picked up after a slight delay and Ferguson's voice answered, still half asleep. Devlin gave him the news and the Brigadier came fully awake with some rapidity.
'Are you sure about this?'
That's how it looks. God knows what went wrong on the boat.'
'Ah well,' Ferguson said. 'At least Cussane's out of our hair for good and all. The last thing I needed was that madman on the rampage.' He snorted. 'Kill the Pope indeed.'
'What about Tanya?'
'She can come back tomorrow. Put her on the plane and I'll meet her myself. Harry will be in Paris to brief Tony Villiers on this Exocet job.'
'Right,' Devlin said. 'That's it then.'
'You don't sound happy, Liam. What is it?'
'Let's put it this way. With this one, I'd like to see the body,' Devlin said and rang off.
The Ulster border with the Irish Republic, in spite of road blocks, a considerable police presence and the British Army, has always been wide open to anyone who knows it. In many cases, farms on both sides have land breached by the border's imaginary line and the area is criss-crossed by hundreds of narrow country lanes, field paths and tracks.
Cussane was safely in Ulster by four o'clock. Any kind of a vehicle on the road at that time in the morning was rare enough to make it essential that he drop out of sight for a while, which he did on the other side of Newry, holing up in a disused barn in a wood just off the main road.
He didn't sleep, but sat comfortably against a wall and smoked, the Stechkin ready to hand just in case. He left just
after six, a time when there would be enough early workers on the road to make him inconspicuous, taking the Ai through Banbridge to Lisburn.
It was seven-fifteen when he rode into the carpark at Aldergrove Airport and parked the motorcycle. The Stechkin joined the Walther in the false bottom of the bag. The holiday season having started, there was a flight to the Isle of Man leaving at eight-fifteen, with flights to Glasgow, Edinburgh and Newcastle as possible alternatives if there was difficulty in obtaining a seat, all leaving within a period of one hour. The Isle of Man was his preference because it was a soft route, used mainly by holiday makers. In the event, there was space available and he had no difficulty in obtaining a ticket.
All hand baggage would be x-rayed, but that was true at most international airports these days. At Belfast, most baggage destined for the hold was x-rayed also, but this did not always apply to the softer routes during the holiday season. In any case, the false bottom of his bag, which was only three inches deep, was lined with lead. The contents would not show. Any difficulty he might have would present itself at Customs in the Isle of Man.
It was approximately eight-thirty and Cussane had been airborne for a good ten minutes when theDublin Town, running low on fuel, gave up the fruitless search for survivors from theMary Murphy and turned towards Ballywalter. It was the youngest member of the crew, a fifteen-year-old boy coiling rope in the prow, who noticed the wreckage to starboard and called to the skipper, who altered course at once. A few minutes later, he cut the engines and coasted in beside one of theMary Murphy's hatches.
Sean Deegan was sprawled across it on his back. His head turned slowly and he managed a ghastly smile. 'Took your sweet time about it, didn't you?' he called in a hoarse voice.
At Ronaldsway Airport, Cussane had no difficulty with the Customs. He retrieved his bag and joined the large number of people passing through. No one made any attempt to stop him. As with all holiday resorts, the accent was on making things as painless for the tourist as possible. Islander aircraft made the short flight to Blackpool on the English coast numerous times during the day, but they were busy that morning and the earliest flight he could get was at noon. It could have been worse, so he purchased a ticket and went along to the cafeteria to have something to eat.
It was eleven-thirty when Ferguson answered the phone and found Devlin on the line. He listened, frowning in horror. 'Are you certain?'
'Absolutely. This man Deegan survived the explosion only because Cussane shot him into the water beforehand. It was Cussane who caused the explosion, then took off back to the shore in the fishing boat's inflatable. Almost ran Deegan down.'
'But why?' Ferguson demanded.
'The clever bastard has been beating me at chess for years. I know his style. Always three moves ahead of the game. By staging his apparent death last night, he pulled off the hounds. There was no one looking for him. No need.'
Ferguson was filled with a dreadful foreboding. 'Are you trying to say what I think you are?'
'What do you think? He's on your side of the water now, not ours, Brigadier.'
Ferguson swore softly. 'Right, I'll get some official help from Special Branch in Dublin. They can turn over that cottage of his for us. Photos, fingerprints. Anything useful.'
'You'll need to inform the Catholic Secretariat,' Devlin told him. 'They're going to love this one at the Vatican.'
'The lady at number ten isn't likely to be too ecstatic about it either. What plane had you booked the Voroninova girl on?'
'Two o'clock.'
'Come with her. I need you.'
There is just one item of minor importance, but worth mentioning,' Devlin told him. 'On your side of the water, I'm still a wanted man from way back. A member of an illegal organization is the least of it.'
Til take care of that, for God's sake,' Ferguson said. 'Just get your backside on that plane,' and he hung up.
Tanya Voroninova brought tea in from the kitchen. 'What happens now?'
'I'm going with you to London,' he said, 'and we'll take it from there.'
'And Cussane? Where is he, would you say?'
'Anywhere and everywhere.' He sipped some of his tea. 'He has one problem however. The Pope arrives Friday according to the morning paper. Visits Canterbury the next day.'
'Saturday the twenty-ninth?'
'Exactly. So Cussane has some time to fill. The question is, where does he intend to go?'
The phone rang. McGuiness was on the other end. 'You've spoken to Ferguson?'
'I have.'
'What does he intend to do?'
'God knows. He's asked me to go over.'
'And will you?'
'Yes.'
'Jesus, Liam, did you hear about this Russian, Lubov, turning up dead in the cinema? He preaches a hell of a sermon this priest of yours.'
'He's developed a slightly different attitude to the job since he discovered his own people were trying to knock him off,' Devlin said. 'Interesting to see where it takes him.'
'To Canterbury is where it's taking the mad bastard,' McGuiness said. 'And we can't help with that. It's up to British Intelligence to handle this one. Nothing more the IRA can do for them. Watch your back, Liam.'
He rang off and Devlin sat there, frowning thoughtfully.
He stood up. 'I'm going out for a little while,' he said to Tanya. 'Shan't be long,' and he went out through the French windows.
The Customs at Blackpool were just as courteous as they had been at Ronaldsway. Cussane actually paused, smiling, and offered his bag as the stream of passengers moved through.
'Anything to declare, Father?' the Customs officer asked.
Cussane unzipped his bag. 'A bottle of Scotch and two hundred cigarettes.'
The Customs officer grinned. 'You could have had a litre of wine as well. It isn't your day, Father.'
'Obviously not.' Cussane zipped up his bag and moved on.
He hesitated outside the entrance of the small airport. There were several taxi cabs waiting, but he decided to walk down to the main road instead. He had, after all, all the time in the world. There was a newsagents across the road and he crossed over and bought a paper. As he came out, a bus pulled in at the stop a few paces away. Its indicator said Morecambe, which he knew was another seaside resort some miles up the coast. On impulse, he ran forward and scrambled on board as it drew away.
He purchased a ticket and went up on the top deck. It was really very pleasant and he felt calm and yet full of energy at the same time. He opened the newspaper and saw that the news from the South Atlantic was not good. HMSCoventry had been bombed and a Cunard container ship, theAtlantic Conveyor, had been hit by an Exocet missile. He lit a cigarette and settled down to read about it.
When Devlin went into the ward at the hospice, Sister Anne Marie was at Danny Malone's bed. Devlin waited and she finally whispered something to the nurse, then turned and noticed him. 'And what do you want?' 'To talk to Danny.'
'He isn't really up to conversation this morning.'
'It's very important.'
She frowned in exasperation. 'It always is with you. All right. Ten minutes.' She started to walk away, then turned. 'Father Cussane didn't come in last night. Do you know why?'
'No,' Devlin lied. 'I haven't seen him.'
She walked away and he pulled a chair forward. 'Danny, how are you?'
Malone opened his eyes and said hoarsely, 'Is it you, Liam? Father Cussane didn't come.'
'Tell me, Danny, you talked to him of Sean Deegan of Ballywalter who handles the Isle of Man run, I understand.'
Malone frowned. 'Sure, I talked to him about a lot of things.'
'But mainly of IRA matters.'
'Sure, and he was interested in me telling him how I managed things in the old days.'
'Particularly across the water?' Devlin asked.
'Yes. You know how long I lasted without getting caught, Liam. He wanted to know how I did it.' He frowned. 'What's the problem?'
'You were always the strong one, Danny. Be strong now. He wasn't one of our own.'
Malone's eyes widened. 'You're having me on, Liam.'
'And Sean Deegan in hospital with a bullet in him and two good men dead?'
Danny sat there, staring at him. 'Tell me.' So Devlin did. When he was finished, Danny Malone said softly, 'Bastard!'
'Tell me what you can remember, Danny. Anything that particularly interested him.'
Malone frowned, trying to think. 'Yes, the business of how I stayed ahead of Special Branch and those Intelligence boys for so long. I explained to him that I never used the IRA network when I was over there. Totally unreliable, you know that, Liam.'
'True.'
'I always used the underworld myself. Give me an honest
crook any day of the week or a dishonest one if the price is right. I knew a lot of people like that.' Tell me about them,' Devlin said.
