“Calm down,” he said. “Daz has just admitted something to me in absolute confidence. He’ll tell the rest of you when he’s ready but until then I really can’t say anything – even to you.”
“But—”
“No,” Sean said, in a voice that brooked no argument. There were no buts when that voice came out. “I gave him my word,” he said, more gently. “Look, it’s important, but it has nothing to do with why we’re here.” He saw the sheer frustration on my face and smiled again. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”
Eighteen
The last forty-five minutes of the trip was at a much slower pace than the rest of the crossing. As we reached the entrance to Belfast Lough the captain throttled back to barely ten knots and ambled towards the city port.
“When they first started running the fast cat service they used to come steaming up the Lough at full chat,” William explained when Daz asked him why, “until they discovered that the wake was actually washing dog walkers off the coastal path. Now they have to slow it down a bit.”
Just before we docked, Paxo dug in his backpack and distributed a set of walkie-talkies with headsets and microphones that velcro’d in to the lining of our helmets.
“They’ll work up to about a mile apart,” he said, “and the mic’s voice activated, so don’t sing while you’re riding along or we’ll all have to suffer it.” He gave Sean a look of insincere apology that there weren’t enough to go round. “Sorry mate – didn’t know you were coming.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Sean said easily. “I’m sure I’ll manage to keep up and, anyway, I know where you’re going.”
That comment netted him some sharp glances, not least from me, but he forestalled any further questions by picking up his gear and following the announcement for all vehicle drivers to return to the car decks.
Thanks in part to William’s influence, we were among the first allowed off the ferry when it docked.
The Super Blackbird Sean had borrowed turned out to be a beautiful example in sparkling silver. Irritatingly, despite the fact he hadn’t ridden for more than three years and it wasn’t even his bike, he looked very much at home in the saddle.
We swept out of the port in convoy. Daz was in front on the Aprilia with Tess riding pillion and, in my humble opinion, wrapping herself round his back more closely than his smooth riding style strictly required. Nobody said anything about a running order but Sean naturally fell in at the rear. Maybe he just wanted to be where he could keep an eye on the rest of us.
The docks area was industrial and scruffy the way docks are the world over. On the other side of the water from the fast cat terminal the landscape was overshadowed by the huge cranes from the Harland and Wolfe shipyard.
There wasn’t time to do more than grab a basic impression of the city itself as we shot through it. I was too busy trying to make sure I didn’t get separated at lights or cut up by other traffic. The bit of it I saw was just a city like any other. Part worn-down, part ultra modern as regeneration snuck in where opportunity let it get a skip outside the door.
Daz led the way confidently onto the M2 motorway that swung round the top end of Belfast, heading west for Londonderry. Then he veered east, taking the exit for Larne. As we bunched up at the roundabout at the bottom of the slip road, Sean came up alongside me and thumbed his visor open a crack.
“Tell them to pull over at the next available point,” he ordered, just loud enough to be heard over the bike engines. “We’ve got company.”
I resisted the urge to look behind me, giving him a short nod as I repeated his instruction over my radio. There was a long pause, during which time Daz and Jamie had already merged out into traffic. William launched, then Paxo, leaving just me and Sean waiting for our chance.
Then came a burst of static and wind noise before Daz’s voice sounded casual and almost relaxed in my ear. “What’s up, Charlie – you getting left behind already?”
“Not especially,” I snapped. “But Sean reckons we might have a problem.”
“What do you think?”
I tried to avoid grinding my teeth. “I think we should pull over at the next available point.”
“OK, keep heading for Larne and I’ll come off and wait for you at the next roundabout.”
The next roundabout was reached along a short section of dual carriageway leading up a long hill. Sean and I opened the bikes up and romped away up the incline, leaving the slower moving cars and a couple of trucks floundering behind us.
By the time we crested the brow there was no sign of the others and I felt my heartrate step up a little, squirting adrenaline into my system on a just-in-case basis. We dropped down towards the roundabout Daz had mentioned, braking hard. I checked my mirrors but could see nothing suspicious.
“We see you, Charlie,” I heard William’s voice say. “Take the first exit. Hotel car park on your right.”
Sean had moved up to my outside quarter, covering my back. I jerked my head to him to indicate that he should follow me, and peeled off left. He stuck with me all the way like a shadow.
We found the others grouped together near the hotel entrance, visors open, apparently unconcerned.
“What’s the problem, Sean?” Daz wanted to know as soon as we joined them.
Sean didn’t answer right away. His head was turned to scan the fast main road running alongside the hotel. A dark grey Vauxhall Vectra shot onto the roundabout and carried straight on towards Larne. There were four men inside who made a big show of not looking at us as they belted past. Sean watched it go by with slightly narrowed
