the hammer of the pistol, and inserted the piece into the chamber. When the clockwork pulled the trigger, the hammer would land only on the cardboard and the gun would not go off. I closed the satchel and moved on. I did a second, a third, a fourth.
I was at work on the fifth, when the building suddenly shuddered. For a moment, I felt like I was on a ship in the middle of a storm. The walls moved and groaned in protest.
I hurried, knowing I hadn’t much time. Finishing four more, I reasoned that my time was up. I closed the satchel and ran to the door, looking back to make certain all was in order. I stepped out into the hall and relocked the door before pocketing the skeleton key. I hurried to the end of the corridor and was leaning and staring out the window when who should I see staring up at me but Soho Vic. He looked up from the alleyway and thumbed his nose at me before walking away. I heard feet on the stair and turned away from the window, just as the two men returned. “Lovely view you get in London,” I stated, “if you like red brick. How did it go?”
“Like a charm,” Garrity said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. van Rhyn?”
“Indeed. Our handmade dynamite worked perfectly.”
Garrity unlocked the door again and led us inside. As soon as he was in, he scooped up the first of the satchels, and flipped it open, peering inside.
“Just checking,” he said. “Well, we’re ready, then. Since neither Mr. van Rhyn nor I can leave the room now, Penrith, why don’t you go down and tell the lads they can come up again, if they’re brave enough. Send Colin to fetch Dunleavy, and have Padraig bring a few pints, provided Fergus hasn’t drunk the place dry.”
I looked at Barker, who had seated himself in a chair. He was as calm as if he were enjoying a Sabbath’s rest, not ten feet from rows of explosives. He nodded, and I left the room. I left the planning of how to get the primed bombs out of the terrorists’ hands to him.
I hadn’t realized how badly my head hurt until I began clattering down the stairs. The movement set off a clamoring in my skull, but I was determined to see this through. I came down the final step and looked at the table of Irish bombers down in the public house, surreptitiously drinking on the off day while waiting for us to finish. They all put down their glasses when they saw me.
“We’re on,” I said.
26
The next day, a day which shall remain in my memory forever, Colonel Alfred Dunleavy, that old campaigner, came from his stronghold in Claridge’s to lead us on a final charge. He surveyed our handiwork-thirty bombs in satchels spread out like so many soldiers in a platoon-and checked his watch. It was five thirty. He cleared his throat as he let the watch slide back into his waistcoat pocket.
“It is time, my good warriors. An hour from now we can be heroes, champions of a new Ireland, standing like gods over the rubble and chaos you’ve brought upon our enemies. We’ll punish them for their countless evictions, the imprisonment of so many good men, and their theft of our land. I’ve had many a soldier under my command but none such brave and hearty lads as I see before me. It has been a pleasure to lead you.”
Garrity and I bent as everyone watched, and began to set the timers. I wondered if he would notice the misplaced gun barrels, but he was too busy setting the clocks. I took the opportunity to push a few more guns out of alignment. Dunleavy reached down and gently lifted two of the bomb-filled satchels. I was relieved to see that the two he chose were disarmed. “I bid you all good fortune.”
“I realize it is late, sir,” Garrity spoke up. “But I wonder if I may participate in the delivery? Years from now, when people ask me what I did today, I’d like to tell them I did more than just help Mr. van Rhyn make the bombs, with the permission of you all, of course.”
There were murmurs of assent from the men in the room. Garrity reached down and took two more satchels. The rest of them in turn took two each. Some of them were inert, but some were live, and in the jumble of movement, I lost track of which were which.
“Half an hour, gentlemen,” Barker stated. “You have half an hour to set in place this first delivery of bombs and return before they detonate. I suggest that you do not dawdle, or stop for a dram.
With silent nods all around, the men marched out in single file, leaving us with our charges. Barker moved to a window that looked onto the street in front of the building and peered out.
“How many were you able to disarm?” he asked.
“Nine, sir. At least half of the ones they walked out with were live.”
He winced but said nothing. He knew I’d done my best. I went to work, disarming the remaining bombs while Barker looked down at the street.
“Poole’s men are in place,” he said tensely, when we were alone. “I can see at least three detectives I recognize in the street, though they’re doing their best to blend in among the Irish. I passed Soho Vic a note in the corridor when we tested the bomb. There goes Dunleavy, alone. O’Casey and McKeller are going off to the left, and the Bannon brothers to the right. I don’t see Garrity yet.”
Everyone went off, and there seemed to be no more than the normal traffic for this time of night. Barker and I looked at each other a moment. Had something gone wrong? Why were the police holding back? Were they not in place yet? Then from somewhere east of us there was the sound of a policeman’s whistle. It was followed by a half dozen other whistles all around us. I heard angry cries and oaths, and I crossed the room to look over Barker’s shoulder. As I watched, Colin and Padraig Bannon came running back down Monmouth Street, still carrying their bombs. Padraig was cut off by three constables, but Colin got by them, using some of the moves I had seen on the hurling pitch. Just as I feared he might get away, a man stepped out of a doorway in front of him, and his arm caught the Irishman full in the throat. Bannon’s legs flew out from under him, and he and the bombs landed on the pavement. Colin tried halfheartedly to get up as the man turned our way and shouted orders to someone. I’d recognize those sandy whiskers anywhere.
“It’s Poole!”
“Yes,” Barker said. “I taught him that move weeks ago. But look over there!” He pointed to the left. Two men were wrestling on the pavement. One was McKeller and the other a sturdy man who looked familiar. It was one of Munro’s bookends. The bookend seemed to be getting the worst of it.
As we watched, the street began to swarm with men locked in battle. Constables, Irish idlers and criminals, and faction members all disputed with whatever weapon came to hand. The Seven Dials had erupted into a riot. I saw a woman attempt to scratch out the eyes of a constable and receive a bloody nose in consequence. I hoped, for London’s sake, that Scotland Yard would be able to contain this mess.
“Blast,” Barker rumbled. “The Crook and Harp has emptied out, and everyone is trying to protect the bombers. This won’t do.I shall have to go down.”
From somewhere below we heard a door slam and the sound of feet running swiftly up the stairs. We were across the room from our sticks. Who could be coming, and what would they want?
O’Casey and McKeller burst into the room. They were both missing their caps, and the state of their clothing showed they’d fought their way back. They still had their two satchels, both handles in one hand, while they held their bata sticks in the other.
“The street is full of peelers!” O’Casey informed us. “Someone must have peached.”
“Blow it up, then,” McKeller growled. “Blow it all up. If you set one of these off, the rest are bound to go off as one. Blow us all to kingdom come. Leave a crater in London so big the English will never forget!”
“I am afraid I cannot allow that to happen, gentlemen,” my employer said in his normal Lowland Scots. “You see, we are agents of the English government. It was I who summoned the police here.”
McKeller broke into a string of curses, but O’Casey, whether he’d suspected or was merely fatalistic, set down his bombs and raised his stick. We were simply the next obstacle in his path, and he would concentrate on that alone.
“Fergus!” O’Casey barked. “They are unarmed. Take these two down and we still have a room full of bombs to blow up or bargain with as we choose.”
I realized we were twenty feet from our sticks, but Barker was ahead of me. He dug into his pockets and threw their contents at the two Irishmen. Not merely his razor coins, but regular ones, keys, a pocketknife, and who
