Drummond along to join the others. 'I don't want him getting all the blame for this,’ he said. Avedissian liked the gesture. This done, they brought Kathleen round and helped her along the passage and up the stairs.
They were out in the Belfast night. The streets were wet but it had stopped raining and the air had never smelled so good to them. For Avedissian, at least, the smell of freedom became a reality.
There was no real decision to be made. Their first objective had to be to get out of the country, for Ireland was no longer a place for any of them. Avedissian suggested that they should make for his flat in London. Any new plans could be made from there. It was agreed.
Avedissian's worry that the O'Neills might have trouble with heightened security on the Ireland-England routes proved to be unfounded. There had been no IRA action for some time and memories are short even with the best of intentions. They made the crossing unhindered.
THIRTEEN
It was not until a London taxi driver gave them a second look that Avedissian realised how dirty and dishevelled they must seem. Up until then, their thoughts had been solely concerned with escape so it was only now, in the depths of London traffic, that they could relax a little and consider that they had really done it. They had escaped from the clutches of Finbarr Kell.
Avedissian looked at Kathleen as they waited at traffic lights and saw the pain lines round her eyes. She had not complained at all since leaving Belfast but he knew that the effects of the pain-killer he had given her must have worn off some hours ago. He asked her gently if it was bad. She smiled at him and said that she was all right, he was not to worry.
They drank whisky when they got into Avedissian's flat while they waited for an immersion heater to provide hot water. No one said anything about it only being eleven in the morning. For the moment time was unimportant; they needed a drink.
Avedissian let the O'Neills bathe first while he scavenged through the kitchen cupboards and found whatever tinned food there was to prepare a passable meal, then he dressed Kathleen's burns before cleaning himself up and settling down to eat.
'God, I feel better,' said O'Neill and they all agreed. O'Neill was all right in the clothes that Avedissian had given him but Kathleen looked like a waif from the storm in a shirt that swamped her and jeans bunched up into pleats at the waist.
Their anxiety had subsided, they had cleaned up and they had eaten. It was time to talk about what they were going to do next. All were agreed that everything had to take second place to finding out what Kell was up to and stopping him if at all possible. At the moment the best they could do would be to warn the authorities that a big IRA operation was under way in England.
'What's the way to do that?' asked Avedissian.
'We could warn them by phone,' said Kathleen.
'Would they believe us? Wouldn't they ask for some kind of identification?'
'More than that, they would want to know what the operation involved and who and what were at risk,' said O'Neill.
'And we couldn't tell them because we don't know,' added Avedissian.
'But if Martin told them who he was they might take the warning seriously,' suggested Kathleen.
'Martin O'Neill is dead as far as the authorities are concerned,' said Avedissian. 'The call would be dismissed as a hoax.'
They considered for a moment before Avedissian said, 'There is one person who would believe that we were telling the truth.'
'Who?'
'Bryant.'
Kathleen looked down at the table and fidgeted nervously. 'I couldn't bear to face that man again,' she said in a whisper.
Avedissian put a hand on her shoulder and said quietly, 'I feel the same. I've got a score to settle with that rat, but we must think rationally. Bryant has the resources to stop Kell.'
'How would you get to Bryant?' asked O'Neill.
'I've had cause to think about that a lot,’ replied Avedissian. 'Officially I have no way of reaching him but unofficially I think I can do it.'
'Go on,’ said O'Neill.
'When I was taken to see Bryant in London I had to wait in a room that looked out into a lane. It was night- time and there was a neon sign on the building opposite. It said Staplex Bindings. If I can get their address from the phone book I think I can find the building that Bryant uses.'
'That's worth a try,’ said O'Neill.
Kathleen, unable to contemplate the prospect of becoming involved with Bryant again, stayed silent.
Avedissian looked up the phone book and said, 'I've got it.'
'Do you want us to go too?' asked O'Neill.
Avedissian shook his head and said, 'It's best if I go alone. There's no time to lose. You and Kathleen can get to work on that map we took from Kell's room. Find out where that village is and what is special about it.’
'We'll get some clothes too,’ said O'Neill.
'Be careful,’ said Kathleen as Avedissian prepared to leave. He kissed her and told her there was no need to worry. He would be back soon.
Avedissian took a taxi to the Staplex works. It was a journey of about fifteen minutes but would have been shorter had it not been for heavy traffic. He crossed the road and walked past the building until he came to the entrance to the lane he remembered. He looked at the neon sign above the goods entrance and then at the building opposite. It seemed dark and featureless, just another anonymous building, but there, on the third floor, was a window with a large plant in it. It was the room where he had been asked to wait on the night he had been brought from the training school at Llangern.
Avedissian walked up one side of the lane and came back on the other, casually looking at the doors leading into the building. All were securely locked. But maybe that was all to the good, he thought. His best plan would be to wait for Bryant either to enter or leave the building. That way the element of surprise would remain with him. If he were to go in blind he would be playing a game where he was an amateur among professionals.
Avedissian grew tired of waiting. It had been over three hours and still no one had entered or left. He began to have visions of the building being empty. Perhaps it was only used on odd occasions, not on a regular basis at all. He had almost convinced himself that this was the case when at five-thirty, the front door opened and a woman came out. He recognised her. It was Sarah Milek, the secretary he had first met at Cambridge.
Sarah. Milek walked down the lane and turned left, with Avedissian some thirty metres behind. She turned left again into another narrow lane and approached a line of lock-up garages before pausing to search in her handbag for the key to one of the doors. Avedissian waited until she had opened it and was lifting up the door before running up behind her and hustling her inside. He clamped his hand over her mouth to stifle her scream and whispered in her ear. 'Don't panic, Miss Milek. It's an old friend. Remember me?' He took his hand away.
'You!' gasped Sarah Milek.
'Surprised? Could that be because I'm supposed to be dead, I wonder?'
'I'm glad you're not.’
'Of course you are. Where's Bryant?' snapped Avedissian.
'I see,’ said Sarah Milek, 'You've come for your revenge.'
'That was my original intention,’ agreed Avedissian. 'But circumstances have dictated that I need Bryant's help.’
'Help?' said an astonished Sarah Milek.
‘The IRA have been planning a big operation here in England. It's going to happen any day now and Kell's people are already here. It's Kell's way of paying Bryant back for trying to trick him.'
'But there hasn't been time for Kell to mount anything big,’ protested Sarah Milek.
