drama, anything on the blade edge of life whether it was to do with guns or props. But this man sounded normal, even witty. As sane as the next man. Yet he didn't keep budgies or go along with superstitions or worship the sun: he was part of an organisation that killed people. Is that what mad means, when you can't tell the difference anymore?
Minogue's chest leadened when he felt the truth of this. He thought of Dublin in the fifties, moribund and discoloured. No wonder there was so much emigration. This fool had emigrated all right, but inwardly: he had willed his life away to The Cause.
'What exactly did he say, then?'
'I don't remember his exact words.'
'Try.'
'Like I said, he said he wanted to meet republicans.'
'Why?'
'Just to meet them. To do a story on them, I suppose.'
'What were his interests?'
'I don't know. Maybe a tourist looking for excitement.'
'Married?'
'How would I know?'
'A ring?'
'Didn't look.'
This could go on for hours and it would. He was lying, probably buying some time for this fellow. Give away a little so they believe the big lies.
Kilmartin leaned back, balancing on the back legs of the chair and said, 'Well, are ye out looking?'
'Hotels, airports and ferries, sir. The whole bit,' a Special Branch man answered.
'So. It appears to me that a) there's enough truth in this business about an American to allow us to bugger up by wasting time; b) there's some element of betrayal here. McCarthy would like to spill all the beans, but then he'd be a marked man if he sold someone out. McCarthy understands the business about being implicated in a capital offence so he'll let go stuff a bit at a time.'
'Time's the thing,' the Special Branch man echoed.
'I'm thinking,' Kilmartin said slowly, 'that you fellas charged with pursuing this investigation in the murder of one of my men should find some way to eliminate this time factor. This would effect a speedy resolution, I'm thinking.'
No one answered. Although the interrogation went on over the speaker, Minogue believed that no one was listening anymore. Pencils were being fingered and shoes observed.
'Go over your description again.'
'Medium height. He wore a suit,' the playwright answered. He was talking too readily, Minogue understood. A command performance.
'And…?'
'There was nothing special about him. In his thirties.'
'Eyes?'
'I dunno. I suppose they were blue.'
'Balding?'
'No he had a full head of hair. Trimmed, looked after.'
Kilmartin seemed to be examining his fingernails minutely. Minogue wondered how many Americans would be in the country at this time of year. Thousands?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
He slipped the Canadian passport into the inside pocket of his jacket. Again he checked his recall on the dates and events of his new self. He didn't need an inbound airline ticket stub because Professor Levesque had come across as a foot passenger from Holyhead and he had one-wayed it to London from New York on a cheap flight.
He looked at himself in the mirror. Above the glasses, his hair was parted more to the centre now. The light Gore-Tex jacket and the lumberjack shirt added to a stereotype. Behind him, he noticed the suitcase he'd be leaving. Inside, neatly folded, was his suit. Everything else had fitted into the shoulder bag. For a few seconds he wondered if he had omitted anything from the routine. Yes, he had gone over the bathroom fixtures; the television, the suitcase. O.K. He turned and allowed his eyes to take in the room. The window? Yes. Door? Yes. Glasses or bottles? Gone.
He couldn't afford to worry about things like a hair in the bathroom. He zipped the bag. As he bent over, he felt the gun detach itself slightly from his chest. That'd have to go too but after he was on the boat. They could bellyache all they wanted about the trouble it was to get one for him and then him just dumping it. Bellyache, he thought, snared for a moment on memory. His father had used that word often. When he had cried on their first visit to his boarding school, his father had grabbed him by the arm:
'Don't bellyache. You'll look back and thank us.' When he got clear, he'd find a way to do for McCarthy.
Kilmartin stood up.
'Gentlemen, I'll be staying in the station here while you listen on to this drivel. If you have any news for me, kindly relay it to me within the next half hour. Anything after that will be all but useless, I'm thinking.'
Minogue saw embarrassment on the men's faces. They nodded. Minogue joined Kilmartin as he turned and walked through the door. As he closed the door behind him, Kilmartin murmured:
'Well, do you think they have the idea?'
Minogue didn't answer. Their driver, the sergeant, was leaning on the back of a chair in the canteen, smoking. The desk sergeant, who had come off duty but was hanging around for news, sat opposite.
'More tea, men?' he said
Minogue and Kilmartin declined.
'The back of the neck is what it is,' their driver continued, putting out smoke as he talked.
''Yank' my arse. Leading us up the garden path, he is,' he muttered.
The off-duty sergeant nodded.
The talk dried up. Other policemen came and went in the canteen. When Minogue looked at his watch, twenty minutes had passed. He had thought of asking the driver for one of his cigarettes. Before he did, one of the three men who had sat with them listening to the questioning came in. He walked to their table. Kilmartin looked up sardonically.
'Well? Has the cow calved?'
'Sir. If you could step into the room beyond, we can brief you.'
Kilmartin and Minogue returned. No sounds came over the speaker. So that was what they'd done, Minogue thought.
'The suspect has informed us that he believes this American may have more, er, significance than was first thought, sir.'
'Go on,' said Kilmartin.
'McCarthy stresses his minimal knowledge and involvement.'
'And all the rest of it,' Kilmartin said grimly.
'But he understands that the American is here to do with some transporting of something or other to the North.'
'What exactly does that mean?' Kilmartin's voice rose.
'His guess is that this man is involved in weapons.'
Kilmartin snorted and headed for the door.
'Let me talk to Mr Shakespeare and we'll have it out in detail. I know how to deal with the likes of him,' he hissed.
The Special Branch officer moved to stop him and Minogue heard the man call out:
