He felt Kathleen withdraw a little. Any mention of 'British' or 'embassy' brought her back recollections of her nights in the chair by her husband's hospital bed.
'And what's more, I was due to talk to him, I think.'
They listened to the announcer's bland, mid-Atlantic tones.
'A telephone call to the Irish Times claimed responsibility on behalf of the Irish National Liberation Army. The statement said that the INLA had received information that Mr Ball was in charge of intelligence gathering on its members in the South and that he was responsible for the murder of Mr Tommy Costello, a well-know republican and member of the INLA, abducted in County Monaghan two years ago… Mr Costello is thought to have been the victim of a power struggle within the ranks of the INLA as to the movement's campaign of violence in Northern Ireland…'
'Madmen, the whole lot of them,' Kathleen whispered.
'… The INLA statement also pronounced what it termed a sentence of death on Mr Ball and any other person co-operating with him. A spokesman for the British Embassy refused comment on the incident or on the allegations.'
Minogue sat back at the table. Kathleen remained by the sink, her arms folded in front of her.
'What does this have to do with you, Matt? You said that you weren't involved in this racket any more. And I recall telling Jimmy Kilmartin that I didn't want my hus-'
'Now look it, Kathleen,' Minogue began.
'Now look it, yourself.'
'Don't be arguing in front of the children, you two,' Iseult broke in. 'I'm very impressionable and sensitive. You don't know the harm you could be doing.'
Kathleen turned to her daughter. Iseult fled the kitchen.
'I don't want you getting involved with this stuff, do you hear me. You know what I'm talking about. Gun-play and those thugs. You've paid your dues and done more than anyone else in that line. How far are you from retirement now? There's your family to think of.'
'And me long-suffering wife. If there's any chance of-'
'There'd better not be.' spacebarthing
Keating was sitting on Eilis' desk and offering her gentle taunts when Minogue arrived. Minogue phoned the Special Branch and asked for Pat Corrigan. While he waited for someone to answer, he watched Eilis blow smoke up into Keating's face. It did not budge him off her desk.
'Don't be getting your knickers in a knot now, Detective Keating,' she murmured.
Corrigan was not in his office, but he could be reached by cellular. Minogue redialled. Corrigan answered with a cough.
'Matt Minogue? The man himself. Where are you?'
'I'm in a space rocket and I'm hovering over your nice new shiny car with your shiny telephone, Pat.'
'You nearly had me looking out the window for you. What's with you?'
'Think of me as Jim Kilmartin but without the rank. I'm working on a very odd case here in the Squad. I might need something solid to break open the damn investigation.'
'You're always in the thick of things, Matt. Much in demand, hah?'
'Not as busy as yourself this morning, I'll wager,' Minogue probed.
'Aha. You heard,' Corrigan replied grimly. 'Very bad work done on this poor fella. We warn them about socialising on their own, you know. It's not in my basket this morning, though, thanks be to God. There's a dozen security-types in from London already, hush-hush. We're supposed to treat them like royalty and give them free rein. Did it come to your Squad yet?'
'A letter from Justice on Jimmy's desk this morning to tell us to wait until we're wanted. The English lads want it all to themselves on account of it being an embassy thing.'
'You're as well off to be told to wait by the door with this. They'll use the Technical Bureau for evidence gathering, I hear…?'
'That's all they want from us, yes. But Pat, I need to talk about this poor Ball fella.'
Corrigan didn't reply.
'I'm working on a case where an Englishman was murdered. Ball's telephone number was on a little list he had in his house. They tell me that Ball's job was to look after UK nationals living here. Tell them when their pensions go up and remind them about free coal allowances, that class of thing. All very polite and above-board, thanks very much.'
'But?'
'Well, I'd have had to be talking to poor Ball sooner or later in connection with this case, you see. It seems more important now, if you follow my meaning.'
Corrigan caught the emphasis. His voice took on the ancestral tone of his peasant forefathers bargaining over the price which no one wanted to mention aloud.
'Oh yes. Oh yes. But this is a very delicate matter. There's going to be skin and hair flying over this effort… This person was English, you say?'
'An elderly man. We're making rather heavy weather of it so far, do you see.'
'Aha.'
Minogue sensed Corrigan's interest. He felt his own impatience growing.
'Well,' Minogue said finally. 'If we can't be talking too much over this yoke, we had better meet.'
'All right so,' Corrigan said slowly. Minogue had the impression that Corrigan was distracted, writing something while he talked.
'Off the premises, if it's all the same to you, Pat. Bewley's Cafe in Westmoreland Street, the self-serve nearest Fleet Street. Is a quarter after ten good?'
Corrigan grunted.
'Same as ever, Matt. Fair enough.'
CHAPTER 10
'Do sit down, James. Please.'
Kenyon caught the sarcasm, but he didn't care now.
'Really, I insist. I'm not at all prepared for a fit from you.'
'What the hell is Murray doing, running this operation?'
'Murray is not running the operation, James. He's part of a group gone to Dublin to sort this mess out. The offer of a chair still holds,' Robertson added ominously.
'For Christ's sake, Hugh. His embassy man is shot to bits last night and Murray is already half-way across the Irish Sea by now-'
Robertson looked at his watch.
'Landed by now, I'd say, James.'
'Landed in bloody Dublin after leaving us here tied up in knots. While he decides what has to be done and when. I can't believe it. And I'm being told that Murray isn't running the show?'
'James. Sit down, would you? I can't talk to a moving target. Let me go through it again. Murray is not running anything. We've just been asked to hold our investigation under advice from Murray. The immediate stuff has to be done first. The coppers in Dublin are being very damned co-operative. Murray has to be there if anything of Ball's work leaks out. That's all. Murray went through the Deputy Under Sec in the Foreign Office. He chairs the liaison meetings between the Foreign Office and MI6. Murray got territorial, that's all. 'Ball was ours, Combs was ours, let's fix this ourselves.' He convinced Chapman and they got to the Foreign Secretary. The Foreign Sec knows damn well that Murray is MI6. He took it up with the PMO and her ladyship issued her edict on it. She doesn't want a ripple. We're to freeze what we're doing and keep out of the way while Murray and company seal the business as best they can.'
'Seal? Band-aid solutions. It's becoming unstuck every minute, that's pretty plain to me.'
Kenyon sat down, still shaking his head.
