The package was somewhat longer than a shoe box, and it was heavy. Its outer wrapping was of several layers of thick brown paper held securely in place with shiny brown adhesive tape. The contents didn't move or rattle. Whatever was inside was well padded.
The package was addressed to Mr. Dieter Kretz and had been left at the reception desk of the Royal Dublin Hotel just a little after eight in the morning. The messenger was dressed like a Dublin Taxi driver and was unremarkable in appearance. Afterward nobody could remember much about him except that he spoke like “a typical Dub.”
The young couple had breakfast in their room, hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door, and, as was common enough with young couples, did not emerge until nearly midday. The receptionist handed them the package when they checked out. She had almost forgotten about it until she was gently reminded by the young German. He smiled at her when he received it and made a remark about there not being that much time for reading. He had his right arm around his girlfriend's shoulders and was relaxed and confident – satiated even.
The porter carried their bags to the car, though the German kept the package tucked firmly under his left arm. He placed it in the trunk of the car. The porter wondered why anyone would want to take a holiday in Ireland in March. He returned to his desk in the warm hotel with relief.
Dieter, who normally had the German's belief that accelerators exist to be kept pressed to the floor, this time drove cautiously. It was his first visit to Ireland, and he was unused to driving on the left-hand side of the road. Fortunately he had been well briefed on Dublin's inconsistent signposting system and relied instead on Tina's map- reading skills. Despite the random one-way systems that were not show on the map, they became lost only once before they found the road to Galway and the west of Ireland. It was also a route that led toward the home of Colonel Shane Kilmara.
On the outskirts of Dublin they entered the sprawling green acres of PhoenixPark, the largest enclosed urban parkland in Europe. Hundreds of deer roamed the rolling, tree-dotted landscape, and the sheer scale of the area ensured relative privacy for its few visitors.
Dieter left the main through road and turned onto a side road, where he stopped the car and switched off the engine. For a few minutes they sat quietly, took stock of their surroundings, and watched the deer grazing under the trees. Then, satisfied they were not observed, he opened the trunk, removed the heavy package, and climbed into the backseat of the car. Using a short, thin-bladed knife he had taken from his suitcase, he cut through the layers of tape and outer wrappings of the package, then removed the layers of corrugated paper and the final layer of oiled cloth. There lay two compact Czech-made machine pistols – the model known as the Skorpion VZ-61. There were also eight twenty-round magazines of 7.65 mm ammunition, cleaning materials, and a copy of the Automobile Association's Touring Guide to Ireland.
Tina switched on the radio, and to a background of traditional Irish music the pair began to clean the weapons and prepare them for action.
After they left PhoenixPark, Tina drove.
She was a better driver than Dieter, and as she became used to the narrow potholed road that passed for a main highway, she gradually increased her speed almost to the legal limit – whatever, that is, road conditions permitted. They wanted to arrive close to their destination during daylight. It was their experience that darkness brought an increase in police patrols.
Dieter, his Skorpion ready for action at the flick of the fire selector lever but concealed under a newspaper, lay across the backseat and dozed. Tina's weapon rested in a plastic shopping bag under her seat.
She rounded a long curve in the road and slowed when she saw the cars stopped up ahead. At first she thought there might have been an accident, but then, as the traffic moved forward in a series of stops and starts, a large orange sign came into view. It read, unambiguously: STOP! POLICE CHECKPOINT.
Almost at the same time she saw the two policemen in their heavy navy blue greatcoats standing back to back in the middle of the road, desultorily checking the traffic flowing from either direction. A muddy police car was parked by the side of the road, and its blue light flashed intermittently. Just behind it was a long-wheelbase Land Rover painted a dull army green. A soldier wearing earphones sat by a radio in the back. Another soldier leaned against the door, his rifle held casually, his bored eyes scanning the long lines of cars and trucks.
A brief feeling of alarm came over Tina before training and common sense came to her aid. They were innocent tourists. They had committed no crime in Ireland. This was just a routine check that could not affect them. She tried not to think of the concealed Skorpions but had already noted that the majority of cars and trucks were being waved through unsearched.
She turned around and shook Dieter. He woke instantly.
'You think…?' she began, pointing ahead to the roadblock.
Dieter watched the policemen. In most cases there was no more than a brief discussion through the window and now and then the producing of documents. The policeman covering their side of the road was young, with an open, friendly face tanned a reddish brown by the wind. Sometimes he laughed. There was no urgency in his manner, no tension.
'A routine check, no more,' said Dieter. 'It is of no concern.' He grinned sardonically at Tina. 'Remember, we are harmless young lovers.'
Tina looked at him coolly for a moment. 'We may fuck,' she said. 'We are not lovers.' She let out the clutch, and the Ford moved forward again.
The bulletin had stipulated a black or navy blue Ford Escort, and this was Quirke's ninth navy blue Ford Escort of the day. The first tow or three had set the adrenaline going, but now he was only marginally interested in the car. He was considerably more interested in the pretty girl driving it.
Tina rolled down the window and smiled up at the large policeman. 'Good afternoon, Officer,' she said. Her accent was Italian, her tone friendly and just slightly provocative. She was the most exciting thing he'd seen all day, and if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that under normal circumstances she would have been too exotic to have anything to do with the likes of Liam Quirke. But there were some consolations to checkpoint duty.
'Afternoon, miss,' said Quirke. He peered into the front and then the back of the car, trying not to stare too hard at the Italian girl and being irrationally disappointed that she had a companion in the back. He felt a pang of loss, the knowledge of a beauty that could never be his. 'Afternoon, sir,' he added. 'Nothing to worry about. Just a routine check.'
'We thought at first that there was an accident,' said Tina. She smiled directly at him.
'No accident, miss,' said the young policeman, his cheeks pink under her gaze. 'A bank robbery in Dublin. One of them got away. It's not too likely that he'd come in this direction, but you never know.'
'I suppose not,' interjected Dieter from the back of the car. His voice broke the spell that for a few seconds had bound the Italian girl and the policeman together.
'Could you tell me where you've come from and where you're going?' asked Quirke, his official manner partially restored. 'And I'd like to look at your driver's license and insurance.'
Tina removed the car rental documents from the glove compartment and passed them, together with both their driver's licenses, through the window.
'We have only just arrived in your country,' she said. 'Last night we stayed in Dublin. Now we go to the west of Ireland for a few days. We would like to be away from crowds and people, to be alone together, you understand.'
As she finished her remark, Tina looked directly into Liam Quirke's eyes – and saw in them a slight flicker of
