McGonigal shrugged. 'I've been through this hostage business before,' he said. 'The thing is to keep things as normal as possible from an outsider's perspective. Anybody who knows these people would have expected the phone to be answered. Secondly, I didn't want some neighbor calling round because she couldn't get through.'
He looked squarely at the Japanese. 'Anyway, man, my hide is on the line, too, and I'm telling you – she didn't say anything. There was no keyword, no password, no unusual phrase. I'm sure of it.' His northern accent became more pronounced as he emphasized his words. There was a noticeable increase in tension in the room.
'Why didn't you use the mother?' said Sasada, indicating Mary Fleming, who sat motionless on the sofa, her face a blank, her eyes unfocused.
'Jaysus, Sasada, just look at her,' said McGonigal. 'She would have sounded like shit on the phone. There was no way she could have come across normal.'
Sasada was convinced by McGonigal's denial. The reality of the situation was that the IRAP were vastly more experienced at this kind of thing than he was. The latest wave of IRA violence had been operating without a break for the best part of a generation. The younger members had grown up in a culture of violence. They had never known anything else. They learned about the techniques of terrorism in much the same way as the young in a normal society learned to drive.
He drew a knife from under his coat. Its blade was very slightly curved and the tip was angled. The shape, though much smaller, was very like that of a Japanese sword.
He is going to kill me, thought Kathleen. Sasada: I now know his name: I know what he looks like; I can identify them all. There is no way that they will let us live. A terrible sadness and feeling of regret swept over her, so strong that it dominated even her fear.
She thought of all the things in life she had not done and wanted to do. She thought of Fitzduane and his smile and his injured body that she so wanted to love and be loved by. She thought of her mother, who would now need her more than ever. She thought of the pain of dying at the hands of these terrible people, and suddenly felt weak with terror. She closed her eyes to try to mask her fear. If she was going to die, it would be with some dignity.
She felt the knife at her throat and then the warm trickle of her own blood.
Studying a map in one of the empty private rooms on Fitzduane's floor, Kilmara silently cursed the British and their road-building sins of the past centuries – most of their bloody little roads were narrow, winding things, but there were too many of them to block – and reviewed his options.
He was in an isolated hospital in an isolated part of the country with a target that was undesirable to move, and no safer location to move him to anyway. His defensive manpower was decidedly limited, particularly if unarmed police were factored out. There were too many roads and back lanes to block. He did not know how and when the opposition would strike.
He did not actually know anything. He suspected a great deal. Still, in the counterterrorism business you mostly worked with bits and pieces. You rarely had the luxury of complete intelligence. If you fucked up, well, you fucked up. People might die, but the world went on. One had to be philosophical. People killing each other was not globally threatening, like destroying the ozone layer. It was actually quite normal. But it was inconvenient for those involved.
Kilmara did not like to involve Fitzduane, who was supposed to be recovering from serious wounds and resting, but it was hard to deny that he had a vested interest in the outcome of what was happening. Also, Hugo had an excellent tactical sense. He had fought his own wars and covered others for twenty years. He had seen it done right and he had seen it done wrong, and he had learned from this experience in a way few people did.
As he reentered Fitzduane's room, Kilmara looked at his watch. It was a few minutes after ten in the morning. Fitzduane was being examined by a doctor and two nurses, and the Ranger general was peremptorily asked to wait outside. Ten minutes later, the doctor emerged.
Kilmara tried to enter but was again shooed away by the nurses. Eventually, they emerged. One held a partially covered kidney basin containing something bloodstained. The other held a similar basin in which there was a syringe.
It crossed his mind that Fitzduane, though now lucid and apparently recovering, was still a very sick man. He hesitated by the door. It then occurred to him that his friend could be a very dead man if they didn’t come up with something pretty soon.
Fitzduane was propped up in his amazing new bed, eyes closed, looking disconcertingly pale. He had looked much better before his recent visit by the medical team. His bed, on the other hand, was beautifully made. The corners were a joy to contemplate. The sheets were crisp and smelled of starch. The blankets – taut, tucked, and without blemish – would have made a marine drill instructor's lip tremble.
Fitzduane opened his eyes. He no longer looked dead, which was reassuring. 'Anything new?'
'We've had more intel in,' said Kilmara. He hesitated.
'Want to tell me about it?' said Fitzduane.
'I'm not overburdened with good news,' said Kilmara. 'You stand a good chance of being cut off in your bullet-ridden prime.'
'As in killed?' said Fitzduane with a faint smile. 'These people are obsessive.'
'I would guess that to be the intention,' said Kilmara. 'I'd like to move you, but where?'
'Tell all,' said Fitzduane, and there was no humor in his voice.'
'We heard a rumor a day or so ago that the IRAP were in the area. No big deal, though these are nasty people. Early this morning the guards picked up two of their local sympathizers with a scanner. They haven't talked yet, but a list of keywords was found on them – and you feature. Add to that, there is Kathleen. It's a standard ploy to suborn someone from the inside – the IRA have been doing it for years – so I arranged for all staff who entered this zone to ring in with a keyword when they went home and before they came back on duty. And Kathleen didn't ring this morning.'
'You didn't tell me about this,' said Fitzduane.
'You were supposed to be kept free of hassle,' said Kilmara. 'It was a procedure, nothing more. I didn't want you worrying about things you could do fuck-all about.'
'Kathleen could have forgotten,' said Fitzduane.
'People don't forget these things,' said Kilmara. 'This is life-and-death stuff, and I know how to get their attention. And they are reminded every time they go off duty. Anyway, we made a check call. She was very subdued – and no keyword.'
'So that's how you knew,' said Fitzduane.
Kilmara nodded. 'Well, we still don't know. Strong suspicion is the phrase.'
'Shit,' said Fitzduane.
'The IRAP don't have anything against you?' said Kilmara.
'Not that I know,' said Fitzduane. 'I have never run across them before in any shape or form, and I steer well clear of the North.'
Kilmara slid a piece of fax paper across to Fitzduane. 'I faxed Dublin an hour ago and this came back.' The paper showed a Japanese getting into a taxi outside a familiar-looking Dublin hotel.
'You're losing me,' said Fitzduane.
'This is a small country and an island,' said Kilmara, 'with a small homogenous population and a terrorist problem right on our doorstep. Accordingly, the security services can – and do – watch the comings and goings of our visitors fairly closely, and we keep a particularly keen eye on the big hotels.'
Fitzduane nodded. Terrorism was normally associated with ideology, but it was surprising how often money entered the picture. Many terrorists liked to live well, arguing that since they put their lives on the line they deserved a good standard of living. A further justification for frequenting large expensive hotels was their supposed anonymity. In point of fact, these patterns of behavior allowed the security forces to focus closely on such well- frequented habitats.
Luxury hotels were particularly easy to monitor. They wanted to keep on the right side of the authorities. Rooms could be bugged, the telephone system could be tapped, and television cameras could be emplaced with
