'Serious? To a Catholic from Boston? I understand the IRA murder squads enjoy a great deal of support from the Irish settled in Boston.'
'How do you know I'm Catholic? Maybe I'm an atheist.'
'Do not joke with me, Lieutenant Boyle. Your name tells me what I need to know, and your city tells me the rest. It's in the blood with you from across the border, whether you've gone to America or come north with a pistol to shoot a good man in the back.' His words spilled out with the Irish accent I was used to, but with a harder, clipped edge. The only part of him that moved was his lips.
'Perhaps we should talk another time, District Inspector. I'm sure passions are running high after the funeral.'
'Passions, Lieutenant Boyle? We have no time for passions. We have murderers to apprehend. We have a war to fight. Perhaps you allow yourself to wallow in passions but personally I find them distracting.'
'Passion is what usually leads to murder, DI Carrick.'
'But not what solves them, in my experience. Now I am told that I must cooperate with you, and I am sure you have been instructed to cooperate with me.'
'I have been. I've only been here one full day. I don't have much information yet.' I tried to keep my response neutral, to match his tone and his approach to me. It was an interrogation technique my dad had taught me. When a suspect was giving you a hard time, watch how he sits and how he speaks. Copy his stance and tone, and give it back to him. Sometimes it can defuse a touchy situation.
'Very well. What information do you have?'
'I know that Edward Mahoney was seen in the area in two different pubs, by Major Thornton and then by Sergeant Brennan. That you've questioned Brennan and requested his file. I know that Provost Marshal Heck was not pleased with my arrival. And now I know that you also are less than pleased. The only person glad to see me has been Major Thornton, who seems certain I can find his BARs for him, which will guarantee his command of a combat outfit.'
'Major Thornton has not yet seen the elephant, or he wouldn't be so eager. Do you think you can find the weapons, or that your IRA friends will hand them over if you ask?'
'I just explained that I don't have any friends in Ireland. How about being a pal anyway and telling me what you know? Some of that promised cooperation would be nice.'
'I can tell you I have my suspicions about Sergeant Brennan although his record is exemplary. Stood up well at Salerno after your generals sent good men ashore to be slaughtered.'
'Suspicions?' I asked, resisting the urge to take a swipe at him or at least respond to his barbs. But that was what he was looking for, so he'd have a good excuse to write me off as an inexperienced pro-IRA Yank.
'He spends all of his free time in the villages around here, alone. He never goes anywhere with his mates.'
'His mates are all dead, and he doesn't seem to want any new ones.'
'Nevertheless, that could be how he made contact with the IRA. The Catholic pubs are sure to be full of them or their sympathizers. And of course who better to let them know when and how to strike?'
'That's good circumstantial stuff. But I have a question for you. If the IRA pulled this off by stealing one of Andrew Jenkins's trucks, that would leave him looking the fool. Why hasn't he retaliated? Have there been any IRA men or innocent Catholics gunned down?'
'No. I've told Jenkins to sit this out and let us handle it.'
'You give orders to the Red Hand Society? And they obey them?'
'I'm not part of that rabble, Lieutenant Boyle. The Ulster Volunteer Force are all good men, good Protestant Unionists who will fight for our right to be part of Great Britain. The Red Hand are criminals and bullies, acting under the guise of patriotism. Most would sell out their own mothers if there was a quid in it for them. Andrew Jenkins isn't the worst of the lot; he does listen to reason on occasion.'
The missing piece came to me when Carrick mentioned selling out.
'Eddie Mahoney was found with a pound note in his hand, the sign of the informer,' I said.
'Aye, he was.'
'Well, whom did he inform on? Whom did he inform to?' I asked.
'What do you mean?'
'It's simple. If he was correctly marked as an informer, he must have been informing to someone. Was he one of yours?'
'No, he wasn't. But they could have made a mistake. On the run, suspicious of everyone, any one of those IRA men could have turned on him.'
'Not really. The IRA has its court-martial process. It might not be pretty but one man couldn't shoot another like that without approval.'
'How close are you to the IRA in America, Lieutenant Boyle?'
I leaned in on my elbows, as close I could get, and looked him in the eye.
'Close enough. Close enough to know something stinks here. Tell me, are you in on the cover-up, or are you not high up enough to know who was running Mahoney?'
I watched his face for a sign of rage and kept half an eye on those folded hands, in case one came up a fist to slam me. It didn't.
'It wasn't us, and it wasn't the British Army,' he said, his face relaxing slightly. He rested one arm on the tabletop, the most casual pose he had yet taken. 'You're right about that-it doesn't add up, unless the IRA got it all wrong.'
'Or it wasn't the IRA.'
'I doubt that. The Red Hand would have an easier time stealing British arms, don't you think? More sympathizers among the British troops, just as the IRA has its sympathizers among the Americans.'
'That makes some sense, although if the opportunity presented itself-'
'Jenkins would surely take it, yes.'
'But if it was the IRA, then either they were wrong about Mahoney or there's something going on you don't know about.'
'Doubtful.'
'What if they were right about an informer but wrong about who it was?'
'Wouldn't surprise me at all. They can be incredibly stupid at times, very clever at others. And no, you will not be allowed to review information about our current informants.'
'But you will.'
'It may be worth the time. I'll let you know if I find anything,' he said, sounding as if the possibility was remote. Still, he had taken to the idea. 'Tell me, are there any other Americans investigating this case? A civilian perhaps?'
'Not that I know of, no. Why?'
'We've had reports of an American, always in civilian clothes, asking questions about certain IRA associates in this area. No name, and not much of a description. About my age. Wears a fedora hat and a trench coat. Nothing else to go on.'
'Sorry, it's news to me. Is there anything else about the case you can tell me, DI Carrick?' I asked that with the most sincerity and humility I could muster.
'We've just had a name come up in connection with this case. Jack Taggart.'
'Red Jack?' The man Subaltern O'Brien was after.
'So you've heard of him? He had a falling-out with his comrades after he came home from fighting against Franco in Spain with his tail between his legs. Seeing Bolsheviks up close seems to have cured most of their romantic notions. But they still call him Red Jack.'
'Is he senior in the IRA?'
'We think so. He seems to have operated as their channel for funds from Germany and America. He had something to do with the bombing campaign in England-the S-Plan, as they called it. Not directly, mind you, but most of the money to support it came from him. Lately there've been sightings of him in Northern Ireland. He may have been here for some time.'
'So you think he's part of this plot?'
'It would be the kind of thing he would be part of. Not just the theft but what they intend to do with the
