rest. I never really understood with Taggart, although he seemed to be satisfied. Pleased with himself actually. He took large sums from MI-5 and still played the IRA rogue.'
'And you never questioned him about the weapons theft?' Carrick said.
'No. It was part of the agreement. When we met it was always about the task at hand. It was understood that neither would use the situation for any other purpose. We used a drop, a different one for each of them. Sergeant Lynch would leave a message whenever we needed to meet.'
'One of them told you about Brennan, didn't he? How else would you have known about it?'
'Yes. Jenkins did. He said he had nothing to do with it. He was afraid the Americans would think he had killed their soldier, and that I wouldn't be able to protect him.'
'Now we know why the same car was used by Taggart and Brennan's killer,' Carrick said. 'Simms had easy access to the vehicle. It confused us, which was probably the intent. Do you think Jenkins was in on it?'
'Just a guess but I'd say Simms talked him into going along. Which may be why he ended up in that noose,' I said.
'Well, it seems to me that Red Jack is a man on the edge,' Uncle Dan said. 'Playing each side against the other, and planning something big. If he were simply in it for the money, he'd be long gone by now, wouldn't he?'
'Both he and Simms,' I said.
'He hasn't legged it. Why is he still here? He's got his sixty grand, plus all the money from the sweepstake, tens of thousands of dollars. He could have the Northern Bank wire it where he wants. He could be in Switzerland or Rio, anywhere. What's keeping him here?'
'He's waiting for the other thing he wants, if you're right.' Carrick said. 'He has money; all that is left to him is revenge.'
'Revenge for his family, for his losses in life,' Slaine said. 'But revenge visited upon whom exactly?'
'All of us,' Carrick said. 'God help us, all of us.'
CHAPTER THIRTY
Carrick had sent a squad out to round up Simms but he was nowhere to be found. He had set the wheels in motion for a Crown prosecutor to investigate the Armagh bank, McBurney, and the accounts of the mysterious Mr. Lawson but that wasn't going to help us right now. He'd also put in a call to Major Cosgrove, then pointedly asked us to leave his office. Uncle Dan was stuck with Constable Porter, one of the men who had been at Jenkins's warehouse. Carrick had called Porter his 'escort,' but it was clear he was also a minder, charged with keeping Uncle Dan on a short leash.
Slaine had watched Carrick on the telephone with Cosgrove through the office window, lines of worry furrowing her brow. I wondered if Carrick was considering charges against her, then decided he was actually wondering if he could make them stick. In time of war, MI-5 personnel were not likely to be brought into a courtroom. But it was easy to see that Slaine's schemes went far beyond what Carrick was willing to condone. He was a straight arrow, maybe not a great friend of the Irish Republic but a policeman you could count on to go by the book. And the book didn't countenance assassinations, no matter how carefully balanced between extremist groups. Still, he didn't strike me as naive, and unless he had a couple of aces up his sleeve, he wasn't going to handcuff Slaine O'Brien anytime soon.
Slaine was the one with the worries. She was quick to come up with a reason to leave RUC headquarters. The only link we had to Simms was his wife, and we both thought it worth a visit to see if we could shake any information out of her. It was better than sitting around waiting for reports from a string of radar stations, so I told Uncle Dan and Constable Porter where we were headed, and that we'd call in after we talked with Mrs. Simms.
Former Corporal Finch had been quick about finding sergeant's stripes, and he gave them the occasional glance as he drove us south, through Carryduff and Ballynahinch, small market towns with gray granite buildings marked by rows of four-stacker chimneys. Rain splattered on the windshield as the sky darkened. We had a wet and cold night of waiting ahead of us.
'I never should have let you see those files,' Slaine said. She stared out the window, streaks of rain making tiny rivers across the glass. She tapped a finger against her lips, calculating where she'd gone wrong, granted me too much, and revealed her dealings with Catholic and Protestant devils.
'Then we wouldn't have made the connection between Taggart and Simms,' I said.
'I'm not sure how important that is in the larger scheme of things. What you have to understand is that there always will be a divide in Ireland. The solution is managing it.'
'And managing it is more important than recovering the stolen weapons?'
'Fifty automatic weapons are serious, I grant you. But I had an opportunity to maintain an equilibrium, possibly for years. What's fifty guns, which may or may not ever be used, against that?'
'I get nervous when people who work for outfits like MI-5 use words like equilibrium when they mean murder, even if the victims are killers themselves. Call it what it is; don't try to dress it up. At best, you're a vigilante,' I said.
'And at worst?' She traced a line on the glass, her finger leaving an arc in the condensation.
'That's not for me to say. Uncle Dan once told me that we all know the worst of ourselves, and that it's only the truly evil who let themselves off the hook.'
'I saved lives. I did.'
'Yes,' I said, but at what cost to her soul? I wasn't the one to judge her, I knew that much.
We stopped at an intersection as a column of trucks crossed in front of us. A sign pointed toward Lurgan, where tomorrow at this time the Royal Black Knights would be gathering at Brownlow House to honor their American cousins and do whatever secret societies did. Some sort of ritual perhaps? Funny clothes, handshakes, odd titles? I wondered if Cosgrove was a worshipful master of some sort, and if he'd enjoy being saluted as such. Maybe I should drop in and give all those Protestant bigwigs a real Boston Irish surprise.
'What do you know about the Royal Black Knights? Are they really a harmless bunch of lodge brothers?'
'Harmless implies a lack of power, which they are not short of. They are a step above the Orange societies and provide stability among the professional classes. Not dangerous but hardly harmless.'
'All heavy hitters?'
'Pardon me?'
'Important men. Movers and shakers.'
'Ah, I see. Yes. I can't think of any leader in business or government, not to mention the military, who isn't a member.'
'And you would know. You probably have files on all of them.'
'Lists of members, certainly. Some names are too important to keep dossiers on. At least in the official files.'
'Really? Well, maybe you won't have to worry about losing your job if you know all those secrets.'
'It wouldn't be my job I'd be worried about,' Slaine said.
'What do you mean?'
'My position offers certain protections. But I do have enemies, and it might be difficult to sort out who was responsible if one of them got to me. After what happened today, have you rethought the matter of the bomb at the hotel?'
'No. It must have been Taggart, right? He had a supply of plastic explosive.'
'I don't buy it. Think about it. He must have already set up Jenkins's death and planned the trap for all of us. Then why go through all the trouble of planting that bomb to kill me the night before? It doesn't make sense. He's the one suspect we can eliminate.'
'You're right,' I said. 'Simms?'
'I don't see why. He's already taken care of Brennan and Burnham. As far as he knows, we haven't made the connection between him and Taggart yet.'
'So who else wants you dead?'
