still parked by the rear doors, maybe the one that brought me in. A medic's helmet with the distinctive red cross was on the seat. I opened the car door and signaled to Uncle Dan.
'Get in, you're driving. Button up your trench coat and put the helmet on.'
'I wonder what you get for grand theft auto in Ulster,' he said as he pushed the starter pedal.
'Don't worry about the RUC; this is army property. They'll probably shoot you.'
'So where are we headed?' He turned onto the main road leading to the gate, grinding the gears as he got used to the three-quarter-ton vehicle.
I told the sentry at the gate we were headed to a convoy accident on the road to Lurgan, hoping he wouldn't look too closely at Uncle Dan and notice his nonregulation shoes and pants, not to mention his age. He managed to look bored, like any GI driver with a second louie in the passenger's seat.
'OK, what's the deal?' he said as we pulled through the gate, opened by another bored private not at all impressed by my state of urgency.
'Take this left,' I said, pointing to the road to Clough. 'There's a reason those guys had peat in their cuffs. The BARs were buried in stacks of the stuff, in a croft a few miles from here. I knew the BARs had to be close by but I never guessed I'd been within feet of them myself. There's an old fellow, Grady O'Brick, who lives in a cottage not far from the Lug o' the Tub Pub in the village.'
'Poor old boy with his fingernails gone, right? Courtesy of the Black and Tans is the story I heard. Drummed out of the IRA for giving up an arms cache back during the war. After seeing what they'd done to him, it seemed a bit harsh to me.'
'That's his story. But I think it was a ruse, an excuse for him to go underground. He told me, and others confirmed it, that his IRA cell had a reputation for keeping quiet, planning and carrying out operations without the Brits getting wind of a thing.'
'This is beginning to sound familiar.'
'When I first visited Grady, I drove down the boreen-that's a dirt track-and I noticed broken branches all along the shoulder. I'll bet that was from Jenkins's truck bringing the BARs there to hide them beneath the stacks of peat bricks drying in the croft. And I'll lay odds that there are newly broken branches there now that they've just been taken away.'
'I know what a boreen is, lad; do you think I just came up the Liffey? But why Grady O'Brick? There's got to be dozens of peat crofts around here.'
'I didn't put it all together at first but he was there when we found Pete Brennan's body. He drove his cart by, and had words with Sergeant Lynch. I think Grady recognized him, and maybe even the staff car. I mentioned to him in passing that I was going up to Belfast with a British officer the next day. He could've easily had Lynch and Slaine followed, and planted the bomb, or had it planted, since we know the IRA has plenty of plastic explosive. Plus, he was in the pub when we stopped to call the base. He saw Slaine with me, probably overheard the call. He must have known Taggart was up the mountain and called out the reinforcements when he found out we were going up after him.'
'He seems like a harmless old gent, Billy. Are you sure?'
'It's the only thing that fits. He was present when I met Slaine and Sergeant Lynch on the road, and he was in the pub when we called the base on our way to Slieve Donard. So he was behind the hotel bomb and the ambush at the bridge. Everything that happened had the hallmark of a careful planner, which by his own admission, he is. But most of all, it would be the perfect revenge. He was tortured over a Lewis gun, did you know that?'
'No, I didn't.'
'He gave it up after they pulled out nine fingernails. The Brit pulled the tenth for the hell of it.'
'Jesus, they are a bunch of bastards for all their grand civilization, aren't they? So now he's taking an old man's revenge, turning automatic weapons on them in repayment for one Lewis gun. And he was in league with the devil himself, mad Jack Taggart, to get his revenge.'
'Turn here,' I said as we passed the pub.
'Why are you so sure the weapons will be gone?'
'Because they need to get into position before everyone arrives at Brownlow House, for the shindig the Royal Black Knights of the British Commonwealth are throwing tonight. Black tie and dress uniforms. Americans and British, armed services and the RUC. The cream of Protestant Ulster society and their Yank guests. How's that for an opportunity to start a shooting war?'
'God, the man's a genius,' Uncle Dan said with fervent awe. 'You know those so-called knights are not the firebrands, Billy. Most of them will look down their noses at us and try to put us in our places but they like things neat and stable. Yet if you kill enough of them, the ones left will be crying for blood in the streets.'
'I know. And if that happens, what will the IRA do?'
'Accept about ten thousand new recruits and head north. Then the Republic will have to step in, and God knows where it will all end.'
'It's what Slaine warned me about in Jerusalem. Here it is, turn left.'
'Jerusalem? You do get around in this war.'
He slowed the ambulance to a crawl as he turned the wheel to enter the boreen. The wheels straddled the track, rolling over the gorse with its yellow flowers and spiky vines. Stretching ahead of us was proof of what I'd suspected. The gorse had been flattened the whole way, the ground beneath still muddy and churned up from yesterday's rain. Another vehicle, larger than Grady's horse cart, had been through here today.
We parked in front of Grady's cottage and got out, guns drawn. But I wasn't worried about an ambush; I was certain the IRA men were gone. We checked the house and it was empty, the picture of the bloody rabbit still next to Jesus carrying his cross down the Via Dolorosa. His choice of artworks had seemed strange when I first saw them but now they seemed the perfect pair of pictures for Grady to stare at during his long nights by the fire, planning his retribution. A small animal, hunted and mutilated, next to a man whipped and tormented, carrying a heavy burden to his death. It's a strange world, that place inhabited by those who have been harmed and plan harm to others. A house of sadness, pity, and terror, drenched in dreams of blood. I shivered as I turned from the pictures.
'Look at this,' Uncle Dan said, moving some papers on a rough wood table with the barrel of his revolver. It was a copy of the Ulster Gazette about five years old, opened to a photo spread of Brownlow House, a history of its architecture, and pictures of the adjacent park. 'You were right. We better get over there with backup.'
There was nothing else in the cottage, no evidence other than an old yellowed newspaper. The croft was a different story. Peat bricks were strewn and trampled down everywhere. Piles had been taken down and open sections revealed the perfect hiding places for crates of BARs and ammunition. Broken wood planks were scattered about, the military nomenclature spelling out Rifle, Caliber. 30, Automatic, Browning, M1918 in dozens of pieces. An empty bandolier and a few bullets dropped in haste were all that was left.
'I have to say, Billy, I'm feeling a bit outgunned here. Is the cavalry on its way?'
'I don't think Masters is back down the mountain yet. Hopefully, DI Carrick will get the message before it's too late.' I holstered my automatic and leaned against the truck, cradling my arm and lifting my head to the sun. The sky was a brilliant blue, everything washed clean from the rains. There was a chill from the damp ground but the sun warmed my face. Uncle Dan stuffed the revolver in his pocket and sat on the bumper.
'We've got to do more than hope, boy. Why not call out more troops? Brownlow House is an army headquarters, after all.'
'Same reason I didn't called Cosgrove. If GIs and a security detail show up, Grady will go to ground. We can't let him get away. He'll simply plan something else.'
'So how do we catch him?' Uncle Dan lit a cigarette, spitting out a piece of stray tobacco. 'The two of us surround forty-odd armed men and tell them to give up, it's hopeless?'
'How would you get that many men with BARs close enough to attack Brownlow House? I mean close enough for them to have a chance of getting inside.'
'Two things to take care of first,' he said. 'Take out the security in place, and then secure against reinforcements.'
'OK, how would you do that?'
'Well, a diversion maybe. Something to attract the attention of the guards. Draw them in, cut them down. And I'd place a team on either side of the main drive to take out any vehicles bringing in reinforcements. BARs would be just the thing.'
