Popov said, “I told him I didn’t think you’d be interested. I mean, you know, not with your money.”
“Come in, let me finish dressing.” Levin led the way into the sitting room. “Get yourself a drink.”
He went into his bedroom, found a tie and tweed jacket, then went to his desk, standing in the bow window with the river view, opened a drawer, felt in the back and produced first one Walther, then two, both with silencers. He put one in each pocket and went back to the sitting room as the doorbell rang again, and opened the door to Chomsky, who stood there in his raincoat. Levin slipped a Walther into one of Chomsky’s pockets.
“Hello, there, you’ve just caught us. Popov and I have to meet a man called Riley-Riley’s Bar, Crown Street.”
“I was just passing, so I thought I’d check to see if you were free for lunch.”
Popov looked put out. “I’m not sure.”
“Oh, come on, it’ll be good,” Levin told him. “We can talk over old times after I’m finished with Flynn,” and he took his arm and led him out. They got in the car and Chomsky drove away. “We think I might be getting a job offer. Security work,” Levin said.
They were already down by the river, turned into a maze of streets with what looked like old warehouses lining them and came to Crown Street. Chomsky parked behind a truck. There wasn’t much choice.
“The cafe must be at the other end,” Levin said.
“I’m supposed to wait down there,” Popov protested.
“But we’d miss you,” Levin told him. “And here we are.”
There was a wooden door, paint peeling, shutters at the windows, a narrow alley down one side. Chomsky said, “Excuse me.” He disappeared down it.
Levin said, “Go on, open the door.”
Popov said, in a panic, “It’s locked.”
“No, it isn’t.” Levin turned the knob, opened the door and pushed Popov in.
Halfway along the alley, Chomsky found a door, opened it into a kitchen with a table, chairs, another door. He pushed it gently. Farther along at the bottom of some stairs, a man in blue overalls was holding a silenced pistol and looking toward a green curtain at the far end. There was the sound of a voice and the man fired twice, a dull thud each time. Popov came through the curtain headlong and fell on his face.
Chomsky shot the man in the left shoulder, spinning him around, then shot him in the heart and he went down. He jerked twice, then went still.
Levin checked Popov. “Our old friend seems to be dead.”
“No old friend of mine. This bastard’s had it, too. What do we do?”
“Unfortunately, shootings are common occurrence in Dublin these days. People think because of old IRA hands who can’t get out of the habit. So this, alas, will be just two more. Off we go, nice and steady up the street, and away.”
It was absolutely pouring. They got in the car, and Chomsky drove off. “Now what?”
“Back to my house to pick up a few things and dispose of the weapons.”
“Why?”
“Well, we can’t take them to London. I mean, the security people don’t like that these days, even if you fly in privately.”
“Is that what we’re going to do?”
“I’d say so. There’s a flying club I know at Killane, executive planes, just right for millionaires like me. We’ll call at your place, too. Don’t forget your passport,” and he leaned back.
ROPER RECEIVED THE CALL from Killane at one-thirty. He was having a conference meeting with Ferguson, Dillon, Billy and Greta. Doyle and Henderson stood against the wall.
Ferguson had just said, “Right, people, I want to bring you all up to speed on the present situation.”
The phone went and Roper flicked it on to open transmission. Levin said, “Roper, it’s me, Levin. Can we talk?”
“If you don’t mind the entire firm hearing. Everybody’s here.”
“Fine by me. Very convenient, actually. Volkov tried to stitch me up royally, with the assistance of Michael Flynn.”
“Stitch you up how?” Ferguson demanded.
“Oh, the coffin lid being slammed down firmly. Would you be interested to know that Flynn is going to take over all security services at
Belov International?”
“Yes, I damn well would,” Ferguson replied. “Tell me more.”
Which Levin did. Everything that Mary O’Toole had told him, the Popov betrayal, the shootings at Riley’s Bar.
Dillon broke in, “So you’ve two bodies lying there. Does that give you a problem?”
“No. It seems in Flynn’s original discussion with Riley, Flynn told him the usual people would pick my body up. Now they’ll have two. I always thought Popov would come to a bad end.”
“Damn Judas,” Dillon said. “Why do you think Mary O’Toole told you everything?”
“Interesting, that. She said that for a man who had been chief of staff of the Provisional IRA, he was a disgrace. Then I recalled Popov telling me once that her father was IRA and killed in a gunfight with Brit paratroopers in Ulster.”
“God save us, but that kind of Fenian female can be harder than an Orange Presbyterian. Make sure she’s safe. You owe her, big-time.”
“I will, be sure of that.”
Roper said, “So where are you now?”
“A flying club at Killane outside Dublin. Under the circumstances, Chomsky and I have decided to come over.”
It was Greta who broke in now. “Does that mean what it sounds like?”
“Greta, my love, I’m bored. Dublin is totally charming, one of the world’s great cities, but I pass my days in idle pleasure.”
“I would say that sounds unlikely, based on what you’ve told us,” Ferguson said. “But if what you’re trying to say is that you and Sergeant Chomsky are seeking employment, I welcome you with open arms.”
“Are you sure of that, General?”
“All sins forgiven. You’re booking a plane from Killane?”
“That’s right.”
“Do bring your British passports. I know you have a selection, but I’d prefer it, and tell your pilot to call his details ahead and he’ll be welcomed at Farley Field.”
“We’ll see you soon, General.”
The deaths of Riley and Popov had not yet become known and Flynn had not returned to Scamrock Security. Mary O’Toole pulled on her coat, picked up her handbag and made for the door, when the phone rang on her desk.
She picked it up. “Mary O’Toole? It’s Levin.”
“I was just leaving, Flynn’s not back.”
“I trust you’re leaving for good? You saved my life, Miss O’Toole, but so long as you’ve gotten rid of any evidence of your involvement, you should be safe enough.”
“I’ve left my notice on his desk. To be honest with you, I think he’ll be glad to be shut of me. We had an affair, I was his leavings, but that wasn’t the reason I did what I did. When I think of my dad and what he stood for, and Flynn and his scheming and rottenness, I had to tell you.”
“Very quickly. Do you live alone?”
“Yes-I rent a flat only fifteen minutes’ walk from the office.”
“Do you have a passport?”
“Of course I have.”
“You have done me the greatest favor in my life and I must repay the debt. I’m at Killane, twenty minutes
