Drink With The Devil

so you be ready for sea, do you understand?”

The crew shifted uncomfortably. It was Tully who said, “Yes, we’ll be ready to go.”

“You came snooping at the William and Mary,” Ryan said, “so Mr. Keogh informs me. Now why would you do that?”

“I was worried,” Tully said. “I just wanted to make sure everything was kosher.”

“It’s kosher enough for me to promise to blow your fucking head off if you try anything on the trip to Kilalla. Do you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Good, we’ll be off now and you be ready to leave at the appropriate time.”

He went down the ladder followed by Keogh and then crossed to the rail and dropped down to the jetty.

“What do you think?” Keogh asked.

“Oh, they’ll try to cut our throats halfway across.”

“And doesn’t that bother you?”

“Why should it? That’s why I have you along, Keogh.”

DOLAN SAID, “WHO was that bloody great ape, King Kong?”

“I don’t know,” Tully replied and massaged his neck. “I thought I was on the way out.”

“So what happens now?” Fox demanded.

“We wait. We do as we’re told. Just remember one thing. When we put to sea, King Kong won’t be along for the ride. The boot will be on the other foot then.”

JUST BEFORE THREE, Keogh stood beside the Montesa in the barn and pulled on the biker’s leather jacket. He lifted the dark cord slacks he was wearing above the right ankle and strapped the Walther into place. He slipped the silenced version into the back of his waistband under the jacket and was ready to go.

Kathleen was wearing a denim jacket and jeans and she carried the Colt.25 in an inside pocket. Ryan inspected the inside of the weaponry case, then snapped it shut and put it in the back of the Ford.

He turned to them, embracing Mary Power, then took Benny’s hand. “We’re going now, Benny, you understand?”

Benny nodded eagerly. “Yes, Uncle Michael.”

“You do as Aunty Mary tells you.”

“Yes, Uncle Michael.”

“You’re a good lad.” Michael Ryan turned to Kathleen and Keogh. “Time to go then, the moment of truth.”

AND IT WAS just like the test runs, Keogh told himself, trailing the Ford on the Montesa and the damn rain. Didn’t it ever stop up here? The Ford pulled into the lay-by, he swerved to one side and halted. Ryan was round the back of the Ford, the door wide and opening the big case. He took out one of the AK assault rifles, stock folded, came across, unzipped Keogh’s leather jacket, and shoved it inside.

“On your way, boy.”

Keogh gunned the engine, reaching eighty in fifteen seconds, arriving at the junction in three minutes. He pulled in and waited.

WHEN THE GREEN and white transporter with Shelby Meat Importers on the side drove by so exactly the same as the replica, it had a dreamlike quality to it as if it was not really happening, and he hurriedly switched on his radio.

“Eagle One to Eagle Two. Target on course.”

There was a pause and then a crackle. “Eagle Two – message received. Come home.”

Keogh put the radio away, gunned his engine, and went after the truck fast. For a few seconds he trailed it, then pulled out to overtake, one arm raised in salutation, went round a bend ahead, and disappeared.

“Crazy bastard,” the transporter driver said to the two security guards sitting in the cabin behind him. They wore blue serge suits, for uniforms would have given the game away, but each man carried a Browning in a shoulder holster.

“Probably kill himself one of these days,” one of them said. “Guys like that usually do.”

“Well, that’s his business,” his friend told him, “so let’s have a cup of coffee.” He opened a Thermos and somewhere up ahead there was the muffled sound of an explosion and smoke lifted into the air.

“Jesus, what’s that?” the driver demanded and they went round the corner leading to the junction.

KEOGH SWERVED INTO an open field gate, got off the motorcycle, and pushed it up on its stand. The suitcase containing the weaponry was on the ground by the wall and he saw Kathleen at the side of the road smearing the false blood on her face as Ryan ran to the back of the Ford. A moment later there was a muffled explosion and flames flickered around the vehicle. A larger explosion followed as he ran, and black smoke lifted into the sky.

The transporter came round the corner and skidded to a halt at the horrific scene. Keogh pulled out his AK and unfolded the stock, but it wasn’t necessary. Ryan switched on the Howler and punched the buttons.

“The door,” he cried to Keogh. “The door.”

Keogh ran to the off-side door, pulled on the handle, and it opened to his touch. He was aware of the driver, the two behind, one already with a gun in his hand. Ryan lobbed in a stun grenade. It was enough. A moment later, he had the driver from behind the wheel, dazed and bewildered. Keogh pulled out the two security guards. They dragged them behind the field wall and secured them with the plastic handcuffs.

Kathleen was on her feet, wiping the blood away. Ryan said, “Good, you got your Oscar.” He ran to the back of the truck and opened the doors, revealing the containers inside.

“Would you look at that now?” Keogh said.

“Would you, indeed.” Ryan picked up the suitcase with the weaponry and shoved it up into the cabin of the transporter. “Go on, Martin, get the hell out of it.”

Keogh folded the AK and put it back inside his biker’s jacket. “Come on, girl,” he said to Kathleen.

He flung a leg across the motorcycle. She jumped onto the pillion behind him and put her arms around him. As they drove away, Ryan switched on the engine of the transporter and followed leaving only the burning van hissing in the rain and the three men slowly regaining their senses behind the wall. It was almost half an hour later that a local farmer in his station wagon came upon the scene of carnage.

WHEN KEOGH AND Kathleen on the Montesa reached Marsh End and turned along the track to the jetty, the Irish Rose already had the ramp down. Tully was waiting on deck with Dolan and Fox, and Keogh ran the Montesa straight on board and braked to one side. Kathleen slid from the pillion and Keogh dismounted. He had the AK out in seconds and unfolded the stock.

“There’s no need for that,” Tully said. “Did it work?”

“Like a dream.”

“Then where is it? We’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got the engines turning over and a man on the wheel.”

“Take it easy,” Keogh said. “He’ll be here. Go and make sure everything’s ready.”

Tully turned away reluctantly and Keogh smiled at Kathleen and took out a cigarette. “We did it, Kate, we did it.”

She was incredibly excited. “I know, I know, Martin, but where is Uncle Michael?”

“He’s coming, girl dear. That transporter isn’t as nippy as the Montesa.”

But it was another agonizing twenty minutes before the green and white transporter appeared from the mist, came along the jetty, and bounced on board. It rolled to a halt and braked and Ryan got out.

“I thought I’d had it. The damned engine died on me.”

Already Dolan and Bert Fox were hurriedly clamping the huge wheels to the deck.

Kathleen said, “What happened?”

“There’s an automatic choke system. It was jammed full on. Must have been the blast from the stun grenade. Once I’d got it in I managed to get going again.”

Tully called from the bridge, “Can we go for Christ’s sake?”