“And no bloody stopping power,” Ryan told him.
“Enough if you’re close enough,” Bell said.
The girl took the weapon from him and smiled. “This will do me just fine.” She slipped it into her handbag.
Ryan said, “All right. What about the
“Siemens ferry, tied up in Wapping near the Pool of London. Captain Frank Tully, but you know that. The kind of rat who’ll do anything for money. The worst kind of drugs, anything that pays. He’s twice run arms for the IRA to the Republic.”
“What about his crew?”
“There’s four.” Bell opened a drawer and took out a piece of paper. He put reading spectacles on the end of his nose. “Mick Dolan and Jock Grant – they’re from Liverpool. Bert Fox from London, and a Kraut named Muller – Hans Muller. They’ve all got form – all been inside.”
“Well, at least we know what we’re dealing with,” Keogh observed.
“That’s right,” Ryan told him. “Just your average scum.”
Bell said, “These aren’t good people, Michael. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I usually do.” Ryan grinned and took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “These are my requirements. See if you can fill the bill.”
Bell had a look. “Stun grenades, smoke grenades. That’s fine. Two AK assault rifles. Okay. Semtex? Is that essential?”
“I might have to blow my way into my target.”
“All right, I’ll see what I can do.”
“That’s it, then.” Ryan smiled at his niece and Keogh. “Something to eat and then we’ll go and see Tully.”
IT WAS VERY cold on the Thames, Tower Bridge on the right and the floodlit Tower of London just beyond it. A couple of ships passed from the Pool of London, red and green lights clear in the evening darkness as the taxi stopped at the end of Cable Wharfe, and Ryan, Kathleen, and Keogh got out. The taxi moved away and they walked along the waterfront.
The ferry was moored at the far end, cables reaching to the pier. In the sickly yellow light of two lamps they could see the legend on the stern plain.
“Enough to make a man feel at home,” Ryan said.
“I’m not sure that’s the right word for it,” Keogh told him.
They started up the gangway and a man in reefer coat and peaked cap appeared. “And where do you think you’re going?” he asked in a hard Liverpool voice.
“We’re expected,” Ryan said. “Tell Captain Tully.”
The man laughed out loud. “Captain Tully? Is that what he calls himself?” He laughed again. “All right, this way.”
The boat was very flat, the central section including the wheelhouse rising up from the deck three quarters of the way along. She was about five hundred feet in length.
“What do you think?” Ryan whispered to Keogh as they followed.
“That they weren’t designed for heavy weather,” Keogh told him.
They went up a ladder to the wheelhouse, stopped on the landing below. Their escort opened a door and stood to one side.
“Here we are, then.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dolan.”
The man who sat behind the chart table wore a seagoing officer’s coat, had hair down to his shoulders, and a face that was so ravaged by drink and bad living that it was impossible to determine his age.
“Mr. Ryan, here we are again.” He stood up and extended his hand. “And who might this gorgeous young lady be?”
“My niece, Captain Tully. You might well remember that. This is my associate, Martin Keogh.”
“Mr. Keogh.” Tully shook his hand enthusiastically. “A real pleasure.”
“I’m sure it is,” Keogh told him.
“To business, then,” Tully said.
Ryan opened the briefcase he was holding and took out a folded chart. “There is your destination. Marsh End, south of Ravenglass on the Cumbrian coast. You have two days. Can you manage that?”
Tully unfolded the chart and examined it. “No problem. What then?”
“I’ll arrive by truck, which we’ll take across to Kilalla on the coast of County Down.” He took out another chart. “There’s a disused quarry pier there. We put the truck on shore and you sail away.”
“We do indeed, Mr. Ryan. There is, of course, the small matter of recompense.”
Ryan took a large envelope from the briefcase and passed it across. “Fifty thousand pounds there. Another fifty on the termination of the contract at Kilalla. Satisfactory?”
“Oh, very, Mr. Ryan. I can assure you of that.”
“Excellent. Then we’ll see you on Friday morning at Marsh End.”
“No problem,” Tully said. “We won’t let you down.”
“Good. We’ll be off, then.”
AS THEY WALKED along the waterfront, Kathleen Ryan said, “I didn’t like anything about that bowser.”
“You aren’t expected to.” Ryan turned to Keogh. “What about you?”
“He’ll cut your throat if he thinks there’s a pound in it.”
“Which is why I have you along, so let’s get back,” and Ryan walked to the corner and waved to a taxi.
THE MAN WHO had greeted them at the gangway was Dolan. When he went back into the chartroom he found Tully examining the charts Ryan had given him.
“What do you think?”
“It’s big,” Tully said. “Fifty thousand now and another fifty when we hit the Ulster coast. Whatever is in that truck must be worth more.”
“So?”
“The number he gave me to contact him. It’s a pub in Kilburn called the William and Mary. I think I’ll go up there and have a nose around.” He folded the charts. “You look after things here.” He moved to the door and turned. “This could be a big payday, Mick.”
“Well I’m with you on that,” Dolan said. “Whatever it takes.”
“Good man,” Tully said and went out.
THE SALOON BAR of the William amp; Mary was packed, men standing shoulder-to-shoulder at the bar as they drank. It was a cheerful enough scene and very noisy as Tully peered in through one of the windows.
He decided to take his chances round the back and followed a narrow alley that brought him to a high wall, a gate opening into a yard. There was a chink of light showing at a window, curtains partly drawn. He approached cautiously and peered inside.
Ryan, Bell, and Kathleen sat at a table, a map unfolded before them. Keogh stood by the fire. Ryan laughed as Bell said something to him, but Tully couldn’t hear what it was. It was then that he noticed the back door in the shadows. He tried the handle gingerly and the door opened to his touch.
He found himself in a narrow corridor. There was no light on and he groped his way forward, aware of coats hanging from a peg rack. At that moment a door opened, light flooding out, and Bell appeared. Tully froze, trying to bury himself in the hanging coats, and Bell called, “I’ll only be a minute.”
He went down the corridor, opened a door, and went inside. A few moments later there was the sound of a toilet flushing. He returned, went into the backroom, and closed the door. Tully went forward and put his ear to the door and was instantly aware of everything being said inside.
“RIGHT, THEN, CARDS on the table,” Ryan said. “It’s time you knew what the rest of us do, Martin.”
“I’m all in favor of that,” Keogh told him.
“I put this job together a year or so ago. Hugh here helped with the planning of the English end of things.
