who sanctioned it.’
‘Provos or Real IRA,’ said Robinson, not expecting an answer. ‘It’s unlikely to have been the Provisionals.’
‘Have you any idea if Leary is part of a cell or working alone?’
‘Up until the business in Dalton Road he was working with Matthew Finan. Just the two of them as far as we know. Until Finan was killed. It’s my guess that now he’s working without official clearance from the Northern Command. Also the nature of the injuries he inflicted on Best seem to indicate more than just a straightforward hit.’ The policeman leant forward and flipped through the file on his desk. He paused at two photos of Ivor Best. ‘I mean, why stab him in the eyes before shooting him? It’s not very professional apart from anything else.’
Morris could only shrug. ‘Best was still alive when Leary shot him,’ said the coroner. The damage to the eyes looks as though it was intended as some kind of torture.’
‘Why not just shoot him, like he did Kelly?’
Again Morris shrugged.
‘Is Leary trying to start a war with the UVF?’ Robinson wondered aloud. ‘And if he is, why?’
‘You’re the policeman, Peter, not me. It’s down to you and your boys to find out. I just get the feeling I’m going to be busy too.’
‘If Leary’s running wild, you can guarantee it’
‘So we should expect reprisals.’
The UVF won’t sit still for this. They’ll want to hit back. I just hope to God they don’t go after the Provisionals.’ He sighed wearily.‘All these years of fighting. I really thought it was going to end.’
‘It’ll take time, Peter.You can’t wipe out five hundred years of history with one agreement.’
‘Do you agree with it, John?’
‘With the Good Friday Agreement? In principle. But I think the IRA have come out of it better than most. There’s a lot of people who aren’t happy about that. I think we’ve given them too much.’
Robinson regarded his colleague silently.
Morris got to his feet.
‘If that’s all, Peter,’ he said, ‘I’ll get back to work.’
Robinson nodded, his eyes still fixed on the photos of Ivor Best. Thanks, John.’
He heard his office door close as Morris left.
Ivor Best. Jeffrey Kelly.
Robinson shook his head. Was Leary still in Belfast? The policeman doubted it.
He would know he was being hunted. He’d be aware that his identity was no longer secret.
Why didn’t that bother him? Why leave prints on the shell cases and inside the car?
He looked at Declan Leary’s name, scribbled on a sheet of paper. He found himself drawing lines beneath it, pressing ever harder on the paper.
‘Where are you, you bastard?’ he whispered to himself.
LOOKING FOR INSPIRATION
It was important to Ward to always end his work at a point where he could easily begin again the following day. If he had a starting point, it didn’t make for such racked brains and sweat. Ha ha ha. 2.20 p.m. He continued working.
DUNKALK.THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND:
The 9mm rounds lay on the bedspread gleaming like metallic confetti. Declan Leary regarded the ammunition for a moment longer then crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge of it.
He picked up a handful of the shells and began feeding them into the first of the twenty-round magazines he had for the Scorpion machine pistol.
His room smelt of gun oil and metal. Leary was dressed in just jeans and a T-shirt, and was still too warm. The central heating was playing up, the landlady had explained. The thermostat was stuck on high and it would be a couple of days before an engineer could fix it. She had apologised to all her guests for the inconvenience. They had all accepted with good grace.
Leary continued pushing the bullets into the second of the Scorpion’s magazines then, that done, he placed both of them to one side and turned his attention to the Smith and Wesson .459.
It held fifteen shots in its magazine and Leary filled two of those as well, slamming one into the butt of
the pistol before working the slide to chamber a round and slipping on the safety catch.
He repeated the procedure with the Glock.
Once the guns were ready he crossed to the small wash basin and poured some oil on to the small stone block that lay on the porcelain. He picked it up and took the 8-inch double-edged knife from the side of the sink.
With careful, measured strokes, he drew each cutting edge back and forth across the oiled stone, honing each to a razor finish.
He did the same with the flick knife.
Having done that he placed the Scorpion, the .459 and the hunting knife in his black holdall and zipped it shut. Then he spun both taps and filled the sink, washing oil from his hands.
Leary looked at his watch when he heard footsteps outside on the landing. 8.30
a.m. One of the other residents was making his way downstairs for breakfast.
Leary dried his hands, pulled on a sweatshirt and decided to join his fellow
guest.
His stomach rumbled audibly and, as he emerged from his room, he smelt bacon and heard the chink of tea cups.
Leary smiled. A good breakfast was just what he needed before the drive to Belfast.
Daniel Kane felt something vibrating against the small of his back. He couldn’t hope to hear the ringing of his mobile phone but the Nokia buzzed insistently in its clip on his belt.
Kane waited a moment, swinging the fork-lift around and guiding the two prongs beneath one of the huge crates stacked before him.
Elsewhere inside the warehouse, men moved back and forth, each concerned with his own task. Beneath the safety helmet Kane wore, the sounds were muffled.
The phone was still ringing.
He switched off the engine and reached for the mobile, pulling his safety helmet off as he pressed the Nokia to his ear.The noise inside the warehouse made it difficult to hear the voice on the other end.
‘Who is it?’ he said, straining his ears to catch the words.
The voice identified itself.
‘What the hell are you doing calling me now?’ Kane wanted to know.
The voice explained that there was a problem.
‘What kind of problem?’
It was difficult to speak. They would have to meet.
‘That’s not convenient,’ said Kane dismissively.
The voice insisted that it was a very important matter.
‘Ah, come on, whatever it is it can wait a couple of days,’ Kane snapped.
The person at the other end said something else.
‘What?’ Kane said, his expression darkening.‘Say that again? Declan Leary?’
Again the other voice proposed a meeting.
‘Where?’ Kane wanted to know.
A hiss of static.
‘I didn’t hear you,’ Kane said. The usual place? All right. What’s the hurry?’
The voice told him that Declan Leary was looking for him.
‘What does he want with me?’
More static.
‘Does he know I killed his brother?’ Kane said.
The line went dead.
