The President's Daughter (18 page)

She was terrified out of her mind. “I don’t know, truly I don’t, Mr. Barry.”

“You’re a bad liar.” He slapped her again. Blood ran from her nose and he grabbed her hair and nodded to Bell, who lit a cigarette.

She started to struggle. He pushed her down across the table and Bell blew on his cigarette until it was red hot and touched her right cheek.

She screamed, writhing in agony. “No—please! I’ll tell you.”

Barry let her get up. “You see, everything comes to he who waits,” he said to Bell and turned to Bridget, who was sobbing bitterly. “Where is he?”

“Half a mile up the track, the barn at High Meadow. There’s a room with a secret door above the loft. He sleeps there.”

Barry smiled. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?” and he and Bell walked out.

“Oh, Dermot, what have I done?” Bridget said and started to cry bitterly.

At High Meadow with the ewes, Dermot saw the flash of silver on the track below and knew he was in trouble. He hurried into the barn, Karl following. He couldn’t take the dog with him to the secret room, for any kind of a whine would give him away, never mind barking.

“Off you go, boy, home to Bridget.” Karl hovered uncertainly. “Go on, get moving!” Dermot told him.

This time, the Alsatian did as he was told. Dermot climbed the ladder to the loft, then clambered over bales of hay and got the secret door in the wood paneling open. He climbed inside. It was dark, just the odd chink of light, and he waited.

When Barry and Bell got out of the BMW, the Alsatian sat looking at them. “Get rid of that for starters,” Barry said, and Bell took out a Smith & Wesson revolver.

The moment he pointed it, Karl took off, scattering the sheep, making for the valley below. Bell laughed and put the revolver back in his pocket.

“A smart bugger, that dog.”

“Well, let’s see if Dermot is,” Barry said and led the way inside.

They stood looking up at the loft crammed with the bales of hay and Barry called, “We know you’re there, Dermot, so you might as well come out. Bridget was very forthcoming after a little persuasion.”

Dermot, in the darkness, almost choked with rage, but he didn’t have a gun, that was the thing, couldn’t take them on.

It was Bell who spoke now. “There’s a lot of straw in here, Dermot, not to say hay. If I drop a match, you’ll be in serious trouble. Of course, if you want to end up like a well-done side of beef, that’s your affair.”

A moment later, the secret door opened and Dermot scrambled out. He made his way to the edge of the loft and stood looking at them.

“You bloody bastards,” he said, “if you’ve hurt Bridget, I’ll do for you.” Then he climbed down the ladder.

Barry grabbed his arms from the rear. “You shouldn’t
talk like that, you really shouldn’t.” He nodded to Bell. “Just his body. I want his face to look normal when he’s sitting in the back of the car on the way back to Dublin.”

“My pleasure,” Bell said and punched Riley very hard beneath the ribs.

When the rental car pulled up in the farm yard, Blake Johnson was at the wheel. The kitchen door was open and Karl erupted, jumping up at the car, growling fiercely. Dillon opened a window and whistled, a low and eerie sound that put the teeth on edge. Karl subsided, his ears flattening.

“Jesus, but I taught you how to do that well,” Devlin said.

As they got out of the car, Bridget appeared in the doorway. She looked terrible as she tried to staunch the blood from her nose with a tea towel.

“Liam Devlin, is that you?”

“As ever was,” Devlin said and put an arm around her shoulders. “Who did this to you?”

“Barry and Bell. They were here yesterday seeking Dermot. I told them he wasn’t here.”

“But he was,” Dillon said and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m Sean Dillon. I fought with Dermot in Derry in the old days.”

She nodded vacantly. “They turned up a little while ago, beat me and burned me with a cigarette.”

“The bastards,” Devlin said.

“The thing is, I told them where Dermot’s hiding. Half a mile up the track. The barn at High Meadow.” She was crying now. “I couldn’t help it, the pain was terrible.”

“Go in, make yourself a cup of tea. We’ll be back with Dermot, I promise you.”

She did as she was told, and Devlin said grimly, “I think a lesson is in order here.”

The three men got in the car, Blake taking the wheel again. Dillon took out his Walther, checked it, and screwed on the silencer.

“Take it nice and easy and let’s see the lay of the land. It could be a hot one. They’ll be carrying, and they’re good. What about you, Liam?”

Devlin grinned. “And what would I be needing with a shooter, with a couple of desperate individuals like you two to look after me?”

They climbed up toward the crest of a hill, Blake choosing a low gear. There were trees along the edge of the track and a row of trees bordering the meadow, the barn beyond them.

“They’ll see us coming,” Blake said.

“Which is why I’m going to bail out on the bend and take to the trees,” Dillon told him, “so slow down for me. You take care of the confrontation, Liam, and don’t worry. A hard man, this one with all that FBI training. He’ll manage, especially with me coming in the back door.”

“Well, that’s a comforting thought,” Blake said and slowed on the bend.

Dillon opened the door and made for the ditch as Devlin closed the door behind him. The car picked up speed and Dillon hurried through the trees.

Aware of the sound of the engine as the car approached, Bell left Barry clutching Riley and went to the door, drawing his revolver.

“What is it?” Barry demanded.

“Don’t know. Black saloon car, driver and one passenger.”

“Get in the loft.” Bell did as he was told, climbing the ladder, and Barry dropped Riley to the ground and kicked him. “Stay still.” He moved behind the open door.

He heard the car stop outside and steps approaching. Devlin appeared in the doorway, Blake Johnson at his back. He paused, then came forward.

“Well, now, Dermot, you don’t look too good.”

“Watch yourself, Mr. Devlin, the bastard’s behind the door,” Riley told him.

Barry stepped out, holding his revolver. “Easy, the both of you, or I’ll blow your spines out.” He rammed the barrel into Blake’s back, patted his pockets and found the Beretta. “Would you look at that now? And what about you, Devlin?”

“Don’t be daft. Would a seventy-five-year-old man like myself be carrying a pistol?”

“Add ten years to that, you lying old bugger.”

Devlin sighed and said to Blake, “Neanderthal man come back to haunt us. He only learned to walk erect this morning.”

“I’ll do for you, you old sod.” Barry was furiously angry. “You’ve had your day. You’ve been due for the knacker’s yard for years.”

“Well, it comes to us all.” Devlin gave Riley a hand. “Up you get, Dermot. Don’t let bastards like this grind you down.”

Barry exploded in rage. “I warned you. I’ll put you on sticks.”

“And why would you want to do that, I wonder?” Sean Dillon called.

He stood just inside the other door to the barn, rain increasing in a great rush at that moment. His left hand was behind him holding the Walther against his back. With his right, he shook a cigarette from his pack, put
one in his mouth, and lit it with his old Zippo.

Barry was totally thrown by the change in Dillon’s appearance. “Sean Dillon, is that you?”

“Your worst nightmare,” Dillon said.

“The loft, watch the loft, Sean,” Riley croaked.

Barry kicked him. “Take him!” he cried.

Bell stood up on the edge of the loft, gun ready, and Dillon’s hand came round in one smooth motion. He fired twice, catching Bell in the heart, the sound of the silenced weapon flat on the damp air. Bell fell headfirst.

In the same moment, as Barry raised his revolver, Liam Devlin shot him in the back with the Walther he was holding in his raincoat pocket, sending him into the ground. There was silence, only the sound of the rain on the roof.

Blake Johnson said, “My God, that was something.”

Dillon pocketed the Walther, went and stirred Bell’s body, then checked Barry. “Well, we’ve done the world a favor.” He looked at Devlin and shook his head. “You told me you weren’t carrying.”

“I know,” Devlin said. “I’m a terrible liar.” He turned to Dermot. “Are you all right?”

“My ribs don’t feel too good.”

“You’ll live. This is Mr. Johnson, an American and former FBI, so mind your manners. He and Dillon are working on the case you were involved in. You’ll go back to London with them.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because it’s the safest place for you at the moment,” Dillon told him. “Ferguson will keep his word. All you have to do is look at the security video for the day that phoney lawyer, George Brown, visited you in Wandsworth and put a face to him. Stay here and the Provisional IRA will have your balls.”

“Maybe not,” Devlin said. “I’ll speak to the right people, Dermot, explain the truth. You haven’t done anything against the organization. I still have influence.”

“With two enforcers lying here dead?”

“Scum, Dermot, and the Chief of Staff knows it. Sometimes you have to dirty your hands. Now let’s get out of here.”

Devlin phoned Michael Leary on his mobile. “Is it yourself, Michael? You’d better get a disposal squad down here to Tullamore. You’ll find Bell and Barry in the barn at High Meadow, very dead. I had to stiff Barry myself. Sean took care of Bell.”

“Liam, what have you done?”

“Nothing that hadn’t been coming to those two animals for years. A disgrace to the organization. Dillon is taking Riley back to London this afternoon. Nothing affecting the IRA. Afterwards, I want you to allow him back.”

Leary sounded shocked. “You must be crazy.”

“I’ll see you in the Irish Hussar late afternoon and I’ll explain and you can tell the Chief of Staff. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Dillon said, “Still the hard man, Liam.”

“Hard enough.” Devlin led the way back into the kitchen. Blake stood by the open door and Bridget was at the table. “You’ll get the doctor, Bridget, promise me.”

She nodded. “All right.”

“Later, some men will turn up in a hearse or a truck, something like that. They’ll take the bodies away. Bell and Barry never existed. Just forget about them.”

“And Dermot?”

“He’s going to London for a day or so with Sean, then he’ll be back. I’ll fix it with the IRA.”

“God bless you, Liam.”

Riley came in wearing corduroy trousers and a jacket and tie. He looked very respectable. “Will I do?”

“Definitely,” Dillon said. “Let’s get going.”

Riley hugged Bridget. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll pray for you, Dermot,” and then she flooded with tears and rushed out of the kitchen.

In his office at the Ministry of Defense, Ferguson switched off the Codex, frowning, then pressed the old-fashioned buzzer on his desk. Hannah Bernstein came in.

“Brigadier?”

“Just had Dillon on the phone. They’ve got Riley. They’re on the way back to Dublin now.”

“Was it messy, sir?”

“Always seems to be where Dillon’s concerned. Two IRA enforcers went down, one to Dillon, and would you believe Devlin got the other?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be surprised.”

“Apparently, they’d tortured Bridget O’Malley into saying where Riley was hiding. No great loss.”

“Then we should be able to show the video to Riley this evening?”

“I would imagine so.”

“Excellent.” Hannah nodded. “Then if you’ve no objection, I’ll take a few hours off, go home and freshen up. I’ll be back at five.”

“Off you go then,” Ferguson said.

In the Oval Office at the White House, the President took a call from Blake Johnson on his Codex line. He pressed the special buzzer that brought Teddy in. Teddy stood by the desk, waiting, as the President listened and then said, “Excellent, Blake, I’ll await a further report.”

He switched off and Teddy said, “Good news?”

The President nodded and gave him a quick rundown on what had happened at Tullamore as related to him by Blake.

“So they’re on their way back to London with Riley so he can look at the video to try and identify Brown?” Teddy asked.

“That’s it.”

“Okay, but even if they put a face to him, they still have to identify him.”

“He told Riley that he really was a lawyer, but that Brown wasn’t his real name,” Cazalet said.

“A lot of lawyers in London, Mr. President.”

“Teddy, I don’t need this,” the President said. “These men are all I’ve got.”

There was agony on his face and Teddy was immediately contrite. “That was stupid of me. Forgive me.” He turned and went out, closing the door behind him and stood there in the corridor cursing. “You fool,” he said softly. “You stupid damn fool!”

Devlin saw them off at Dublin airport, watching the Gulfstream climb away, then went and got a taxi into town. He told the driver to stop on the way at a phone box and called Leary.

“It’s me, Liam,” he said. “I’ll be at the Irish Hussar in twenty minutes,” and he put the phone down.

On board the Gulfstream, Blake was enjoying a coffee while Dillon and Riley drank tea. “One thing,” Dillon said, “I owe you, Dermot, for warning me that Bell was in the loft.”

“And tipping Devlin and me off about Barry being behind the door,” Blake said.

“Not that it did any good,” Riley told him.

“Yes, it did,” Dillon said. “We stiffed both the bastards in the end.”

Riley seemed troubled. “Tell me, Sean, will Ferguson play square with me? Will he let me go once this thing is over?”

“My hand on it.”

“But go where? I still can’t see me being safe in Ireland.”

“Leave it to Liam. He’ll fix it.”

Blake said, “Do you really think he can pull it off?”

“Look at it this way. As I’ve said, nothing Dermot did in this affair was against the interests of the IRA. Once Liam’s explained that, it’ll be okay. He can be very persuasive.”

“But what about Bell and Barry?”

“Plenty more rubbish where they came from, whereas Liam Devlin is the living legend of the IRA. It will work because he’ll make it work.”