Avedissian stopped and turned towards her. He kissed her
softly on the lips and said, 'Because I want to make love to
you.’
The TWA Jumbo took its place in the queue to leave O'Hare
Airport which, even at eight in the evening, was impressively
long. The snake of predominantly Boeing aircraft, carrying
the liveries of the world's airlines, crawled up to the head of
the runway to take off in turn with what seemed like little
more than seconds between them. As Avedissian felt the
back of his seat begin to press into him he took Kathleen's hand and squeezed it. 'We made it,' he whispered. Kathleen nodded and closed her eyes. Silently, she said goodbye to
Harry.
TWELVE
Avedissian turned his head and saw that Kathleen was sleeping. The cabin lights had been dimmed and the whine of
the engines had become for many a reassuring white sound
in their subconscious. The slight moan from an auxiliary
hydraulic motor made Avedissian look out of the window to see the trailing edge of the wing alter slightly as the captain made a course correction. There was a full moon on the port
side. It caught the rivets along the top surface and created
geometric shadows on the engine cowling. Avedissian closed
his eyes and imagined what the moonlight must look like on the Atlantic seven miles below. He fell asleep.
Avedissian and Kathleen did not discuss a plan of action
until they had cleared Heathrow and journeyed to
Avedissian's flat by taxi. There was a greyness about London
which at other times might have been depressing but after
the heat of the Mid-West they found acceptable. On the way Avedissian noticed that the mere fact that it was not raining
had encouraged quite a few women to pretend that it was still
summer and reflect that attitude in their dress. He admired
their spirit.
'How will you contact Kell when we get to Belfast?' he asked Kathleen.
‘
There are several pubs used by our people. I can get a
message to him.'
Avedissian noted the phrase 'our people' and felt distanced
by it. He did not say anything but wished silently that
Kathleen had not used it. They discussed where they would stay until the deal was made with Kell. Kathleen suggested
that she had several relations whom she could trust but
Avedissian argued, and Kathleen finally agreed with him,
that they should trust no one. They would find an
anonymous boarding-house.
'There is one thing,' said Avedissian. 'You know Kell. Do
you think he will agree to a straight deal?'
Kathleen's face took on a pained expression and she replied, 'My heart prays that he will but my head tells me
different. Nobody crosses Kell and gets away with it. Some
thing tells me that even if he gets the money he won't rest
until Martin and I are dead. For Kell it will be a matter of principle.'
'From what I've heard of him I was afraid that might be the case,' said Avedissian. 'So we're not going to let that happen.'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean we start taking care of our own future.'
'In what way?'
'Kell still thinks the tapes are the key to the money. We are going to exchange the tapes for your brother and then use the
money to buy a new life for all of us.'
Kathleen's eyes opened wide in astonishment. 'You intend
to double-cross Finbarr Kell?' she exclaimed in disbelief.
'You've just said that he intends to double-cross you.'
'But Kell! You don't know what you're saying!'
'He's a man.'
'You don't know him.'
'All I know is you can buy a lot of time and distance with
twenty-five million dollars. What's the alternative?
Running? Hiding? Watching our backs all the time? That's no
life. It's time to stop being a victim of circumstance. It's time
to fight for what you want.'
'It's crazy . . . crazy,' muttered Kathleen as she considered
what Avedissian was suggesting but, despite her fear of Kell,
she could see that it made some kind of sense. If Kell
intended to kill them even if he got the money, why give it
to him in the first place? 'All right,’ she agreed.
'I had to get rid of the gun before we got on the plane. I'm
going to feel naked without one. Any ideas?' asked
Avedissian.
Kathleen looked at Avedissian and wondered if he really
appreciated what he was getting into. Few people in their
right minds would ever dream of tangling with Kell, what
ever the ordnance, and here was Avedissian wondering
where he could get a gun. At that moment she loved him
more than she thought possible. 'We can't risk buying one. Apart from that there's no time,' she said. 'But there might
still be one in the cottage at Cladeen.' She told Avedissian of
the cottage used by the
IRA
and where she and Martin had
last been together. 'Martin had a gun in the dressing-table
upstairs; he kept it as a second one in case of emergencies. If
Kell's men did not search the place after we left and no one
has used the house since then it will still be there.'
Avedissian asked how they would get there.
'We'd need a car.'
'We'll need one anyway. We'll rent one.'
'It would be best to go at night,' said Kathleen.
Avedissian looked at his watch and said, 'We can be in
Belfast by this evening.'
'You need some proper rest,' said Kathleen.
‘
There's no time. But there will be when it's all over.
How's the leg?'
'It's fine,’ said Kathleen. 'Have I told you lately that I love
you?'
'No,’ smiled Avedissian.
'Well I do.’
Avedissian ran his fingers lightly through Kathleen's hair
and said, 'I have to go out, arrange the tickets, go to the
bank, get some odds and ends. Get some sleep. I'll be back
soon.’
Avedissian picked up a newspaper on his way back to the flat and read it when he got in. It was strangely reassuring to
find that the world seemed to be going on as normal. The
more trivial the story the more Avedissian liked it and took refuge in its diversion. He did, however, find one article on
Ireland and the troubles. It reported that earlier fears of a
new reign of terror in Belfast had been subsiding in recent
weeks with an unofficial truce apparently having been de
clared by the
IRA
after the bombing of the Shamrock
Shopping Centre. It was suggested that that particular out
rage had been a one-off, a show of strength for the benefit of
any doubters of the new regime and did not herald a new
wave of violence.
Avedissian felt uneasy at the complacency of the article. He
remembered what Kathleen had said about rumours of a Kell
operation to outshine even Bryant's grandiose scheme. A
chill ran through him when he thought of her assertion that
no one crossed Kell and ever got away with it.
He turned the page and read of a
TV
star's addiction to heroin and moved on to a story about a cat being rescued
from a church roof by the fire brigade. A brave pensioner's
struggle with teenage muggers came next and then, as he
prepared to skip over the children's section, he saw a photo
graph that caught his attention and paused. 'Another First for
Blue Peter'
read the story. Royal child to share his birthday
celebrations with handicapped young people from all over
the country. Avedissian looked at the child in the photograph and felt a desperate bitterness when he thought of Harry. The
child in the photograph would never know what happened
to his unwitting alter ego or why. But Bryant would,
Avedissian promised himself.
It was raining when they got to Belfast and, for some reason,
Avedissian had known that it would be. The universal grey
wetness was just as he had pictured it in his mind two nights
before in Penning. They picked up their hire car at the airport
and headed for an area of the city liberally endowed with
terraced boarding-houses. They picked one for no particular
reason and booked in for the night. They would move to
another next day using the same story. They were stopping off in Belfast for one night before driving south.
It was eight p.m. when they left for Cladeen, with
Kathleen giving directions to Avedissian, who was having
trouble enough with the rain proving too heavy for the
wipers. Red brake-lights flared up ahead and were reflected
many times over in the river of water on the screen.
Avedissian slowed and saw that there was an army patrol up
ahead.. A soldier stood in the road, one hand resting on his
shoulder-slung weapon and the other in the air to halt traffic.
It was an anxious moment for Avedissian who did not
relish the prospect of an identity check but he was relieved to
see that they were not the object of the army's interest.
Traffic was being held up to allow a large military vehicle to
reverse out from a lane. This over, the convoy continued.
Despite their agreement that the torrential rain could not
last long, it did. It was still pouring down when they got to
Cladeen and pulled into the little lane leading to the cottage.
They were drenched within seconds of leaving the car and
approaching the house on foot in case anyone should be
staying there.
The cottage was in darkness and there was no sound from it save for the rain gurgling through the overloaded gutters. Kathleen signalled to Avedissian that he should follow her, as she led the way round to a back window near the ground.
She tried it and it opened. Avedissian climbed in behind her
and closed the window to stand, dripping water on the
kitchen floor.
‘
This way,' said Kathleen. She led the way upstairs to the
bedroom and opened a drawer to withdraw an automatic pistol and hand it to Avedissian. He checked the clip and said, 'It's loaded.'
They came back downstairs and Kathleen paused to look
at the living room. It was exactly as they had left it after that
awful night. The lampshade still lay on the floor where it
had been knocked off to expose the microphone. In her
mind she could see her brother lying in agony on the floor
while Kell's eyes burned with mad fury. The thought that
she was getting ever closer to Kell made her desperately afraid. 'Let's go,' she said.
'Which pub are we heading for?' asked Avedissian as they
reached the outskirts of Belfast.
‘
Try the Blind Horse in Lyndock Street,' said Kathleen.
'How do we get there?'
'Stop the car.'
Avedissian stopped and Kathleen took over the driving.
They were there in ten minutes after weaving through
Belfast's dockland. Avedissian did not like the look of the
place. He would not have liked it had it been a bright
summer's day but, near to closing time on a wet night, it made the dock taverns of East London look classy.
'What do I do?' asked Avedissian.
'Stay with me and keep your mouth shut, or that accent of yours could have you face down in the water.'
The inside of the pub was as dingy and run-down as the
exterior and Avedissian found himself feeling relieved that
they had got soaked in Cladeen. Their sagging clothes and
matted hair brought them some kind of common de
nominator with the clientele.