word I got was that a bullion truck would be heisted, is that true?’
‘Well, it was in the original plan submitted to the Army Council.’
‘And trans-shipped to somewhere in County Down. Do you know where?’
‘God save us, but I don’t.’
‘Scully!’ Reid said.
The big man took a Browning from his pocket and advanced. Bell said hurriedly, ‘No need for that. I know where Ryan is staying here in London. I’ll take you there now.’
Scully relaxed and Reid smiled. ‘Very sensible, Hugh.’
‘I’ll get my coat.’
Bell went into the bedroom, picking up his jacket, put it on, then, quickly opening the opposite door, darted along the corridor, exited into the alley at the side of the pub and ran for the main road.
When the phone in the hall rang at Folly’s End it was Mary Power who answered it. She came into the kitchen and said to Ryan, ‘It’s for you. Mr Bell.’
Ryan went out to the hall and picked up the phone. ‘Yes, Hugh?’
‘We’re in trouble. Reid turned up from the Army Council with that sod Scully. They know, Michael, they’ve heard a whisper.’
‘Did you tell them anything?’
‘Did I hell. I ran for my life, but they knew the plan. I mean they would, wouldn’t they? You submitted it to them originally.’
‘The original plan was sketchy, Hugh. No mention of Folly’s End or the precise target and, at that stage, the boat was only an idea. Did you tell them about the Irish Rose? Did you tell them we’d be putting in at Kilalla?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Good. Then we’ll get on with it. Keep your head down and mind your back, Hugh. Go to ground for a while.’
After replacing the phone he stood there in the hall, lighting a cigarette and thinking about it. No point in alarming anyone. No point at all.
He returned to the kitchen. ‘Hugh Bell. Nothing important.’ He smiled at Keogh. ‘I’ll stay up here in case there are any more calls from Hugh. You’ll have to spend the night at the cottage down at Marsh End on your own. No room here. Take the Ford van.’
‘I’ll be on my way then.’ Keogh swallowed his tea and got up. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
Bell didn’t know where he was going. He hesitated and started across Kilburn High Road. At that moment, an old Mercedes limousine turned out of a side-street, Scully at the wheel, Reid beside him.
‘He’s there,’ Reid said, ‘crossing the road. Get him.’
Scully gunned the motor. Bell, alarmed at the sound, turned. He tried to run and slipped in the rain. The Mercedes hit him at fifty miles an hour, bounced him into the gutter and moved on.
A woman screamed as a crowd converged. A uniformed Woman Police Officer pushed her way through, but by the time she knelt down beside Hugh Bell he was very dead indeed.
The morning was bleak, heavy clouds draped across the mountains. After breakfast, Ryan sat at the table drinking tea and thinking about things, wondering about Bell and Reid and that bastard Scully. On the other hand, there shouldn’t be any danger from them as long as Bell kept out of their clutches. The original plan submitted to the Army Council had been simply the idea of the thing. That he knew of a truck somewhere in the north-west of England that carried bullion, that he thought it could be lifted and taken to Ulster by boat. So Reid was at a dead end without Bell.
He decided to take a chance, went out into the hall and phoned the William & Mary. The barman answered at once.
Ryan said, ‘Ryan here, Angus. I was wanting a word with Hugh. Is he there?’
‘He’s dead, Mr Ryan. Killed in Kilburn High Road last night.’
‘What happened?’ Ryan said.
‘He was knocked down crossing the road. Hit-and-run accident. The police found the car that did it abandoned a few streets away.’
‘Have they traced who was in it?’
‘The police sergeant who called earlier said it had been stolen in Hampstead a year ago. He thinks it must have been standing in some garage.’
‘All very unfortunate,’ Ryan said.
‘Indeed it is, Mr Ryan. Will you be coming in?’
‘No, I’ve got business to attend to.’
‘Well if you let me know where you are and give me a phone number I’ll keep you posted.’
It was enough. Ryan smiled softly. ‘I’m away now, but just one more thing, Angus. Put Mr Reid on the phone.’
‘Mr Reid? I don’t understand,’ Angus said.
‘Stop arsing around and put him on.’
Reid, who had been standing beside Angus listening in, took the phone from him and shoved the barman across to Scully.
‘Michael, old son. Don’t you think it’s time to be reasonable?’
‘Was it you or Scully at the wheel? Not that it matters. When the time comes you’re my meat.’
‘You always did have a touch of the theatrical about you, Michael. So you intend to carry out that hare-brained scheme of yours?’
‘Goodbye, Reid,’ Michael Ryan said and put down the phone.
He opened the back door, lit a cigarette and stared into the rain thinking of Hugh Bell, good friend and comrade in arms for so many years. At least Scully hadn’t had the chance to squeeze the truth out of him. There was some comfort in that.
The kitchen door opened and Kathleen looked out. ‘There you are. Is everything all right?’
‘Fine.’
‘I thought I’d take Martin something to eat down at the cottage. Benny says he’ll drive me.’
‘That’s fine. I want to go over the planning again so don’t mind me.’
‘I’ll see you later then.’
She went back into the kitchen and Ryan stayed there, looking at the rain, thinking about Reid and Scully. They would have to go back home now, nothing else for it. There would be a confrontation eventually, had to be, but he would handle that when the time came.
He thought of Reid, the skull-like face and wire spectacles and his smile was terrible to see.
