Алистер Маклин - Dead Halt

“Farrell did a good job on her,” Marsh added.

Eastman nodded. “It’s no secret that he taught her everything he knows about terrorism and counterterrorism. And when I tell you that he’s widely regarded within the IRA as one of the leading experts on those subjects you’ll get an idea of just what we’re up against.”

“She’s also got this,” Marsh said, tapping his head. “She was a top student at Bristol University. Graduated with a First. Farrell plays by the book which means he can be predictable at times. She doesn’t, and that’s what makes her that bit more dangerous.”

“So why isn’t she in charge of the unit instead of Farrell?” Graham asked.

“She may be smarter, but he’s a better leader,” Marsh replied. “And that combination’s what makes their cell so effective.”

“So the current situation could be to our advantage,” Sabrina deduced, and immediately noticed the puzzled look on Eastman’s face. “Well, they’ll be weakened without Farrell. And if she’s not a natural leader, they could run into problems. They may make mistakes but more likely there may be internal dissent, especially from Kerrigan. It’s obvious from his file that he and Farrell were very close until she came along. I may be reading between the lines, but I doubt there’s much love lost between the two of them. And now he’s having to take orders from her. I can’t see him being too thrilled about that, can you?”

Eastman glanced at Marsh and both men nodded simultaneously.

“That’s a valid point,” Eastman agreed. “But there is one drawback to it. And I think John will agree with me on this. Kerrigan’s a die-hard Provo. A stickler for the rules. Which is why he and Farrell get along so well. That means he’ll toe the line irrespective of how he feels about her being in charge of the cell in Farrell’s absence.”

“Everyone has their breaking point,” Graham said. “Including Kerrigan.”

The telephone rang.

“Excuse me,” Eastman said, answering it. His eyes narrowed as he listened attentively then, grabbing a pen from the holder on his desk, he scribbled furiously on the pad at his elbow. “No, don’t do anything, sir. We’ll be there as soon as possible.” He nodded as he listened again. “Yes, I’d appreciate it if you’d clear things with your people. We don’t want any delays when we get there. Thank you for letting me know so promptly.”

“Well?” Marsh asked excitedly after Eastman had replaced the receiver.

“That was the Swiss Police Commissioner. McGuire’s holed up with a known IRA sympathizer outside Lausanne.” Eastman tore off the sheet of paper and gave it to Marsh. “Get four seats on the first available flight to Switzerland.”

Marsh stuffed the paper into his jacket pocket and hurried from the room.

“Now all we have to do is hope the IRA don’t get to him first,” Graham replied somberly.

“Not this time,” Eastman replied confidently. “Apart from the Swiss police, only the four of us know he’s there. No, I think fortune’s finally beginning to swing our way.”

Fiona Gallagher stood at the window staring absently at the passing traffic on the A1 two hundred yards away from the house. It had been a close call back at the boarding house. Too close. But she also knew that without the advance warning they would all be in custody by now. It certainly paid to have a mole inside the anti-terrorist squad …

She had been woken in the early hours of the morning by the beeper she always carried with her. It was only ever used in an emergency. She’d immediately rung a prearranged number from the payphone in the corridor and was told that the manager had recognized Mullen and Kerrigan from the photographs released to the Press the previous evening. She’d woken Mullen and Kerrigan and they’d fled the boarding house minutes before the authorities arrived. They had driven north, away from the city center.

It was Mullen who had spotted the isolated Tudor-style house on the outskirts of Hatfield. It was set back from the road and surrounded by a grove of oak trees. It would prove a useful temporary safe house until they decided on their next move. They had donned their balaclavas once more, and Mullen had driven up to the house. They had found the owners, an elderly couple, having breakfast on the back porch. Kerrigan had brandished his Uzi menacingly at the couple before Fiona had quickly put a stop to his stupidity and told Mullen to take the couple into the lounge where he’d bound their wrists. That had been an hour ago …

The door opened behind her. She made to pull the balaclava back over her face when she saw it was Mullen. He closed the door behind him and jerked the balaclava off his head.

“Jesus, it’s hot,” he said, wiping his sleeve across his sweaty forehead.

She nodded then crossed to a chair and sat down. “How are the old couple bearing up?”

“OK,” Mullen assured her. “It turns out the old guy takes some kind of pills for his heart. He wouldn’t take them at first because I’d gone to get them for him. But the old lady gave him a bit of a ticking off and he ended up taking them like a good little boy. He hasn’t been any trouble since then.”

Fiona smiled then glanced at the door. “And Liam?”

“He’s already eaten through half the contents of the fridge,” Mullen replied with a helpless shrug. “But at least he hasn’t started on the booze.”

“Yet,” she added.

“You gave him a big fright last night,” Mullen told her. “I don’t think he’ll be drinking again in a hurry.”

She sighed deeply then got to her feet and returned to the window, her hands dug deep into the pockets of her camouflage trousers.

“What’s on your mind?” Mullen said softly behind her.

“There are family photographs on the mantelpiece in there,” she said, indicating the door leading into the adjoining room where Kerrigan was guarding the couple. “And most children keep in touch with their parents. What if one of them calls? No answer. Next minute the whole family’s up here to check on them. Then what? Invite them in for tea and scones?”

“If someone calls, get the old lady to answer it. She seems the more cooperative of the two. And she’ll be especially cooperative if Liam’s holding an Uzi to the back of the old man’s head.”

“You sure you don’t want to take the reins around here?” she said, half-jokingly.

“Once was enough,” Mullen replied, holding up his hands defensively.

“I didn’t know you were ever in charge of a cell,” Fiona said in surprise.

“Not a cell as such. The Army Council put me in charge of a three-man team several years ago. Our target was a retired RUC officer in Newry. I led them straight into an SAS ambush. I was the only survivor.”

“You’ve never mentioned that before.”

“Would you? It’s not exactly something I’m proud of.”

The door opened again and Kerrigan looked in. “Will someone come out here a moment? I need to take a leak.”

Mullen pulled the balaclava back over his face and walked to the door.

The beeper on Fiona’s belt suddenly activated and she quickly switched it off. They both looked around at her. “It’s the ‘Fortune Teller’. I’d better ring him straight away.”

“The ‘Fortune Teller’?” Kerrigan said suspiciously.

“The Army Council’s contact in the anti-terrorist squad.”

“The same guy who saved our arses this morning?” Kerrigan asked.

“The same.”

“The ‘Fortune Teller’?” Kerrigan muttered, chuckling to himself. “It’s an appropriate codename. Do you know who he is?”

“You must be joking. His identity’s known only to the senior members of the Army Council.” She crossed to the telephone and dialed a number. It was answered after the first ring. “This is ‘Rebel Woman’.”