Алистер Маклин - Dead Halt

The Mercedes turned off the main road and sped through an open gate onto a dirt road. An armed Provo, his face hidden under a black balaclava, ghosted out from behind a bush and closed the gate behind the car. They continued along the dirt road for another three hundred yards until they reached a farmhouse. Hagen brought the car to a halt. Two masked Provos stood outside, both armed with ArmaLite rifles. Jumping out of the car, McAuley opened the back door for Brady while one of the armed Provos knocked on the farmhouse door. Brady was ushered inside and led to a room at the end of the corridor. His escort rapped twice on the door then gestured for Brady to enter.

The three men sitting behind a table at the far end of the room were all senior members of the Army Council: Pat Taylor, an Enniskillen businessman and a former Army Council Chief-of-Staff; Michael Kelly, once a leading Sinn Fein councillor; and Kieran O’Connell, the former editor of the official IRA newspaper, An Phoblacht .

Taylor pointed to the wooden chair in the middle of the room. “Sit down.”

Brady crossed to the chair and sat down.

“You know why you’ve been called here, don’t you?” Taylor said as he tamped a wad of tobacco into the bowl of his pipe.

“Yes.”

“Did you issue a directive to Fiona Gallagher to assassinate Senator Jack Scoby?” O’Connell asked.

Brady’s lifeless eyes locked onto O’Connell’s face. “No.”

“Then who issued the directive?” O’Connell demanded.

“You tell me,” Brady replied in his deadpan voice. “Now you listen to me–”

“Kieran,” Taylor cut in quickly. “We aren’t going to get anywhere by squabbling amongst ourselves like this.” He looked across at Brady. “An order like that would have had to come from the Chief-of-Staff or one of his senior officers.”

“I didn’t give the order and neither did any of my senior officers,” Brady told him.

Kelly got to his feet and crossed to the window. “There’s been a rumor going around these last few weeks that Dominic Lynch intended to come back from Switzerland to try and oust you, not only as Chief-of-Staff, but also from the Army Council as well.”

“I’ve also heard that rumor,” Brady replied.

Kelly looked around at Brady. “Lynch and Farrell were close friends, weren’t they?”

“And you think they planned this to discredit me?” Brady sat forward and stared at the wooden floor. His face remained expressionless. “It’s possible. But then who killed Lynch?”

“Gallagher, probably,” Kelly said after a thoughtful pause. “That way it would leave the door open for Farrell to challenge you instead. She kills Kerrigan and Mullen because they know too much and all the time the finger’s pointing at you because he’d already given the order to silence McGuire.”

“That’s pure fantasy and you know it,” O’Connell said, coming to Farrell’s defense. “Sean and Dom were inseparable. It’s inconceivable that Sean would allow Fiona to murder his best friend. I just don’t buy it.”

Taylor’s worst fears were being realized. It was fast becoming a conflict of personalities. O’Connell, the moderate who would certainly have backed Lynch had he returned to challenge Brady; and Kelly, the hard-liner who was Brady’s most vociferous supporter in the Army Council. He had to steer the issue back on course. “Who gave the order is irrelevant right now. What we have to do is stop Gallagher before she does manage to take Scoby out.”

“Can you find her?” Kelly asked Brady.

“I don’t think he should be in on this,” O’Connell said before Brady could answer. “What if he really is the mastermind behind this whole conspiracy? He’d be able to make sure she was always one step ahead of us.”

“You’re out of line, Kieran,” Kelly snapped. “What proof do you have to substantiate these allegations?”

“That’s enough,” Taylor cut in, glaring at both men. “We’ve got enough problems as it is without you two bickering like this.” He turned back to Brady. “I want her stopped. And if you can’t do it, we’ll find someone who can. Do I make myself understood?”

“Perfectly.” Brady stood up. “And I can employ any methods I see fit to find her?”

“Yes,” Taylor replied bluntly. “But just make sure you bring her in alive.”

“That may not be possible–”

“Alive,” Taylor interceded sharply. “She’s our one chance of getting to the bottom of this.”

Brady left the room without another word. Moments later they heard the Mercedes drive off.

“You don’t honestly think he’ll bring her in alive, do you?” O’Connell said contemptuously, breaking the lingering silence. “He’ll put a bullet in her the first opportunity he gets. It’s the only way he’ll be sure of silencing her.”

“You’re sailing close to the wind, Kieran,” Kelly said, levelling a finger at him. “You’ve been on Kevin’s back ever since this story broke this afternoon.”

“That’s because I believe he’s behind it. We both know that Fiona’s not a maverick and that she wouldn’t touch something like this unless the authorization had come from the very top. And that means Brady.” O’Connell turned to Taylor. “I think it was a mistake to send Brady after her, Pat.”

“We’ll see, Kieran,” Taylor replied thoughtfully. “We’ll see.”

Brady had spent much of his adult life either in jail or on the run. He had spent seven years at Belfast’s Long Kesh prison, more popularly known as “The Maze,” for his part in the murder of an off-duty policeman in the late seventies. It was while he was there that he had first met Sammy Kane. They had become good friends and Brady now regarded Kane as the one man in the Revolutionary Army he could trust implicitly. He had rewarded that trust by appointing Kane as his Adjutant-General, his second-in-charge in the Army Council.

Kane was three years Brady’s junior with a burly physique and cropped blond hair. He was Brady’s conscience and had, on more than one occasion, talked Brady out of a course of action which he felt could have been detrimental not only to his future as Chief-of-Staff, but also to the Cause in general. Kane claimed to be the only person who really understood him. Well, most of the time …

Kane had already been at the safe house on the outskirts of Keady for over an hour when the Mercedes pulled up outside. As Hagen drove off, McAuley and Brady entered the house. McAuley disappeared into the kitchen while Brady went through to the lounge and closed the door behind him.

“How did it go?” Kane asked.

“I’ve been told to find Gallagher.”

“And?”

“I’ve got to bring her in alive.” Brady took off his overcoat and draped it over the back of the sofa. “I’ll take a drop of whiskey if there’s any. I’m frozen.”

Kane took a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from the sideboard. He poured out two generous measures and handed one of the glasses to Brady. “There was a phone call for you while you were out. Martin Navarro, calling from New York.”

“Navarro? What did he want?”

“He didn’t say, only that you were to call him back as soon as you got in.”

Brady dialed out on a secure line then sat down on the arm of the sofa. When the call was answered he asked for Navarro, taking a sip of whiskey as he waited for Navarro to come to the phone.

“Brady?” Navarro snapped down the line.

“Speaking,” came the toneless reply. “What do you want?”

“I want to know what the hell’s going on over there. Why is there an IRA contract out on Jack Scoby?”

“Why are you suddenly so interested in Scoby’s welfare?”

“That doesn’t concern you,” Navarro shot back indignantly. “Just get the contract lifted.”