Алистер Маклин - Dead Halt

“He’ll be free to leave,” Palmer replied. “You have my word on that.”

Kane waited until the Rover had pulled away from the front of the hotel before he called Brady to let him know they had gone.

When Brady came downstairs into the foyer Kane told him about the incident with Whitlock and Meehan. As usual, Brady listened impassively before asking to see Meehan. Kane led him into the bar where one of the Provos, his balaclava now discarded on the counter, was plying Meehan with black coffee.

Meehan looked up slowly at Brady and managed a weak smile. “Good evening, Mr. Brady. Have you finished your meeting? Can I open the hotel again?”

“Are you sober yet?” Brady asked.

“I’m feeling a lot better now,” Meehan replied obsequiously.

“I hear you insulted one of my guests tonight. That’s something I will not tolerate.”

“I … I got what I deserved, Mr. Brady,” Meehan said, touching his bruised chin gingerly. “I’ve nothing against black people. It was just the drink talking.”

“You drink too much, Meehan.”

“I … I enjoy a drink, Mr. Brady.”

“Not anymore. You’re on the wagon as of now. But obviously you’ll need some kind of incentive to stop drinking. Something to take your mind off it.” Brady nodded to Kane. “Break the fingers on his right hand.”

“Mr. Brady, please–” Meehan screamed in terror as Kane moved toward him. “I’ll never drink again. Honestly. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Consider this your first and last warning, Meehan,” Brady told him. “If I ever hear that you’ve been drinking again, you’ll end up in some alley with the back of your head blown away. Sammy, I’ll see you back at the house. I’ve got some business to attend to first.”

Brady left the bar. Seconds later an agonized scream came from behind the closed doors. The receptionist looked around from the television set, her eyes wide and uncertain.

“I’d start looking for a new job if I were you,” Brady said to her. “I’ve got a feeling that Mr. Meehan won’t be running this hotel for very much longer.”

The receptionist swallowed nervously but said nothing. Brady pushed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket then disappeared through the revolving doors and out into the night.

“The men are in position, sir,” Reeves said as Palmer pulled up behind the Land Rover. “Do you want me to give the order for them to move in?”

“No,” Palmer replied, switching off the engine. “Brady’s to be allowed to leave of his own accord.”

“But sir, we’ve got them–”

“I gave my word,” Palmer cut in angrily. “And I intend to keep it.”

“Yes, sir, of course,” Reeves said, immediately regretting his sudden outburst. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to question your authority. It’s just that … he’s been responsible for the deaths of five of my colleagues over the last eight months. And now that we’ve got a chance to nail him, we have to stand by and watch him drive away.”

“I understand your frustration,” Palmer replied, getting out of the car. “Believe me, I’d like nothing better than to give the order to grab him the moment he leaves the hotel. But we can’t. It’s not just that I gave my word. The whole area’s crawling with Provos. And God knows what kind of artillery they’ve got with them. If you move in, they’ve threatened to open fire. We’ve lost more than enough young men in this conflict as it is without adding any more to the list. I want you to give the order for all patrols to pull out of the area.” He looked at his watch. “They’ve got eight minutes left in which to do it. And I mean every patrol. I don’t want any of our boys in the area for the next few hours. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly understood, sir.” Reeves saluted then hurried off to carry out Palmer’s orders.

“He’s a good copper, that one,” Palmer said as he watched Reeves give the order to his men to pull out.

“Sure,” Whitlock replied thoughtfully. “I know just how he feels though. As you know, we lost three men when the cell first tried to take out McGuire in London. I’m just glad I wasn’t armed when I went into that hotel room tonight. I’d gladly have put a bullet in him.”

Palmer took the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. It was the first cigarette he’d had since getting off the plane and he inhaled deeply, savoring it.

Whitlock rested his arm on the roof of the car and stared thoughtfully at the hotel in the distance. “Something just doesn’t ring true about Brady’s motives tonight.”

“He was obviously out for personal glory. Some way to worm his way back into favor with the Army Council. And it would have been a major propaganda coup if he’d managed to bring the IRA in on the security operation tomorrow.” Palmer noticed the consternation on Whitlock’s face as he continued to stare at the hotel. “You’re not convinced, are you?”

“Not about bringing the IRA in on the security operation. I can’t believe he would have taken these kinds of risks to lay something like that on you. He would have known you’d never have gone along with it. So why did he bring you here?”

“You mean apart from trying to ingratiate himself with me?” Palmer said with a half-smile. “When we spoke earlier on the phone it was Palmer. Then, to my face, it suddenly became Commander this, Commander that. The way he was addressing me–”

“Of course,” Whitlock cut in and banged his fist angrily on the roof. “Now it all makes sense. The son-of-a-bitch.”

“Well, spit it out, man,” Palmer demanded.

“Think back to the points he raised tonight. The IRA have never had a contract out on Senator Scoby. They’re just as concerned for his safety as we are. They want to stop Gallagher to save themselves any further embarrassment. But we don’t know what she looks like. They do. And they’re prepared to go out on a limb to help us track her down before she can get to the senator. But he knows you’d never go for it. And you don’t. In fact, you turned him down flat.”

“So?” Palmer said, frowning.

“What if everything we said in there tonight was recorded onto tape so that if the senator is assassinated in Dugaill tomorrow, Brady can produce a copy of the meeting and give it to the Press? But it won’t be the original tape. It’ll be an edited version of the original. A version designed to highlight the fact that although the IRA were our last chance of finding Gallagher you refused even to consider working with them. In other words, he’d be trying to shift the blame for the senator’s death on to the anti-terrorist squad.”

“The public would see through it straight away,” Palmer said.

“But with the maximum amount of embarrassment to Scotland Yard. They would demand to know why the head of the anti-terrorist squad was meeting secretly with the Chief-of-Staff of the IRA’s Army Council. A man who’s been responsible for an intensive bombing campaign on the British mainland over the last year which has cost the lives of innocent women and children. Were you trying to make a deal with him? If not, what were you doing talking to him in the first place? And by making the edited version public in the US he’ll also be allaying the fears of many of their Noraid supporters who’ll naturally be worried that the IRA have gone back on their word never to target foreigners.

“He’s anticipated the worst possible scenario and this is his contingency plan not only to discredit Scotland Yard but also to minimize the damage abroad. Killing two birds with one stone, so to speak. That’s why he was being so ingratiating to you tonight. It’s going to sound really good on tape, isn’t it?”

“I see now why Sergei Kolchinsky talks so highly of you,” Palmer said after a long, thoughtful silence.