Victor O'Reilly - Games of The Hangman

At the Avis desk in the arrivals area they rented a small, navy blue Ford Escort for a period of one week at the off-season rate. They opted for unlimited mileage and full insurance. They identified themselves as Dieter Kretz, aged twenty-four, from Hamburg, and Tina Brugnoli, aged nineteen, from Milan. They paid their deposit in cash.

Armed with maps, guidebooks, and copious directions, Dieter and Tina drove into the center of Dublin and checked into a double room at the Royal Dublin Hotel on

O'Connell Street . They ate in the hotel restaurant and retired early. A fly on the wall would have noticed that they spoke little as they undressed, and thought they slept together naked in the large double bed, they did not make love.

When Dieter awoke in the morning, he could hear Tina in the bathroom. The door was open, and light spilled into the curtained bedroom. He threw back the bedclothes and stretched like a cat, his both lithe and strong, his chest covered with curly black hair. A thick black mustache drooped above shining white teeth. He looked with pleasure at his penis jutting hard and erect. Moisture gleamed at the tip of his organ, and it was throbbing, crying out for relief.

He rose from the bed and walked the few paces to the bathroom. Tina's hair was tied loosely on top of her head, and she was bent over the basin. Her young body was olive gold in color, and she was naked except for skimpy black panties. He could see the down on the back of her neck. He rested his fingers on the top of the cleft of her buttocks and slowly moved them down, taking the black panties with them. He pushed the thin panties down to just above her knees.

Tina scarcely stirred. She gripped the sides of the basin with long, slim hands as he slowly parted the cheeks of her buttocks and then there was the sweet small and cool, smooth touch of hand cream. She gave a muffled cry when he entered her constricted passage, and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the basin. She sucked on his finger. There was so much pain and so much pleasure. It was the way of the Circle. It was so ordained in the Grimoire.

It was so enforced by the Leader.

The package was somewhat longer than a shoe box, and it was heavy. Its outer wrapping was of several layers of thick brown paper held securely in place with shiny brown adhesive tape. The contents didn't move or rattle. Whatever was inside was well padded.

The package was addressed to Mr. Dieter Kretz and had been left at the reception desk of the Royal Dublin Hotel just a little after eight in the morning. The messenger was dressed like a Dublin Taxi driver and was unremarkable in appearance. Afterward nobody could remember much about him except that he spoke like “a typical Dub.”

The young couple had breakfast in their room, hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door, and, as was common enough with young couples, did not emerge until nearly midday. The receptionist handed them the package when they checked out. She had almost forgotten about it until she was gently reminded by the young German. He smiled at her when he received it and made a remark about there not being that much time for reading. He had his right arm around his girlfriend's shoulders and was relaxed and confident – satiated even.

The porter carried their bags to the car, though the German kept the package tucked firmly under his left arm. He placed it in the trunk of the car. The porter wondered why anyone would want to take a holiday in Ireland in March. He returned to his desk in the warm hotel with relief.

Dieter, who normally had the German's belief that accelerators exist to be kept pressed to the floor, this time drove cautiously. It was his first visit to Ireland, and he was unused to driving on the left-hand side of the road. Fortunately he had been well briefed on Dublin's inconsistent signposting system and relied instead on Tina's map-reading skills. Despite the random one-way systems that were not show on the map, they became lost only once before they found the road to Galway and the west of Ireland. It was also a route that led toward the home of Colonel Shane Kilmara.

On the outskirts of Dublin they entered the sprawling green acres of PhoenixPark, the largest enclosed urban parkland in Europe. Hundreds of deer roamed the rolling, tree-dotted landscape, and the sheer scale of the area ensured relative privacy for its few visitors.

Dieter left the main through road and turned onto a side road, where he stopped the car and switched off the engine. For a few minutes they sat quietly, took stock of their surroundings, and watched the deer grazing under the trees. Then, satisfied they were not observed, he opened the trunk, removed the heavy package, and climbed into the backseat of the car. Using a short, thin-bladed knife he had taken from his suitcase, he cut through the layers of tape and outer wrappings of the package, then removed the layers of corrugated paper and the final layer of oiled cloth. There lay two compact Czech-made machine pistols – the model known as the Skorpion VZ-61. There were also eight twenty-round magazines of 7.65 mm ammunition, cleaning materials, and a copy of the Automobile Association's Touring Guide to Ireland.

Tina switched on the radio, and to a background of traditional Irish music the pair began to clean the weapons and prepare them for action.

After they left PhoenixPark, Tina drove.

She was a better driver than Dieter, and as she became used to the narrow potholed road that passed for a main highway, she gradually increased her speed almost to the legal limit – whatever, that is, road conditions permitted. They wanted to arrive close to their destination during daylight. It was their experience that darkness brought an increase in police patrols.

Dieter, his Skorpion ready for action at the flick of the fire selector lever but concealed under a newspaper, lay across the backseat and dozed. Tina's weapon rested in a plastic shopping bag under her seat.

She rounded a long curve in the road and slowed when she saw the cars stopped up ahead. At first she thought there might have been an accident, but then, as the traffic moved forward in a series of stops and starts, a large orange sign came into view. It read, unambiguously: STOP! POLICE CHECKPOINT.

Almost at the same time she saw the two policemen in their heavy navy blue greatcoats standing back to back in the middle of the road, desultorily checking the traffic flowing from either direction. A muddy police car was parked by the side of the road, and its blue light flashed intermittently. Just behind it was a long-wheelbase Land Rover painted a dull army green. A soldier wearing earphones sat by a radio in the back. Another soldier leaned against the door, his rifle held casually, his bored eyes scanning the long lines of cars and trucks.

A brief feeling of alarm came over Tina before training and common sense came to her aid. They were innocent tourists. They had committed no crime in Ireland. This was just a routine check that could not affect them. She tried not to think of the concealed Skorpions but had already noted that the majority of cars and trucks were being waved through unsearched.

She turned around and shook Dieter. He woke instantly.

"You think…?" she began, pointing ahead to the roadblock.

Dieter watched the policemen. In most cases there was no more than a brief discussion through the window and now and then the producing of documents. The policeman covering their side of the road was young, with an open, friendly face tanned a reddish brown by the wind. Sometimes he laughed. There was no urgency in his manner, no tension.

"A routine check, no more," said Dieter. "It is of no concern." He grinned sardonically at Tina. "Remember, we are harmless young lovers."