‘Glenlara’.”
He left out the part about the broken German code as a courtesy to G2.
“The Irish Intelligence put two and two together and went for Glenlara, Limerick, where there had been some trouble prior to, completely missing this Glenlara,” he fingered the map, drawing attention to the coastal village that sat uncomfortably close to the location of the Sunderland Flying boat, “And I will bet that right here sits an IRA force... and more besides.”
Dalziel got that message loud and clear.
Rafferty gave voice to his thoughts.
“Judas?”
“Bound to be, the bastards always stick together.”
“Judas? I don’t understand.”
Blackmore spoke for the rest of the group but his mind was already awakening a memory from a distant briefing.
“Judas Reynolds. A real bad man. He and Brown are bosom pals and where one is... well, the other won’t be far away. According to our intelligence, Judas is head of the IRA’s Mayo Brigade.”
They were all suddenly drawn to the map.
Dalziel was the only one who spoke.
“Glenlara, County Mayo.”
Fig#74 - Éire and the Atlantic 1945 [Full copy]
2142 hrs, Sunday 11th November, Glenlara, County Mayo, Éire.
There was a Mexican standoff, the Soviet Naval Marines with their superior firepower and training lined up in support of their officer, the more numerous IRA group murmuring and threatening their new allies.
Naval Captain-Lieutenant Ilya Nazarbayev stood before the bound and kneeling man, his Tokarev pistol pressed firmly against the sweating temple.
“ By the authority of my command and under Soviet Naval Regulations, I find you guilty of murder and I pass a sentence of death, to be carried out immediately.”
The growl rose again from IRA throats, one given more spine by the appearance of Judas Patrick Reynolds, striding purposefully through the snow, fresh from a successful visit to the nearby straipachs, although the young whore who serviced the sexual needs of the senior IRA man was declared strictly off-limits to anyone else and they would be at risk of losing their fleshier parts should they ignore Judas’ warning.
“ What the fuck do ya think ya’re fucking doing, Ilya?”
Nazarbayev ’s eyes never strayed, did not blink, the barrel of his automatic pressed so hard against Brown’s forehead as to sink into the flesh and leave a dent.
“ This...this... whatever it is... has been found guilty of the murder of five English airmen. I am about to carry out the sentence.”
“ Oh no ya fucking ain’t.”
Reynolds ’ Tommy gun was suddenly levelled at the Marine officer and the danger mounted for all, as both sides tried to support their leader with more aggressive posturing and sounds of encouragement.
“ Now, we’ve a situ-fucking-action here, Ilya. You isn’t gonna kill my man; that’s a fact now. You pull tha trigger and you’ll die, as will yer men and many of ma boys. That means no base for yer Navy, no more subs... fuck all, ma son. So put the pistol down, boyo.”
Judas Patrick was an animal, but he was no fool, and he saw resolve in the Marine officer’s eyes.
He tried another tack.
“I will deal with him maself. He’s not under your command... or your fucking regulations for that matter. He’s my man. I’ll deal with it.”
The words found a chink and entered into Yuri ’s thoughts and the Tokarev withdrew from the petrified man’s forehead.
“ That’s good, Ilya, that’s real good, boyo.”
Unusually for Judas, he made a difficult decision that proved a turning point.
“Ok ma Lads, knock it off now. Back to your beds. Show’s over.”
The IRA men reluctantly started to move away, each second bringing more relaxation to the watching Soviet naval infantry.
Nazarbayev withdrew his pistol completely.
“Stand down, men. Stand down.”
A few men from both sides remained, either out of curiosity or to watch and protect their leader. There was no need. The tension had
He left out the part about the broken German code as a courtesy to G2.
“The Irish Intelligence put two and two together and went for Glenlara, Limerick, where there had been some trouble prior to, completely missing this Glenlara,” he fingered the map, drawing attention to the coastal village that sat uncomfortably close to the location of the Sunderland Flying boat, “And I will bet that right here sits an IRA force... and more besides.”
Dalziel got that message loud and clear.
Rafferty gave voice to his thoughts.
“Judas?”
“Bound to be, the bastards always stick together.”
“Judas? I don’t understand.”
Blackmore spoke for the rest of the group but his mind was already awakening a memory from a distant briefing.
“Judas Reynolds. A real bad man. He and Brown are bosom pals and where one is... well, the other won’t be far away. According to our intelligence, Judas is head of the IRA’s Mayo Brigade.”
They were all suddenly drawn to the map.
Dalziel was the only one who spoke.
“Glenlara, County Mayo.”
Fig#74 - Éire and the Atlantic 1945 [Full copy]
2142 hrs, Sunday 11th November, Glenlara, County Mayo, Éire.
There was a Mexican standoff, the Soviet Naval Marines with their superior firepower and training lined up in support of their officer, the more numerous IRA group murmuring and threatening their new allies.
Naval Captain-Lieutenant Ilya Nazarbayev stood before the bound and kneeling man, his Tokarev pistol pressed firmly against the sweating temple.
“ By the authority of my command and under Soviet Naval Regulations, I find you guilty of murder and I pass a sentence of death, to be carried out immediately.”
The growl rose again from IRA throats, one given more spine by the appearance of Judas Patrick Reynolds, striding purposefully through the snow, fresh from a successful visit to the nearby straipachs, although the young whore who serviced the sexual needs of the senior IRA man was declared strictly off-limits to anyone else and they would be at risk of losing their fleshier parts should they ignore Judas’ warning.
“ What the fuck do ya think ya’re fucking doing, Ilya?”
Nazarbayev ’s eyes never strayed, did not blink, the barrel of his automatic pressed so hard against Brown’s forehead as to sink into the flesh and leave a dent.
“ This...this... whatever it is... has been found guilty of the murder of five English airmen. I am about to carry out the sentence.”
“ Oh no ya fucking ain’t.”
Reynolds ’ Tommy gun was suddenly levelled at the Marine officer and the danger mounted for all, as both sides tried to support their leader with more aggressive posturing and sounds of encouragement.
“ Now, we’ve a situ-fucking-action here, Ilya. You isn’t gonna kill my man; that’s a fact now. You pull tha trigger and you’ll die, as will yer men and many of ma boys. That means no base for yer Navy, no more subs... fuck all, ma son. So put the pistol down, boyo.”
Judas Patrick was an animal, but he was no fool, and he saw resolve in the Marine officer’s eyes.
He tried another tack.
“I will deal with him maself. He’s not under your command... or your fucking regulations for that matter. He’s my man. I’ll deal with it.”
The words found a chink and entered into Yuri ’s thoughts and the Tokarev withdrew from the petrified man’s forehead.
“ That’s good, Ilya, that’s real good, boyo.”
Unusually for Judas, he made a difficult decision that proved a turning point.
“Ok ma Lads, knock it off now. Back to your beds. Show’s over.”
The IRA men reluctantly started to move away, each second bringing more relaxation to the watching Soviet naval infantry.
Nazarbayev withdrew his pistol completely.
“Stand down, men. Stand down.”
A few men from both sides remained, either out of curiosity or to watch and protect their leader. There was no need. The tension had
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