up out of the blue?”
“Course I do. The car bombing. Peter Flynn.”
“Well, I’ve heard from them again, a different Master, that they want us to get rid of Tod Flynn, the brother. A damn Provo who was in the Maze same time as me and Frank.”
The door opened and Terry appeared in his underpants, with acoffee and tray that he put down beside her. She waved him away and he went out. “So what’s the score, Da?”
“One hundred thousand dollars down and another hundred to come if we fix Tod Flynn and the girl, his niece.”
“Is that necessary?”
“He said she was a serious threat and if we didn’t want to do it, he’d go elsewhere. He only gave us three days to make up our mind, so we’re going today. It’s a horse farm in Drumgoole well over the border in the republic. Three or four hours’ drive if we’re lucky. Do I have your blessing?”
“You always have that, Da, and this is a big one, so take care.”
“One thing—believe it or not, but Tod Flynn’s cousin is Sean Dillon.”
“God in heaven, does that Provo bastard have anything to do with this?”
“Not that I know of, but I imagine he wouldn’t be pleased with what we’re about to do. I’ll stay in touch.”
He was gone, and she sat there thinking about it. A big payday, no doubt about that, and the girl’s involvement didn’t bother her in the slightest. The door opened and Terry entered.
“Everything okay?”
“Couldn’t be better, so get back in bed and find something useful to do.”
—
When Dillon reported to the computer room just before nine, he was wearing a dark blue Bugatti anorak, weatherproof country slacks in the same color, paratroop boots, and a tweed cap, Irish style.
Roper said, “You should offer yourself out to do whiskey adverts in the better magazines.”
“Very funny,” Dillon told him. “But the kind of country we’re visiting, and in this kind of weather, can be very unforgiving. I’ll need transport, so you’ll have to find me a driver.”
“Sara called in. She’s on her way now in your Mini. You’re carrying?”
“Of course.”
“Canvas holdall by the door. I spoke to the armorer. You’ll find two AK-47s, the silenced versions with the folding stock.”
“Do you think we’re going to war, then?” Dillon asked.
“I’d say Flynn’s too sensible to start one. All he’s got to do is stand his ground. After all, there’s nothing he and Kelly can be charged with.”
Dillon shrugged. “But we know differently, and no harm in making that clear.”
Sara walked in, wearing a French beret and a Gucci coat in black leather. She looked fresh and alive, as if last night hadn’t happened.
“I overslept, and Sadie left me to it. We’d better get a move on. Where’s Ferguson?”
“Breakfast at Number Ten,” Roper told her. “Did you get my message?”
“It was the sound of my laptop receiving it that woke me up. I must say it makes things even more interesting.”
“So let’s get moving.” Dillon was impatient. “Billy will be wondering where the hell we are.”
“Actually, Billy and Harry will be wondering,” Roper told him. “Apparently, the old sod read the stuff I sent Billy and decided he should join the party himself.”
“And what does Ferguson think about that?” Sara asked.
“Why bother the man and him breakfasting with the Prime Minister?” Dillon demanded.
Roper smiled wickedly. “Exactly, so off you go and enjoy yourselves. I’ll give him the good news at a more appropriate time.”
—
They found Harry and Billy waiting in the small departure lounge at Farley having a coffee. Billy, like Dillon, wore a tweed cap but a black bomber jacket and jeans. His uncle had preferred a brown county suit of Harris tweed, a Burberry mac, and a rain hat.
“Why, Harry, the complete country gentleman,” Dillon said. “I’d never have believed it.”
“Don’t mock,” Sara told him, and kissed Harry on the cheek. “I think you look
“Course I do. The car bombing. Peter Flynn.”
“Well, I’ve heard from them again, a different Master, that they want us to get rid of Tod Flynn, the brother. A damn Provo who was in the Maze same time as me and Frank.”
The door opened and Terry appeared in his underpants, with acoffee and tray that he put down beside her. She waved him away and he went out. “So what’s the score, Da?”
“One hundred thousand dollars down and another hundred to come if we fix Tod Flynn and the girl, his niece.”
“Is that necessary?”
“He said she was a serious threat and if we didn’t want to do it, he’d go elsewhere. He only gave us three days to make up our mind, so we’re going today. It’s a horse farm in Drumgoole well over the border in the republic. Three or four hours’ drive if we’re lucky. Do I have your blessing?”
“You always have that, Da, and this is a big one, so take care.”
“One thing—believe it or not, but Tod Flynn’s cousin is Sean Dillon.”
“God in heaven, does that Provo bastard have anything to do with this?”
“Not that I know of, but I imagine he wouldn’t be pleased with what we’re about to do. I’ll stay in touch.”
He was gone, and she sat there thinking about it. A big payday, no doubt about that, and the girl’s involvement didn’t bother her in the slightest. The door opened and Terry entered.
“Everything okay?”
“Couldn’t be better, so get back in bed and find something useful to do.”
—
When Dillon reported to the computer room just before nine, he was wearing a dark blue Bugatti anorak, weatherproof country slacks in the same color, paratroop boots, and a tweed cap, Irish style.
Roper said, “You should offer yourself out to do whiskey adverts in the better magazines.”
“Very funny,” Dillon told him. “But the kind of country we’re visiting, and in this kind of weather, can be very unforgiving. I’ll need transport, so you’ll have to find me a driver.”
“Sara called in. She’s on her way now in your Mini. You’re carrying?”
“Of course.”
“Canvas holdall by the door. I spoke to the armorer. You’ll find two AK-47s, the silenced versions with the folding stock.”
“Do you think we’re going to war, then?” Dillon asked.
“I’d say Flynn’s too sensible to start one. All he’s got to do is stand his ground. After all, there’s nothing he and Kelly can be charged with.”
Dillon shrugged. “But we know differently, and no harm in making that clear.”
Sara walked in, wearing a French beret and a Gucci coat in black leather. She looked fresh and alive, as if last night hadn’t happened.
“I overslept, and Sadie left me to it. We’d better get a move on. Where’s Ferguson?”
“Breakfast at Number Ten,” Roper told her. “Did you get my message?”
“It was the sound of my laptop receiving it that woke me up. I must say it makes things even more interesting.”
“So let’s get moving.” Dillon was impatient. “Billy will be wondering where the hell we are.”
“Actually, Billy and Harry will be wondering,” Roper told him. “Apparently, the old sod read the stuff I sent Billy and decided he should join the party himself.”
“And what does Ferguson think about that?” Sara asked.
“Why bother the man and him breakfasting with the Prime Minister?” Dillon demanded.
Roper smiled wickedly. “Exactly, so off you go and enjoy yourselves. I’ll give him the good news at a more appropriate time.”
—
They found Harry and Billy waiting in the small departure lounge at Farley having a coffee. Billy, like Dillon, wore a tweed cap but a black bomber jacket and jeans. His uncle had preferred a brown county suit of Harris tweed, a Burberry mac, and a rain hat.
“Why, Harry, the complete country gentleman,” Dillon said. “I’d never have believed it.”
“Don’t mock,” Sara told him, and kissed Harry on the cheek. “I think you look
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