Devlin handed her the bag. “On your way, girl.”
THERE WAS A mechanic working on a car in the garage, a small man in a tweed suit and cap sitting in a glass office. He got up and came out.
“Patrick Murphy,” he said. “And what can I do for you, Miss?”
“I’ve been touring with some friends, but they’re going back to Belfast. They dropped me here because someone in Warrenpoint said you hired cars.”
“I do, indeed. How long would it be for?”
“Two or three days. I want to roam the Down coast. Just take time off. Can you help?”
“Well, it’s not the fancy stuff I can manage, but I’ve a Renault saloon over here if you’ve nothing against the French.”
“Nothing at all.”
She followed him across the garage and had a look. “Newly checked and the tank is full,” he told her.
“Wonderful.” She embellished her story a little. “When I come back, I’ll be wanting to return to Belfast.”
“No problem. I run a taxi service. We’ll take you to Warrenpoint. You can catch the train. Now, if you’ll give me your licence, we’ll get on with it. How would you be paying, by the way?”
She opened her purse, took out the licence, and checked her cards. “Would American Express be all right?”
He smiled. “Well, as they say on the television, that will do nicely.”
SHE DROVE OUT of the garage as Barry and Sollazo walked toward the station wagon. She pulled in behind the Toyota and briefly punched the horn. Dillon turned, raised a hand, and gestured her forward. She pulled out between the trucks as the station wagon turned into the road and followed it, and the Toyota came on behind.
SCOTSTOWN WAS DESOLATE in the rain, thirty or forty houses, the jetty, a dozen or so fishing boats in the harbor all enveloped in a damp, clinging mist. There was a wood at the top of the hill overlooking the village. Hannah pulled in at the side of the road looking down and saw the station wagon turn into the car park of the public house. The Toyota stopped behind her and Dillon and Devlin got out.
“A long time since I was here,” Dillon said. “But I was right, though. That’s the Loyalist down there, and if Kevin Stringer’s still there, he’s Jack Barry’s man.”
“Let’s take a look at the harbor.” Devlin raised the binoculars. “Not much, just fishing boats. No, wait a minute. There’s some sort of motor launch anchored out there. Thirty- or forty-footer, painted gray. Looks like serious business to me. Take a look.”
Dillon peered through the binoculars. “You could be right.”
“I’ve got to be.”
Hannah took the binoculars from Dillon and checked for herself. She nodded. “I agree, Liam, but what this needs is a closer look. I’ll go and play the tourist. I could do with a nice cup of tea and a sandwich, anyway. I’ll try the Loyalist.”
“While we starve?” Dillon said.
“That’s just your hard luck, Dillon,” she told him, went to the Renault, got in, and drove away.
IN THE BACK parlour of the Loyalist, Kevin Stringer embraced Barry. “Jack, I can’t tell you how great it is to see you again.”
“And you, Kevin. This is my associate, Mr. Sollazo from New York. You’ve found a boat?”
“Indeed I have. Avenger, a motor launch a friend of mine up the coast bought for the shark fishing only the sharks went away.”
Sollazo laughed out loud. “That I like.”
“How far would you be going?” Stringer asked.
“Rathlin Island,” Barry said. “Does anyone live there these days?”
“Not in years.”
“How far?”
“Only three or four miles.”
“Good, we can take a look.”
“Fine,” Stringer said. “But come and have a drink and something to eat.”
“So you’re doing food these days?” Barry said.
“We all need to make a living, Jack, and times are changing with the peace process. Tourists flooding back, Americans like Mr. Sollazo. I have seven rooms here. In the summer I was full most weeks. But come and eat. Best Irish stew in the country.”
THERE WERE A few regulars in the bar having a drink. Barry and Sollazo sat at the table in the bow window, ate rabbit pie and drank Guinness. On the other side of the bar, Hannah Bernstein did a good nervous act to the barman.
“Could I just have sandwiches?”
Kevin Stringer moved in fast and smiled, at his most expansive. “Anything you’d like.”
“Well, salad would be fine,” she said.
“No problem. Touring, are you?”
“That’s right.”
“And to drink?”
“A vodka and tonic would be nice.”
“Coming up. Just you sit yourself down.”
There were some newspapers on a stand by the door. She took one and sat at a table at the far end of the room from the window. Barry had his back to her so it was Sollazo who noticed. Very nice, he thought. It was a strange quirk, but he’d always liked women who wore glasses.
AN HOUR LATER, Sollazo, Barry, and Stringer went down to the harbor. Stringer led the way to the slipway and a green inflatable with an outboard motor.
“Here we go,” he said.
Sollazo and Barry climbed in, Stringer followed and cast off. He started the outboard and they moved away. Hannah, wandering down from the pub, watched them go.
FROM THE HILL Devlin followed their progress through the binoculars. “I was right,” he said with some satisfaction. “They’re closing on the boat that looked promising.” He nodded. “Now they’re boarding. Have a look.”
Dillon did, watching them board, then swung to the jetty and focused on Hannah Bernstein. “Take care, girl dear, take care,” he said softly.
ON BOARD AVENGER, Barry and Sollazo followed Stringer as he showed them around. “One cabin, two bunks, the saloon with benches that allow for another two bunks, galley, toilet, and that’s it.” They ended up in the wheelhouse.
Sollazo said, “It seems as if it’s seen better days.”
“Top show isn’t everything. It looks shabby, but the hull is steel and by Akerboon. Penta petrol engine, twin screws. Good for twenty-five knots. She’s got a depth sounder, radar, automatic steering. Everything you need.”
Barry turned to Sollazo. “Are you happy?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Barry nodded and said to Stringer, “Fine, Kevin. We’ll unload the station wagon in your garage. You put the stuff on board later. We’ll return to Dublin. We’ll be back before noon tomorrow to put to sea.”
“That’s fine, Jack.”
They went to the rail and Sollazo dropped into the inflatable. Stringer said eagerly, “It’s important, is it, Jack? I mean for the movement? The great days back?”
“I know what you mean, Kevin,” Barry said. “To hell with peace.”
HANNAH PULLED IN beside the Toyota at the top of the hill and got out. “They came back from the boat and went to the pub.”
Dillon had the binoculars raised. “The station wagon’s just leaving. No matter, only one road they can go. We’ll catch them.”
“So, if they’re leaving they’ll be coming back,” Devlin said.
“And I think I should be here to receive them,” Hannah said. “Have you got a bag of any description in your car, Liam?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Devlin opened the boot of the Toyota and produced a large holdall. “Empty, I’m afraid.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ll book into the Loyalist and play the tourist. They’ll be back.”
“And we with them,” Dillon said.
Devlin put his hands on her shoulders. “Take care. We’d hate to lose you.”