“The weapon fires at a rate of six hundred rounds per minute, which is extremely effective in infantry assaults and adds immensely to any combat unit’s collective firepower.”
“I’ll grant y’ we could use a few o’ them and no mistake,” Kelly conceded, trying to appear aloof but mostly sounding a little shaken, and Thorne could clearly see the gleam in the man’s eyes at the thought what the IRA could do if equipped with Kalashnikovs.
“Well, Mister Kelly, this afternoon we’re going to have a chat about that…” and with those words, Thorne’s eyes positively glowed with anticipation and the spectacle of the event.
Later that afternoon, as Kransky and Eileen continued to go over improved weaponry and practice out on their makeshift firing range, Kelly and Thorne sat alone around one of the tables in the Officers Mess with scotch in their glasses. He’d borrowed a pack of Camels from Bob Green and offered them to the Irishman, who’d eagerly accepted, not having been allowed cigarettes while interned at The Curragh or in prison.
“Is this the point where you tell me what you want in exchange for my freedom?” Kelly asked with relaxed confidence, puffing luxuriously on the smoke and sipping at the whiskey.
“You’re assuming what I’m going to ask is beyond you before I’ve even requested it,” Thorne pointed out, noting the tone in the man’s voice. “Surely you could at least hear me out first?”
“Well, what could you ask me, other than to betray my brothers or The Republic in some way?” Kelly shrugged, reasoning logically with what little information he had at his disposal. “You came looking for me in particular at The Castle, sure enough, but if you know me then you should also know I’ll never betray me own people.”
“Actually, I only wanted to speak to you about the Germans to begin with,” Thorne stated without emotion, the unexpected remark surprising Kelly somewhat.
“Now what do I have to do with the bloody Germans?”
“Not a lot personally, but I do know the IRA’s been trying to get financial and material aid from Germany for some time now, particularly since the war began.”
“No idea what yer talkin’ about,” Kelly denied flatly.
“Really…?” Thorne’s asked with a faint smile. “So you wouldn’t know anything about an Oskar Pfaus, who arrived in Ireland around February of 1939 and, at the behest of whom, Seamus O’Donovan ended up going to Germany in return to try and secure aid?” That remark unsettled Kelly a great deaclass="underline" although Thorne could have come by that information by normal means, the conviction with which he spoke suggested otherwise. “I suppose you wouldn’t know much then, about Hermann Goertz either… dropped into Ireland in May of this year to follow up on the IRA’s Plan Kathleen — the German/IRA invasion of Northern Ireland — and still on the run from authorities, at one point actually hiding at O’Donovan’s house in Shankill, in South Dublin?” He gave the stunned volunteer a lopsided grin. “If you haven’t heard about either of them then I must have the wrong man here. You are the Eoin Kelly who held a position under Seán O’Brien, the Army Council’s Intelligence Officer at the time you were arrested… under the then Chief of Staff, Michael Fitzpatrick?” He didn’t worry about giving Kelly a chance to speak.
“Commander Donelson really doesn’t like you, or the IRA, Eoin. When she was a little girl, her father was stationed with the British Paras in Northern Ireland. The men who kidnapped him weren’t your average volunteers — they really went to town on him — and by the time his troop rescued him, there wasn’t a lot left of the father she’d known. Almost would’ve been better to not have found him at all, although I doubt she’d see it that way…” He went silent for a moment before continuing. “So don’t condemn her if she’s less than sympathetic to you or ‘The Cause’.” He paused and took a breath. “And me…?” He shrugged. “Well I’m a different story altogether. You see, Eoin, I don’t really care about the IRA one way or the other, per se. I could give the British Government — or Leinster House, for that matter — all sorts of really useful information regarding high-placed IRA volunteers… or ammo dumps around the country — those that are actually left around the country — but that’d be no help to me at all or, ultimately, any help to anyone else, including you and the IRA.” He took a breath. “You saw the capabilities of the weapons we showed you out there today. I can see to it you get hundreds of them — maybe thousands — and ammunition aplenty to go with them… maybe.”
There was a long silence as the pair locked eyes, each daring the other to break away first and neither faltering. Kelly thought long and hard before beginning to speak.
“When I was a young man, I went to a football match at Croke Park,” Kelly began slowly, choosing his words with care. “The Tans arrived during the game and locked the doors on us, stopping’ anyone from getting out. They started firing into the crowd… an unarmed and defenceless crowd, mark ye…” He met Thorne’s gaze with one as cold and hard as steel. “Twelve people died that day and another sixty were wounded. You sit there wearin’ the uniform of the bastards that’ve been Ireland’s bane for as long as we’ve had a history and tell me you want to ‘help’ me… want to ‘help’ Ireland? How’s the Empire ever helped Ireland, save for crushin’ her under its boot heel and killin’ her men, women and children?” He looked away for a moment as he considered Donelson’s story. “I’m real sorry for what happened to your lady friend’s father — I truly am — but I’ve seen too much of the same done to my own people at the hands of the Tans and other bastards just as bad to cry all that much about it.” He gave a faint smile. “You’ve got me here ‘cause the Germans have put the wind up the British, and no mistake. You’re worried they’ll make a deal with the IRA, and you’ll have to be watching under your own beds for trouble. Well y’ should be scared o’ the Germans — very fookin’ scared! You can offer me all the guns and other bollocks y’ like, but in a month or three, like as much there won’t be a British Empire to stand over my country anymore.” It was Kelly’s turn to shrug. “And y’ can rest assured, I’ll have a drink in yer honour, Mister Thorne… or your memory.”
The look on Thorne’s face was one of controlled anger, but the Irishman knew he’d finally got under the officer’s defences; something that’d been his intention all along. He was deeply offended the Australian had thought him so easily bought out, and had set out to retaliate with his own words.
“Yes, Eoin, I am scared of the Germans… I’m scared shitless!” Thorne admitted coldly, refusing to lose his temper as he took a deep breath. “They’re coming across the Channel sometime soon, and there’s sweet fuck-all Britain can do to stop them, that’s the truth. But have a think about that for a moment…” He took another breath. “You know the Yanks are implicitly in support of Britain, if not to the point of declaring war on Germany right at this moment, and I know that’s had a detrimental effect on the IRA’s fundraising as a result. Now it’s as may be that perhaps an invasion of Great Britain might just be the straw that broke the camel’s back, and maybe the US finally does declare war, or at least seems likely to. What are we left with? Hitler controls all of Europe, including Britain, and the United States can’t really do anything about it even if they wanted to, being thousands of miles across the Atlantic Ocean and all… except…” he paused for dramatic effect “…except… just a few miles off the coast of Germany’s newest acquisition — England — there’s this neutral and militarily weak country that’s the only possible launching place for an American invasion or counter-strike, should they desire to do so.