‘Jesus! What sort of a man?’
‘I dunno. About your age. Quite scruffy.’
‘Irish?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘What did he want?’
‘He said, were you the man who’s mad after the fishing?’ She put on an Ulster accent, rather well.
‘Oh — right. It was that guy from the pub, then.’ I remembered I’d talked to a man in the Spanish Galleon about the possibility of going out in one of the local boats — but I hadn’t made any arrangement.
‘He was wearing earrings,’ Tracy said.
‘Not my fellow, then. Someone else.’
‘Don’t look so worried.’
‘Listen!’ I stood up. ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’
‘What — now?’
‘Yes, right away.’
‘Why? You keep telling me this is a safe area.’
‘Yes, but now the bastards have found me.’
‘Oh, Geordie — come on! Your imagination’s running away from you. The man was friendly enough. Relax. Sit down and have a drink.’
I sat down again, and took a sip from the glass of red wine she’d poured for me. But I wasn’t feeling relaxed in the slightest.
‘What did he say?’
‘He asked how long we were staying.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘To the end of the week.’
‘Then what?’
‘He said he’d call back tomorrow.’
‘Hell!’
The inquiry could have been genuine, but the conversation in the pub had been so casual it didn’t seem likely. Or was Tracy right? Was I becoming the victim of my own fantasies, seeing enemies everywhere?
Once you’re in that state of mind, getting out of it is very difficult, and I couldn’t shake it off. I did settle enough to decide we’d stay in the cottage that night, but first I took two of the wooden chairs from the kitchen and jammed one at an angle under the handle of the front door, the other at the back. I also dug the Luger out of my day-sack and kept it handy, wherever I was. Tracy thought I was overreacting, I know, but she saw how serious I was, and didn’t say much.
After supper I said, ‘Look — I’ve got a plan. You don’t have to go along with it. It’s up to you.’
‘Go on, then.’
‘They’ve seen me here. They’ve seen you with me. Someone has. Therefore, the quicker we get you back to England, the better. In the morning we’ll pull out of here, back to Belfast, and I’ll put you on the plane.’
She reached across the corner of the table and put her hand over mine. Her eyes were swimming.
‘I’m sorry, love.’ I said, ‘But that’s the safest.’
Still she looked at me.
‘There’s something else,’ I went on. ‘I think you should take Tim with you. If you will.’
That was too much. She burst into tears, head down on the table. I held on tightly to her hand.
‘Don’t cry. As I said, you don’t have to.’
‘No, no!’ she said fiercely, sitting bolt upright. ‘It isn’t that. It’s the opposite. I want to have Tim with me. But I want you too. I want all of us to be together, somewhere safe.’
The night passed without incident, but in the morning I inspected the car with the utmost care, checking the wheels for any sign of a trigger device, and lying flat on my back in the road to wriggle underneath and scan for booby traps. When I found nothing, I wondered again whether I wasn’t creating a drama about nothing.
We closed down the cottage and handed the key back to the neighbour, making up some excuse for leaving early. Then, from a call-box in the next village, I phoned my in-laws to warn them that we were on our way back. I didn’t try to explain that Tracy was going to take Tim to England with her — better to leave that one until we could talk it through in person. Over the phone, our decision might have sounded like an insult — as though we didn’t trust Meg to look after the boy properly.
As soon as we knew we’d got tickets on the afternoon plane, Tracy packed up Tim’s kit and stuck it out in the hall. Then we all had a cheerful lunch, with everybody in good spirits. Far from there being any tears, Tim was thrilled by the prospect of another flight, and of going back to Keeper’s Cottage. Looking at him, and thinking how like Kath he was becoming, I reckoned he had inherited something of her steady nature: as long as people were kind to him, he didn’t seem to mind who he was with. And of course Tracy had been wonderful with him from the start. It may have been wishful thinking, but I honestly felt that he was already seeing her as his mother.
With only three days of leave left, it was hardly worth my going to England. On my way to the airport I promised not to go chasing after personal enemies any more. From now on, I said, I’d just keep my head down.
It was two-thirty when we reached the terminal, for the three-fifteen flight. I helped them check in, and waved goodbye as they disappeared into the security area, with promises I’d phone that evening to make sure they were safe home.
As soon as they had gone, I hustled back to the short- term car-park. I’m afraid I’d told Tracy that I was going to turn the hire-car in and get one of the guys in the troop to come out and lift me back to camp. In fact I never went near the car-hire office. I drove the red Datsun out of the airport and headed straight for Ballyconvil.
NINE
I reached the forestry gate without incident. This was later than either of my previous visits, and by the time I’d parked the car in its usual spot dusk had thickened among the trees which didn’t worry me — if Farrell ran true to form, he wouldn’t be home for at least another hour and a half. On the way over I’d bought a big steak from a village supermarket and stopped in a lay-by to doctor it. I slit it open to form a sandwich and gave it a good filling of barbiturate powder.
I’d decided the best option was to wait for full darkness, then cut through the wire on the bank behind the house. Once into the compound, I’d lie up by the back corner of the building, within four or five yards of where the Merc should come to rest. If the wind direction made it possible, I’d leave the dog alone. If he detected my presence I’d have to throw him the meat. When I fired the shots to drop Farrell, the dog might come for me, but if necessary I could drop him too.
I just hoped that the boss didn’t come back with a whole troop of admirers. The snag about the Luger was that I only had a single magazine, holding eight rounds. Once I’d fired them, it would take maybe twenty seconds to reload. If Farrell had that bird with him it would be tough on her, but that was just too bad. With the shooting over, I’d be back through the fence and away.
If the dog came for me at that point, I could still try the meat — and if he ignored it I could whack him with a bullet.
All this was going through my head as I locked up the car and did a mental check: pistol, spare rounds, knife, torch, binoculars, wire-cutters, meat. With everything either about my person or in my day-sack, there was no reason to wait any longer. But at the last moment I realized I was shivering with excitement or anticipation, or both. I said to myself, ‘Chill out.’
Taking a deep breath, I set off along the forest track between the high, dark trees. The wind was light and in my face; as far as I could tell from this distance, that meant it should be blowing from the house to the hill. That was good.
I was nearly at the forestry fence before I sensed something wrong. Suddenly I got a strong feeling I wasn’t alone. I stopped. I hadn’t heard or seen anything, but a message had reached me somehow. I stood still, the blood pounding in my ears. Sniffing the air, I smelt nothing except the clean breath of the spruce. My normal senses produced no evidence of trouble, but my sixth sense was saying ‘Look out!’ loud and clear.