Cry of the Hunter - Jack Higgins [8]
A vague feeling of alarm moved inside Fallon and suddenly he was afraid. The boy looked into his face steadily, the light smile firmly fixed on his mouth. After a few moments of silence Fallon relaxed and laughed. ‘It’s a proper bloody mess from the sound of it.’
Murphy nodded. ‘What can you expect? They’ve got Rogan and they don’t intend to lose him again. If ever there was a man they wanted to hang it’s him.’
Something in the tone of the boy’s voice made Fallon look at him sharply. ‘You don’t like Rogan much, do you?’
The smile on the boy’s face slipped a little. He forced it back into place. ‘He’s the Chief in Ulster and that’s enough for me.’
For a moment Fallon gazed searchingly at him and then he smiled and said, ‘Come on. We can’t stay here any longer. The workmen will be arriving at any minute.’
They moved away through the heavy rain, down towards the main street, and Fallon thought about the situation. It didn’t look good. In fact, it couldn’t have been worse. ‘Have they moved extra police in?’ he said.
The boy shook his head. ‘Not that I’ve noticed,’ he said. ‘Some detectives from Belfast arrived last night. They’ll be Rogan’s escort.’
‘How many?’ Fallon asked.
Murphy frowned. ‘Four, I think, but there may be more. I can’t be sure.’
Fallon nodded slowly. ‘No four would be about right. If they intend to do this thing quietly they won’t want a six-foot peeler at every carriage window advertising the fact.’
They turned into the main road and Murphy said, ‘I don’t see how you can get him out, Mr. Fallon.’
Fallon laughed shortly. ‘Neither do I at the moment,’ he said. ‘Still, I’ve got all day to think of something.’ He smiled suddenly at Murphy and said, ‘Perhaps it’s a good thing you followed me after all.’ The boy’s face split into a wide grin and Fallon continued. ‘Whatever happens I’m going to need a car.’ He took out his wallet and extracted ten pounds. He handed the money to Murphy and said, ‘Can you hire one all right?’
The boy nodded. ‘Dead easy. Will you be needing anything else?’
‘Such as?’ Fallon said.
‘Oh, explosives or arms. There’s a load of stuff the polis didn’t get to. It’s in a safe place.’
Fallon nodded slowly. ‘I’ll have a look at it later,’ he said. ‘For the time being all I want you to do is get the car and have it ready and waiting.’ He thought for a moment and added, ‘You can get me a ticket for the train as well. I don’t want to hang round that station too much.’
‘A ticket to Belfast?’ Murphy said.
Fallon shook his head. ‘No, somewhere along the line.’ He laughed. ‘No sense in wasting money.’ He looked out into the rain and up to the sky. ‘Looks as if this lot’s with us for the day.’ He turned suddenly and clapped the boy on the shoulder. ‘I’ll meet you here at one o’clock.’
An expression of surprise showed on Murphy’s face. ‘But what will you do till then, Mr. Fallon? It won’t be safe for you on the streets.’
Fallon smiled. ‘I’m going to visit an old friend.’ His face hardened and he moved close to the boy and said, ‘Don’t try to follow me. This is someone I don’t want to be involved with the Organization. Do you understand?’
The smile disappeared from the boy’s face and he sobered up immediately. ‘Anything you say, Mr. Fallon.’ He smiled again. ‘One o’clock then. I won’t be late.’ He plunged into the rain and walked quickly away up the street.
For several minutes Fallon stood in the doorway watching until the boy had disappeared from sight and then he pulled up his collar and ventured into the rain himself.
He turned into a side street that took him away from the centre of the town. He twisted and turned through the back streets until he was completely satisfied that he was not being followed. Finally he came out into a quiet square that was surrounded on each side by terraces of tall, narrow Georgian houses. In one corner of the square there was a high wall in which was set an old, heavy timbered gate from which green paint peeled in long strips. He opened the gate and went inside.
He found himself in a walled garden. The place was a wilderness of sprawling