Midnight Runner - Jack Higgins [76]
14
B OTH VEHICLES HAD GONE WHEN DILLON AND THE OTHER two got back to the pub. "In we go," he said. "And we'll have a drink at least."
Four old men were sitting in the corner drinking Guinness and laughing together. The red-haired young man who'd been having breakfast with his two friends was back in the window seat, also drinking Guinness and reading a newspaper.
Murphy was at the bar. "What's your pleasure, gentlemen?"
"Same as before," Dillon said. "I'll be back in a minute."
He went along the corridor, opened the snug door, and was out again in seconds, returning to the bar. They sat at a table and Murphy brought the drinks over.
"Will you be having lunch then?"
"No, thanks," Dillon said. "We've decided to get back to."
The red-haired man swallowed the rest of his Guinness and left. Quinn said, "You got the recorder?"
"Yes, everything's fine."
"Great, we can listen to it in the Shogun."
"If we get a chance."
Billy said, "What do you mean?"
"Keep your shooter ready is what I mean, and you, Senator. Come on, drink up and let's get moving."
He paid the bill and said to Murphy, "Thanks, old buddy, see you again."
As he got behind the wheel, Billy said, "What makes you think we could be in trouble?"
"Just a bad feeling about those three fellas earlier. I could be wrong, but I've told you before, this is Indian territory."
Billy was beside him and Quinn was in the rear seat. "What do we do?"
"If we're stopped, I'll keep my hands on the wheel to make them feel good. You and Billy have your guns ready under your coats, and get out on the passenger side so the Shogun's between them and you."
A black Ford car appeared from behind them, the man with red hair at the wheel.
"Why am I always right?" Dillon asked.
At that moment, a red Toyota skidded out of a farm track up ahead and braked to a halt, blocking the road. Dillon got close, quite deliberately, as he braked. The one with the beard slid from behind the wheel, and his passenger, wearing a reefer coat, produced a .38 Smith & Wesson.
"Can I help you?" Dillon asked.
"Yeah, by turning out your pockets and producing well-filled wallets. This is Real IRA country, boyo. As enthusiastic members, we're always in the market for funds for the organization."
"Why, that sounds like highway robbery to me," Dillon told him.
"Exactly. Out of the car."
The red-haired man had eased from the Ford and took an old Webley from his pocket. "Come on," he called.
Billy and Quinn got out, each with a hand under his coat. "Hands on heads," the bearded man shouted.
"Now," Dillon called, and reached for the Walther tucked against the small of his back under his coat, drew it, and rammed the muzzle against the bearded man's ear and fired.
Billy's hand came up, his arm extended, and he shot the man in the reefer coat in the left hand. The man screamed and dropped his Smith & Wesson. The red-haired man, totally shocked and covered by Quinn's Walther, stepped back in alarm, lowering his gun. Quinn froze, and his hand and the Walther shook. Seizing the opportunity, the red-haired man's arm swung up and he shot Quinn in the right shoulder, sending him staggering. Billy half-turned, his Walther extended, and shot the man through the right thigh. He lurched back and fell over.
Dillon slid from behind the wheel, went round the Shogun, got an arm around Quinn, picked up the Walther he'd dropped, and put it in his pocket. "You take the wheel, Billy. I'll see to the Senator."
He opened the rear door of the Shogun, found the army medical kit, and put it in beside Quinn, who was clutching his shoulder.
Dillon squatted down beside the bearded man, who was holding a handkerchief to his shattered ear, his face twisted in agony.
"I'd say you and your friends need some medical assistance, old buddy," he said, still maintaining his American persona. "I could call the RUC for you, but I don't think you'd like that."
He got in the back of the Shogun. "Move it, Billy, and just keep going."
He got Quinn's jacket off and then unbuttoned the shirt, eased it down,