Redemption - Leon Uris [318]
“Bastards,” Theo said. “If we alert anyone in Kilorglin the Brits will suspect someone in the Castle tipped them off.” He smacked his fist into his palm. “We might just have to let them level the place to keep our source secure.”
“Bad show,” Rory said.
“August,” Atty said. “That’s about the time we’ll be getting a decision on Sir Roger Casement. Brodhead’s subtle way of turning the screws.”
“So?” Rory asked.
“So?” Atty echoed.
“So,” Theo said, “it all seems to add up to one thing, doesn’t it?”
“Brodhead has to be assassinated,” Rory said.
“So say we all,” Theo said.
“No,” Atty said, “I’m afraid of British reprisals.”
“Mother, he’s going to murder countless Irishmen and rip down all of the country he can get his hands on. Will reprisals be that much worse?”
“On the other hand, Brodhead’s being killed or disappearing just might cause the British to reflect for a moment or two. It could have the opposite effect. It could just put a stop to the wanton destruction and killing,” Rory said.
“Rory might be right, Mom. It’s a calculated risk we have to take.”
“Jesus, I hate assassinations,” Atty said.
“If there is any such thing as a righteous one, Brodhead is it,” Theo said.
“If Brodhead is killed, suspicion comes your way very quickly, Rory. You are Conor Larkin’s blood,” she said. “He was the most courageous man I’ve ever known, but he had a terminal problem about not being able to execute anybody, one on one. It’s one thing to kill Turks in battle. Have you ever put a pistol to a man’s head and shot him?”
Rory’s mind went back to a hot day in a dry stream bed in Gallipoli…reaching for his pistol as Dr. Calvin Norman lay prostrate from the heat…leveling the gun at the man’s temple. His Uncle Conor had come to him in that instant and told him not to do it.
“You see, Rory, close as you are to Brodhead, you can’t do it without walking to the gallows, yourself. The only alternative is life on the run for the rest of your days. In fact, I’m on edge every day you stay in the Castle.”
They sipped their tea, Rory and Theo loudly, and Atty as though drinking from an empty cup on the stage, lady-like.
“Get a grip,” Rory said, abruptly coming to his feet. “We’ve an ally who knows who I am and is just as anxious to see Brodhead dead—in fact, even more anxious. She has access to him, can get him alone, anywhere. She will be the shooter. She needs an ally to dispose of the body. This will give us the opportunity of having Brodhead simply disappear from the face of the earth, making it more difficult for the British to justify reprisals.”
“Who is she?” Atty asked, expecting a spurned mistress out for revenge. Too much could go wrong with that sort of person.
“It’s Caroline Hubble,” Rory said.
“Are you mad?” Atty cried. “She can’t be trusted!”
“If she can’t be trusted, why hasn’t she picked up the telephone and turned me in?” Rory said. “She had me cold from our first meeting.”
“Because she wants to set you up to force you to give the entire Brotherhood away.”
“Mom…now, Mom…you are being emotional, and ridiculous,” Theo said softly.
“Me? Ridiculous? Weed and Hubble are ridiculous.”
“Mom, she wants Brodhead dead for some very obvious reasons.”
“And some not so obvious, Atty,” Rory said. “This woman is not her husband or her father.”
“Are you telling me she has become a republican?”
“She has always been politically independent of both her father and her late husband. She did extraordinary work on behalf of Catholic education in Derry. She lives with an Irish rogue, Gorman Galloway. She’s turned Weed Ship & Iron into a public company, recognized the union, and she is now giving away large tracts of the Earldom to her peasant farmers…just like you did, Mom. Mom…love…we may have struck gold.”
“Vengeance for her sons?” Atty asked.
“It’s killing her,” Rory said. “You can believe this or not, Atty, but she is convinced