Solo - Jack Higgins [48]
'I've heard of him,' Morgan said. 'Another of your purity of violence types?'
'That's our Brendan. Mad as a hatter. Lights a candle to the Virgin every night of his life, yet he'd shoot the Pope if he thought it would advance the cause.'
'Would he tell you where they got those Mausers?'
'Maybe.'
'Liam, I need to know. It's the only lead I've got.'
O'Hagan nodded slowly. 'You want this man badly. What for - justice?'
'To hell with justice, I want to see him dead.'
'That's honest, anyway. I'll see what I can do. You go back to the Europa and wait.'
'How long?'
'A couple of days - perhaps three.'
'That's no good.'
'Why not?'
Morgan was in too deep to draw back now. 'By Monday night, they'll have Belfast sewn up so tight that even a mouse couldn't slip through the net.'
'Interesting,' O'Hagan said and the door burst open.
Seumas was already on his feet and O'Hagan produced a Browning Hi Power from his pocket with some speed and held it in his lap under the table.
A great brute of a man stood swaying drunkenly just inside the door. He wore a soiled reefer coat and denim overalls and his eyes were bloodshot. He didn't appear to notice O'Hagan and Morgan and ignored Seumas, lurching across to the counter and holding on to it with both hands as if to prop himself up.
'I'm collecting,' he said to the old woman. 'Funds for the Organization. Ten quid, ma, and we'll call it quits. Otherwise we close you down.'
She wasn't in the least afraid. Simply poured tea into a mug, spooned sugar into it and pushed it across the counter.
'Drink that, lad, then sober up and go home. You've come to the wrong shop.'
He sent the mug flying with a sweep of his hand. 'Ten quid, you old bitch, or I smash the place up.'
There was a Luger in Seumas's right hand, the barrel up under the man's chin. The boy didn't say a word. It was O'Hagan who spoke.
'The IRA, is it? Which brigade?' The big man glared at him stupidly and O'Hagan said, 'Outside with him, Seumas.'
The boy swung the man round and sent him staggering through the door. O'Hagan got to his feet and went after them and Morgan followed.
The big man stood under one of the few street lamps still working, rain soaking his head, Seumas to one side covering him with the Luger. O'Hagan walked forward, paused, then kicked him viciously in the crotch so that he cried out and went down on his knees.
'All right,' O'Hagan said. 'You know what to do.'
Seumas moved in close, the barrel of the Luger poking into the back of the man's right knee-cap, and then he simply blew it off with a single shot.
The man screamed in agony and rolled over. O'Hagan stood looking down at him.
'There's good men dead and in their graves fighting the bloody British Army and bastards like you spit on them.'
At the same moment, a couple of stripped-down Land-Rovers turned the corner at the end of the street and braked to a halt. Morgan was aware of the uniforms and a spotlight was turned on.
'Stay exactly where you are,' a voice echoed over a loudhailer in crisp, public-school English, but O'Hagan and Seumas had already ducked into the alley at the side of the cafe. Morgan went after them, running like hell.
There was a six-foot brick wall at the end of the street and they were scrambling over it as the first soldiers turned into the alley. They found themselves in a builder's yard and blundered across in darkness to a double wooden door. Seumas got the judas gate open and they were out and into the street as the first soldier arrived on the other side of the wall.
The boy and O'Hagan seemed to know exactly where they were going. Morgan followed at their heels, twisting and turning through a dark rabbit warren of mean streets and the sounds of pursuit grew fainter. Finally, they came out on the banks of a small canal and Seumas paused beside some bushes. He took a small torch from his pocket and as he switched it on, there was a tremendous explosion from the direction of the