The Savage Day - Jack Higgins [35]
One of the finest shots in the world once put five .38 specials into a playing card at fifteen feet in half a second. He would have met his match in Binnie Gallagher. His first bullet caught the man who had dropped to one knee between the eyes, he put two into the head of the other one that could not have had more than two fingers' span between them.
Tim Pat fired once through the pocket of his raincoat, then a bullet shattered his right arm. He bounced back against the wall, staggered forward, mouth agape, and blundered out through the french windows.
Binnie let him reach the bottom of the steps, start across the lawn, then shot him three times in the back so quickly that to anyone other than an expert it must have sounded like one shot.
Al Bowlly was into Moonlight on the Highway now. I switched off the cassette recorder, than I walked past Binnie and went down the steps. Tim Pat lay on his face. I turned him over and felt in his pocket for the gun. It was a Smith and Wesson automatic and when I pulled it out, a piece of cloth came with it.
Binnie stood over me, reloading the Browning. I held up the Smith and Wesson. 'Let that be a lesson to you. Never fire an automatic from your pocket. The slide usually catches on the lining so you can only guarantee to get your first shot off, just like our friend here.'
'You learn something new every day,' he said.
From inside the house the phone started ringing. I went back in at once and found it in the darkness of the hall on a small table.
I lifted the receiver and said, 'Randall Cottage.'
Norah Murphy's harsh, distinctive voice sounded at the other end. 'Who is this?'
'Vaughan.'
'Is Meyer there?'
'Only in a manner of speaking. I'm afraid the opposition got there first. Three of them.'
There was silence for a moment and then she said, 'You're all right - both of you?'
'Fine,' I said. 'Binnie handled it with his usual efficiency. I hope our friends have got funeral insurance. This one's going to be expensive for them. Where shall we meet?'
'Back at the boat,' she said. 'I can be there in fifteen minutes. We'll talk then.'
The receiver clicked into place and I hung up and turned to Binnie. 'All right, back to Stramore.'
We went out into the rain and I paused beside the van. 'Are you okay? Do you want me to drive?'
'God save us, why shouldn't I, Major? I'm fit as a hare. You sit back and enjoy your cigarette.'
As we went down the farm track, his hands were steady as a rock on the wheel.
The green Vauxhall still waited on the grass verge at the side of the road as we passed, would probably stand there for some time before anyone thought to do any checking, although that was not all that probable in times like these.
About five miles out of Stramore we had a puncture in the offside rear tyre. Binnie managed to pull into a lay-by and we got out together to fix it, only to discover that while there was a reasonably serviceable spare, there was no jack.
He gave the offending wheel an angry kick. 'Would you look at that? Two quid that dirty bowser took off me. Wait, now, till I see him. We'll be having a word and maybe more.'
We started to walk side by side in the heavy rain. I wasn't particularly put out at what had happened. I needed a time to think and this was as good a chance as any. I had a problem on my hands - a hell of a problem. Meyer had been the pipeline to the Brigadier, had probably spoken to him as soon as he had heard from me if Tim Pat Keogh and his friends had given him time.
So now I was nicely adrift, for the Brigadier had made it plain that under no circumstances was I to get involved with the military. Whichever way you looked at it, it seemed obvious that if I was ever to get in touch with him at all, which seemed pretty essential now, I would have to disregard that part of my instructions.
I suppose we had been walking for about half an hour when we were picked up by a travelling shop. The driver was going to Stramore and was happy to take