The Savage Day - Jack Higgins [47]
'And to hell with the cost?' the Brigadier put in. 'The slaughter of the innocents all over again.'
When Barry turned to him there was a madness in his eyes that chilled the blood.
'If that's what's needed,' he said. 'We won't shirk the price, any price, because we are strong and you are weak.' He turned back to Binnie. 'With that gold I buy enough arms to take on the whole British Army. What will the Small Man do with it?'
Binnie stared at him, that slightly dazed look on his face again, and Barry, calmer now, patted him on the shoulder. 'You'll leave at dawn, Binnie. It's a good time on the back roads. Nice and quiet. It shouldn't take you more than a couple of hours to get there. I'll give you a good car.'
Binnie's shoulders sagged. 'All right.' It was almost a whisper.
'Good lad.' Barry patted him again and looked straight at me. 'And we'll send the Major along, just to keep you company. That public school accent of his should be guaranteed to get you past any road blocks you run into, especially with the kind of papers I'll provide him with. All right, Major Vaughan?'
'Do I have any choice?'
'I shouldn't think so.'
He gave me that lazy, genial smile of his, looking more than ever like Francis the Fourth of the portrait up there in the gallery. I didn't smile back because I was thinking of Norah, remembering the stink of her flesh burning, considering with some care exactly how I was going to give it to him when the time came.
10
Run for your Life
Barry himself disappeared and a great deal seemed to happen after that. The Brigadier was hauled off to his cell. Binnie and I, rather puzzlingly, had our pictures taken by one of Barry's men using a flash camera.
Afterwards, we were taken by way of the back stairs to a bedroom on the next floor. It was comfortable enough, with dark mahogany furniture and brass bedstead, a faded Indian carpet on the floor. There was a familiar-looking suitcase on the bed. As I approached it, Barry came into the room.
'I had your stuff brought up from the boat, old lad. I don't think those sea-going togs of yours will be exactly appropriate for this little affair. Suit, collar and tie, raincoat - or something of that order. Can you oblige?'
'Everything except the raincoat.'
'No problem there.'
'What about Binnie?'
Barry turned to look at him. 'As impeccable as usual. All done up to go to somebody's funeral.'
'Yours maybe?' Binnie said and I noticed that his forehead was damp with sweat.
Barry chuckled, not in the least put out. 'You always were a comfort, Binnie boy.' He turned to me. 'There's a bathroom through there. Plenty of hot water. No bars on the window, but it's fifty feet down to the courtyard and two men on the door, so behave yourselves. I'll see you later.'
The door closed behind him. Binnie went to the window, opened it and stood there breathing deeply on the damp air as if to steady himself.
I said, 'Are you all right?'
He turned, that look on his face again. 'For what he has done to Norah Murphy he is a dead man walking, Major. He is mine for the taking when the time comes. Nothing can alter that.'
Something cold moved inside me then, fear, I suppose, at his utter implacability which went so much beyond mere hatred. There was a power in this boy, an elemental force that would carry him through most things.
A dead man walking, he had called Frank Barry, and I wondered what he would call me on that day of reckoning when he discovered my true motives.
Which was all decidedly unpleasant, so I left him there by the window staring out to sea, went into the bathroom and ran a bath.
I dressed in a brown polo-neck sweater, Donegal tweed suit and brown brogues. The end result coupled with the bath and a shave was something of an improvement. Binnie, who seemed to have recovered his spirits a little, sat on the edge of the bed watching me. As I pulled on my jacket and checked the general effect in the wardrobe