“Isn’t that just bloody marvelous?” Marsh said angrily behind Eastman.
“You know Sergeant John Marsh, don’t you?” Eastman said to Woodward.
“Yes, we’ve met before,” Woodward replied, shaking Marsh’s hand.
“And this is Mike Graham and Sabrina Carver, two of our American cousins,” Eastman added, using the euphemism for the CIA. There was no point mentioning UNACO.
Woodward shook hands with them. “So what’s the problem …?” He trailed off and nodded to himself. “You were booked on that Swissair flight, weren’t you?”
Eastman nodded. “How long before you’ll be able to give the all clear?”
Woodward shrugged. “You know the drill, Keith. An hour, perhaps ninety minutes. The guy who called the airport seemed to know a bit about explosives. That’s why we’re treating this one with extra caution.”
“So it’ll be a good two hours before we can even take off,” Graham said, struggling to control his temper.
“More like two and a half,” Woodward said, glancing at his watch. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better go and see how the lads are getting on. Good to see you again, Keith.”
“Likewise, Chippy,” Eastman replied.
“Are there any other flights to Switzerland in the next hour or so?” Sabrina asked after Woodward had gone.
“One flew out half an hour ago,” Marsh replied. “Ours is the next scheduled flight to Switzerland.”
“So why weren’t we booked on the earlier flight?” Graham demanded.
“Because this one was due to reach Zurich first,” Eastman told him.
“Couldn’t we charter a private plane?” Sabrina said.
“It wouldn’t get us there any quicker,” Eastman replied. “I’ll phone the Commissioner in Zurich and have him double the men watching the chalet where McGuire’s holed up. If this is an IRA tactic to make sure they get to McGuire first, then he’ll have the men on hand to apprehend them.”
“You’ve suddenly changed your tune,” Graham said with thinly veiled sarcasm.
“I’m not taking any chances, that’s all,” Eastman retorted brusquely.
“Coffee, anyone?” Sabrina asked, breaking the lingering silence.
“Sounds good to me,” Marsh responded quickly. “Guv?”
“I’ll meet you in the cafeteria. I’ve got to call Zurich first.”
Sabrina turned to Graham but he was already walking toward the terminal. She gave Marsh a helpless shrug and they went after him.
Ingrid Lynch studied the passengers as they emerged through customs at Zurich’s Kloten International Airport. She was an attractive redhead in her mid-twenties who had met her husband, Dominic, a year earlier at an IRA rally in Belfast. They had returned to Zurich together where she taught as a primary school teacher. He was now regarded as one of the IRA’s main contacts in Europe and had helped to arm several of the IRA’s active cells in both Germany and France.
“Ingrid?”
She looked around, startled by the voice behind her. It was a woman with black shoulder-length hair and tinted sunglasses. Her eyes narrowed uncertainly. Did she know her?
The woman removed the sunglasses and grinned. “Don’t you even recognize your chief bridesmaid when you see her?”
“Fiona,” Ingrid said, hugging her more out of relief than anything else. “I did not even recognize you.”
“Good,” Fiona replied. “Then neither will any of the security staff around here.”
“What have you done to your hair?”
“It’s a wig,” came the reply. “Where’s Dominic?”
“He stayed in the car. He did not want to take any chances.”
“It’s good to see he’s not become complacent,” Fiona replied, then introduced her to Mullen and Kerrigan.
“Have you got your luggage?”
“We didn’t bring much,” Fiona replied, tapping her shoulder bag. “We don’t expect to be here very long.”
They left the terminal and Ingrid led the way across the car park to where her husband had parked the Audi. Dominic Lynch, a short, stocky man in his late twenties, jumped out of the car the moment he saw the reflection of his wife in the rearview mirror. Fiona hurried toward him and they embraced warmly.
“You’re looking good, girl,” Lynch said, holding her at arm’s length. “But I preferred you as a blonde.”
“It is a wig,” Ingrid chided her husband.
“It’s very good,” Lynch replied, then turned to Mullen and pumped his hand vigorously. “It’s good to see you again, Hugh.”
“And you, Dom,” Mullen replied. “How are you settling down out here?”
“I still miss the comforts of home. Like Guinness.” Lynch smiled at Kerrigan. “And how is my old drinking partner?”
Kerrigan shook Lynch’s hand. “Good, man. And how’s marriage treating you? Have you finally settled down and become a bit more responsible?”
“Not a chance,” Lynch replied with a smile. “So how did you manage to get past security at Heathrow? I hear your faces were splashed across all the morning papers over there.”
“We took the necessary precautions,” was all Fiona would venture.
“I get it,” Lynch said with a knowing smile. “What I don’t know can’t hurt me.”
“Did you get the chopper, Dom?” Mullen asked, changing tactics.
“It’s ready and waiting for you, Hugh,” Lynch assured him.
“And what about the weapons?” Fiona asked.
“They haven’t turned up yet,” Lynch replied apologetically.
Fiona banged her fist angrily on the roof of the car. “You assured me on the phone that you’d have them by the time we got here. You know we can’t make a move without them.”
“They’ll turn up, don’t worry,” Lynch replied, trying to pacify her.
“When?” she challenged.
“When the courier arrives,” Lynch shot back defensively. “The weather’s been atrocious over here for the last twenty-four hours. He’s probably been held up somewhere.”
“That’s not my problem, is it?” she snapped.
“That’s enough, Fiona,” Kerrigan said behind her. “It’s not Dom’s fault that the weapons aren’t here yet.”
She swung around, her eyes blazing. “This doesn’t concern you, Liam. Get in the car.”
“Like hell–”
“You’ll do as you’re told unless you want to go up in front of the committee on a charge of insubordination,” she snarled, levelling a finger of warning at him. “And it wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to you, would it?”
Kerrigan glared at Fiona then cursed furiously as he climbed into the back of the car, slamming the door after him.
Lynch led Fiona away from the others. “What’s got into you treating him like that?”
“Let go of my arm, Dom,” she said softly.
Lynch released his grip on her arm. “I know Liam better than any of you. You can only push him so far before he’ll snap.”
“This is my cell, Dom, and I’ll run it as I see fit.”
“What’s really troubling you, girl? Is it Sean?”
She stared at her feet for a moment then let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry I snapped at you just now. I guess I’m just a bit edgy, that’s all. Come on, let’s go.”
They returned to the car. Lynch shivered suddenly, as if someone had just stepped on his grave. This wasn’t the calm, rational Fiona he’d once known in Ireland. And that worried him. Had the burden of responsibility become too much for her? Much as he liked Mullen, he knew he couldn’t talk to him. He was too close to her. But Kerrigan was an old friend. Yes, he’d have a word with Kerrigan when they got back to the house. And he’d take the situation from there …