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“If you were serious about helping us, you’d let us have a photograph of her to circulate amongst the men,” Whitlock told him.

“I can’t let you have something I haven’t got,” Brady replied.

“You expect us to believe that the IRA don’t have any photographs of her?” Palmer retorted indignantly. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“You believe what you want, Commander. I can assure you that we don’t have any photographs of her. The only known picture of her was taken at Dominic Lynch’s wedding. And even then she insisted on keeping it. She’s always been obsessively camera-shy.”

“Did she kill the Lynches?” Whitlock asked.

“I believe so. But right now I don’t know why. Or why she killed Kerrigan and Mullen for that matter. We want those questions answered just as much as you do. Probably more so. That’s why we’re prepared to compromise on this one occasion and help you find her.”

“Why, so that you can silence her before she can say anything to us?” Palmer retorted.

“You still believe we’re behind this, don’t you?”

“I don’t believe she’s working alone. She’s had far too much assistance along the way. And not just from John Marsh.”

“I’ve heard about this John Marsh from a source of ours at Scotland Yard. He’s supposed to be working for us, isn’t he? It’s an interesting theory, but not one I have the time or inclination to pursue right now.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Palmer said. “It must have come as quite a shock to you when you heard your man had been busted.”

“It was more of a shock when I heard he was supposed to have been working for us. But then, it doesn’t bother me one way or the other what happens to him. He’s only a cop.”

The telephone rang again. Palmer answered it, spoke to Reeves, then replaced the handset.

“I was hoping we could have come to some arrangement about the security for Senator Scoby’s visit to Dugaill tomorrow. Obviously I was wrong.”

“Obviously,” Palmer retorted. “And let me tell you this, Brady, if we find any of your Provos near Dugaill tomorrow they’ll find themselves behind bars so quickly they won’t have time to draw breath. See that you pass the message on to the Army Council.”

“I’m sorry you see it that way,” Brady said as he got to his feet and crossed to the door. He called Kane into the room. “Sammy will show you back to your car. You’ll be given safe passage out of here. I only hope your faith in the security forces is justified, Commander. Because if Scoby is assassinated in Dugaill tomorrow, you’ll only have yourself to blame. We held out the olive branch. You refused it. Remember that.”

Palmer left the room without a word. Whitlock stared at Brady as if he were branding the face into his memory. When it came to finding out who was behind the hit on his colleagues, he knew which face would first come to mind. He followed Kane and Palmer back to the foyer.

“Mr. Brady has agreed to give you safe passage back to the roadblock. We would hope you will reciprocate the gesture and pull your men out of the area before we leave. The cease-fire will last for exactly ten minutes after you’ve reached safety but if your men haven’t withdrawn by then, then we’ll open fire. As you can imagine, our soldiers are heavily armed. Your people wouldn’t stand a chance. And by the time you’d called in for reinforcements, we’d be gone. We don’t want any bloodshed. I would hope you feel the same.”

“He’ll be free to leave,” Palmer replied. “You have my word on that.”

Kane waited until the Rover had pulled away from the front of the hotel before he called Brady to let him know they had gone.

When Brady came downstairs into the foyer Kane told him about the incident with Whitlock and Meehan. As usual, Brady listened impassively before asking to see Meehan. Kane led him into the bar where one of the Provos, his balaclava now discarded on the counter, was plying Meehan with black coffee.

Meehan looked up slowly at Brady and managed a weak smile. “Good evening, Mr. Brady. Have you finished your meeting? Can I open the hotel again?”

“Are you sober yet?” Brady asked.

“I’m feeling a lot better now,” Meehan replied obsequiously.

“I hear you insulted one of my guests tonight. That’s something I will not tolerate.”

“I … I got what I deserved, Mr. Brady,” Meehan said, touching his bruised chin gingerly. “I’ve nothing against black people. It was just the drink talking.”

“You drink too much, Meehan.”

“I … I enjoy a drink, Mr. Brady.”

“Not anymore. You’re on the wagon as of now. But obviously you’ll need some kind of incentive to stop drinking. Something to take your mind off it.” Brady nodded to Kane. “Break the fingers on his right hand.”

“Mr. Brady, please–” Meehan screamed in terror as Kane moved toward him. “I’ll never drink again. Honestly. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Consider this your first and last warning, Meehan,” Brady told him. “If I ever hear that you’ve been drinking again, you’ll end up in some alley with the back of your head blown away. Sammy, I’ll see you back at the house. I’ve got some business to attend to first.”

Brady left the bar. Seconds later an agonized scream came from behind the closed doors. The receptionist looked around from the television set, her eyes wide and uncertain.

“I’d start looking for a new job if I were you,” Brady said to her. “I’ve got a feeling that Mr. Meehan won’t be running this hotel for very much longer.”

The receptionist swallowed nervously but said nothing. Brady pushed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket then disappeared through the revolving doors and out into the night.

“The men are in position, sir,” Reeves said as Palmer pulled up behind the Land Rover. “Do you want me to give the order for them to move in?”

“No,” Palmer replied, switching off the engine. “Brady’s to be allowed to leave of his own accord.”

“But sir, we’ve got them–”

“I gave my word,” Palmer cut in angrily. “And I intend to keep it.”

“Yes, sir, of course,” Reeves said, immediately regretting his sudden outburst. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to question your authority. It’s just that … he’s been responsible for the deaths of five of my colleagues over the last eight months. And now that we’ve got a chance to nail him, we have to stand by and watch him drive away.”

“I understand your frustration,” Palmer replied, getting out of the car. “Believe me, I’d like nothing better than to give the order to grab him the moment he leaves the hotel. But we can’t. It’s not just that I gave my word. The whole area’s crawling with Provos. And God knows what kind of artillery they’ve got with them. If you move in, they’ve threatened to open fire. We’ve lost more than enough young men in this conflict as it is without adding any more to the list. I want you to give the order for all patrols to pull out of the area.” He looked at his watch. “They’ve got eight minutes left in which to do it. And I mean every patrol. I don’t want any of our boys in the area for the next few hours. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly understood, sir.” Reeves saluted then hurried off to carry out Palmer’s orders.

“He’s a good copper, that one,” Palmer said as he watched Reeves give the order to his men to pull out.

“Sure,” Whitlock replied thoughtfully. “I know just how he feels though. As you know, we lost three men when the cell first tried to take out McGuire in London. I’m just glad I wasn’t armed when I went into that hotel room tonight. I’d gladly have put a bullet in him.”

Palmer took the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. It was the first cigarette he’d had since getting off the plane and he inhaled deeply, savoring it.