“The church,” came the friendly reply. “My name’s Sabrina Carver. I’m with the senator’s security team.”
“Do you have any identification on you?”
She unclipped a laminated identity card from the pocket of her white blouse and handed it to him. He checked the seal. It was authentic. He returned it to her then consulted the clipboard in his hand. “I thought you were flying in with the senator?”
“That was the idea. But with so much at stake, I was sent on ahead to liaise with Inspector Eastman. My partners will be flying in with the senator later this morning. It was thought I’d be more use on the ground than up there with them. Any idea where I might find Inspector Eastman?”
The constable shrugged. “I don’t, I’m sorry. It’s best if you ask someone when you get to the church. The turn-off to the church is about a hundred yards further down the road. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you.”
The constable signaled to his colleague and the boom gate was raised. She put the car into gear and drove through.
The constable grinned at his colleague. “She can protect me any time she wants.”
“She’s some looker, isn’t she?”
The constable nodded in agreement then turned his attention to the next car as it approached the boom gate.
She was stopped again on the slip road, but after showing her card was allowed to continue. She parked close to the cemetery. It was crawling with armed RUC officers. She got out of the car but instead of going into the cemetery she made her way across to the church. When she opened the front door she was immediately challenged by a uniformed police sergeant.
“I’m Sabrina Carver,” she told him, indicating the ID card clipped to her blouse. “I’m part of the senator’s security team. I’ve been sent ahead to take charge of the security here in the church.”
“Inspector Eastman didn’t say anything about it,” the sergeant replied.
“That’s because he doesn’t know I’m here. The decision to send me here ahead of the others was only taken earlier this morning. How many men do you have here in the church?”
“Two.”
“Only two of you?” she shot back.
“If you’ve got a problem with that then I suggest you take it up with the Inspector,” came the gruff reply. “He gives the orders around here, not me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said with a placating smile. “I’m just surprised that there isn’t a stronger security presence in here.”
“It’s not necessary. The church was searched thoroughly last night and then again this morning. Then it was sealed off. The doors are all guarded from the outside. Nobody’s going to get in here without being seen.”
“Where’s the second man?”
“Paul Reilly’s up in the belfry. It’s got a great view overlooking the cemetery. So if a sniper was going to use the belfry they would first have to get past the police cordon outside the church and then past the two of us in here. No chance. We’ve got the situation well under control here, Miss–”
“Carver,” she replied. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Is the senator due to arrive on time?” the policeman asked.
“As far as I know. The helicopter should already be on its way from Belfast by now. ETA is about ten minutes.”
“You might as well have come with them, miss. I’m just surprised you didn’t check with Inspector Eastman before you came here. It would have saved you a wasted journey.”
“Hardly wasted,” she replied then chopped him hard on the side of the neck. She grabbed him as he fell and lowered him silently to the floor. Then, after locking the front door, she took a small metal case from her pocket and opened it. Inside was a hypodermic needle and a vial of sodium pentothal. She drew half of the sodium pentothal into the syringe and injected it into the unconscious man. He’d be out for the next few hours.
She pocketed the case again and made for the belfry.
Paul Reilly took the pack of cigarettes from his tunic pocket and lit the last one. He crumpled the empty packet in his hand and was about to toss it over the side of the catwalk when he remembered where he was. He wasn’t particularly religious but some things were still sacrosanct. He stuffed it into his pocket then took a long drag on the cigarette.
The small belfry was dominated by a heavy bell which hung from the center of the hammer-beam roof. Each of the four walls in the tower contained a narrow, elongated window. None was glazed. He stood by the window which overlooked the cemetery, a Heckler & Koch machine-pistol slung over his shoulder. He’d been there since early morning. Well, not much longer to wait now …
He looked around when he heard the spiral staircase creaking behind him. He called out his colleague’s name. No reply. He unslung the Heckler & Koch machine-pistol and moved cautiously along the catwalk to the top of the staircase. It was impossible to see past the first few stairs from where he was standing. He gripped the railing and peered down, hoping to get a better look. It was no better. All he could see was the sheer, hundred-foot drop to the tiled floor below. He shuddered then stepped away from the railing. The creaking had stopped. It was probably the wind. Or his imagination. Pull yourself together, he chided himself, and moved back to the window.
“Morning.”
He swung around, the machine-pistol at the ready.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you would have heard me coming up the stairs. I made enough noise to wake the dead.”
“Who are you?” Reilly demanded.
“Sabrina Carver. I’m part of the senator’s security team. I do have ID on me. It’s here under my jacket.”
Reilly kept the Heckler & Koch trained on her. “Show me.”
She removed the disc and held it out toward him. He moved forward for a closer look. The Heckler & Koch was finally lowered.
“I’m glad we cleared that up,” she said with a smile.
“I’m just doing my job, Miss Carver. What are you doing up here?”
“I’m checking on the security arrangements before the senator arrives. Your colleague downstairs assures me you’ve both got the situation under control in here.”
“Sure we do,” Reilly replied confidently. “Especially from up here. You can see for miles in all directions. Come, I’ll show you.”
As he turned away from her she chopped him hard on the back of the neck. He crumpled to the catwalk. She removed the hypodermic needle from the metal case and injected the remaining sodium pentothal into his arm.
Then, taking a switchblade from her pocket, she crouched down and eased the blade between two floorboards. One of them was loose and she was able to prize it open. Underneath was an L96 sniper rifle wrapped inside a protective layer of plastic sheeting. She removed the plastic sheet then snapped the ten-round magazine into place and moved to the window. Reilly had been right. She could see for miles in all directions. But she was only interested in the cemetery. She looked at her watch. The helicopter was due to land in the next few minutes.
She peeled off the honey-blonde wig she had been wearing, then put on Reilly’s tunic and peaked cap. If anyone did see her from the ground they would assume it was him.
Fiona Gallagher smiled to herself. All she had to do now was wait …
“I’ve left an envelope in the safe in our room back at the hotel. If anything should happen to me in Dugaill today, it’s imperative that you give it to Whitlock as soon as possible. Promise me you’ll do that, Melissa. You must promise me.”
Melissa Scoby had promised her husband that she would comply with his wishes. And that had been an end to it. He had refused to discuss it any further. He had then spent the rest of the flight from London to Belfast staring absently out of the window, lost in a world of his own. He had hardly spoken to her. He had hardly spoken to anyone. She had even tried to touch his hand to reassure him that she was there if he needed her but he had quickly pulled his hand away. It had been cold. And trembling. It wasn’t the Jack Scoby she knew. It was almost as if he had resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t leave Dugaill alive …