"There have been a number of contacts between the IRA and the Abwehr, the German intelligence service, that commenced well before the war," she said, her hands clasped together above her knees, which were aligned perfectly. Had the nuns taught her to sit like that, ladylike and demure, all the sinful parts protected?
"Tom Barry, the IRA's director of intelligence, visited Germany and met with the Abwehr in 1936, after the IRA was declared an illegal organization," she went on. "This was followed by a visit in 1939 by Jim O'Donovan, their director of chemical warfare."
"Chief bomb maker," Cosgrove interpreted.
"Yes. O'Donovan developed the IRA S-Plan, S meaning sabotage. With funds from Germany, he put together a bombing campaign against England early in the war. There were over three hundred explosions, some of them quite small and most ineffectual. They hit railroad stations, cinemas, post offices, that sort of thing. Seven people were killed. The attacks ended in 1940."
"Pathetic, really," Cosgrove said. "But it alerted us to increase security in sensitive military areas."
"So what are you worried about?" I asked.
"The IRA is more effective closer to home," O'Brien said. "During the S-Plan operations, they broke into Magazine Fort, the regular Irish Army ammunition storage depot in Dublin."
"The Christmas Raid," I said. I remembered a long night of celebrating and toasting the IRA at Kirby's, my dad and Uncle Dan slapping each other on the back while singing the old songs. It had sounded like Robin Hood and his merry men had pulled off a marvelous heist.
"December 1939," O'Brien acknowledged. "They broke in, disarmed the guards, and took over a million rounds of ammunition. No one killed or even hurt. It was a grand coup, except they hadn't planned for success. They took away so much, there was no place to hide it all. And the Irish Army was so red faced they tore the countryside apart looking for it. Most was quickly recovered."
I hadn't heard about that. Or if I had, there'd been no celebrating to help me remember.
"What worries us, Boyle," Cosgrove said, leaning forward as if to whisper a secret, "is that one of these IRA schemes might actually work. They've no shortage of imagination, I'll grant you. But we've been lucky so far that they have as much talent for mucking things up as they do for concocting grand schemes."
"Have you heard of Sean Russell?" O'Brien asked.
"Sure," I said, not seeing any reason to hide the fact. The former IRA chief of staff was a famous guy in certain parts of South Boston.
"In 1939 he toured America, speaking to Clan na Gael gatherings, raising funds for the bombing campaign. From there he went on to Italy, and then secretly to Germany. He met with the German foreign minister about recruiting Irish nationals captured fighting for the British Army into an Irish Brigade, to fight against the British in Northern Ireland. He underwent demolition training with the Abwehr, and after three months was outfitted with a radio, funds, and explosives, and sent off on a U-boat that would land him back in Ireland."
"But he died," I said, vaguely remembering reports of his death.
"Yes, on the U-boat. We believe from a burst gastric ulcer. The mission was scrapped."
"You're lucky he mucked that one up by dying," I said to Cosgrove.
"Indeed. But it gave us cause to watch the IRA even more closely. Both sides have tried to draw neutral Ireland into the war. Or all three sides, I should say." He counted them off on his fingers. "First, Churchill offered Dublin all of Ulster if the Republic of Ireland entered the war allied with England. Prime Minister de Valera turned him down. Second, the IRA sent an emissary to Berlin in 1940 with Plan Kathleen, their military plan for a German invasion of Ireland. If the German invasion succeeded, the IRA would assume control of the entire island and enter the war as an Axis partner."
I focused on item number one, unsure I'd heard correctly. "Churchill would've given up Northern Ireland?"
"Absolutely. He offered exactly what the Irish Republican movement had always wanted: a united Ireland, free of British control. But apparently there was little enthusiasm among the Irish for another war, and Eamon de Valera missed his chance."
"So what about the third side, the Germans?"
"We have come into possession of their plans for Operation Green, the invasion of Ireland, rumored to have been at the invitation of the Dublin government. Quite detailed. But I daresay the time has passed for its implementation. We are no longer spread so thin now that you Yanks have joined us."
"OK, so what's the problem? The IRA hasn't given the English a free pass because you're fighting a war. But except for Sean Russell, none of them have been able to exploit the situation. And he's dead. What do you need me for?"
O'Brien said, "Six weeks ago we intercepted a message from Tom Barry, the IRA intelligence director, to Joe McGarrity in America, head of Clan na Gael. Do you know of him?"
"I've heard the name." I didn't mention that I'd heard the name when Uncle Dan introduced me to him. Joe McGarrity had had Sunday supper at our home when he was in Boston a few years ago, along with an IRA man named Seamus Rafferty. Raising money for the Cause. I wanted to find out what this was about but I didn't think they'd keep me in their confidence if they knew the Boyle household was a regular gathering place for the Irish Republican movement. To us, Republican didn't mean Wendell Willkie, it meant a united Ireland. Free of the English. I did my best to make my replies neutral, free of politics, to keep them talking. At least listening to Subaltern O'Brien's voice was pleasant.
"The message was 'Ask Clan na Gael to rush supplies.'"
"Supplies for what?"
"Five days ago, a U.S. Army arms depot at Ballykinler in Northern Ireland was raided. They got away with fifty of the latest models of the Browning Automatic Rifle and over two hundred thousand rounds of ammunition. What do you think it's for, Lieutenant Boyle?"
"Are you certain it was the IRA? Not German saboteurs?"
"About four miles from the main gate, we found the body of Eddie Mahoney, a known IRA man. Shot twice in the back of the head and left with a pound note folded in the palm of his hand."
"The mark of the informer," I said automatically.
"You do seem to know something of the ways of the IRA, Boyle," Cosgrove said. "Do you have Republican leanings yourself?"
"It wouldn't matter if I did. General Eisenhower told me to cooperate, and that's what I plan to do."
"Excellent. We take this matter very seriously, especially given the involvement of this Tom Barry chap. He proposed an invasion of Northern Ireland by the IRA about ten years ago. He was overruled by IRA general staff then but he could be trying again. Money from America, arms from the U.S. Army, and perhaps involvement by the Abwehr. We will work on the German angle, and we want you to investigate the arms theft in Ireland."
"In Northern Ireland?"
"Of course. Ulster."
"Of course."
I had always wondered if I'd make it to the old sod someday. Now I would but it wasn't County Roscommon I'd be seeing. It was the northern counties, home of the Orangemen and the Red Hand of Ulster, where the Protestants still celebrated their victory over the Catholics at the Battle of the Boyne more than two hundred and fifty years ago. It had always seemed a dark, brutal, and bitter land of long, unforgiving memories. My childhood fear of the Orangeman welled up within me and I shivered. In my house, it wasn't the bogeyman who would come get you if you were bad, it was the Orangeman. My grandfather used to tell us about their parades every July celebrating the Battle of the Boyne, how they'd march through Catholic neighborhoods with their English flags and orange banners, thrashing any Catholic boys they found on the street.
It felt like I was being sent to hell itself.