Fitzpatrick stepped away, straightened his tie, smoothed his suit jacket. “Gentlemen, I think I’ve contributed all I can to this discussion. If you’ll excuse me, I have quite an amount of paperwork to see to.”
He walked to the bed and placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.
“Come to me if you need anything, Ryan. Anything at all.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Fitzpatrick left the room. Haughey watched the door close.
“So, what now?” he asked.
“Make sure Skorzeny pays them,” Ryan said.
Haughey sighed, his shoulders falling, his body seeming to deflate. “I don’t know if he’ll agree. He’s a stubborn bastard.”
“It’s either that, or you let them fight it out. These men are serious. They won’t give up. I’ve done everything I can for you, Minister, and more. You have twenty four hours to convince Skorzeny. If you can’t, you’ll have my final report and then you’re on your own.”
Haughey walked to the door. “I’ll see what I can do. Stay out of trouble, Ryan.”
He nodded at Celia as he left. She entered and closed the door.
Ryan eased his legs off the bed, every part of him protesting at the effort, and sat upright. He placed one hand on the bedside locker to support himself.
Celia came to the bed, got down on her knees. She reached beneath and slid out the portable Grundig tape recorder she had purchased that morning with the last of the money Ryan had been given by the director. She pressed the stop button and the reels ceased spinning. A small microphone peeked out from its hiding place between the pillows on the bed, the cable snaking down behind the headboard.
She got back to her feet, went to the wardrobe, and opened the mirrored door. She crouched down, reached inside.
“Careful, it’s heavy,” Ryan said.
“I know it is,” she said. “I bloody carried it here all the way from the office. I’ll be in terrible trouble if anyone notices it’s missing.”
She kept her back straight, lifted with her legs, and brought the Olivetti typewriter to the bed.
“Can you type?” Ryan asked.
“Of course I can.” She took a stack of paper from the wardrobe, sat on the bed, fed a sheet into the typewriter. “Now, what date is it today?”
CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR
Skorzeny had been waiting almost half an hour in Haughey’s office before the minister returned. He did not greet the politician as he entered, nor when he sat down.
Haughey sat in silence for a time. Skorzeny lit another cigarette and waited, enjoying the quiet and the gritty heat of the tobacco in his chest.
Eventually, Haughey said, “What a fucking mess.”
Skorzeny did not respond. He took another draw on the cigarette, exhaled a pungent cloud, watched it hang in the air, drifting with the currents of the room.
“A disaster. That’s what you’ve landed me in. A bloody disaster.” “Lieutenant Ryan did not bear good news?”
Haughey glared from across the desk. “No he did not.”
He told Skorzeny about Ryan’s condition, about his capture, his torture, the rejection of the offer. And that the head of the Directorate of Intelligence now knew too much.
When he finished, Skorzeny said, “The Directorate of Intelligence is your concern, Minister, not mine. I will speak with Lieutenant Ryan myself. I’m sure I can persuade him to be more open with me than he was with you.”
“No,” Haughey said, pointing a finger. “Not a bloody chance. You stay away from Ryan, and that fancy piece of his. I gave him my word. Now, I want this business over with.”
“Be patient, Minister. Their greed will overcome them. Perhaps not today, or tomorrow. But soon. And the problem will have disappeared.”
Haughey got to his feet. “No, my problem won’t have disappeared. It’ll still be sitting there smoking its bloody cigarettes.” He paced the room, his hands in his pockets. “Old Dev should never have let any of you boys set foot in Ireland. And I’ll tell you what, it’s not too late to turf the lot of you out. Go back to Spain or Argentina or whatever stone you came out from under.”
“What do you suggest, Minister? Should I give in to extortion?”
Haughey stabbed a finger at him. “Yes you bloody should. And that’s exactly what you’re going to do.”
Skorzeny stubbed the cigarette out. “I beg your pardon?”
“Pay the bastards. Ryan’s right. Give them what they want and be done with it.”
“Minister, do you think I’m the kind of man who surrenders to his enemies?”
“Oh, give over with this battlefield shit. This is not a warzone, and I won’t let you turn it into one. We have the President of the United States coming in a few weeks, and I won’t have any more bodies showing up on account of you and your bloody Nazi friends.”
Skorzeny stood, used his full height to tower over the politician. “Minister, please do not push me. You have been a good friend to me, and I to you. We should not become enemies.”
“Enemies?” Haughey gave a hard laugh. “I’ve no shortage of enemies, Colonel, and one more won’t cost me any sleep.” His forefinger jabbed Skorzeny’s chest. “Now you listen to me, and you listen well. Stay away from Ryan. You go near him and I’ll put you on the next flight to Spain myself.”
Skorzeny smiled, buttoned his jacket, and walked towards the door.
“You have my word, Minister. Good day.”
He passed Haughey’s secretary without acknowledging her, an angry laugh trapped in his throat. The very idea that he would give in to blackmail.
The last man to try such a foolish thing had died badly.
Along with the head of Franco’s personal security team, Skorzeny had inspected the hotel room where Impelliteri had met his end. Sebastian Arroyo stood over the bloodstains on the carpet, shaking his head.
“She stabbed him in the gut,” Arroyo said. “Tore him right open. The Generalissimo’s own doctor tended to him, but it was no good. Señor Impelliteri died in great pain.”
Skorzeny was careful to show no pleasure at that observation.
“An assassination, pure and simple,” Arroyo continued. “They were both naked. My guess is she meant to kill him in his sleep, but he woke up, and there was a struggle. We trapped her in the stairwell. A beautiful girl. Who would think she could do a thing like this?”
“Did she say anything?” Skorzeny asked.
“I shot her before she could speak,” Arroyo said. “The kindest thing, really. She would have suffered terribly if she’d been captured.”
Skorzeny nodded in agreement. “True.”
“An odd thing, though.”
The sweat on Skorzeny’s back chilled. “What’s that?”
“I had the room at her hotel searched. She had packed for a holiday, it seems, some clothes, swimwear and so on. She travelled on a Swiss passport, by the way. The odd thing was a note she had tucked inside some underwear in her suitcase.”
Skorzeny shifted his weight on his feet. “A note?”
“A small piece of paper. It had your name and the telephone number of this hotel written on it. Oh, and your room number.”
Skorzeny said nothing.
“I did not like Señor Impelliteri,” Arroyo said. “The Generalissimo made me hire him. As if I didn’t know my own job.”
Arroyo turned and walked to the door. He paused.
“Colonel Skorzeny, you would be wise to return to Ireland and stay there for a while.”
Skorzeny nodded. “Perhaps so.”
A month later, he made a generous gift to Arroyo. After all, there was a clear distinction between bribery and blackmail.
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE
Ryan found Weiss sitting on a pew in the Unitarian Church, on the western side of St Stephen’s Green. He noted the concern on Weiss’s face as he approached.