The Trojan boy

'They didn't have a reason to, did they?' asked Kell suspiciously. 'If I thought for one moment…'

'No, no,' Innes assured him. 'Unless you call ten cigars and a bottle of Advocaat a reason.'

Kell relaxed visibly. 'Bols,’ he said.

'It's the absolute truth, Mr Kell… Oh I see,' said Innes, unprepared for Kell's joke and sudden change of mood.

Kell checked his watch and said, 'We've got thirty minutes. Start talking.'

Nelligan handed Innes a drink and the man took a hasty gulp to wash down two indigestion tablets before starting to speak. 'I got into Schiphol on time and heard myself being paged on the public address system. I was directed by telephone to a particular taxi on the rank outside and the driver took me to a rendezvous about five miles from the airport. After about ten minutes

They were waiting to see if you were followed,' interrupted Kell.

'… a green Mercedes drew up alongside and a transceiver was passed in through the window of the cab. We conducted the conversation by phone.'

'Did you see who was in the Mercedes?' asked Kell.

'No, it had tinted windows.'

'But they could see you?'

'Yes.'

Kell smiled distantly and thought for a moment in silence before asking Innes to go on.

‘They want the ransom paid by credit transfer.'

'How?'

'An account is to be opened at this bank,' Innes handed Kell a slip of paper, 'and the money paid into it.'

'An account in whose name?' asked Kell.

'It doesn't matter but a confirmation password has to be agreed with the bank so that a check can be made that the money has been deposited.'

‘Then what?'

'A second password has to be agreed with the bank for the transfer of the money. When we have the child we give them the password and the money can be transferred into whatever account they please.'

'What's to stop us grabbing the brat and not giving them the password?' grinned Nelligan.

'I feel sure they have considered that possibility,’ said Innes coldly. They didn't strike me as being amateurs.'

‘But then neither am I,’ said Kell with a smile.

Innes continued, 'You are to have a man in Chicago within three days. He is to check in to Room 303 at the Stamford Hotel. It's been reserved.’

'Then what?'

'He will be contacted and taken to see the boy. The exchange is to take place within twenty-four hours after that.’

'Where?'

They will decide that.’

'Of course,’ said Kell softly as if something was amusing him.

They are calling the shots,’ said Innes.

'Of course they are,’ said Kell with an even broader smile. His eyes, magnified by the strong lenses of his glasses, blinked with the mesmerising regularity of a lizard as he considered what he had heard.

‘There will, of course, be the problem of getting the boy out of the country after the hand-over,’ said Innes.

Kell looked at him as if he were some kind of mental defective then said, 'Well, I'm sure our American friends can help there, don't you think?'

'If you say so, Mr Kell.’

At eleven precisely the coded knock came to the door again and three men were admitted to the room. There were handshakes all round and the three introduced themselves as Shelby, Bogroless and Roker. Kell, still holding a tumbler of whisky, offered the Americans a drink. Shelby, their leader, a short dark man wearing a grey suit and a yellow silk shirt that threatened to burst under the strain of his stomach, nodded to Kell's glass and said, I’ll have a drop of Irish, too.'

His assumption had been wrong. Kell turned to Nelligan and asked him to ring down for a bottle of Jamieson's. He raised his glass slightly in the direction of the American and said, 'Scotch.'

The American made a joke about Kell's taste in whisky and Kell pretended to share in the amusement for he was sizing up his guests. The request for Irish whiskey had been noted and the man classified by Kell as a Yankee Paddy, Kell's own derogatory term for Americans drawn to the romanticism of the idea of Old Ireland.

But it didn't matter what they were, only the money mattered. It was just a question of how best to deal with them. As the conversation continued it became clear that one of the others, Bogroless, fell into the same mould as Shelby. The third man, Roker, was not so easy to assess. He was not a Y.P. He was too quiet, too withdrawn, a bit like Innes really, a bit like an accountant. Chances were that's what he was. Kell decided that he was the one with the brains.

Shelby said, 'Commander, you have requested our co-operation in securing a great deal of money, an enormous sum of money in fact.'

'A free Ireland doesn't come cheap,' said Kell.

'You really believe that that is what it could mean?' asked Shelby.

Kell, adopting the rhetoric of the patriot, started selling the plan to the Americans. The longer he spoke the more he could see that he was convincing Shelby and Bogroless of the feasibility of the operation but he was worried about Roker. Roker had sat throughout with a complete lack of expression save for a cold, hard gaze that had never left Kell for a moment.

'Frankly, Commander, the sum of money involved is too large. Don't you have some other way of financing it?' asked Shelby.

'Twelve of our gallant lads went down in just such an attempt last Friday,' said Kell. 'Including a dear personal friend.'

'We heard,' Shelby sympathised. 'A tragedy, a tragedy.'

Bogroless nodded in agreement. Roker continued to watch Kell, apparently unmoved by what he had heard.

'I understood that it was INLA men who attempted the raids,' said Roker, speaking for the first time.

'Indeed it was,' said Kell. This operation is so important that we had decided to put aside our differences and work together. It's that big.'

Shelby said with an air of unease, 'Actually, Commander… it is just possible that we could raise such a sum but it would involve an all or nothing effort including a great deal of borrowing. Not to put too fine a point on it, it would bleed NORAID dry. If the operation failed there would never be any more…'

This will be the last operation for all of us,' said Kell.

That's what you have to convince us of,' said Shelby. 'Do you really believe that the British would pull out of Ireland in exchange for the boy?'

'Yes, I do.'

Roker interrupted. He had a cold featureless voice that matched his appearance. He said, 'Mr Kell, there is a school of thought that says that the British wouldn't stand for this and there would be a bloody civil war in Ireland instead of the triumph you suggest. What do you say to that?'

'I think that they are right,’ said Kell to everyone's obvious surprise. Even Roker permitted himself a raise of the eyebrows. Are you telling us that you would plunge Ireland into civil war deliberately?' he asked.

Kell shook his head slowly and smiled indulgently as if teaching a class of infants. 'No,' he said. 'A lot of people are missing the point. The British have covered the whole thing up. That works in our favour, don't you see? If the British agree to our terms then the boy could be returned to them without the press and the public ever knowing. They could save face as well as get their brat back and we all know how much that means to the British.'

The Americans saw the sense in what Kell was saying. Shelby said, 'You mean the world at large would never know that they had given in to blackmail?'

'Exactly,’ said Kell, as if a pupil had finally managed to get something right.

'What are the arrangements for the ransom?' asked Roker.

Kell told him.

'If we were to agree we would have to be involved at all stages and we would keep control of the money until we were completely satisfied,’ said Roker. 'We could work together,’ said Kell. 'Excuse us a moment, Commander,’ said Shelby. The three Americans moved to the adjoining room of the suite and talked in whispers while Kell, Nelligan and Innes waited.