Drink With the Devil Read Free Page A

grate of the small parlour, curtains drawn as rain drummed against the window. It was warm and comfortable and Ryan and Keogh sat opposite each other. The girl came in from the kitchen with a teapot, milk, and cups on a tray.
    Ryan said, “If you’re a seaman, you’ll have your papers.”
    “Of course,” Keogh said.
    Ryan held out his hand and Keogh shrugged, opened his reefer, and took a wallet from his inside pocket.
    “There you go. Ships’ papers, union card, the lot.”
    The girl poured tea and Ryan examined everything closely. “Paid off the
Ventura
two weeks ago. Deck hand and diver. What’s all that?”
    “The
Ventura
’s a supply ship in the North Sea oilfields. Besides general ship’s duties I did some diving. Not the really deep stuff. Just underwater maintenance, welding when necessary. That sort of thing.”
    “Interesting. A man of parts. Any special skills from the Parachute Regiment?”
    “Just how to kill people. The usual weaponry skills. A considerable knowledge of explosives.” Keogh lit a cigarette. “But where’s all this leading?”
    Ryan persisted. “Can you ride a motorcycle?”
    “Since I was sixteen, and that’s a long time ago. So what?”
    Ryan leaned back, took out a pipe, and filled it from an old pouch. “Visiting relatives, are you?”
    “Not that I know of,” Keogh said. “A few cousins scattered here and there. I came back on a whim. Nostalgia, if you like. A bad idea really, but I can always go back and get another berth.”
    “I could offer you a job,” Ryan said, and the girl brought a taper from the fire to light his pipe.
    “What, here in Belfast?”
    “No, in England.”
    “Doing what?”
    “Why, the kind of thing you did tonight. The kind of thing you’re good at.”
    It was very quiet. Keogh was aware of the girl watching him eagerly. “Do I smell politics here?”
    “Since nineteen sixty-nine I’ve worked for the Loyalist cause,” Ryan said. “Served six years in the Maze prison. I hate Fenians. I hate the bloody Sinn Fein, because if they win they’ll drive us all out, every Protestant in the country. Ethnic cleansing to the hilt. Now if things get that bad I’ll take as many of them to hell with me as I can.”
    “So where’s this leading?”
    “A job in England. A very lucrative job. Funds for our organization.”
    “In other words we steal from someone,” Keogh said.
    “We need money, Keogh,” Ryan said. “Money for arms. The bloody IRA have their Irish-American sympathizers providing funds. We don’t.” He leaned forward. “I’m not asking you for patriotism. I’ll settle for greed. Fifty thousand pounds.”
    There was a long pause and Ryan and the girl waited, her face somber as if she expected him to say no.
    Keogh smiled. “That’s a lot of money, Mr. Ryan, so you’ll be expecting a lot in return.”
    “Backup is what I expect from a man who can handle anything, and from the way you’ve carried yourself tonight you would seem to be that kind of man.”
    Keogh said, “What about your own people? You’ve as many gunmen out on the street as the IRA. More even. I know that from army days.” He lit a cigarette and leaned back. “Unless there’s another truth here. That you’re in it for the money, you’re in it for yourself.”
    Kathleen Ryan jumped up. “Damn you for saying that. My uncle has given more for our people than anyone I know. Better you get out of here while you can.”
    Ryan held up a hand. “Softly, child, any intelligent man would see it as a possibility. It’s happened before, God knows, and on both sides.”
    “So?” Keogh said.
    “I can be as hungry as the next man where money is concerned, but my cause is a just one, the one certainty in my life. Any money that passes through my hands goes to the Protestant cause. That’s what my life is about.”
    “Then why not use some of your own men?”
    “Because people talk too much, a weakness in all revolutionary movements. The IRA have the same