The Death of an Irish Sea Wolf Read Free Page B

weapon to its component parts, then desalinized, lubricated, and reassembled the pieces. Through a connection in Dublin, where Ford went from time to time, he had obtained a stock of ammunition. Over Breege’s objections, he had also taught her to shoot as straight as she could at what she could hear. Now Ford slid a clip of seven bullets into the Webley and dropped it into his anorak.
    Back in the kitchen, he found Breege standing on her side of the table. She was pouring tea from the kettle. On platters there were lamb chops, green vegetables, and potatoes along with a tureen of fish chowder that was one of Ford’s favorite dishes. Suddenly he was hungry. And angry.
    “Now sit down and eat,” she said. “You’ll soon find yourself feeling much better. Did I tell you what’s coming over the telly this evening? You’ll like it—all about the Russian Navy. They’re selling it piecemeal to anybody who can pay the price. And what they can’t sell is just being left to rust.”
    When Breege sat, Ford merely swung her chair round so he could take the slippers from her feet and slip on the stockings and Wellies.
    “What are you doing, Clem?” she asked in her usual pleasant tone of voice, although he was handling her.
    “Breege, my love,” he began, hoping she might credit his concern, “I don’t think you fully understood what I said. That… bastard is on the island. And he’s equipped and not alone. No. When I flicked on the infrared, some device on his vessel detected me.”
    “You? How? Detected what?”
    “The infrared illuminator in my new binoculars, I assume.”
    “Well, how did it do that? What’s infrared?”
    Ford only shook his head, knowing any explanation would be pointless and probably fatal at this juncture. “They caught me in their floodlights,” he went on. “He—Rehm—saw me.He won’t wait until morning. One question in the pub, and he’ll be onto where we are, and a quick strike is best for him. A storm? Better still.” Ford pulled off her slippers and began fitting on the stockings.
    The wind was now keening around the house.
    “After fifty years you still know what this Rehm looks like?”
    “Yes. The size, the shape of him. The way he walks. He even had gloves on his hands.”
    “But it’s cold. That’s a storm you’re hearing outside. Everybody should have gloves on his hands. Even yourself.”
    “Breege—I looked into his face! In the glasses. It’s him.”
    She put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Luveen—look at me and listen.”
    Ford glanced up into her pretty face.
    “Has it never occurred to you that we’re getting old? And you have been… consumed by this matter and this man many a long year. Could it be that he has now come alive in your imagination ? Sometimes things I think about over much assume a reality of their own. Sure, I say this because I love you, and for no other reason.”
    “Keep your foot still,” Ford replied. “I’m going to dress you for outside so you’ll be warm. You are my life, and if you won’t walk yourself, I’ll carry you.”
    “You, with your bad knees? Clem—where would we go?”
    It certainly was the question. Years ago Ford had maintained a boat that he kept on the other side of the island in an isolated cove. But it had been destroyed in a rogue storm, and Ford had not replaced it, because of the time that had passed. “Out of here. We’ll find some place to stay for the night. It’ll give us time.”
    “And him time too, if he’s real. Clem—what’ll people say, our just leaving in the dead of night? They’ll be worried sick about us. Think of the talk! They’ll call the guards.”
    “Let them say what they will, as long as it’s not over our dead bodies. I’ll figure something out.” It came to him then that he’d seen Packy O’Malley’s boat docked at the jetty. It was small but fast and able, even in a storm sea, and the man would be glad to do him a favor. “And if not of yourself,think of the