The Trojan boy

TWELVE

Avedissian turned his head and saw that Kathleen was sleeping. The cabin lights had been dimmed and the whine of the engines had become for many a reassuring white sound in their subconscious. The slight moan from an auxiliary hydraulic motor made Avedissian look out of the window to see the trailing edge of the wing alter slightly as the captain made a course correction. There was a full moon on the port side. It caught the rivets along the top surface and created geometric shadows on the engine cowling. Avedissian closed his eyes and imagined what the moonlight must look like on the Atlantic seven miles below. He fell asleep.

Avedissian and Kathleen did not discuss a plan of action until they had cleared Heathrow and journeyed to Avedissian's flat by taxi. There was a greyness about London which at other times might have been depressing but after the heat of the Mid-West they found acceptable. On the way Avedissian noticed that the mere fact that it was not raining had encouraged quite a few women to pretend that it was still summer and reflect that attitude in their dress. He admired their spirit.

'How will you contact Kell when we get to Belfast?' he asked Kathleen.

‘There are several pubs used by our people. I can get a message to him.'

Avedissian noted the phrase 'our people' and felt distanced by it. He did not say anything but wished silently that Kathleen had not used it. They discussed where they would stay until the deal was made with Kell. Kathleen suggested that she had several relations whom she could trust but Avedissian argued, and Kathleen finally agreed with him, that they should trust no one. They would find an anonymous boarding-house.

'There is one thing,' said Avedissian. 'You know Kell. Do you think he will agree to a straight deal?'

Kathleen's face took on a pained expression and she replied, 'My heart prays that he will but my head tells me different. Nobody crosses Kell and gets away with it. Something tells me that even if he gets the money he won't rest until Martin and I are dead. For Kell it will be a matter of principle.'

'From what I've heard of him I was afraid that might be the case,' said Avedissian. 'So we're not going to let that happen.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean we start taking care of our own future.'

'In what way?'

'Kell still thinks the tapes are the key to the money. We are going to exchange the tapes for your brother and then use the money to buy a new life for all of us.'

Kathleen's eyes opened wide in astonishment. 'You intend to double-cross Finbarr Kell?' she exclaimed in disbelief.

'You've just said that he intends to double-cross you.'

'But Kell! You don't know what you're saying!'

'He's a man.'

'You don't know him.'

'All I know is you can buy a lot of time and distance with twenty-five million dollars. What's the alternative? Running? Hiding? Watching our backs all the time? That's no life. It's time to stop being a victim of circumstance. It's time to fight for what you want.'

'It's crazy… crazy,' muttered Kathleen as she considered what Avedissian was suggesting but, despite her fear of Kell, she could see that it made some kind of sense. If Kell intended to kill them even if he got the money, why give it to him in the first place? 'All right,’ she agreed.

'I had to get rid of the gun before we got on the plane. I'm going to feel naked without one. Any ideas?' asked Avedissian.

Kathleen looked at Avedissian and wondered if he really appreciated what he was getting into. Few people in their right minds would ever dream of tangling with Kell, whatever the ordnance, and here was Avedissian wondering where he could get a gun. At that moment she loved him more than she thought possible. 'We can't risk buying one. Apart from that there's no time,' she said. 'But there might still be one in the cottage at Cladeen.' She told Avedissian of the cottage used by the IRA and where she and Martin had last been together. 'Martin had a gun in the dressing-table upstairs; he kept it as a second one in case of emergencies. If Kell's men did not search the place after we left and no one has used the house since then it will still be there.'

Avedissian asked how they would get there.

'We'd need a car.'

'We'll need one anyway. We'll rent one.'

'It would be best to go at night,' said Kathleen.

Avedissian looked at his watch and said, 'We can be in Belfast by this evening.'

'You need some proper rest,' said Kathleen.

‘There's no time. But there will be when it's all over. How's the leg?'

'It's fine,’ said Kathleen. 'Have I told you lately that I love you?'

'No,’ smiled Avedissian.

'Well I do.’

Avedissian ran his fingers lightly through Kathleen's hair and said, 'I have to go out, arrange the tickets, go to the bank, get some odds and ends. Get some sleep. I'll be back soon.’

Avedissian picked up a newspaper on his way back to the flat and read it when he got in. It was strangely reassuring to find that the world seemed to be going on as normal. The more trivial the story the more Avedissian liked it and took refuge in its diversion. He did, however, find one article on Ireland and the troubles. It reported that earlier fears of a new reign of terror in Belfast had been subsiding in recent weeks with an unofficial truce apparently having been declared by the IRA after the bombing of the Shamrock Shopping Centre. It was suggested that that particular outrage had been a one-off, a show of strength for the benefit of any doubters of the new regime and did not herald a new wave of violence.

Avedissian felt uneasy at the complacency of the article. He remembered what Kathleen had said about rumours of a Kell operation to outshine even Bryant's grandiose scheme. A chill ran through him when he thought of her assertion that no one crossed Kell and ever got away with it.

He turned the page and read of a TV star's addiction to heroin and moved on to a story about a cat being rescued from a church roof by the fire brigade. A brave pensioner's struggle with teenage muggers came next and then, as he prepared to skip over the children's section, he saw a photograph that caught his attention and paused. 'Another First for Blue Peter' read the story. Royal child to share his birthday celebrations with handicapped young people from all over the country. Avedissian looked at the child in the photograph and felt a desperate bitterness when he thought of Harry. The child in the photograph would never know what happened to his unwitting alter ego or why. But Bryant would, Avedissian promised himself.

It was raining when they got to Belfast and, for some reason, Avedissian had known that it would be. The universal grey wetness was just as he had pictured it in his mind two nights before in Penning. They picked up their hire car at the airport and headed for an area of the city liberally endowed with terraced boarding-houses. They picked one for no particular reason and booked in for the night. They would move to another next day using the same story. They were stopping off in Belfast for one night before driving south.

It was eight p.m. when they left for Cladeen, with Kathleen giving directions to Avedissian, who was having trouble enough with the rain proving too heavy for the wipers. Red brake-lights flared up ahead and were reflected many times over in the river of water on the screen. Avedissian slowed and saw that there was an army patrol up ahead.. A soldier stood in the road, one hand resting on his shoulder-slung weapon and the other in the air to halt traffic.

It was an anxious moment for Avedissian who did not relish the prospect of an identity check but he was relieved to see that they were not the object of the army's interest. Traffic was being held up to allow a large military vehicle to reverse out from a lane. This over, the convoy continued.

Despite their agreement that the torrential rain could not last long, it did. It was still pouring down when they got to Cladeen and pulled into the little lane leading to the cottage. They were drenched within seconds of leaving the car and approaching the house on foot in case anyone should be staying there.

The cottage was in darkness and there was no sound from it save for the rain gurgling through the overloaded gutters. Kathleen signalled to Avedissian that he should follow her, as she led the way round to a back window near the ground. She tried it and it opened. Avedissian climbed in behind her and closed the window to stand, dripping water on the kitchen floor.

‘This way,' said Kathleen. She led the way upstairs to the bedroom and opened a drawer to withdraw an automatic pistol and hand it to Avedissian. He checked the clip and said, 'It's loaded.'

They came back downstairs and Kathleen paused to look at the living room. It was exactly as they had left it after that awful night. The lampshade still lay on the floor where it had been knocked off to expose the microphone. In her mind she could see her brother lying in agony on the floor while Kell's eyes burned with mad fury. The thought that she was getting ever closer to Kell made her desperately afraid. 'Let's go,' she said.

'Which pub are we heading for?' asked Avedissian as they reached the outskirts of Belfast.

‘Try the Blind Horse in Lyndock Street,' said Kathleen.

'How do we get there?'

'Stop the car.'

Avedissian stopped and Kathleen took over the driving. They were there in ten minutes after weaving through Belfast's dockland. Avedissian did not like the look of the place. He would not have liked it had it been a bright summer's day but, near to closing time on a wet night, it made the dock taverns of East London look classy.

'What do I do?' asked Avedissian.

'Stay with me and keep your mouth shut, or that accent of yours could have you face down in the water.'

The inside of the pub was as dingy and run-down as the exterior and Avedissian found himself feeling relieved that they had got soaked in Cladeen. Their sagging clothes and matted hair brought them some kind of common denominator with the clientele.

Kathleen ordered and paid for the drinks. It made Avedissian feel uncomfortable but no one seemed to see anything unusual in it. They sat down on a bench seat and sipped Guinness. 'Do you see anyone?' Avedissian whispered.

'No.'

A few minutes later a small man in a dark, ill-fitting suit emerged from the gents' toilets. He had a cigarette in his mouth with nearly an inch of ash clinging to the end but still managed to cough without disturbing it. Avedissian felt Kathleen stiffen beside him. She whispered, ‘That's Connell Murphy. He can get a message to Kell.' She got up and went to the bar, indicating with her hand that Avedissian should stay seated.

Avedissian watched Kathleen engage the man in conversation but was too far away to hear what was being said. He saw Murphy nod two or three times and then say something to the barman in response to something Kathleen had said. A whiskey was put down in front of him and Kathleen paid. The man downed it in one gulp and left the bar. Kathleen came back and sat down. She started to say something but had to pause for a loud bell that heralded closing time. Auxiliary shouts of ‘Time' broke out before she could try again so they got up and left. 'I've asked him to tell Kell that I will be here tomorrow lunchtime,' said Kathleen as they returned to the car.

It was agreed that Kathleen would go alone to the Blind Horse to negotiate the exchange. Avedissian did not like the notion but conceded that it made sense. Kell could not risk harming her while he held the key to the money. But, even with that seemingly undeniable thought to comfort them, neither could sleep that night and morning came as a relief. The sound of milk and papers being delivered provided a welcome distraction from the fear inspired by thoughts of Kell. They spent the morning rehearsing what Kathleen should say in outlining conditions for the hand-over of the tapes. At eleven-thirty she left for the rendezvous.

Avedissian watched the progress of every minute on the clock. He calculated that Kathleen should be back by twelve-forty, having taken an agreed detour to ensure that she was not being followed. They would then move to another boarding-house and make final plans for their escape from Ireland, based on the information that Kathleen returned with.

Twelve-forty came and went as did one o'clock and one-fifteen, then there was a slight knock on the door. Avedissian snatched it open and found their landlady standing there. 'You did say that you were leaving today… Mr Farmer?'

'My apologies, Mrs Pagan. My wife had to go out and find a dentist this morning. She has terrible toothache. She should be back shortly and then we'll be on our way.'

'Just as long as I know, Mr Farmer… I really should be charging you for an extra day you know

Avedissian closed the door on the woman and checked the time again. Where was she? What had happened?

At one-forty-five the little tap came to the door again. Avedissian, his nerves strained to breaking point, cursed under his breath and took some money from his wallet to stuff into the woman's hand.

'Are you still there, Mr Farmer?' asked the voice, making Avedissian mutter again as he went to open the door. 'Here you are Mrs

…' he had started to say when he saw the woman swept aside and the muzzle of a gun was whipped across his face. He staggered backwards and fell to the floor, an easy target for the boots that came thudding into him. He was dimly aware of being dragged out of the house and bundled into a car, but the lapses into unconsciousness were too frequent for him to plot any chain of events after that.

When he did come round he was lying on a stone floor in semi-darkness and had a raging thirst. He lay still for a moment, wondering whether or not he had any broken ribs but they seemed to be intact when he tried breathing a little deeper. He moved his jaw from side to side. It wasn't broken. Gritting his teeth, he tried to get up, letting out an involuntary groan at the stiffness in his neck through lying in the one position for God knew how long.

A metal slit was hammered back in the door and eyes peered in. The slit closed and a few moments later bolts rattled and the door was flung open to allow a man holding a gun to enter. He motioned with the muzzle and said, 'Out, you bastard.' Avedissian was prodded and poked all the way along a corridor and then told to wait while another door was unlocked. He was thrown inside and the door closed behind him.

Avedissian was no longer alone. There were two other people in the room and one of them was Kathleen, her face stained with tears and racked with pain. 'Oh, my love,' he exclaimed in anguish as he crawled towards her, 'What have they done to you?'

Kell burned her till she told him where you were,' said the other person in the room, a thin, haggard-looking man with only one arm. 'I'm Kathleen's brother.'

Despite the poor lighting in the cellar Avedissian could see the marks left by cigarette burns on Kathleen's exposed breasts.

'I told them… I told them…' she murmured. 'I let you down

…"

'Don't, don't say that,' whispered Avedissian. He was thinking of the length of time he had waited at the boarding-house and what Kathleen must have been going through. He closed his eyes and put his cheek against her hair. 'What happened?' he asked.

‘They didn't even talk,’ said Kathleen. 'As soon as I got to the Blind Horse, Kell's men put me in a car and brought me here. All they wanted to know was where you were… and I told them.' More tears began to flow and Avedissian tried to comfort her.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop as a persistent squeaking sound reached them. Avedissian looked at O'Neill and asked, 'Kell?' O'Neill nodded and the sound grew louder. Avedissian could feel Kathleen's body stiffen in fear.

The door opened and Nelligan, Kell's minder, manoeuvred the pram expertly inside. He turned it round on its back wheels alone so that Kell now faced the three of them. Nelligan stood behind like a rock with a gun.

'Well, well, well,' said Kell with syncopated precision. 'Isn't this nice.'

Avedissian felt a new kind of fear grow within him, for the monster in the pram seemed to radiate evil and malice. He found himself mesmerised by the huge eyes behind the glasses and the pale, hairless face.

'Now then,' said Kell with a smile that seared Avedissian like a soldering-iron. 'I want my money.'

'You would have got the tapes. What the hell did you have to do this for?' said Avedissian with much more bravery than he felt.

Kell fixed him with a long stare and said, 'I said money, not tapes.'

Avedissian stayed silent but felt his position crumble as Kell resumed his stare.

'When news of Miss O'Neill's generous offer reached me last night I thought it was about time to re-establish contact with our American friends and commiserate with them over a British trick that had fooled both of us. They told me that things were even worse than I thought. The British bastards had actually managed to get their hands on the money when they had thought it safe for the time being. But, of course, you and I both know that it wasn't the British who got the money; don't we… Doctor?'

Avedissian swallowed hard and said hoarsely, 'All right, Kell. I've got the money. Let us go and you can have it.'

The smile vanished from Kell's face and was replaced with venomous anger. 'I can have it, can I?' he whispered. 'How kind.'

Avedissian was trying desperately to appear calm for he found Kell's anger almost tangible in the confines of the cell. He would never have believed that anyone could unnerve him so much.

'Where is it?' rasped Kell.

'It's in a bank,’ said Avedissian.

‘Then we must get it out of the bank,’ said Kell with a wide-eyed stare.

'Like I said, you let us go and I'll give you the money,’ said Avedissian.

Kell shook his head slowly and said, 'You just don't understand, do you? There is no bargain to be made. You will transfer the money unconditionally.'

'Do you think I'm mad, Kell?' snorted Avedissian.

'No, I think you're dead,’ replied Kell with a chilling finality. 'You are all dead,’ he added. 'The only question to be decided is how much pain you go through before I permit you to die."

'Then I've got nothing to lose by refusing to transfer the money,’ said Avedissian with cold sweat running down his back.

'Tell me that when Nelligan is cutting bits off the O'Neill bitch and feeding them to the dogs,’ said Kell.

'All right, Kell, you win,’ whispered Avedissian.

'Of course I do, Doctor,’ said Kell, the smile returning. 'In the end, I always do. But there's no hurry. Enjoy my hospitality until Nelligan and I get back from proving that fact to Bryant.’

'What do you mean?' asked O'Neill.

Kell adopted a patronising sneer and said softly, 'C'mon, Martin, you with your university education an' all.’ He turned to Kathleen and said, 'And you too, school-teacher. Knowing what Bryant had set up for us, what would you say would be the last thing on earth that he would expect us to be planning in the circumstances?… No?…All that education and no ideas?' The smile faded and Kell hissed, ‘I’ll show that bastard who's boss. I'll make him rue the day he ever crossed the path of Finbarr Kell.' He turned to Nelligan and said, 'We have work to do. It's going to be quite like old times, eh?'

Nelligan agreed, basking in the recognition of his master like a Labrador dog. He wheeled Kell out of the room and the door was clanged shut. Those left in the room listened in silence until the squeaking of the pram wheels had faded away then Kathleen said, 'So we are all going to die.'

'We're not dead yet,’ said Avedissian, but failed to convince even himself that they had a future. 'I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen him for myself,’ he added.

O'Neill knew what he was thinking and said, 'From what Kathleen tells me, Bryant isn't much better.'

'What did he mean by saying it was going to be like old times?' Avedissian asked.

‘I’m not sure,’ admitted O'Neill. 'But Kell and Nelligan used to work together in the old days before Kell was crippled.’

Kathleen was holding herself in pain and Avedissian suffered the agony of knowing that there was little he could do to help in the circumstances but try to comfort her verbally, something he could do with little conviction.

They were left alone with their thoughts and fears until their guard, a particularly sullen and uncommunicative individual, brought in some brown bread and a jug of water. He refused all requests for a first-aid kit or any kind of medication for Kathleen's burns. 'You get what I'm told to give you,’ he snarled. 'Nothing else.’

Toilet arrangements in their cell comprised a single rusty can which, when combined with a total lack of ventilation in the cellar, ensured that their world stank by early evening when the guard changed. Avedissian feared that Kathleen's burns must soon become infected in the squalor.

Their new guard brought in tea and bread rolls. O'Neill knew the man: he was Liam Drummond, the driver who had taken him to and from Cladeen after the amputation of his arm, the man who had complained bitterly about Kell's earlier behaviour. O'Neill said, 'So you were right about Kell.'

The man's face filled with fear and he whispered hoarsely, ‘For God's sake, Mr O'Neill, keep your voice down! I'm doing my job. I don't want no trouble.'

O'Neill could see how scared the man really was. He would have to proceed with great care if Drummond were to be of any use to them at all and it might be that he was their only chance. But Drummond still called him 'Mr'. How much influence did he have left with the man? 'My sister is hurt bad,’ said O'Neill. 'Kell burned her. She needs medication. Can you get her some?'

'Be reasonable, Mr O'Neill,' pleaded Drummond. 'It's more than my life is worth to cross Kell. You know that.'

'Kathleen will die if the burns become infected,’ said O'Neill. 'She's in terrible pain.'

The plain truth, Mr O'Neill, is that you are all going to die when the Bairn gets back,’ replied Drummond.

'Back from where?' asked O'Neill.

'England. He's gone operational.'

O'Neill looked incredulous but he could see that Drummond was serious and fought an immediate urge to ridicule the notion. 'On what operation?' he asked.

'I don't know, Mr O'Neill, honest to God I don't, but it's something big, something very big.'

'And Kell is doing it himself?'

'That's what they say. He and Nelligan are going to do it, just like they used to,’ said Drummond.

'You said, "when Kell gets back". Does that mean he has already gone?'

'An hour ago.'

'Then you can get us some first-aid stuff and Kell will never know.'

Drummond looked uncertain.

O'Neill pushed a little harder. 'Go on, bring the boxes from the sick room.'

'I'll see what I can do.'

'And for Christ's sake, change this can, will you?' added O'Neill, nodding to their toilet.

Avedissian admired the way that O'Neill had handled the situation. The man obviously understood people and how to manage them; that implied a degree of sensitivity that he was relieved to find in O'Neill for he had had qualms about meeting the brother that Kathleen cared so much about. In view of O'Neill's past record he had feared that any kind of liking for O'Neill might be completely out of the question. Now he was not so sure and the strange thing was that there seemed to be something familiar about him, something he could not put his finger on.

Kathleen was now in too much pain to pretend otherwise and sat huddled in the corner holding herself, rocking backwards and forwards as if subconsciously trying to induce a trance to escape her agony. Avedissian and O'Neill had stopped trying to comfort her for their efforts seemed to be doing more harm than good and only upset her more, O'Neill came over to Avedissian by the door and whispered, 'If God would grant me one wish before I died it would be to take that evil little bastard's life.'

'You and me both,’ said Avedissian.

O'Neill said quietly, 'I asked Drummond to bring the boxes from the sick room. They're not just first-aid boxes. They have all the stuff the doctor needs for when our boys get injured. Take whatever you think might be useful, pills and the like, in case the going should get too tough.'

Avedissian said that he would but did not want to dwell too long on the prospects of group suicide.

Drummond returned with the medicine boxes and he was sweating with fear. 'God, if Kell ever finds out,’ he muttered.

'He won't,’ O'Neill reassured him. 'Relax, man.'

Avedissian got to work sifting through the contents of the boxes and was aware of O'Neill getting to work on Drummond again; he was asking probing questions but disguising them effectively as concern.

'So who do you have to worry about with Kell gone? Who's left in the Long House anyway?'

'Just the Feeley brothers and me.’

'Just the four of you? Well, there you are then. Kell will never ever know. Where have all the rest gone anyway?'

'England. All other operations have stopped for this one.’

Avedissian gave Kathleen a pain-killing injection before cleaning her burns and applying antiseptic dressings. The injection took almost immediate effect and a slight overdose made her euphoric. She looked up at Drummond and said with what sounded like a drunken giggle, 'Enjoying the view?'

Drummond became embarrassed. 'Certainly not, Miss O'Neill,’ he stammered, 'I'm just sorry that… well you know…’ His voice trailed off.

'I appreciate your doing this, Liam,’ said O'Neill.

Drummond became even more embarrassed and looked down at his feet before saying, 'You were always a gentleman, Mr O'Neill. The lads always had respect for you.’

O'Neill hit Drummond hard on the back of the neck and the man fell to the floor. O'Neill chopped him again to make sure.

Avedissian had seen it coming. 'What now?' he asked.

O'Neill searched the unconscious man with his one hand and then repeated the operation before saying, There's poetic justice for you. He trusted me so much that he didn't bring his gun with him this time. We've no gun and there's three of them between us and the door.’

'Where will they be?' asked Avedissian.

'In the duty room at the end of the passage. We have to pass it to get to the stairs.’

'Couldn't we sneak past?' asked Avedissian.

'Not a chance. The door at the head of the stairs has an electronic lock on it. It's controlled from inside the duty room.’

'What about guns?'

‘The armoury is kept locked. The key is in the duty room.’

Avedissian looked at the medical boxes which seemed to be their only resource and asked after some thought, 'Do they drink tea?'

'I suppose so. Why?'

'Where do they make it?'

'In the duty room. They have a stove.’

'Pity,’ said Avedissian.

O'Neill suddenly realised what Avedissian had been considering and added, 'But they have to get the water from the room across the way.’

‘Then there's a chance,’ said Avedissian. 'If I can get this lot..’ he held up a bottle of pills '… into their tea, we can put them out for a week.’

O'Neill filled Avedissian in on the details of the room layout in the passage and of the inside of the room where the men would get water. He wanted to know exactly where the sink was and where the kettle would be, for he would not be able to turn on the light.

'It should be OK,’ said O'Neill. 'People don't usually have to turn the light on in that room anyway when they fill the kettle. There's enough light from the corridor.’

Avedissian crushed up the number of pills he thought would be necessary to achieve the desired effect and poured the powder into an empty pill box for the time being. 'I hope to God they all take milk and sugar,’ he said as he prepared to move out into the corridor. He checked on Kathleen and saw that she was sleeping comfortably before listening at the door prior to opening it. The corridor outside seemed quiet.

'Good luck,’ said O'Neill.

Avedissian thought the corridor was never ending as he tiptoed along it, scarcely daring to breathe. He was convinced that, at any second, someone would come out from the duty room at the end and start shooting. He passed the halfway mark and could now see the room that he was making for. He kept his eyes fixed on it as he steeled himself for the final few metres. He was inside it.

As O'Neill had predicted, there was enough light from the corridor to see things inside the room but he was uncomfortable with the fact that the door was wide open and gave it a little push. It made a noise like a giant redwood about to fall. Avedissian froze in fear but, after a few seconds, he could hear that the muted sound of voices coming from the duty room had not changed. He exhaled slowly and left the door as it was.

The kettle was on the shelf above the sink where O'Neill had said it would be. Avedissian took it down slowly and carefully, avoiding any action that could give rise to noise, and poured the contents of the pill box into it. He swirled the powder around in the little water that lay in the bottom and put the kettle back on the shelf with pained slowness.

Avedissian turned to leave the room but stopped when he heard the level of sound from across the corridor increase suddenly. Someone was coming out and he would be trapped! He stepped quickly back into the shadow behind the room door and prayed. If someone came in and switched on the light he was a dead man.

A short, broad man with a bull neck came into the room, still engaged in conversation with those across the corridor. He did not touch the light switch but took the kettle down from the shelf and filled it under the tap. He was so close to Avedissian that Avedissian thought he must smell his fear but the man appeared to notice nothing amiss. He rattled the lid on to the kettle at the second attempt and left the room.

Avedissian remained motionless for a few moments, still partially paralysed by nightmare thoughts of how close he had come to dying but the fact that he had apparently got away with it filtered through to him and restored his courage. He ventured out into the corridor again and returned to O'Neill and Kathleen.

O'Neill greeted him with an anxious look.

'It's done,' said Avedissian. 'Now we wait.'

'How long?'

Avedissian tried to guess how long it would take for the kettle to boil, how long it would take the man to make and drink the tea, assuming they drank it at all for there was a chance that they would be put off by the taste, and how long it would take for the drugs to act. He said, 'Better give them thirty minutes to be on the safe side.' He suddenly had an awful thought. He looked down at the man on the floor and said, 'Won't they miss him?'

As if in answer to Avedissian's question, the door at the end of the passage opened and a voice called out, 'Liam! Tea's ready!'

Avedissian and O'Neill were turned to stone. They waited for the door to close again but it did not. Someone was waiting for an answer! O'Neill stood up and faced the opposite direction from the source of the shout. He called out, 'Just comin" and then stopped breathing as he waited for a reaction. The door at the end of the passage closed.

Avedissian examined Kathleen. She was still sleeping peacefully and mercifully free of pain after her ordeal thanks to the analgesics. He lifted one of her eyelids and saw that she was not too deeply sedated for her to be brought round when they had to leave. She groaned and moved her face away in response to him touching her eyes. Avedissian looked at Drummond lying on the floor and said, 'I think I'll give him a shot to make sure he stays out for the next few hours.' He gave the unconscious man an injection.

O'Neill said, 'I think it's time. Shall we risk it?'

Avedissian felt his stomach go into knots again but he nodded and said, 'Let's check it out.'

They left Kathleen in the cell, while they crept along the passage towards the duty room, their hopes increasing with the fact that they could hear no sound at all coming from within. O'Neill found it difficult to put his faith in the power of drugs so it was Avedissian who finally put his hand on the handle of the duty room door and turned it slowly open.

Two men lay slumped over the table, a third lay on the floor where he had fallen off his seat. O'Neill unlocked the door to the head of the stairs but still continued to rummage around. Avedissian asked him what he was doing.

'I'm looking for some clue to what the little bastard is up to,' replied O'Neill. 'He could still start a civil war.'

Avedissian helped O'Neill in the search but when, after five minutes, they had drawn a blank he suggested that they stop.

'Let's try Kell's room,' said O'Neill. He looked down at the unconscious men and said, 'I take it they will be out for some time?'

'A long time,’ replied Avedissian.

'Look at this,’ said O'Neill, handing Avedissian a piece of paper. It was a photocopy of a map. Ordnance Survey, thought Avedissian, and said so to O'Neill.. He had recognised the style but not the area. There was a circle round a village called Valham. 'Mean anything?' asked O'Neill.

'Nothing, but let's take it.'

O'Neill asked Avedissian to help him put back the medical boxes in the sick room and drag the unconscious Drummond along to join the others. 'I don't want him getting all the blame for this,’ he said. Avedissian liked the gesture. This done, they brought Kathleen round and helped her along the passage and up the stairs.

They were out in the Belfast night. The streets were wet but it had stopped raining and the air had never smelled so good to them. For Avedissian, at least, the smell of freedom became a reality.

There was no real decision to be made. Their first objective had to be to get out of the country, for Ireland was no longer a place for any of them. Avedissian suggested that they should make for his flat in London. Any new plans could be made from there. It was agreed.

Avedissian's worry that the O'Neills might have trouble with heightened security on the Ireland-England routes proved to be unfounded. There had been no IRA action for some time and memories are short even with the best of intentions. They made the crossing unhindered.