Drink With the Devil Read Online Free PDF

young electronic whiz kid at Queen’s University in Belfast who is sympathetic to our cause.”
    Keogh nodded slowly. “And the driver and the guards? What happens there?”
    “A stun grenade should take care of them.” Ryan looked bleak for a moment. “Mind you, I’ll kill them if I have to. This is serious business.”
    Keogh nodded. “All right, what happens after the heist?”
    “We drive it to Marsh End where the
Irish Rose
will be waiting.” He smiled. “We’ll be well out to sea and on our way and the police running round in circles.”
    There was a long silence while Keogh brooded. Finally he nodded. “You know, you’re right. It could work.”
    Ryan laughed delightedly. “Good man yourself, Martin. Let’s have a drink on it.”
    Bell got up, opened a cupboard and took out a bottle of Bushmills and three glasses, and at that moment there was a crash in the yard outside as a trashcan went over.
     
     
    W HEN R YAN SUGGESTED the drink, Tully decided it was time to go. He opened the back door, closed it softly behind him, and started across the yard. It was then that he blundered into the trashcan, dislodging the metal lid which clanged as it fell to the stone flagging. He carried on, got the gate open, and ran along the alley. As he reached the far end, Keogh emerged into the alley, but by then it was too late as Tully crossed the busy main road and was lost in the evening crowd.
    When Keogh returned, Bell had turned on the yard light and was standing at the back door with Ryan and the girl.
    “Was there someone?” Ryan demanded.
    “Oh, yes,” Keogh said. “And you’re not going to like it one little bit. I just caught a glimpse of him as he turned into the road. It looked remarkably like Tully to me.”
    “The bastard was checking up on us,” Ryan said and led the way back into the parlour.
    “So what do we do now?” Bell demanded. “This blows everything.”
    “No, I don’t agree,” Keogh said. “He wants to see the affair go through because he wants the rest of his money.”
    “That makes sense.” Ryan nodded.
    “I’d say he was simply sniffing around to find out more.”
    “Which means he’s a shifty swine,” Kathleen put in.
    “Who knows more than he did if he overheard our discussion.” Keogh pulled on his reefer coat.
    “Where are you going?” Ryan demanded.
    “Back to the
Irish Rose
.” Keogh took out his Walther and checked it. “I’m going to do some sniffing around myself.”
    “I’ll come with you,” Ryan told him.
    “No need, I can handle it.” Keogh smiled. “After all, that’s what you’re paying me for.”
    As he turned for the door, Kathleen Ryan said, “Take care, Martin.”
    “Ah, but I always do, girl dear.” He smiled and went out; there was the sound of the yard gate opening and closing, and he was gone.
     
     
    I T WAS RAINING again as Keogh paid off the taxi and turned along Cable Wharfe. It was a place of shadows, a touch of fog in the air. He kept to those shadows by the old disused warehouses and paused when he was close to the gangway. There was no sign of life. He thought about it for a while, then decided to take a chance and darted across to the stern of the ferry which at that point was lower than the wharf.
    He dropped down to the deck, paused for a moment, then moved through the darkness to where the central section and the wheelhouse reared into the night. There was a light up there. Keogh went up an iron ladder to the landing below the wheelhouse, then approached, crouching. He could hear voices, smell cigarette smoke. They were all in there, Tully and his crew. Keogh stood, protected by a life raft, and listened.
    He heard the man Dolan say, “Gold? Are you kidding us, Frank?”
    “No. I’m bloody not. The truck that we pick up at Marsh End will be loaded with the stuff. They’re going to knock it off on its way to the smelters in Barrow-in-Furness.”
    “But who are
they
?” Dolan demanded.
    “Well, they’re Irish,