The Killing Ground

They stood and looked at the display on the wall, read what was said about them, examined the photos.

“I think yours is quite good,” Dillon said. “I’m not sure about mine.”

“It’s called the older man look,” Billy said. “You know, been places, done things.”

“Is that it?” Dillon passed his glass to Fahy. “I’ll have the same again.”

“The Bushmills as usual, I know that well.”

He poured a large one. Dillon said, “And how would you know?”

“Because he heard you order one from the prick next door,” Billy said.

The old man shook his head. “I’m from Derry. I saw you three times with Martin McGuiness there. I had my moments with the IRA, but ten years inside finished me off and I came to Kilburn. Remember a pub called the Irish Guard? I was pot man there. Gerry Brady was the publican. Did me a favor and found me a job. I remember the first time you came in and asked for Gerry, only you weren’t calling yourself Sean Dillon.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be.”

“But I knew you. February ’ninety-one it was, the time somebody mounted a mortar attack on the Prime Minister and the War Cabinet at Downing Street.”

Dillon smiled.“We won’t get into that one. Have a Bushmills and tell us what you know about this lot on the wall.”

“And what bleeding Nolan and Kelly are up to,” Billy said.

Fahy poured himself the Bushmills. “Now do I look like an informer?”

“You’d look a damn sight worse if I put you on sticks,” Billy told him.

“For you, then, Mr. Dillon. Jimmy got all this stuff on his computer, photos, pages and so on, from a man called Fly

“You listened in?”

“The walls are terribly thin here. They were being offered a contract, that’s the upshot of it. A hundred thousand pounds. That’s why they put everything up on the board.”

“The bastards,” Billy said. “So they intend to do all of us.”

“The Ferguson fella and Harry Salter are the prime targets, that was the phrase used.”

“And how was this to be achieved?” Dillon asked.

“Nolan and his cousin Patrick run this place.”

“We know that,” Billy said. “Do they intend to do it themselves or put a crew together?”

“They’ve got Da

“What’s their game?”

“Armed robbery, shops, particularly Muslim stores of any kind.

Delaney is crackers. He really hates those Pakistanis and he shoots without hesitation.”

“And Flanagan?”

“Cut from the same bolt of cloth.”

“And never been nailed for any of this?” Dillon asked.

“Oh, they’ve been pulled in, appeared in court on occasion, but you can’t get a conviction without witnesses, can you?”

“Who else?” Dillon asked.

“Different breed altogether. Jack Burke and Tim Cohan. London Irish, the kind who slipped off to Ulster to join the Provos when they were kids. They did the lot, including the Maze. They know you, Mr. Dillon, and were distressed to see you in bad company.”

“Who did they particularly dislike?”

“ Ferguson. Burke said he was lifted along with some others when Ferguson was a colonel in Derry. Cohan said that if he passed him on a wet night in the rain, he’d shoot him in the back without hesitation.”

“Never mind all this,” Billy said. “Where are Nolan and Kelly now?”

“They went out about forty minutes ago. They were both armed and they aren’t coming back. Their conversation was all about filling the time until this evening. They were going to drive past Ferguson ’s house, check out your place, Mr. Dillon, then later visit the Dark Man. Something about the movies was mentioned-maybe they intend to kill time there until it’s late enough.”

“So the bastards intend to show up at the pub?” Billy said.

“Well, it is Friday night, so don’t tell me you won’t be busy. He said the word was that most of you on that board had a habit of getting together at the Dark Man of an evening. The idea is they go along, familiarize themselves with the place, the surroundings. They’ve also been ordered to check out Ferguson ’s house, and yours, Mr. Dillon. Obviously, Jimmy and Patrick do the same.”

“And then what?” Billy demanded. “Who gets it first?”

“Jimmy said after they’ve done all that I’ve told you about, they’d speak again. Oh, there is something else. Burke and Cohan-they’re like a lot of the boys are, the great days gone.”

“And they don’t like it?” Dillon said.

“They don’t care for the company they have to keep. They once had pride and now it’s gone.” He tapped out his pipe. “Would there be anything else?”

“You’ve told us a lot,” Dillon said. “And I suspect it’s all true. Why?”

“I’ve always admired you, Mr. Dillon. A great man and great for the Cause, but I haven’t done it for you, my reasons are purely selfish. Your friend here looks like the kind of fella who’d have beaten it out of me one way or another, and I’m getting too old for that.”

“Yes, you are, you old bastard.” Billy turned to Dillon. “Stick him in the back of the Alfa and take him to Holland Park. Put him behind lock and key until this is over.”

“Good on you, Billy.” Dillon patted Fahy on the shoulder. “Does it suit you? A comfortable safe house?”

“Well, I certainly won’t be safe here.” He led the way through the snug, pausing to take his coat from behind the bar. “I’ll just check on Michael.”

He led the way into the saloon bar, which was empty. He called, but there was no reply. “Maybe he’s gone to get his arm fixed.”

“Not your problem,” Billy said. “It’s the safe house for you. You’ll love it. Better than a hotel.”

DILLON REPORTED IN TO ROPER. “Are Harry and Ferguson still occupied elsewhere?”

“They haven’t contacted me yet. What have you discovered? Should we be worried?”

“See what you think,” and Dillon gave him a brief account of what had happened.

When he had finished, Roper said, “I’ll put them all through my computer, pull out photos and general information. Anything I can find. It could be fun.”

“So you’re in favor of letting these six guys do some nosing around tonight and we don’t do anything about it.”

“I didn’t say that. From what your informant has told you, they are not supposed to do anything except size the situation up. What we’ve got to decide is what we do if things get out of hand. I’ll try and contact the General and Harry. After all, they are the main targets. I’d remind you the flight from Dublin is due in an hour. What do we do about that?”

“We’ll call in at Holland Park, drop Fahy off and take one of the People Travellers to Farley.”

“Greta got back an hour ago. She’s having a drink with me now. I think she’d like to greet her compatriots. It must be some Russian thing.”

THERE HAD BEEN HEADWINDS, which had slowed them down, but the King Air had performed well, and Levin, Mary and Chomsky, having discovered a bottle of champagne in an icebox, had consumed it between them.

“So what do you fancy putting your hand to, Mary?” Chomsky asked her.

“I’m beyond caring. Mind you, I have a degree in business studies and computer technology.”

“Well, in the world of today, you’ll never starve,” Chomsky told her, and turned to Levin. “Don’t you agree?”

Levin nodded. “All you need are the right co

“As long as you don’t mind being employed by one of the most prominent gangsters in London,” Chomsky said.

“This is nonsense,” Levin told him. “A girl with her background would fit particularly well in Harry’s world.”