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“It’s me, Uncle Michael,” he said again.
Michael gave him a brief hug. “Good man yourself, Be
“Very well. Looking forward to seeing you.”
The words came out with difficulty, slow and measured.
Ryan said, “My niece, Kathleen. You and she will be cousins two or three times removed.”
Be
She reached up and kissed his cheek. “It’s good to meet you.”
He was overcome, nodding eagerly, and Ryan introduced Keogh, who held out his hand. Be
“Easy, son – easy does it.” He turned to Ryan. “I see what you mean about ru
“At least,” Ryan said. “Anyway, let’s get going.”
Be
Be
“In you go, Kate,” Keogh told her. “Make the big fella’s day. We’ll sit behind.”
They all got in and Be
Be
He turned into the main road and Ryan’s niece said, “What truck would that be?”
“Later, girl, later. Just sit back and admire the scenery. Some of the best in England.”
WHEN THEY REACHED the coast road it started to rain. Ryan said, “It does that a lot up here. I suppose it’s the mountains.”
They lifted up on the right, a spectacular sight, the peaks covered by low cloud. On the left the sea was angry, rolling in fast, whitecaps everywhere, a heavy sea mist following.
“The Isle of Man out there and then dear old Ireland,” Ryan told them.
Keogh said, “I don’t know whether you’ve had a forward weather forecast for Friday, but one thing’s for sure. If it’s rough weather, that Siemens ferry is in for one hell of a ride.”
“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Ryan told him.
About forty-five minutes out of Barrow they came to an area where there were marshes on their left stretching out to sea, vanishing into the mist. There was a sign up ahead and Ryan touched Be
The big man slowed down and Ryan said, “Marsh End. Let’s take a quick look, Be
Be
“So that’s it?” Keogh said.
“That’s it.” Ryan nodded. “Only something like the Siemens with its shallow draught could get in.”
“You can say that again. When the tide’s out, I’d say it’s nothing but marsh and mud flats.”
Ryan tapped Be
TOWARD THE UPPER end of Eskdale Valley, mountains rearing before them, Be
“A desolate sort of place,” Keogh said.
Ryan nodded. “A hard way to make a living.”
They came to a wooden sign post that bore the legend Folly’s End. “And that just about sums it up,” Ryan observed.
A moment later and they came to farm gates wide open, and beyond it the farm, two large barns, the farmhouse itself, all built in weathered gray stone. Be
“Here you are then, my cousin, Mary Power.”
THE BEAMED KITCHEN had a stone-flagged floor, a wood fire burning in an open hearth. She served them herself, ladling lamb and potato stew from a large pot, moving round the table, then sat at the end.
“It’s good to see you, girl,” she said to Kathleen. “When you reach my age relatives are hard to come by.”
“And it’s good to meet you,” Kathleen told her.
“And you, Mr. Keogh, what would your speciality be?” Mary Power asked.
“Well, I like to think I can turn my hand to most things.” Keogh spooned some stew to his mouth and smiled. “But I’ll never be the cook you are.”
Ryan pushed his plate away. Mary Power said, “More?”
He shook his head. “Tea would be fine.”
She got up and started to clear the plates and Kathleen helped her. Keogh said, “Could we all know where we stand here?”
“You mean where Mary stands?” Ryan said. “Simple. She’s backing me to the hilt on this. If things go well, she gets a hundred thousand pounds. That means she can kiss this place goodbye and go back to County Down.”
She showed no response at all, simply took plates to the sink, then reached for the kettle and made tea. “Everything’s in order. The truck is in the back barn. I’ve aired the cottage at Marsh End and there’s a fire in the stove. Somebody will have to stay there.”
Ryan nodded and accepted a mug of strong tea. “Perhaps Kathleen could stay with you, and Martin and myself could make out at the cottage.”
“Fine.” She opened a tin box and took out a cake. “Try this. I made it myself,” and she reached for a knife and cut it into slices.
THERE WAS A motorcycle on its stand just inside the barn, a black leather biker’s jacket draped across it, and there was a helmet. Keogh recognized it at once. “Heh, where did you get this beauty, Be
“You know this model?” Ryan asked.
“Of course. Spanish. They’ll do half a mile an hour over rough ground if you want them to.”
“And is that good?” Kathleen asked.
“It is if you’re a shepherd operating in hill country,” Keogh told her. “These things will go anywhere.” He turned to Ryan. “You bought this for Be
“Not really. A bit small for him. I thought it might suit our circumstances. I’ll explain later.” He said to Mary, “Let’s have a look at the truck.”
She turned to Be
He nodded eagerly, almost ran to the back of the barn, tossed some bales of hay to one side, then felt for a hidden catch. The wooden wall swung open. Inside in an extension of the barn stood a large truck painted green and white.
THE LEGEND ON the side of the truck read Shelby Meat Importers. Keogh said, “Is this what I think it is?”
“An exact replica of the truck we’re going to heist.”
“So what’s the point?”
“A decoy, that’s all. Be
“Very ingenious. And Be
“Be
“Right, let’s go back inside and have a cup of tea and then Be