The Killing Ground Part 22

"Then it's yours. I'll see your firm gets an official contract. You'll be responsible for all the security at the house and complex. You've heard of Max Chekov's unfortunate problem in London?"

"Bad news travels fast. We know how to handle that sort of thing in Dublin. A d.a.m.n shame."

"I'm taking over. Frankly, I'm wondering if you might be the one I am looking for to take over all the security services for Belov International."

Flynn couldn't believe it. "By G.o.d, I'm your man, General."

"You are, of course, able to recruit old comrades from your days in the Provisional IRA?"

"You mean you're after mercenaries?"

"Call them what you like. Men who are used to the gun and won't flinch at using it. Don't let's beat about the bush. You know exactly what I am and I know what you were. Say I had work for you in London. Would you be able to provide suitable people?"

"To do what?"

"There's a General Charles Ferguson who heads a special intelligence unit and is a great thorn in my side. I know you're already familiar with some of his a.s.sociates, like Sean Dillon and Harry and Billy Salter."

"I've known Ferguson for nearly thirty years. Dillon as well, though differently in those days. A good comrade, but if he got in my way now, I'd shoot him without hesitation. Where is all this leading?"

"Would you accept contracts on Ferguson and on Harry Salter, who is responsible for what happened to Chekov?" Volkov asked.

"Absolutely. Believe me, there are old IRA hands in London who can still do the business, bomb or bullet. The Irish quarter, Kilburn, never goes away. You want sleepers working in the city or in publis.h.i.+ng or on some newspapers? I can supply them. The Muslims think they invented it-they only discovered it. When do you want it sorted?"

"Tonight would be fine."

"Good G.o.d."

"But not absolutely necessary. There is one thing you could do as soon as you like. Kill someone in Dublin. He's an ex-agent of mine called Igor Levin. Your man Popov was his sergeant. I should warn you, he's a highly dangerous man."

"We eat dangerous men for breakfast."

"Terms to be agreed in all cases."

"Levin will be my gift to you, General, this very day."

"I expected nothing less. We'll do great things together."

Flynn hadn't been so excited in years. He spoke on the intercom to Popov and called him in. Mary watched the Russian brush past her, face flushed, and continued to listen.

"I'm taking over all security services at Belov International, so you'll be working for General Volkov again. He's in charge of things now. Max Chekov had an unfortunate accident."

"That's marvelous, the General, I mean. Is there any way I can be of help?"

"You can help right now. This friend of yours, Igor Levin?"

"Ah, yes, we worked together in the GRU."

"I'd like to have words with him. It's a confidential matter. I might be able to throw a bit of work his way."

"I don't know about that. I should tell you he's quite rich. A bit difficult."

"Well, you know what they say in the Mafia: I'll make him an offer he can't refuse."

Popov agreed reluctantly. "What do I do?"

"Tell him I'd like to see him on business. Take him down to Riley's Bar in Crown Street by the river. It'll be closed, but just knock on the door and tell him I'll be waiting. Have him there and you clear off. Say you'll be at the cafe at the end of the street. Call him now. Go, use your mobile. I'll see you later. I've things to do." Popov gone, he murmured into his own mobile, "That you, Riley? I'm sending a disposal. Deal with him. The usual people will pick the body up."

ALONE IN THE COMPUTER ROOM, Flynn called the Green Tinker, a good Fenian pub in Kilburn in Irish Lane run by Jimmy Nolan and his cousin Patrick Kelly, both comrades from the old days who'd served time with Flynn in the Maze Prison. He enjoyed a businesslike chat with Jimmy, which was received with great enthusiasm.

"Ah, we know that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Ferguson from the old days in Belfast, Dillon too, though what the h.e.l.l he's doing mixed up with bowsers like Ferguson I'll never know. Salter's your average gangster. He probably started off sticking up grocery stores as a kid, then graduated to a gun in his pocket and thought he was a big man. People like that are criminals, Michael, not like us at all."

"I'm just tapping some photos and background info into your computer. There you are. Call me when you come up with something.

There's real money in this. A hundred thousand pounds, my word on it. Don't screw up, Jimmy."

LEVIN GOT THE CALL that changed everything from Mary O'Toole before Popov arrived at his apartment. She was determined to do what was right. Yes, Flynn had used her, but it wasn't just that. From a fiercely Irish Republican family, her father shot dead by British paratroopers when she was seven years of age, she was proud of her connection with the IRA, and Flynn, whom she had wors.h.i.+pped in the past when he was chief of staff, had let her down spectacularly. So, she phoned Igor Levin, whom she had met a time or two when she was with Popov, told him what had happened and what she could remember.

Levin was not only grateful, he believed her. He immediately phoned Chomsky and found him in his car in the city center and told him everything.

"Are you going to go? You're being set up, that's obvious. And this stuff she's told you about Dillon, the Salters, Ferguson-this is serious business," Chomsky told him.

"As we who served in Afghanistan and Chechnya know, Sergeant, and isn't it great? I've been sitting on my backside too long." The bell went for the front door. "Sounds like Popov now," Levin said.

"I'm in my car only five minutes away. I'll crash the party."

Levin opened the door and expressed surprise on seeing Popov and listened to his story with simulated interest. "I wonder what he wants? Maybe it's something to do with a job in the firm."

Popov said, "I told him I didn't think you'd be interested. I mean, you know, not with your money."

"Come in, let me finish dressing." Levin led the way into the sitting room. "Get yourself a drink."

He went into his bedroom, found a tie and tweed jacket, then went to his desk, standing in the bow window with the river view, opened a drawer, felt in the back and produced first one Walther, then two, both with silencers. He put one in each pocket and went back to the sitting room as the doorbell rang again, and opened the door to Chomsky, who stood there in his raincoat. Levin slipped a Walther into one of Chomsky's pockets.

"h.e.l.lo, there, you've just caught us. Popov and I have to meet a man called Riley-Riley's Bar, Crown Street."

"I was just pa.s.sing, so I thought I'd check to see if you were free for lunch."

Popov looked put out. "I'm not sure."

"Oh, come on, it'll be good," Levin told him. "We can talk over old times after I'm finished with Flynn," and he took his arm and led him out. They got in the car and Chomsky drove away. "We think I might be getting a job offer. Security work," Levin said.

They were already down by the river, turned into a maze of streets with what looked like old warehouses lining them and came to Crown Street. Chomsky parked behind a truck. There wasn't much choice.

"The cafe must be at the other end," Levin said.

"I'm supposed to wait down there," Popov protested.

"But we'd miss you," Levin told him. "And here we are."

There was a wooden door, paint peeling, shutters at the windows, a narrow alley down one side. Chomsky said, "Excuse me." He disappeared down it.

Levin said, "Go on, open the door."

Popov said, in a panic, "It's locked."

"No, it isn't." Levin turned the k.n.o.b, opened the door and pushed Popov in.

Halfway along the alley, Chomsky found a door, opened it into a kitchen with a table, chairs, another door. He pushed it gently. Farther along at the bottom of some stairs, a man in blue overalls was holding a silenced pistol and looking toward a green curtain at the far end. There was the sound of a voice and the man fired twice, a dull thud each time. Popov came through the curtain headlong and fell on his face.

Chomsky shot the man in the left shoulder, spinning him around, then shot him in the heart and he went down. He jerked twice, then went still.

Levin checked Popov. "Our old friend seems to be dead."

"No old friend of mine. This b.a.s.t.a.r.d's had it, too. What do we do?"

"Unfortunately, shootings are common occurrence in Dublin these days. People think because of old IRA hands who can't get out of the habit. So this, alas, will be just two more. Off we go, nice and steady up the street, and away."

It was absolutely pouring. They got in the car, and Chomsky drove off. "Now what?"

"Back to my house to pick up a few things and dispose of the weapons."

"Why?"

"Well, we can't take them to London. I mean, the security people don't like that these days, even if you fly in privately."

"Is that what we're going to do?"

"I'd say so. There's a flying club I know at Killane, executive planes, just right for millionaires like me. We'll call at your place, too. Don't forget your pa.s.sport," and he leaned back.

ROPER RECEIVED THE CALL from Killane at one-thirty. He was having a conference meeting with Ferguson, Dillon, Billy and Greta. Doyle and Henderson stood against the wall.

Ferguson had just said, "Right, people, I want to bring you all up to speed on the present situation."

The phone went and Roper flicked it on to open transmission. Levin said, "Roper, it's me, Levin. Can we talk?"

"If you don't mind the entire firm hearing. Everybody's here."

"Fine by me. Very convenient, actually. Volkov tried to st.i.tch me up royally, with the a.s.sistance of Michael Flynn."

"St.i.tch you up how?" Ferguson demanded.

"Oh, the coffin lid being slammed down firmly. Would you be interested to know that Flynn is going to take over all security services at Belov International?"

"Yes, I d.a.m.n well would," Ferguson replied. "Tell me more."

Which Levin did. Everything that Mary O'Toole had told him, the Popov betrayal, the shootings at Riley's Bar.

Dillon broke in, "So you've two bodies lying there. Does that give you a problem?"

"No. It seems in Flynn's original discussion with Riley, Flynn told him the usual people would pick my body up. Now they'll have two. I always thought Popov would come to a bad end."

"d.a.m.n Judas," Dillon said. "Why do you think Mary O'Toole told you everything?"

"Interesting, that. She said that for a man who had been chief of staff of the Provisional IRA, he was a disgrace. Then I recalled Popov telling me once that her father was IRA and killed in a gunfight with Brit paratroopers in Ulster."

"G.o.d save us, but that kind of Fenian female can be harder than an Orange Presbyterian. Make sure she's safe. You owe her, big-time."

"I will, be sure of that."

Roper said, "So where are you now?"

"A flying club at Killane outside Dublin. Under the circ.u.mstances, Chomsky and I have decided to come over."

It was Greta who broke in now. "Does that mean what it sounds like?"

"Greta, my love, I'm bored. Dublin is totally charming, one of the world's great cities, but I pa.s.s my days in idle pleasure."

"I would say that sounds unlikely, based on what you've told us," Ferguson said. "But if what you're trying to say is that you and Sergeant Chomsky are seeking employment, I welcome you with open arms."

"Are you sure of that, General?"

"All sins forgiven. You're booking a plane from Killane?"

"That's right."

"Do bring your British pa.s.sports. I know you have a selection, but I'd prefer it, and tell your pilot to call his details ahead and he'll be welcomed at Farley Field."

"We'll see you soon, General."

The deaths of Riley and Popov had not yet become known and Flynn had not returned to Scamrock Security. Mary O'Toole pulled on her coat, picked up her handbag and made for the door, when the phone rang on her desk.

She picked it up. "Mary O'Toole? It's Levin."

"I was just leaving, Flynn's not back."

"I trust you're leaving for good? You saved my life, Miss O'Toole, but so long as you've gotten rid of any evidence of your involvement, you should be safe enough."

"I've left my notice on his desk. To be honest with you, I think he'll be glad to be shut of me. We had an affair, I was his leavings, but that wasn't the reason I did what I did. When I think of my dad and what he stood for, and Flynn and his scheming and rottenness, I had to tell you."

"Very quickly. Do you live alone?"

"Yes-I rent a flat only fifteen minutes' walk from the office."