Read Online Rain on the Dead by Jack Higgins - Free Book Online

simply smiled grimly and nodded.
    She managed a smile. “That was telling him.”
    He put an arm round her. “You know what I’ve been, girl, the terrible things I did. My excuse was that I was fighting for a cause. True or not, it made a bad man out of me, but as far as this bastard is concerned, I’ll be his worst nightmare.”
    She nodded, then hugged him suddenly so that she dropped her stick. “Dammit to hell,” she moaned, and tried to bend.
    He picked it up and gave it to her. “A nice Catholic girl and such language. Come on, child, we’ll find Aunt Meg and see you both to bed. Things will look better in the morning.”
    Not that he believed it, not for a single moment.
    —
    On the Belfast waterfront the following day, it had rained early and the fog came later, rolling across the docks into Cagney Street, the Orange Drumat one end. The pub was long past its prime, a leftover from the great days of the Victorian era. It would be a haven for hard drinkers and drug users later that day, but it was empty at that moment except for Fergus Tully, drinking scalding-hot tea laced with Irish whiskey at the end of the bar. He was reading the Belfast Telegraph ,while Frank Bell, the publican, worked his way through the sports pages.
    They had served time together in the Maze Prison for multiple murders, men of a Protestant persuasion, the PIRA’s bitterest enemies, Tully of such fearsome reputation that newspapersnicknamed him the Shankhill Butcher. The peace process had unleashed them into the world again.
    Tully emptied his glass and pushed it across the bar. “I’ll have another, Frank,” and his mobile phone sounded.
    “Is that Mr. Frank Tully?”
    “Who the hell wants to know?” Tully said, immediately offended by the English accent.
    “I’ve just credited your bank account with one hundred thousand dollars. Check for yourself. I’ll call you back in fifteen minutes.”
    Tully banged his fist down on the bar. “Stupid bastard.”
    “What was all that about?” Bell asked, and when Tully told him, said, “Well, all you have to do is call the bank. They opened at nine.”
    Which Tully did, and was staggered to be told that such a sum had only just been deposited from a bank in Geneva. He barely had time to inform Bell, when his phone rang again.
    “Who are you?” Tully demanded.
    “The people I serve had dealings with you some years ago. If I say AQ, do you understand me?”
    “I certainly do,” Tully said. “Al-Qaeda. I dealt with the Master then, four years ago, but he wasn’t you from the sound of it.”
    “He has passed on, I have replaced him. You were given the task of disposing of a man named Tod Flynn. Instead, you car-bombed his elder brother Peter, killing him and his wife and injuring the daughter.”
    Tully was immediately indignant. “I don’t know who told you that, because it’s completely wrong. I’d have loved to have stiffed Tod Flynn. He gave us hell during the Troubles, but my orders from the other Master were quite clear. Peter Flynn was trying totake over the drug scene in Belfast and was seriously displeasing a lot of people. Al-Qaeda wanted it sorted, and me and my friend Frank Bell took care of it as ordered.”
    “I get the impression that the family and those around them have always believed Tod Flynn to have been the intended target, especially as his brother had borrowed his car for the trip to Belfast.”
    “Are you saying it left Tod feeling guilty? If that’s true, you’ve made my day.”
    “Did your orders include the girl?”
    “No, and they didn’t include her mother either,” Tully said. “Fortunes of war. They’re always going on about collateral damage these days, aren’t they? Anyway, what’s this all about?”
    “You’ve already got one hundred thousand dollars in your account, and it’s yours if you and your friend get yourselves down to Drumgoole Place and take out Tod Flynn and Tim Kelly.”
    The look on Tully’s face was pure delight.