Games of the Hangman (13 page)

Read Games of the Hangman Online

Authors: Victor O'Reilly

"Olé!"
said Fitzduane a little sourly.
 
Games
were being played.

Kilmara slid a
file across the desk.
 
"One of the
twelve million," he said.
 
"Reads kind of sanitized."

Fitzduane
picked up the thin file.
 
It was
labeled:
 
RUDOLF
VON GRAFFENLAUB (DECEASED)
.

 

 

7

 

The young
German tourist and his pretty Italian girlfriend had flown into
Dublin
the night before not
he
direct Swissair flight from
Zurich
.
 
The German checked his Japanese watch when
they landed.
 
In the predictable, boring
way of the Swiss, the flight had been on time.

At the Avis
desk in the arrivals area they rented a small, navy blue Ford Escort for a
period of one week at the off-season rate.
 
They opted for unlimited mileage and full insurance.
 
They identified themselves as Dieter Kretz,
aged twenty-four, from
Hamburg
, and Tina
Brugnoli, aged nineteen, from
Milan
.
 
They paid their deposit in cash.

Armed with
maps, guidebooks, and copious directions, Dieter and Tina drove into the center
of
Dublin
and
checked into a double room at the Royal Dublin Hotel on

O'Connell Street
.
 
They ate in the hotel restaurant and retired
early.
 
A fly on the wall would have
noticed that they spoke little as they undressed, and thought they slept
together naked in the large double bed, they did not make love.

When Dieter
awoke in the morning, he could hear Tina in the bathroom.
 
The door was open, and light spilled into the
curtained bedroom.
 
He threw back the
bedclothes and stretched like a cat, his both lithe and strong, his chest
covered with curly black hair.
 
A thick
black mustache drooped above shining white teeth.
 
He looked with pleasure at his penis jutting
hard and erect.
 
Moisture gleamed at the
tip of his organ, and it was throbbing, crying out for relief.

He rose from
the bed and walked the few paces to the bathroom.
 
Tina's hair was tied loosely on top of her
head, and she was bent over the basin.
 
Her young body was olive gold in color, and she was naked except for
skimpy black panties.
 
He could see the
down on the back of her neck.
 
He rested
his fingers on the top of the cleft of her buttocks and slowly moved them down,
taking the black panties with them.
 
He
pushed the thin panties down to just above her knees.

Tina scarcely
stirred.
 
She gripped the sides of the
basin with long, slim hands as he slowly parted the cheeks of her buttocks and
then there was the sweet small and cool, smooth touch of hand cream.
 
She gave a muffled cry when he entered her
constricted passage, and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the
basin.
 
She sucked on his finger.
 
There was so much pain and so much pleasure.
 
It was the way of the Circle.
 
It was so ordained in the Grimoire.

It was so
enforced by the Leader.

 

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

 

The package
was somewhat longer than a shoe box, and it was heavy.
 
Its outer wrapping was of several layers of
thick brown paper held securely in place with shiny brown adhesive tape.
 
The contents didn't move or rattle.
 
Whatever was inside was well padded.

The package
was addressed to Mr. Dieter Kretz and had been left at the reception desk of
the Royal Dublin Hotel just a little after eight in the morning.
 
The messenger was dressed like a Dublin Taxi
driver and was unremarkable in appearance.
 
Afterward nobody could remember much about him except that he spoke like
“a typical Dub.”

The young
couple had breakfast in their room, hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door,
and, as was common enough with young couples, did not emerge until nearly
midday.
 
The receptionist handed them the
package when they checked out.
 
She had
almost forgotten about it until she was gently reminded by the young
German.
 
He smiled at her when he
received it and made a remark about there not being that much time for
reading.
 
He had his right arm around his
girlfriend's shoulders and was relaxed and confident — satiated even.

The porter
carried their bags to the car, though the German kept the package tucked firmly
under his left arm.
 
He placed it in the
trunk of the car.
 
The porter wondered
why anyone would want to take a holiday in
Ireland
in March.
 
He returned to his desk in the warm hotel
with relief.

 

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

 

Dieter, who
normally had the German's belief that accelerators exist to be kept pressed to
the floor, this time drove cautiously.
 
It was his first visit to
Ireland
, and he was unused to
driving on the left-hand side of the road.
 
Fortunately he had been well briefed on
Dublin
's inconsistent signposting system and
relied instead on Tina's map-reading skills.
 
Despite the random one-way systems that were not show on the map, they
became lost only once before they found the road to Galway and the west of
Ireland
.
 
It was also a route that led toward the home
of Colonel Shane Kilmara.

On the
outskirts of
Dublin
they entered the sprawling
green acres of
Phoenix
Park
, the largest enclosed urban parkland in
Europe
.
 
Hundreds
of deer roamed the rolling, tree-dotted landscape, and the sheer scale of the
area ensured relative privacy for its few visitors.

Dieter left
the main through road and turned onto a side road, where he stopped the car and
switched off the engine.
 
For a few
minutes they sat quietly, took stock of their surroundings, and watched the
deer grazing under the trees.
 
Then,
satisfied they were not
observed,
he opened the trunk,
removed the heavy package, and climbed into the backseat of the car.
 
Using a short, thin-bladed knife he had taken
from his suitcase, he cut through the layers of tape and outer wrappings of the
package, then removed the layers of corrugated paper and the final layer of
oiled cloth.
 
There lay two compact
Czech-made machine pistols — the model known as the Skorpion VZ-61.
 
There were also eight twenty-round magazines
of 7.65 mm ammunition, cleaning materials, and a copy of the Automobile
Association's
Touring Guide to Ireland
.

Tina switched
on the radio, and to a background of traditional Irish music the pair began to
clean the weapons and prepare them for action.

 

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

 

After they
left
Phoenix
Park
, Tina drove.

She was a
better driver than Dieter, and as she became used to the narrow potholed road
that passed for a main highway, she gradually increased her speed almost to the
legal limit — whatever, that is, road conditions permitted.
 
They wanted to arrive close to their
destination during daylight.
 
It was
their experience that darkness brought an increase in police patrols.

Dieter, his
Skorpion ready for action at the flick of the fire selector lever but concealed
under a newspaper, lay across the backseat and dozed.
 
Tina's weapon rested in a plastic shopping
bag under her seat.

She rounded a
long curve in the road and slowed when she saw the cars stopped up ahead.
 
At first she thought there might have been an
accident, but then, as the traffic moved forward in a series of stops and
starts, a large orange sign came into view.
 
It read, unambiguously:
 
STOP!
 
POLICE CHECKPOINT.

Almost at the
same time she saw the two policemen in their heavy navy blue greatcoats
standing back to back in the middle of the road, desultorily checking the
traffic flowing from either direction.
 
A
muddy police car was parked by the side of the road, and its blue light flashed
intermittently.
 
Just behind it was a
long-wheelbase Land Rover painted a dull army
green.
 
A soldier wearing earphones
sat by a radio in the back.
 
Another soldier leaned against the door, his rifle held casually, his
bored eyes scanning the long lines of cars and trucks.

A brief
feeling of alarm came over Tina before training and common sense came to her
aid.
 
They were innocent tourists.
 
They had committed no crime in
Ireland
.
 
This was just a routine check that could not
affect them.
 
She tried not to think of
the concealed Skorpions but had already noted that the majority of cars and
trucks were being waved through unsearched.

She turned
around and shook Dieter.
 
He woke
instantly.

"You
think...?" she began, pointing ahead to the roadblock.

Dieter watched
the policemen.
 
In most cases there was
no more than a brief discussion through the window and now and then
the
 
producing
of
documents.
 
The policeman covering their
side of the road was young, with an open, friendly face tanned a reddish brown
by the wind.
 
Sometimes he laughed.
 
There was no urgency in his manner, no
tension.

"A
routine check, no more," said Dieter.
 
"It is of no concern."
 
He grinned sardonically at Tina.
 
"Remember, we are harmless young lovers."

Tina looked at
him coolly for a moment.
 
"We may
fuck," she said.
 
"We are not
lovers."
 
She let out the clutch,
and the Ford moved forward again.

 

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

 

The bulletin
had stipulated a black or navy blue Ford Escort, and this was Quirke's ninth
navy blue Ford Escort of the day.
 
The
first tow or three had set the adrenaline going, but now he was only marginally
interested in the car.
 
He was
considerably more interested in the pretty girl driving it.

Tina rolled
down the window and smiled up at the large policeman.
 
"Good afternoon, Officer," she
said.
 
Her accent was Italian, her tone
friendly and just slightly provocative.
 
She
was the most exciting thing he'd seen all day, and if there was one thing he
was sure of, it was that under normal circumstances she would have been too
exotic to have anything to do with the likes of Liam Quirke.
 
But there were some consolations to checkpoint
duty.

"Afternoon,
miss," said Quirke.
 
He peered into
the front and then the back of the car, trying not to stare too hard at the
Italian girl and being irrationally disappointed that she had a companion in
the back.
 
He felt a pang of loss, the knowledge
of a beauty that could never be his.
 
"Afternoon, sir," he added.
 
"Nothing to worry about.
 
Just a routine check."

"We
thought at first that there was an accident," said Tina.
 
She smiled directly at him.

"No
accident, miss," said the young policeman, his cheeks pink under her
gaze.
 
"A bank
robbery in
Dublin
.
 
One of them got away.
 
It's not too likely that he'd come in this
direction, but you never know."

"I
suppose not," interjected Dieter from the back of the car.
 
His voice broke the spell that for a few
seconds had bound the Italian girl and the policeman together.

"Could
you tell me where you've come from and where you're going?" asked Quirke,
his official manner partially restored.
 
"And I'd like to look at your driver's license and insurance."

Other books

First Kiss by Bernadette Marie
Brave Enough by M. Leighton
One Endless Hour by Dan J. Marlowe
Survivor by Lesley Pearse
Before I Let You Go by Angie Daniels
All of Me by Eckford, Janet
Tooth and Nail by Jennifer Safrey
Shutterspeed by Erwin Mortier