Long Time Coming (38 page)

‘The fellow’s English,’ declares Aiken, referring to the man who
has been in custody for the past four days on suspicion of attempting to assassinate the Taoiseach. ‘Doesn’t that just speak for itself ?’

‘There are Irishmen on both sides of this conflict and Englishmen too,’ observes Boland. ‘The Germans are quite devious enough to have calculated the benefit of recruiting a British citizen to carry out their plot.’

‘You’re falling over yourself to excuse Churchill, Gerry. Why not simply face the truth? He’d have had us all up against a wall in 1921 if he’d had his way. Now he’s in charge what else should we have expected? It’s all but a declaration of war.’

‘There’s no evidence the British government sent Swan here or told him what to do. He denies being the gunman anyway. It’s possible the real culprit got away. He could have been German for all we know. Heider’s still on the run, remember.’

‘If Swan could be working for the Germans, as you suggest, then Heider could be working for the Brits. We can debate ifs and maybes from now till doomsday and it’ll get us nowhere. Swan was at school with a member of staff at the British Legation, for God’s sake. Doesn’t that tell you all you need to know?’

‘It seems to tell you all you need to know, Frank. That’s clear. A little too clear for my liking.’

‘If he’d got away with it, you’d have said he was Heider. That was the plan they cooked up in London and you’re still falling for it. We’re just lucky it miscarried.’

‘I’m perhaps luckier than either of you,’ de Valéra cuts in. ‘But we’ve all—’

A knock at the door silenced him. It was scarcely more than a tap, though quite sufficient to be heard by a man whose ears were these days doing much of the work of his eyes. The door opened and a clerk stepped into the room. ‘Inspector Moynihan,’ he announced.

‘Come in, Inspector,’ said de Valéra, rising stiffly from his chair. ‘We’ve been expecting you.’

Moynihan, a clean-cut, good-looking man, dressed rather more elegantly than the average Garda Síochána Special Branch officer, nodded to Aiken and Boland, who responded in kind, on his way
to shake the Taoiseach’s hand. The clerk withdrew, closing the door gently behind him.

‘Mr Aiken and Mr Boland I’m sure you know,’ said de Valéra, resuming his seat. ‘Do we have a chair for the Inspector, Frank?’

A chair was swung into position by Aiken. There were further handshakes and a general settling. Moynihan cleared his throat.

‘As you’ll be aware, Inspector,’ de Valéra resumed, ‘the events of last Saturday morning are still unknown to the general public, as they are indeed to most members of my Cabinet. They must remain so, until or unless I decide otherwise. We speak here freely but in absolute confidence. You appreciate the extraordinary delicacy of the situation, I trust.’

‘I do, sir, yes.’

‘Good. Now, could you précis the results of the suspect’s interrogation for us, please?’

‘Certainly, sir.’ Moynihan consulted his notebook. ‘Eldritch Swan was born in Kenya in 1908. Educated Ardingly and Oxford. Sent down by his college for seducing the Master’s daughter. Subsequent career patchy at best, shady at worst. Recently employed in an obscure, possibly illicit, capacity by a Jewish diamond merchant in Antwerp, more recently still by an art dealer in London. Alleged reason for presence in Dublin: to persuade Desmond Quilligan, an internee at the Curragh, to quit the IRA and resume his artistic career. Alleged reason for renting the flat at thirty-one Merrion Street: to oblige his old schoolfriend Miles Linley, an official at the British Legation, who wanted to use it for liaisons with a married woman who also works at the legation. Realized this was a fairy tale when contacted by the former tenant, Lorcan Henchy. Then told by Linley the true purpose of renting the flat was to use it for surveillance of this building. Agreed to bribe Henchy to leave the country. Henchy’s subsequent murder, and his own narrow escape from death, alerted him to the falsehood of Linley’s explanation. Proceeded to the flat last Saturday morning, discovered a would-be assassin on the premises and prevented him getting off a clean shot before being knocked unconscious and then arrested.’

‘What does Linley say about this?’ asked Boland.

‘He denies Swan’s claims in every particular, sir.’

‘But Henchy was murdered right enough,’ said Aiken.

‘Yes, sir, he was. At Seapoint railway station, the evening before … last Saturday’s events. The killer died at the scene, of injuries suffered when he fell under the train. We’ve been unable to identify him. Swan matches the description we have of a man said to have run off with the killer’s gun. The gun itself is still missing. However, a Gladstone bag containing four hundred and fifty pounds was found outside the door of the flat at thirty-one Merrion Street. And Swan was carrying fifty pounds in an envelope in his pocket when he was arrested.’

‘Any evidence there was another man in the flat when the rifle was fired?’ asked Boland.

‘Nothing conclusive, sir. The rifle had evidently been wiped, since there were no fingerprints. There was a skylight found open in the attic, accessible from the flat, which would have permitted escape across the roofs of neighbouring properties. But we have no reports of any such … escape.’

‘So,’ said Aiken, ‘Swan could have invented this other man in order to exonerate himself.’

‘Certainly he could, sir.’

‘Just as he could have invented Linley’s role in the affair in order to implicate the British Government,’ said Boland.

‘Indeed, sir.’

‘You’ve interrogated him exhaustively, Inspector?’ asked de Valéra.

‘Yes, sir, we have.’

‘Exhaustively and … energetically?’

‘We haven’t used kid gloves, if that’s what you mean, sir. We’ve employed … all necessary techniques.’

‘Which would normally be expected to yield reliable results?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then I have a simple question for you. Do you believe he’s told you the truth?’

Moynihan hesitated and licked his lips. Then he said, ‘Yes, sir. I do.’

‘I see.’ De Valéra permitted himself a fraction of a smile, perhaps in appreciation of his own irony. ‘Where’s Quilligan now?’

‘Still in the Curragh, sir. I should perhaps mention that his brother is acting as Swan’s legal representative. Ardal Quilligan is a qualified solicitor.’

‘What about Linley?’

‘Going about his diplomatic business, sir, though under close observation.’

‘Has he offered you anything more than a denial of involvement?’

Moynihan cleared his throat once more. ‘Yes, sir. He’s suggested it might … suit our purposes … if he persuaded Swan to withdraw his statement and offer no defence at his trial.’

Aiken groaned. ‘Are we really going to give this wretch the benefit of a trial?’

‘We are, Frank, yes,’ said de Valéra. ‘In camera, naturally. And limited by emergency regulations. But to return to Mr Linley’s offer, Inspector. Does he seem confident he can prevail upon Swan to cooperate?’

‘Exceptionally confident, sir.’

‘I wonder why.’

‘Bloody old-school ties, that’s why,’ grumbled Aiken.

‘Thank you, Frank. And thank
you
, Inspector. I think you’ve given us all the information we need. Would you mind waiting outside while we … consider the situation?’

‘Not at all, sir. Thank you, gentlemen.’

Aiken saw Moynihan to the door and closed it after him, then prowled discontentedly back to his chair, muttering under his breath.

‘Recommendations?’ de Valéra prompted.

‘Send the British Legation packing,’ growled Aiken. ‘Warn Churchill he’s answerable for the consequences of this attempt on your life.’

‘Demand a formal response from the British, certainly,’ said Boland. ‘But don’t break off diplomatic relations, and make it clear we regard German responsibility as equally likely.’

‘Both courses of action have their advantages,’ said de Valéra mildly. ‘But I shall follow neither. It would be impossible for us to establish with any degree of certainty the level of government at which this plot was authorized. I’ve little doubt it was hatched in London rather than Berlin, as a direct response to my rejection of MacDonald’s proposals, though whether as an attempt to intimidate me or actually kill me is hard to say. It has failed in any case. Swan is very possibly telling the truth, but it’s a truth we can’t afford to broadcast. Neutrality requires stoicism and forbearance on my part and on yours. Officially, last Saturday’s events … did not take place.’ There was another groan from Aiken. ‘Is that clear?’

‘Yes, Dev,’ said Boland.

‘Frank?’

‘If you say so, Dev.’

‘I do.’ De Valéra gave a little half-smile. ‘An assassination attempt is water off a duck’s back to me anyway. There was a time when it was virtually a daily occurrence.’ At that Aiken and Boland both obliged with a chuckle. ‘I’m sorry for Mr Swan. He may have saved my life. But we must all make sacrifices. If Linley can persuade him to say nothing in court, we should proceed with a swift trial in camera under the Offences Against the State Act, the charge to be vaguely drawn with no reference to the Taoiseach being endangered. Can you arrange that, Gerry?’

‘Yes, Dev.’

‘What if Swan can’t be persuaded to keep his mouth shut?’ asked Aiken.

‘Then he’ll be tried
in absentia
. But he will be tried.’

‘And what do we do about Linley?’

‘Leave him where he is. He may prove useful to us now that he’s been compromised.’

‘What sort of sentence do you envisage for Swan?’ asked Boland.

De Valéra sighed. ‘Oh, life, of course. If we’re to suppress this story, he must stay behind bars for good.’

‘Why not just hang him and have done?’ suggested Aiken.

‘Because Swan alive in an Irish prison is a threat to those behind
the plot. It’s a sorry way to treat an innocent man, if he is innocent, but it can’t be helped. See to it, Gerry, would you? Oh, and both of you …’

‘What is it, Dev?’ they asked in virtual unison.

‘Remember not to mention the name of Eldritch Swan to me in future, would you? By “not”, of course … I mean never.’

Later that day, Miles Linley was admitted to Eldritch Swan’s cell in Dublin Castle. Swan raised himself gingerly from the hard bunk bed to greet his visitor. The ugly bruises visible on his face were more than matched by those elsewhere on his body. He was missing a couple of teeth and could only properly open one eye. The shirt and trousers he was wearing, and the laceless boots standing beside the bed, were of the kind issued to internees at the Curragh, as he was personally well placed to know.

‘Hello, Cygnet,’ said the dapperly clad Linley, keeping his distance, as far as he was able to in the narrow confines of the cell.

Swan slipped his feet into the boots and stood slowly up. He said nothing. His one-eyed glare conveyed all he wished or needed to. He took a step towards Linley.

‘There are half a dozen constables just down the corridor, Cygnet. I can summon them at any moment if I need to. I’m assured they’ll administer another beating with pleasure if you give them cause.’

‘Do you think another would make any difference?’ Swan croaked. He stretched out his hand, spreading his fingers as if to grasp Linley by the throat.

‘You should listen to what I’ve come to say.’

‘I’ve listened to you too often.’

‘Smoke?’ Linley took out his cigarette case, and held it open in front of him. Swan hesitated, then slid one of the cigarettes out and put it in his mouth. ‘That’s the ticket,’ said Linley. He put the case away and struck a match.

‘Nervous?’ asked Swan, noticing the wavering of the flame. He grabbed Linley’s wrist tightly. Linley flinched, but did not cry out. Then the cigarette was alight. Swan let go.

‘I’ve read your—’ Linley had to cough to banish the hoarseness from his voice. ‘I’ve read your statement.’

‘All old news for you.’

‘It’s put me in a difficult position.’

‘Not half as difficult as mine.’

‘I can’t deny that.’

‘But no doubt you’re denying everything else.’

‘I was following orders. I still am. I’m sorry I had to involve you. Though sorrier still that your … interference … caused events to miscarry.’

‘Your orders required my murder, as well as Henchy’s, in addition to de Valéra’s assassination, did they?’

‘I had no idea you were to be killed. You have my word.’

‘And that’s worth … what, exactly?’

‘Listen to me, Cygnet. Listen carefully. Our attempt to engineer a change of leadership here in Dublin having failed, it’s in no one’s interests to make that failure a matter of public knowledge. De Valéra’s policy of neutrality gags him on the issue. I’ve read your statement. But no one else will. You’ll never get the chance to tell your story. I don’t know what advice Ardal Quilligan’s given you, but I’ve spoken to him more recently than you have. Also to his charming sister, Isolde. They understand very clearly that their brother won’t be released if they disseminate any of your … wilder allegations. For your own sake as much as anyone else’s, you must withdraw them.’

‘Why the hell would I do that?’

‘Because, if you think you have nothing to lose, you’re wrong. They’ll sentence you to life imprisonment, but I can arrange for you to be out as soon as the war’s over.’

‘How?’

‘We’ll need to do a fair amount of repair work on Anglo-Irish relations after the war. Your discreet transfer to a British prison – and subsequent release – will be part of the … healing process. Naturally, however, our intercession on your behalf depends on your silence at this sensitive stage. Plead not guilty, by all means, but offer no defence. Deny everything.
But explain nothing. That’s what your country needs you to do.’

‘What if
my country
loses the war?’

‘Then obviously I can’t help you. You might actually be better off in prison over here than marching to Hitler’s tune in England. But God help us all in that event. I’m working on the assumption that we’ll win. You should too.’

‘The assumption I’m working on is that every word that comes out of your mouth is probably a lie.’

‘I’ve nothing to gain by misleading you. I was told it was intended to ship you off to England last Friday after Henchy had been dealt with. I would never have gone along with it if I’d thought you were going to be killed.’