Free Drink With the Devil by Jack Higgins

clean when the weather forecast came on and he listened intently. For the Irish Sea it was winds three to four with some sea fog and rain squalls.
    Which could have been worse. He finished his tea and started to dress when there was the sound of a vehicle outside. He pulled on his boots and went to the window and saw Kathleen getting out of the Ford.
    Keogh took his reefer down from a peg and opened the door. “Another dirty old morning,” he said cheerfully.
    “We thought you’d like a proper breakfast. I’ve come to fetch you.”
    “Now isn’t that the kind thought?” He got into the passenger seat. “First we’ll take a run to the end of the jetty. I’d like to see how things are.”
    “Fine by me.”
    She drove along the broad track and moved on to the jetty stopping just before the end. Keogh got out and went and peered over and she joined him.
    “Only a few feet of water down there at the moment,” he said. “The tide must be way out.”
    “And that’s bad?”
    “They wouldn’t get in. Still, it’s supposed to start turning around about ten-thirty.” He looked out to sea. “Pity about this damn mist.
Irish Rose
could be hove-to out there, but we can’t see.” He smiled suddenly and squeezed her shoulder. “Never mind, it’s going to be fine. I have a good feeling about it. Now let’s get that breakfast.”
     
     
    A ND THE
I RISH R OSE
, Muller at the wheel, was indeed hove-to about a mile out. Tully stood on the bridge with Dolan peering into the mist.
    “God damn this weather,” Dolan said. “Can’t see a thing.” He turned to Tully. “Is it off?”
    “Is it, hell,” Tully said. “If there’s one thing I do well it’s navigate, you know that. No, we wait for the turn of the tide and go in.” He turned fiercely. “Nothing stops me getting my hands on that truck. Nothing,” and he went into the wheelhouse.
     
     
    I T WAS ABOUT half past ten and Keogh and Ryan were in the barn carefully checking the weapons again. Keogh picked up the Walther in the ankle holster.
    “Can I take this? I’ve always liked an ace in the hole myself.”
    “Be my guest.”
    “I’ll put it on just before we leave,” and he put it in the pocket of his reefer.
    “Everything else goes with us in the large case,” Ryan said. “I’ll bring it with me in the transporter.”
    “Just in case we have to impress friend Tully?”
    “Exactly.”
    Kathleen looked in. “I’m going down to Marsh End in the Ford with Benny. He thinks he’s lost some sheep and they might have wandered that way.”
    “All right,” Ryan told her. “But if there’s any sign of the
Irish Rose
, don’t go near. Martin and I will be along in a wee while in the Land Rover.”
    “I’ll see you there,” she said and went out.
     
     
    K ATHLEEN LEFT THE Ford outside the cottage and she and Benny walked down the track into the marsh. It was still raining heavily and very misty. Suddenly there was the sound of a sheep baaing over on the right. Benny paused, a curiously intent look on his face, and then he smiled and nodded and moved off at surprising speed considering his size, and Kathleen went after him.
    There were five sheep, standing in water up to their bellies, marooned from the look of it, as miserable as any living creature could be. Benny laughed, waded through the creek, picked one up, and carried it across to dry land.
    “Good,” he said.
    Kathleen nodded. “I’ll walk down to the jetty,” and she turned away as he waded back to the other sheep.
    She walked along the track, cocooned in mist, and somewhere a dog barked and then the
Irish Rose
emerged as she went forward, moored stern first against the end of the jetty. The ramp wasn’t down yet for the tide was still too low, and a boy of perhaps twelve in a hooded anorak stood watching. He had a fishing rod in one hand and a small terrier at his heel.
    The legend
Irish Rose
was plain across the stern and the boy moved forward to examine it. As he did so,