The City Underground (Stefan Gillespie) by Michael Russell

Author:Michael Russell [Russell, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2022-07-25T16:00:00+00:00

12

THE ROYAL GEORGE

Emmet Warde came back from the phone booth. As he sat down at the table he nodded across to the barman. He slumped back in the armchair, staring at the fire, saying nothing. Stefan sat opposite him, reading a book. He said nothing, waiting for the other man to start the conversation. It wasn’t his place to ask. It was the first night in Limerick for Stefan Gillespie and the private detective. They were there, at the Royal George Hotel, to wait for the phone call that would come, if it came, from Josephine Kilmartin. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, Terry Gregory’s information was that she was somewhere in the same area. There was a meeting of the IRA Army Council; that was where she had taken the German, Otto Fürst. It was still Fürst the head of Special Branch was interested in. And Josie was his driver. She was the connection. It would not be the only route Superintendent Gregory was exploring. It was simply one handful of seed that had been scattered.

Only when the barman put down a whiskey, did Emmet look up.

‘You can bring a bottle. It’ll save your legs.’

The barman nodded and walked away.

‘Terry can pay for that,’ said Warde, smiling at Stefan.

‘I’m sure he can.’

The private detective sipped at the whiskey.

‘Your brother’s all right?’ asked Stefan.

‘He’s at home. And he’ll be grand for a time. Then he won’t be.’

A bottle of Powers was placed on the table.

‘What … happened to him—’ Stefan stopped. He didn’t know whether it was a question he could ask or if it was even the right question. ‘Is that the right word?’

‘You mean has he always been crazy?’ Emmet laughed.

‘That’s not what I meant. Forget it. I’m sorry.’

‘Well, we’ve got to talk about something. Why not my mad brother?’

‘I said forget it, Emmet.’

Warde took the bottle. He looked at Stefan, who shook his head.

‘Ah, you’ve a job to do. You need to stay sober. I’ve a job to do as well if Josie phones. I have my list of lies at the ready. I need not to stay sober. Cheers!’

‘I’d say you’re hoping she doesn’t phone. Is that it?’

‘It would suit me. I don’t mind wasting my time or your time or Terry Gregory’s money. If she does phone, you only have my word for what she says.’

‘I think you’re too far in for that, Emmet.’

Warde nodded slowly, then stared for some time into the fire.

‘You know I was in the British Army?’

‘Yes, I heard that.’

‘Middle East and then the Western Front. It’s an odd thing, but you hear fellers say they had a good war. I’ve said it myself. Maybe it’s like a lot of things, relative. If you came out alive, well, you had a better war than the bastards who didn’t. So, I missed 1916. I missed the years afterwards. And when I came back, I was in demand, you might say. The cause wanted experienced men, officers like me. I even had a medal to prove I knew what I was doing.

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