There he goes, Dillon said. With any luck, he could end up in the river, but I doubt it.

Murphy looked horrified. What kind of a man are you?

The stuff of nightmares, so don t fug with me, Patrick, Dillon told him. Last week a trawler named Amity was surprised by the Royal Navy as it attempted to land arms on the County Down coast. Our sources tell us the cargo originated with you. I m not interested in Irish clubs or whoever raised funds over here. I want to know who ordered the cargo in Northern Ireland. Tell me that and you re home free.

For a moment, Murphy seemed unable to speak, and Holley said,

Are you trying to tell us you don t know?

Murphy seemed to swallow hard. No. I know who it is. We do a lot of this kind of work, putting deals together for small African countries, people from the Eastern European bloc. None of the players are big fish. Lots of small agencies put things our way, stuff the big arms dealers won t touch.

So cut to the chase, Dillon told him.

I got a call from one of them. He said an Irish party was in town looking for assistance.

And he turned up here?

That s right. Ulster accent, just like you. A quiet sort of man, around sixty-five, strong-looking, good face, graying hair. Used to being in charge, I d say.

Dillon said, What was his name?

I can only tell you what he called himself. Michael Flynn. Had a handling agent in Marseilles. The money was all paid into a holding company who provided the Amity with false papers, paid half a dozen thugs off the waterfront to crew it. Nothing you could trace, I promise you. My end came from Marseilles by bank draft. It all came to nothing. I never heard from Flynn again, but from what I saw in the newspaper accounts, the Royal Navy only came on the Amity by chance. A bit unfortunate, that.