Confessional. Part 53

'Oh, dear,' Earl Jackson said. 'It talks and everything. Probably wets if you give it water.'

He leaned down to put his sandwich box and thermos on the ground and the other biker ducked from under the truck and booted him so that he staggered forward losing his balance. The blond one lifted a knee in his face. The one behind pulled Jackson to his feet, an arm round his throat and the other flexed his hands, tightening his gloves.

'Hold him, Sammy. He's my meat now.'

Sammy screamed as a fist swung into his kidneys. He jerked in agony, releasing his grip on Jackson and Cussane hit him again, sending him to his knees.

He slipped past Jackson to confront the other biker. 'You really should have stayed under your stone.'

The youth's hand came out of his pocket and, as Morag cried a warning, there was a click as a blade sprang into view, flashing in the pale light. Cussane dropped his bag, swayed to one side, grabbed for the wrist with both hands, twisted it

round and up, locking the arm, and ran the blond headfirst into the side of the truck. The youth dropped to his knees, blood on his face, and Cussane pulled him up and reached for the other, who was now standing. He pulled them close.

'I could put you on sticks for a year, but perhaps you'd just rather go?'

They backed off in horror, turned and stumbled away. Cussane was aware of the pain then, so bad that it made him feel sick. He turned, clutching at the canvas side of the trailer, and Morag ran forward and put an arm around him.

'Harry, are you all right?'

'Sure, don't worry.'

Earl Jackson said, 'You saved my hide, man. I owe you.' He turned to Morag. 'I don't think I got the whole story.'

'We were together, then we got separated.' She glanced at Cussane. 'Now we're together again.'

Jackson said, 'Is his destination London, too?'

She nodded. 'Does the offer still hold good?'

He smiled. 'Why not. Climb up in the cab. You'll find a sliding panel behind the pa.s.senger seat. An improvement of mine. There's a bunk in there, blankets and so on. It means I can sleep in the carpark and save on hotel bills.'

Morag climbed up. As Cussane made to follow her, Jackson caught his sleeve. 'Look, I don't know what gives here, but she's a nice kid.'

'You don't need to worry,' Cussane told him. 'I think so too.' And he climbed up into the cab.

It was just after 8 a.m. on a fine, bright morning when the Alitalia jet which had brought Pope John Paul from Rome landed at Gatwick Airport. The Pontiff came down the ladder, waving to the enthusiastic crowd. His first act was to kneel and kiss English soil.

Devlin and Ferguson stood on the balcony looking down. The Brigadier said, 'It's at moments like this that I'd welcome my pension.'

'Face facts,' Devlin said. 'If a really determined a.s.sa.s.sin,

the kind who doesn't mind committing suicide, sets his sights on getting the Pope or the Queen of England or whoever, the odds are heavily in his favour.'

Below, the Pope was welcomed by Cardinal Basil Hume and the D.uke of Norfolk on behalf of the Queen. The Cardinal made a speech of welcome and the Pope replied. Then they moved to the waiting cars.

Devlin said, 'What happens now?'

'Ma.s.s at Westminster Cathedral. After lunch, a visit to Her Majesty at Buckingham Palace. Then St George's Cathedral at Southwark to anoint the sick. It's going to be all go, I can see that.' Ferguson was unhappy and it showed. 'Dammit, Liam, where is he? Where is that sod, Cussane?'

'Around,' Devlin said. 'Closer than we think, probably. The only certainty is that he'll surface within the next twenty-four hours.'

'And then we get him,' Ferguson said as they walked away.

'If you say so,' was Liam Devlin's only comment.

The yard of the warehouse in Hunslet, Leeds, quite close to the motorway, was packed with trucks. Cussane had the sliding panel open and Jackson said, 'Keep out of sight, man. Pa.s.sengers are strictlyverboten. I could lose my licence.'

He got out of the truck to see to the disengagement of the trailer, then went into the freight office to get a signature for it.

The clerk looked up from his desk. 'h.e.l.lo, Earl, good run?'

'Not bad.'

T hear they've been having fun over there on the M6. One of the lads rang in from outside Manchester. Had a breakdown. Said they'd had a lot of police activity.'

'I didn't notice anything,' Jackson said. 'What was it about?'

'Looking for some guy that's mixed up with the IRA. Has a girl with him.'

Jackson managed to stay calm and signed the sheets. 'Anything else?'

'No, that's fine, Earl. See you next trip.'

Jackson moved outside. He hesitated beside the truck, then followed his original intention and went out of the yard across the road to the transport cafe. He gave the girl behind the counter his thermos to fill, ordered some bacon sandwiches and bought a newspaper which he read slowly on the way back to the truck.

He climbed up behind the wheel and pa.s.sed the thermos and sandwiches through. 'Breakfast and something to read while you eat.'

The photos were those which had appeared in the Carlisle paper and the story was roughly the same. The details on the girl were spa.r.s.e. It simply said she was in his company.

As they entered the slip road leading up to the motorway, Cussane said, 'Well?'

Jackson concentrated on the road. This is heavy stuff, man. Okay, I owe you, but not that much. If you're picked up...'

'It would look bad for you.'

'I can't afford that,' Jackson told him. 'I've got form. Been inside twice. Cars were my game till I got smart. I don't want trouble and I definitely don't want to see the inside of Pentonville again.'

'Then the simplest thing to do is keep driving,' Cussane told him. 'Once in London, we drop off and you go on about your business. No one will ever know.'

It was the only solution and Jackson knew it. 'Okay,' he sighed. 'I guess that's it.'

'I'm sorry, Mr Jackson,' Morag told him.

He smiled at her in the mirror. 'Never mind, kid. I should have known better. Now keep inside and close that panel,' and he turned the freightliner on to the motorway.

Devlin was on the phone to the hospital in Dumfries when Ferguson came in from the study.

As the Irishman put down the receiver, the Brigadier said, 'I could do with some good news. Just had advance notice