Part 6 (1/2)

The hotel room door opened, and Jim walked in accompanied by a hotel employee carrying a bottle of Paddy Irish whiskey and a bucket of melted ice.

'You're a good man, Damien,' said Jim. 'Sign the bill, H'ard, and give your man here a twenty-pound tip. He deserves it.'

I gave the whiskey-bearer his money.

Jim put his arms around me and squeezed tightly. I was very startled.

'What do you think of the Kid, then? I've done it. I've cracked it. Send all the f.u.c.king dope you want.'

'How did you do it, Jim?'

'I pretended I worked for Fortune Fortune magazine and rang up the airport manager to ask for an interview. I went from him down, you understand me, till I got the man I wanted. Anything can be taken out of that trading estate there. Any f.u.c.king thing. As long as you got one of these.' magazine and rang up the airport manager to ask for an interview. I went from him down, you understand me, till I got the man I wanted. Anything can be taken out of that trading estate there. Any f.u.c.king thing. As long as you got one of these.'

Jim grabbed hold of the pile of papers I'd been reading and displayed one ent.i.tled 'Out of Charge Note'.

'You can get these copied, can't you?'

'I should think so, Jim. Charlie Radcliffe worked in the printing and publis.h.i.+ng business for years. He'll know how to get it done.'

'Don't you tell Charlie Radcliffe what they're for. You hear me.'

'Well ... Okay. Maybe I'll use someone else. Who examines them?'

'You wired up, H'ard? I just f.u.c.king told you I got the man I wanted. He f.u.c.king examines them. And, if he values his f.u.c.king Guinness, he'll pa.s.s them. His name's Eamonn. He's a true Republican.'

'Does he know we're going to bring in dope?'

'Of course he f.u.c.king doesn't, you Welsh a.r.s.ehole. He thinks he's bringing in guns for the cause. He's against dope.'

'Where's Alan, Jim?'

'I've just sacked the no-good f.u.c.ker. Him and Radcliffe had better watch out for their lives. And that f.u.c.king John Lennon. You ought to get rid of Soppy b.o.l.l.o.c.ks, too.'

'Who is Soppy b.o.l.l.o.c.ks?'

'That f.u.c.king Brit that was with you last week.'

'Jim, we need Graham. I don't know anyone else who can send stuff from Pakistan and Afghanistan.'

'Well, f.u.c.king find someone, you hear me. You and me can go to Kabul. Did you bring those p.o.r.nographic movies you promised?'

I had forgotten.

'I didn't want to bring them on the plane, Jim. I'll get them brought over on the ferry very soon. This plan of yours seems brilliant. When do you want to start?'

'f.u.c.king now. I'm ready. I got it all together.'

'How much shall we send?'

'I'll let you know, H'ard.'

'What address shall we send the stuff to?'

'I'll let you know, H'ard.'

'What goods shall we pretend to be s.h.i.+pping?'

'I'll let you know, H'ard.'

Jim clearly didn't have it all together, but it did sound most promising. I wanted to see Shannon for myself. We rented a car and drove via Limerick to Shannon airport. The countryside was spectacular, a large and beautiful estuary surrounded by gentle rolling hills. In the middle of this idyllic setting lay a large industrial estate and airport. Jim was driving. He parked right outside the pa.s.senger airport terminal in an obvious no-parking area.

'You can't be parking there,' said a quietly spoken Irish airport official.

'It's a f.u.c.king emergency. I'm picking up my boss's luggage,' said Jim in his loudest and most aggressive Belfast accent.

'That'll be grand. I'll keep an eye on it for you.'

Jim then took me on a guided tour of the airport, including the Aer Lingus cargo terminal. Various employees nodded to him. He escorted me as if he owned the place. Then he got an Aer Lingus van driver to take us to the industrial estate. There appeared to be no check on anyone or anything. Jim asked a supervisor to tell me how the freeport worked.

'This is like its own country,' explained the supervisor. 'No goods are allowed to leave this estate unless, of course, they've been specifically cleared to do so.'

'What if someone tried to take them out?' asked Jim, playing a bit close to the bone.

'They can't without one of these,' said the supervisor, displaying an 'Out of Charge' note.

'See what I mean, H'ard,' said Jim as we were dropped off back at the terminal, where the obliging official was still keeping an eye on our car. 'This place is wide f.u.c.king open.'

It was.

'You'll have to give me some more money, H'ard, to rent an office in Limerick and a small workshop in Shannon Trading Estate. How will you take the hash to London and Brighton? You want our Brendan to take it over for you? He needs to work and make some money, that's for f.u.c.king sure.'

'I'll get friends to drive it over the ferry to Wales, Jim. We have a lot of experience driving across the European borders.'

'Do you just put the gear in the boot and pray?'

'No. We hide it in the door panels and under and behind the back seat. You'd be surprised how much you can get in. I'll need a place, a cottage or something, or a garage, where I can stash the car before putting it on the ferry.'

'I'll get you one. Just give me the money to do it.'

'Jim, if I give you another 500, will that cover down payments on the office, workshop, and a place for me to stash?'

'It might just be enough, H'ard.'

We checked into the Shannon Shamrock, a kind of motel popular with airline pilots. The lobby smelt of peat and Guinness. I used my real name. Jim used the name James Fitzgerald. We had a drink. The pilots were narrating horrifying tales of near misses and bad landings.

'You must never use your real name again, H'ard. It's too dangerous. It's f.u.c.king dumb.'

The next morning there was a direct flight from Shannon to Heathrow. I took it. An 'Out of Charge' note was in my pocket. I went straight to Graham's. Charlie Radcliffe was there. One of Dutch Nik's firm had brought over a hundred kilos of Lebanese from Sam Hiraoui. It had to be sold. That would give me and Charlie another 1,500, Graham 5,000, the Dutch 2,000, and Lebanese Sam, whose diplomats brought it to Holland, 20,000. If Shannon worked, we stood to make so much more.

'Howard, we'll have to do a dummy first. I can't risk my Middle East connections just on McCann's say-so.'