Alice felt like kicking herself. She was playing chess with Stella in front of a log fire in the sitting room of her family quarters in the Mill, and she had just made a bad move. Sure enough, Stella spotted her mistake and quickly took her castle. Alice told herself to concentrate, though she knew that she was never going to be able to give her full attention to the game.
In reality, the chess match was a cover, to provide Alice and Stella with a chance to use the Goodman’s private telephone line as soon as Alice’s mother left. As the owner of the Mill Hotel, Mrs Goodman had status in Balbriggan, and tonight she was to attend a meeting for business people who wanted to regenerate the town after the disastrous fires of the previous week.
Alice tried to focus on the game. She told herself that Stella must be just as distracted as herself. Maybe even more so, as Stella was the one whose suspicions had been aroused by the Dublin postmarks on Johnny’s cards from Tipperary. And despite being the daughter of a serving RAF officer she was particularly close to Johnny, having saved his life the night that the Tans had gone on the rampage. Alice suddenly wished that he was still here. Stella was a great friend, and they had good fun together, but she really missed Johnny – they both did. Alice looked down at the chess board, recalling how skilful a tactician Johnny was. Maybe that tactical skill would help him to evade capture, if he was working again with the rebels. Alice’s musings were suddenly cut short when her mother came into the sitting room.
‘I’m heading off now, girls,’ she said, buttoning up her overcoat.
‘See you later, Mrs Goodman,’ said Stella.
‘Have you finished all your homework, Alice?’
‘Yes, Mam. And I’ll brush my teeth and wash behind my ears!’
Her mother smiled and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I shouldn’t be too late.’
‘OK, bye.’
Mrs Goodman left, closing the door behind her.
‘I can’t think of chess for another second!’ said Stella, rising and turning away from the board.
‘I’m glad it’s not just me,’ said Alice with a grin as she too stood up. ‘But let’s give it a minute, in case Mam forgot anything or pops back for some reason.’
‘All right.’
‘What was the exact wording again on your card from Johnny?’ asked Alice. ‘The part about work?’
Stella took the postcard from her pocket and read. ‘Very busy settling in to the new job, will write when things quieten down.’
‘OK, there’s no two ways about it. He should be busy working in the pub in Tipp.’
‘And maybe he is,’ said Stella. ‘I sure hope so.’
‘Let’s find out.’
The two girls turned away from the chess set and crossed to the polished sideboard where the telephone stood. Alice’s plan was based on the fact that although Johnny had been vague about his location, she had a clue to his whereabouts. Before leaving Balbriggan, Johnny had claimed that he was being met at the train in Thurles and didn’t know the precise address of his future employer. But on secretly slipping a parting gift into Johnny’s jacket pocket, Alice had seen the name Ryan’s Bar written in Johnny’s hand on a sheet of paper. If the telephone operator had a listing for a Ryan’s Bar anywhere near Thurles, it might be possible to make contact with their friend.
‘I’m kind of nervous,’ said Alice, ‘now it’s come to it.’
‘Just ring as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.’
‘All right.’
‘Do you want me to do it?’ asked Stella.
Alice was tempted to relieve herself of a tricky undertaking. But Stella had a clipped Canadian accent, and Alice reckoned that someone with an Irish voice might stand a better chance of getting information. ‘No, it’s OK.’
Alice lifted the handset, then dialled for an operator. She turned to Stella, and with her free hand crossed her fingers. Stella nodded encouragingly and gave her a thumbs-up.
Suddenly a woman came on the line, ‘Hello, caller, what number do you require?’
‘I’m looking for Ryan’s Bar in Thurles, County Tipperary, please,’ said Alice, in the most confident tone she could muster.
Alice found herself holding her breath and she forced herself to breathe deeply. Her heart quickened as she rehearsed in her head what she was going to say. After a few moments there was a click on the line.
‘Putting you through, caller,’ said the operator.
‘Thank you.’
There was a ringing tone, and Alice swallowed hard, more nervous than she had expected to be. The call wasn’t answered, however, and Alice found her nervousness being replaced by frustration. Come on, she thought, pick up the phone!
‘No luck?’ said Stella, when it continued to ring out.
‘No.’
Alice was about to replace the handset when a male voice came on the cackly line.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello,’ said Alice excitedly, ‘is that Ryan’s Bar?’
‘Yes, this is Ryan’s.’
‘Ryan’s Bar in Thurles?’
‘No, Ryan’s Bar in Kathmandu!’
‘What?’
‘Yes, Ryan’s Bar in Thurles.’
Alice realised that she had sounded foolish, and she gathered herself briefly before continuing.’ I’m looking for Johnny Dunne, please.’
There was a slight pause, then the man answered. ‘Sorry, no Johnny Dunne here.’
‘Are you sure? Johnny Dunne, recently arrived from Balbriggan.’
‘Say you’re a friend,’ suggested Stella in a whisper.
‘I’m Alice Goodman, a friend of his, and I just wanted a quick word,’ added Alice, trying to make her tone sound reasonable.
‘Like I say, there’s no Johnny Dunne here.’
Something in the man’s answer sounded shifty, and on instinct Alice became more assertive. ‘But he was there, wasn’t he? He told me he was going to Ryan’s Bar in Thurles,’ she improvised.
There was a pause. ‘He was here briefly,’ the man conceded. ‘But he’s left for another job.’
I knew he was fobbing me off, thought Alice. ‘Have you got an address where I can contact him, please?’
‘No, he didn’t give an address.’
‘He must have said something about where he was going.’
Again there was a slight pause, then the man spoke. ‘He mentioned something about Cork. But that’s all I know.’
‘Maybe Mr Ryan would have an address,’ suggested Alice, hoping that there might be an owner who knew more than this man.
‘I am Mr Ryan. And I’ve no forwarding address. Sorry.’
Before Alice could question him further the man hung up, and the line went dead. Alice slowly put down the handset as Stella looked at her enquiringly. ‘He claims that Johnny has moved on. That he mentioned going to Cork.’
‘He gets a new job, but only stays a couple of days?’ said Stella disbelievingly. ‘And he goes to Cork – where there’d be plenty of post-boxes – but his cards are posted in Dublin?’
‘I know,’ said Alice. ‘It doesn’t hold up.’
‘I think either Johnny lied, or that man did.’
‘Yeah,’ said Alice. ‘And either way, it’s not good, is it?’
* * *
‘We don’t want slackers, we don’t want messers; one wrong move and you’re out on your ear. Got that?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Johnny. He was being briefed by Mr Williams, the supervising despatcher in the Post Office’s Telegraph Service. The General Post Office building on Sackville Street had been destroyed in the 1916 Rising, and the telegraph service had moved to temporary premises while rebuilding work went on. Soberly dressed telegraph clerks sat at serried rows of long benches, receiving incoming telegrams and sending outgoing ones, and Johnny liked the hum of the wires, the clacking of the machines, and the sense of being at the centre of communication from all over Ireland. Bright morning sunlight streamed in through the windows now, but now Johnny’s focus was entirely on the man opposite him.
‘Delivering telegrams is a responsible job,’ said Williams sternly. ‘If you’re honest and hardworking you could do well. If you step out of line, there’re no second chances, you’ll be gone.’
They were at the telegraph despatcher’s desk, and Johnny nodded respectfully at the supervisor. He was a plump man in his fifties, conservatively dressed in a dark grey suit. Johnny, however, knew that his strict manner was for the benefit of a clerk who was working nearby. Sure enough, the supervisor’s demeanour changed when the clerk moved off.
‘You’ll work like a normal delivery boy and you’ll be paid the usual wage,’ Williams said, in a warmer tone, and with his voice lowered. ‘But most days there’ll be orders about who we want you to tail. You’ll fit that in between your regular duties, OK?’
‘OK.’
‘All these men you follow have military backgrounds. And some of them are experienced agents. Don’t underestimate them.’
‘I won’t,’ said Johnny.
‘Be sure you don’t. They’re dangerous.’
Johnny felt a hint of butterflies in his stomach, but he kept his face impassive.
‘And if you have to choose between losing someone that you’re tailing, and risking being noticed – better to lose them.’
‘All right.’
‘Having said that, your uniform, and the post office bike, make you semi-invisible. Most of the time you’ll blend easily into the background. Mrs H tells me you’ve been getting familiar with the city?’
‘Yes. I knew it a bit already, and I’ve been studying maps and walking around the city centre.
‘Get to know it like the back of your hand,’ said Williams emphatically. ‘We don’t have many advantages over the enemy. Knowing the battleground inside out needs to be one of them.’
‘Once I’m given the bike this morning I’ll cycle everywhere. And after work each day I’ll explore the city, till I know every nook and cranny.’
‘Good lad,’ said Williams, ‘All right, go in to the depot now and get issued with your bike. Then come back to me and I’ll give you some telegrams to deliver.’
‘And the other work?’
‘That starts this afternoon. There’s a Lt. Colonel Jennings we’re interested in. He’s booked a lunch table in the Gresham Hotel. When he comes out, we want you to check where he goes and who he meets.’
Johnny felt his pulse starting to race, ‘How will I know what he looks like?’
‘He’ll be pointed out to you.’
‘Fine.’
Williams offered his hand. ‘Good luck, son.’
‘Thanks,’ said Johnny, shaking hands. Then he headed off to get his new bike, pleased that the waiting was over, and ready to start his mission.