Their Own Game

  ***

  Alistair Vaughan rang.

  “Our man Farlow,” he announced, “is making good progress, thanks to your list, and he’s ready to shut down three or four accounts.”

  “Which ones?” asked Bill Clayton.

  “Numbers one, three and four on your list. He’s sitting here waiting for the OK.”

  Bill thought for a moment.

  “What about number two on the list?”

  “Says he should be able to get into that tomorrow. After that, he thinks the rest will be relatively easy.”

  “Do it then,” ordered Clayton. “And number two on the list as soon as he’s ready.”

  He hung up.

  Marsden looked across.

  “Money is about to move,” Bill told him. “So I need to get in touch with Father Sean Doyle in the Falls Road.”

  “What the devil for?” asked Nick Marsden.

  “He’s one of mine, that’s why,” replied Clayton. “Ex-Army Padre. Been IRA Treasurer for four years now.”

  “I’ll be dammed!” exclaimed Marsden.

  “That’s how I got my list of accounts,” explained Clayton. “He could have given me a lot more too, and sent several of his parishioners to jail for life, except that he’s as straight as a dye so far as the church is concerned. He’s made it a point of principle never to pass on anything he’s heard in the confessional.”

  “Pity about that, but good for him in a way,” said Marsden. “But he could be at risk now anyway, if he has access to cash which is fast disappearing.”

  “Exactly.”

  Major Bill Clayton grabbed the phone, and spoke urgently to the Head of Special Branch.