Page 190 of The Examiner

‘Act like nothing’s wrong. What else can we do?’

‘Call 999. Or jus’ walk up to one of them there. Say your mate Finn got you a passport and ticket and now you’re lost.’

‘Why’d I need to say that? You’ll be there. Anyways, we could tell the truth.’

The ferry gets nearer the dock. That row of white, red and yellow cars. Dark uniforms pacing about, waiting for us.

‘The truth? Are you out of it? If they there don’t hammer you, the fellas back home will. Don’t tell the truth, Seany. Promise, now. Here …’ and he slipped something into my pocket. When I look, it’s his fake passport. Why give that to me?

A horn blows, deafening above us. A distant announcement to get back to our cars. One of the police officers on the shore catches my eye and leaps out of his skin, drops the file he’s carrying, wavers on his feet. Same time my heart sinks. The guy shouts to his fellows and points right at me.

‘Oh no, Finny. Look, they are waiting on us. We’re done.’

I turn, but Finn’s gone. Where’d he go?

The police in Fishguard were very nice. Even back then, in 1988, when you’d think things would be rougher. No, they sat me in the station with a cup of tea, food, a blanket and the very same fellow I’d seen drop his file on the dock.

He was shook up, they said, and chatting with me helped. It was him told me when they recovered Finn’s body. I was at the station all day. Silent with real shock most of the time, except later to answer questions. Thing is, the chap said how the police cars are always there that time of day. The officers have their tea break and chat about their mornings. There was no need for Finn to have done that to himself. I was devastated.

Finally, they said, ‘OK, you can go on your way.’ I said ‘How?’ But they’d only brought the car off the ferry for me. It was waiting outside. My hands shook as I unlocked it, climbed in. Dead inside. Where were the suitcases? Where were the guys they said would be waiting for us?

No one stopped me as I drove away, no one waved me down, no car followed me. No one had even once looked at the passports. As I got out of town I turned north, through the rounded hills of Wales, across the border and on to Glasgow, where there was a distant cousin of my ma’s sister-in-law. A terrible call home told me the news about Finny had arrived in town and shook it up. It meant everyone was eager to help. Ma called the distant cousin. I got to a housing estate and parked in their drive. It wasn’t until nightfall I dared look inside the suitcases.

No guns, no Semtex. Just two battered bricks of heroin wrapped in second-hand clothes. It didn’t look like the work of a multimillion-dollar organisation, or even a small but smooth operation. The police on the dock, Finn’s accident, the furore afterwards scared them away. Finn surely hoped that would happen.

Jonathan and Ludya created a diversion in the museum while Alyson slipped away through a door hidden in the panelled walls. I should have known. I knew all about diversions, after that.

What was that radio she took? Jem examined it. She’d done a course in electronics and, because she’s used to reading Braille, she knows her way around a circuit board. While she was focused on that, she didn’t ask what happened in Somerset. Didn’t ask where Alyson was, not until much later.

Documents sent to me by Gela Nathaniel:

WhatsApp chat between Mae Blackwell and Gela Nathaniel, 30 May 2024:

Mae

We’re starting the presentation soon. I was hoping you could round up your group and make your way to the kitchen.

Gela

Sorry. Not well.

Mae

Oh no. Could you ask Jonathan to get everyone together? I can’t. I’m backstage with the speakers.

Gela

Does it matter if we hear the presentation? It can’t be that secret.

Mae

ICES isn’t secret, not once we launch it. But it looks better if staff aren’t standing around, don’t you think? I can see a crowd gathered around the head. They’ll have time to experience it afterwards. Could you ask Jonathan to usher people through to the function room?

Gela

No, Mae, I won’t.

WhatsApp chat between Jem Badhuri and Ben Sketcher, 30 May 2024: