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steady trickle of rain that was seeping through the iron grill and down the wall, and laughed.
    ‘Where are we?’ Fallon demanded.
    ‘Church of St. Nicholas,’ Murphy told him. ‘In the vaults. No one ever comes in here. We’re quite safe.’
    ‘Are you sure about that?’ Fallon said.
    ‘Look for yourself,’ Murphy pointed to a truckle bed and several boxes which stood in the far corner. ‘That stuff’s been there for over a year now. No one ever comes down here.’
    Fallon raised a hand. ‘All right, don’t get worked up. I believe you.’ He looked around the quiet vault and sighed. ‘It seems a dirty trick to use a place like this.’
    Murphy’s face sobered immediately. ‘I used to think that,’ he said, ‘but it was Rogan’s idea. He said the end justified the means.’
    Fallon laughed grimly. ‘It always does. You know, the more I hear about Mr. Patrick Rogan the less I like him.’ He unbuttoned his coat and moved across to the boxes. ‘All right, let’s have a look at this stuff you’ve got here.’
    In the boxes he found a formidable collection of explosives. In the first box were hand-grenades and clips of ammunition. The second contained belts of plastic explosive. It was the third box that Fallon found interesting. ‘Where did they get this one?’ he said.
    Murphy came and had a look. ‘Oh, that was a job they did one night when there were troops camped just outside the town. They broke into the ammunition store. Rogan was furious. He said they’d taken the wrong box. Why, what’s in there?’
    Fallon laughed. ‘Smoke bombs. I can see what he meant. Not a great deal of use in our kind of work.’ He started to close the box again and then hesitated. ‘I wonder,’ he said, and there was a faraway look in his eyes.
    ‘What good would them things be, Mr. Fallon?’ Murphy said.
    Fallon smiled softly and took one of the smoke bombs out and hefted it in his hand. ‘This might just be the solution.’ He sat on the edge of the bed and explained. ‘The things are automatic. You break this fuse at the end and a chemical action starts instantly. I’ve seen them work. Within a matter of seconds they give off thick clouds of black smoke. What sort of effect would it have, do you think, if I let one of these things go to work on that train?’
    ‘Jesus help us!’ Murphy said. ‘There’d be a panic. People would think the train was on fire.’
    ‘Exactly!’ Fallon murmured. ‘Everybody would panic, the women would be near hysterical. The corridors crammed with people. Just the right conditions in which to rescue a man.’
    ‘It can’t fail,’ Murphy said in awe. ‘God help us, you’re a genius, Mr. Fallon.’
    ‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ Fallon said. ‘Have you got a map of the district?’ Murphy produced one from his inside pocket and Fallon spread it out on the bed and examined it. After a few minutes he said, ‘Now listen carefully. About ten miles out of Castlemore on the east side of the railway track is a wood. Do you know it?’ Murphy examined the map and nodded and Fallon went on, ‘I want you to be there with the car from nine-fifteen onwards. No earlier because I don’t want you hanging about looking conspicuous.’
    ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit close to town?’ Murphy asked.
    Fallon shook his head. ‘Absolute surprise is the one thing that will bring this off. Even if they do expect trouble I don’t think they’ll be looking for it so soon. They’d be thinking in terms of someone trying to board the train at one of the smaller stations along the line.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, that’s it. You never can tell what’s going to happen in this game, but at least this scheme has a chance.’
    ‘What happens afterwards - if it does come off,’ Murphy said. ‘Do we make a run for the border?’
    Fallon shook his head. ‘That’s what they all do,’ he said, ‘and that’s why they get caught. We’ll come straight back here and lie low for at least three