Echobeat by Joe Joyce Read Free Book Online

he could hang some of his paintings on her wall. To sell them. She said no.’
    ‘Did she know his name?’
    ‘Glenn.’
    ‘Is that his Christian name or his surname?’
    ‘His family name. His first name is Roderick – Roddy.’
    Duggan nodded. ‘And what happened when he tried to talk to the Germans?’
    ‘I couldn’t hear,’ she said. ‘He was by himself at a table beside the window. I noticed him because he seemed to be nervous. He was playing with his cup. Twisting it,’ she indicated with her two hands. ‘Looking around a lot, like he was expecting somebody. Then he went over to them and said something. They didn’t look pleased. Told him to go away.’
    ‘You heard them?’
    ‘No. But it was clear what they meant.’ She gave a dismissive wave in illustration.
    ‘Was he being abusive?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t near the table.’
    ‘He knew they were Germans?’
    ‘Oh yes,’ she nodded. ‘They don’t keep their voices down.’
    ‘He shouted at them?’
    ‘No. He tried to say something. But they pushed him away.’ She gave the dismissive wave again.
    Duggan thought about that for a moment. Something to be filed away. Maybe. But very little real information overall. ‘Okay,’ he said, masking his disappointment with a cheerful smile. ‘Thank you very much for doing that. You’ll go again next Saturday?’
    ‘Yes.’ She reached under her desk and came up with a purse, took two halfpennies from it and held them out in the palm of her hand. ‘They left me a tip.’
    ‘That was all? A penny?’
    She nodded. ‘You take them.’
    ‘No. You keep them. You earned them.’
    ‘I don’t want their money.’ She mocked a spit at the coins.
    ‘I thought—’
    ‘I changed my mind,’ she interrupted. ‘Here.’ She pushed her palm forward, making it an order. He took the coins. ‘They left their coffees too.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘It tastes like piss.’
    ‘You sound like a Cork woman,’ Duggan smiled and she laughed.
     
    On his way back to headquarters Duggan dropped the two coins into a tin cup held out by a heavily shawled woman sitting at the base of the Pillar. He typed out a brief summary of what Gerda had told him and went to McClure’s office to leave a copy on his desk. McClure was standing by the window, staring out at nothing, smoking a thoughtful cigarette.
    ‘Well?’ he turned from the window, breaking his reverie.
    Duggan gave him a synopsis of what he had written.
    ‘What about the other matter?’ McClure asked.
    ‘Nothing more. I’ve gone through the reports of the Friends of Germany meetings for the last few months. Back to June. No mention of Robinson. Or any of Goertz’s other names. Or anybody that might’ve been him.’
    ‘You went through the Special Branch reports too?’
    Duggan nodded. The Branch carried out surveillance outside the meeting while G2 had an informant who was a member of the organisation. Duggan didn’t know who he was and didn’t ask but had read his reports. They assumed the Branch also had its own man or woman among the Friends but that information was not shared with them.
    ‘I’d be surprised if Goertz ever goes near them,’ McClure said. ‘Can’t see that he’d have anything to gain. They’re of no significance militarily or politically.’
    ‘Some of them expect to get positions of power if Germany wins the war.’
    McClure stubbed out his cigarette and went behind his desk and slumped into his chair. ‘Herr Thomsen’s visit to Dundalk was of no use to us either. He went to visit a German woman who’s been married there for nearly twenty years.’
    ‘Isn’t that unusual? That he’d go all the way to see her? Instead of her coming to the legation, I mean.’
    ‘Not in the circumstances,’ McClure sighed. ‘He went to tell her that her sister was killed in a bombing raid on Hamburg.’ He paused. ‘We’ve got nothing more for Ó Murchú.’
    ‘The Branch have nothing on IRA men meeting the