After paying a brief visit to me Mam, to let her know I was alive and back in Ireland for a time. I told her I was taking my American friends up to County Sligo to enjoy some of the local music festivals, etc. I left out the bit about the Loch. I needn't have bothered. Ma always knows how to get Dad to spill the beans.
Later on in the morning, Camilla pulled me aside and spoke to me in a hushed tone.
As I recall, the conversation went sorta like this:
Camilla: Hey, Brendan...I'm running low on ammo for the big one. Any chance I could pinch something off the police arsenal, maybe?
Brendan: Ah, no. But I can point you to the local IRA boys who might be able to arrange something. They know I'm a "Shinner", one of the few outspoken ones on the force. As long as they keep operations in the North, I tend to look the other way. Tell them you're a Basque separatist. If you can convince them you're with ETA (Euskadi Ta Askatasuna), they'll think that's deadly gas craic!
Camilla: ... ?
Brendan: It will meet with their approval. They view the Basque as engaged in the same type of struggle and will be sympathetic enough to fork over some ammo for your Barrett.
By evening, Camilla proudly showed off her shiny new boxes of .50 cal ammo.
"They bought it, hook, line and sinker." she beamed.
"I never had a doubt.", I replied.
I don't think either of us doubted Camilla's hourglass figure had as much to do with her success as pretending to be a Basque from Spain, but why bring it up?
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