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transmitted sideways to the rear axle, thus propeling the cab forward. This
was effected by a complex assembly of cogwheels inside the casing, and these
wheels turned permanently in a bath of lubricating oi. Without this oil the
cogs would seize solid in a very short distance, and the oil was pouring out.
The steel nosepiece casing had cracked.
Above this axle was the articulated plate on which rested the trailer section
of the artic which carried the cargo. Clarke came out from under.
"It's competely gone," he said. Tl have to call the office. Can I use your
phone?"
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The senior customs man jerked his head at the g?asswalled office and went on
with his examination of the other trucks. A few drivers leaned from their cabs
and called ribald remarks to Clarke as he went to phone.
Then there was no one in the office in Dublin. They were all out at lunch.
Oarke hung around the customs shed morosely as the last of the tourist cars
left the shed to head inland. At three he managed to contact the managing
director of Tara Transportation and explained his problem. The man swore.
"I won't be carrying that in stock," he told Oarke. "I'll have to get on to
the Volvo Trucks main agent for one. Call me back in an hour.
At four there was still no news and at five the customs men wanted to close
down, the last ferry of the day having arrived from Fishguard. Clarke made a
further call, to say he would spend the night in Rosslare and check back in
yet another hour. One of the customs men kindly ran hm into town and showed m
a bed-and-breakfast lodging house. Clarke checked in for the night.
At six head office told him they would be picking up another differential
nosepiece at nine the folowing moming and would send it down with a company
engineer in a van. The man would be with him by twelve noon. Clarke called his
wife to tel her he would be twenty-four hours ate, ate his tea and went out to
a pub. In the customs shed three mies away Taras distinctive green and white
artic stood silent and alone above its pool of oil.
Clarke alowed himself a lie-in the next day and rose at nine. He called head
office at ten and they told him the van had got the replacement part and was
leaving in five minutes. At eleven he hitch-hiked back to the harbour. The
company was as good as its word and the little van, driven by the mechanic,
rattled down the quay and into the customs shed at twelve. Clarke was waiting
for it.
The chirpy engineer went under the truck like a ferret and Clarice could hear
him tut-tutting. When he came out he was aready smeared with oil.
Nosepiece casing, he said unnecessarily. "Cracked right across."
"How long?" asked Clarke.
"If you give me a hand, 'l have you out of here in an hour and a haf."
It took a little longer than that. First they had to mop up the pool of oil,
and five pints goes a long way. Then the mechanc took a heavy wrench and
carefuly undid the ring of great bolts holding the nosepiece to the main
casing. This done, he withdrew the two half-shafts and began to loosen the
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propeller shaft. Clarke sat on the floor and watched him, occasionaly passing
a tool as he was bidden. The customs men watched them both. Not much happens
in a customs shed between berthings.
The broken casing came away in bits just before one. Clarke was getting
hungry and would have liked to go up the road to the cafe and get some lunch,
but the mechanic wanted to press on. Out at sea the St. Patrick, smaller
sister ship of the St. Kilian, was moving over the horizon on her way home to
Rosslare.
The mechanic started to perform the whoe process in reverse. The new casing
went on, the propeller shaft was fixed and the half-shafts sotted in. At half
past one the
5. Patrick was clearly visible out at sea to anyone who was watching.
Murphy was. He lay on his stomach in the sere grass atop the low line of
rising ground behind the port, invisible to anyone a hundred yards away, and
there was no such person. He hed his fied glasses to his eyes and monitored
the approaching ship.
"Here she is," he said, "right on tne."
Brendan, the strong man, ying in the long grass beside him, grunted.
Do you think it'l work, Murphy?" he asked.
"Sure, 've planned it like a military operation, said Murphy. "It cannot
fail."
A more professional criminal might have told Murphy, who traded as a scrap
metal merchant with a sideline in "bent" cars, that he was a bit out of his
league with such a caper, but Murphy had spent several thousand pounds of his
own money setting it up and he was not to be discouraged. He kept watching the
approaching ferry.
In the shed the mechanic tightened the last of the nuts around the new
nose-piece, crawled out from under, stood up and stretched.
"Right," he said, "now? we'll put five pints of oi in and away you go.
He unscrewed a small flange nut in the side of the differential casing while
Qarke fetched a galon can of oil and a funnel from the van. Outside, the St.
Patrick, with gente care, slotted her nose into the mooring bay and the clamps
went on. Her bow doors opened and the ramp came down.
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