The Killer II (18 page)

For three days Liam stayed at the British Intelligence office.
He was genuinely as helpful as he could be with information about Moore and the people surrounding him but, any time Willy Nolan’s name came up, he offered only harmless snippets of hearsay.
He had seen the man once or twice, but he didn’t really know him.
Finally, when the suits were satisfied that he had given them all he could, Turner took him back to Derbyshire and accepted the offer of a cup of tea.

‘
I’d no idea me Da was at school with Peter Moore,’ Liam began.

‘
No, why would you?
You were very young when he died, weren’t you?’

‘
Aye, not even two.’

‘
Well then.
Anyway, you did a splendid job over the last few days my boy,’ the older man said as he puffed on his pipe in his usual seat in the drawing room.

‘
Did I?
All I did was talk.
This isn’t what I signed up for,
Mr.
Turner.
You said I’d be able to get back at those bastards.
Christ, if
only I’d been able to get to Moore that night.’

‘
Yes, well, I’m beginning to agree with you there lad.
The thing is you upset a lot of people with your last mission.
The higher-ups didn’t trust you after that and I had to do a lot of persuading to keep you around.’

‘
What?
You don’t mean…?’

‘
Oh, no, no, perish the thought.
No, it wouldn’t have come to a termination.
You’re still considered a big prize.’

‘
Thank
fu
...’
Liam left the thought unfinished as Turner looked at him.
‘So, what
do
you mean then?’

‘
I had to keep you active – on the roster, so to speak.
They’ve been deliberately letting you kick your heels.
Now that should change.
I forcibly reminded them of your excellent work in America, and we all saw how that struck a chord.’

‘
Jesus Christ, I thought the man was going to have apoplexy.’

‘
Yes, quite, it is a very touchy subject for all of us.
Makes international relations rather fiddly sometimes.
Anyway, that is beside the point.
You are back in the good books and that is what matters.’

‘So I can go after Moore now?’

‘
Not so fast, dear boy, not so fast.
That day will come, I’m sure of it, but first we need to continue the surveillance at our end.
We must improve our intelligence and you have been of great assistance there.
For now we would like you to come to one of our bases every now and then to keep your
training up and help with a few of our newer recruits.
You have some excellent skills and we can make use of those.
It will keep you in readiness, and I’ll be calling in to see you whenever I’m in the area.’

‘
Mr.
Turner, where do you go when you’re not in the area?’

‘
That is none of your business, dear boy.’

***

The summer gave way to autumn and Liam found life to be considerably more interesting.
He was called on frequently to help with training and he enjoyed that.
It reminded him of his days in Spain with E.T.A.
It kept him active and his mind occupied.
Word came down that the ‘higher-ups’ were happy with him and on a miserable, rainy day in mid-December he finally got a call to action.

‘
Is it Moore?’ he asked before Turner was even through the door?

‘
Tea, biscuits, pipe, my boy.
I will say nothing until I have my usual comforts.’

Liam produced the requirements quickly and then waited as patiently as he could for Turner to settle himself.
‘It isn’t Moore,’ his handler said finally.
‘But,’ he continued with a hand raised to stall Liam’s predicted disappointment, ‘it is one of the Belfast fellows.’

‘
Who?’

‘
Sean Hogan,’ said Turner producing a file.
‘If I remember correctly, you have never met him.’

‘
No,’ Liam confirmed.
‘He’s the fourth member of the Committee Belfast and I know the name, but he’s bottom of the pile like.’

‘
Nevertheless…’

‘
Aye, it’s right you are
Mr.
Turner.’

Liam studied the file and the face in the photograph while Turner puffed quietly on his pipe.
This was one of the four men who had signed his Ma’s death warrant.
Since his little chat with Mad Dog he knew that the guy had probably just added his signature without even knowing who Mary Jeanette McCann was or why she had to die.
Still, he had signed.

‘
What’s he doing in Scotland?’ he asked in surprise as he reached an interesting part of the dossier.

‘
To be honest, old boy, we’re not entirely sure.
Well he’s
smuggling cigarettes
and we do know that’s his department, of course.
Indeed he is very successful at raising funds through alcohol and tobacco, but why he is doing his own dirty work is a bit of a mystery.
The best information we have is that there have been a few problems with their supply lines so maybe he has been forced to come over and whip people into shape.’

‘
Oh dear, how inconvenient for him.’

‘
Quite, but how very fortunate for us.’

‘
Day after tomorrow?’

‘
Yes, it’s been every three days, regular as clockwork for the last few weeks.
A predictable routine makes things so much easier, don’t you think?
As you can see, we’ve witnessed no real security there.
He’s out in the middle of nowhere and that must make him feel safe.
He likes small teams apparently.
Doesn’t like too many people knowing his business.
Anyway, this is fully sanctioned and needs to be a nice clean termination, in and out kind of
jobby
.’

So I shoot the fucker in the head and get out of there, Liam considered, but he kept the words to himself.
As Turner left a short while later he paused at the door.
‘Liam, my boy, I promise you that when Moore’s day comes he is all yours.’

‘
Thanks
Mr.
T.’

1
7

A Cold Day In Scotland

From where he crouched Liam had a good view of the old farmhouse but, more importantly, he had a perfect view of the newly constructed barn standing to the side.
He had been watching for over an hour and he blew on his hands to keep warm.
‘One day, Turner, it would be nice if you found me a target in better weather,’ he mumbled.

A
Scania
tractor unit pulling a long container had recently arrived and he was waiting for it to depart again to get the driver out of the way.
That would leave just Hogan and two men in the barn.
Turner had been right about a small team.
He heard a motor start, though it was quickly drowned out by the sound of a screaming jet engine making its final approach to Glasgow airport.
Liam jumped at the noise but continued his surveillance as he watched the tractor unit emerge from the barn without its cargo and drive away.
One of the remaining men checked around the outside and then closed the huge door as he went back inside.
They would now be unloading the container and it would take them a while.
Ideally Liam would have liked to get Hogan alone, but he couldn’t be sure that would happen and there was always the possibility of another load or more men arriving later.
He figured three to one might be the best odds he could
hope for and it was time to move.

He returned to the innocuous car that Turner had kindly provided and drove down to the building making no effort at stealth.
‘Hello,’ he called out as he arrived.

‘
Can I help you?’ asked a man, poking his head from inside the barn, the door slightly ajar.

‘
Aye, I’m here to see Sean.
Is he about like?’ asked Liam, laying on his accent as thickly as he could and fingering the crescent shaped scar on his cheek.

‘
Wait here.’

The man disappeared.
Liam hoped the accent would do the trick and, within a few seconds he heard an order from inside to ‘Keep going.
I’ll deal with it,’ and Hogan’s face appeared round the door.

‘
Looks like you’re a busy feller today there Sean,’ Liam offered with his friendliest smile.

‘
Aye I am.
Who sent you, and what the fuck do you want?
I’ve got another load due in this afternoon.
I don’t have time to sit and
bleedin
’ chat,’ he snapped.

‘
Ah, ‘tis a feller in London as sent me.’

‘London?
Who the fuck we got down there?’ asked Sean in surprise as he opened the door a little wider.

In a flash Liam had him by the shoulder and a .38 aimed at his head.
‘Oh, he’s not one of the boys,’ Liam hissed, the smile gone as he pushed him back inside the barn.

The colour began draining from Hogan’s face as he stumbled backwards.
His mind
was racing along in overdrive. ‘Who the fuck knew about the farm?
He always kept his team small.
No one knew.
How’d they tracked him down?
How was he
gonna
get out of this?’
He looked behind him for help, but none came.
The other men were deep inside the container and were too busy to check on him.

‘
Who are you?’ his prisoner asked.

‘
I’m somebody’s son.’

‘
What?’

‘
Mary Jeanette McCann.’

‘
Who?’

‘
Aye, that’s what I thought you’d say.
1978.
You signed her death order.’

‘
I can’t remember everybody…’

‘
Aye, I thought you’d say that too.
But you see, I remember her well.
That was me Ma and you had her killed.
The name’s McCann, Darren McCann, but you might remember someone called the Butcher of Belfast.’

Any remaining colour in Hogan’s cheeks was gone now and he stared, unable to speak, as a noise from the container alerted Liam.
The two men appeared at the open rear of the large truck, lugging boxes and still unaware that anything was amiss.
‘Hey lads,’ Liam shouted.
They looked up and froze.
‘Now you get out of there and lie down on the ground.
Me and
yer
boss have some business to deal with.’

The men quickly jumped from the ledge and raised their hands as they landed, which Liam thought was rather polite of them.
He
hadn’t asked for their hands up and he still had his gun trained on Hogan anyway.
It confirmed what he thought.
These were just workers.
They weren’t fighting men.
‘On the ground lads,’ he repeated and they did as instructed.
‘I’ve no problem with the pair of youse, so keep
yer
heads down.
I only want this bastard.’

He turned his attention back to the man in front of him.
‘Now then Sean old mate, if you’ve got any prayers to say, this would be a good time to say ‘
em
.’

‘
Fuck you, and
fu
…’
He never finished his insult.
The single bullet tore through his stomach as Sean fell to his knees and looked down in horror at the dark blood pumping from his belly.

‘
Hurts does it mate?’ mocked Liam as his victim tried to scream, but all that emerged was a whimper.
‘Bye bye.’
A shot to the head finished the job.

‘
Now boys,’ said Liam, addressing the two men who lay staring from their prone positions.
‘I’d stay where you are if I were you - unless you fancy the same that is.’
They shook their heads and closed their eyes in unison.
Liam turned and walked out of the barn, got in his car and drove away.
No one tried to follow.

He arrived at Glasgow airport, abandoned the little car, retrieved his Jag from where he had left it and set off home.
Turner would be proud of him, he thought.
He had taken out only the target instructed and no one else had been hurt.
He wasn’t
concerned about witnesses.
They would report a man with a heavy accent, a scar on his face and a bloody big gun.
The scar was new since his days in the I.R.A. and he reasoned that, if anyone started putting two and two together, then they might come to the conclusion that it was the same scarred mystery man who had taken out Mad Dog.
That, he thought, was no bad thing.

***

Christmas came and went and his training routine continued through the next spring.
On a pleasant evening in April he sat down to watch the news
and saw the horrific report of a bomb at the U.S. Embassy in Beirut.
The death toll was huge with a first estimate of over fifty killed.

‘
Shite,’ Liam said out loud.
‘What the Hell is going on with the world?’
Still, American problems were not his problems.

He had been in bed around half an hour when the phone rang and he was surprised to hear the familiar voice when he answered.
‘I’ll be round at 9am,’ Turner told him.
‘We need you.’