The failure of one of the royals to turn up for a charity
function was commented on in one of the tabloids and
speculation about health or pregnancy was raised.
A dismal performance by the England cricket team had the
sports pages demanding a change in the captaincy.
Avedissian yawned and put the papers down. He checked
his watch and saw that there was still two hours to go. The
major came to tell him that his 'things' were now in his room
so he went to investigate. Sure enough his clothes from home
had been brought to Llangern and, what was more, they had
all been laundered and pressed. Avedissian dressed in a plain
blue shirt, dark red tie and dark grey suit and was ready to face
the world.
At a quarter to seven Avedissian was taken down to the
road by Land-Rover and sat chatting to the driver until, at
precisely seven o'clock, a black Ford Granada arrived and
stopped at the road-end. Avedissian got in and did not look
back as the car headed smoothly away from the mountains.
The driver was in uniform but not military. Avedissian
guessed at some kind of Civil Service rig. He asked the obvious
question and was told, 'London, sir.' The man did not
elaborate.
It was late when Avedissian followed the driver up the steps of an old Victorian building in South London. Once inside he was faced with more steps to climb until, on the third floor, he
was shown into a small room and asked to wait. Sarah Milek,
the woman he had first met in Cambridge, came in and
smiled. 'Nice to see you again. How was Wales?' she asked.
'Wet.'
'But not today, surely?'
'Not today,' agreed Avedissian. The sun had come out now it was all over.
'Mr Bryant will be with you in a moment.'
Avedissian felt less than enthusiastic on hearing that it
was Bryant he would be seeing but he remained impassive.
Sarah Milek left the room leaving him with only a tall
potted plant for company. Avedissian got up and looked out
of the grimy window but there was nothing to see. The
window faced the back of the building and all was in dark
ness save for a single neon sign on the ground floor of the
building across the lane. It said, 'Staplex Bindings trade
entrance'.
Bryant came into the room and stared at Avedissian long
and hard. He said, 'You look less of a dosser than the last
time I saw you.'
'You're too kind,' said Avedissian acidly.
'And we've got a deal more spirit, have we?' murmured
Bryant. 'Sit down.'
Avedissian sat and waited while Bryant took out a large
handkerchief and blew hard into it.
'You're off to Belfast in the morning,' said Bryant.
The colour drained from Avedissian's face. 'You never
said anything about my job being in Ireland,’ he accused.
'I never said anything about your job being anywhere, as
far as I remember,' said Bryant quietly. But he was inter
ested in Avedissian's reaction. 'So the prospect of the
Emerald Isle does not appeal?'
'I don't want to go back there,' Avedissian agreed.
Bryant leaned towards him and said, 'Why not,
Avedissian? What happened to you in that snake pit?'
'I just don't want to go back there. I'm an ex-Para. It
would be stupid to go back.'
Bryant smiled and said, 'Avedissian, if I had my way they
would tow the bloody place out into the Atlantic and sink it
without trace, but we're stuck with it. You're going. If it's
any consolation your 'job' as you call it isn't there. You're going to a Belfast Hospital for training.'
'Why?'
'It's two years since you practised last. You need it. From
tomorrow you have been appointed registrar in the
hospital's casualty department. It's a busy place and we
expect it to get busier now that that little mutant bastard
Kell has control of the
IRA.'
Avedissian looked puzzled and Bryant told him about The
Bairn having taken over from Kevin O'Donnell.
'It's a long time since I worked in an Accident and
Emergency Unit,' said Avedissian.
That's why you're going to Belfast. You'll see more
medicine in a week in Belfast than you would in a year
anywhere else.'
'What about the register problem?'
Bryant handed Avedissian a sheaf of papers. 'Your new
identity.'
Avedissian looked through them and saw that he had
become Dr Roger Gillibrand.
FOUR
A car came to Cladeen in the morning.
O’Neill had not expected anyone to come that soon but Liam Drummond,
the driver, said that The Bairn wanted to see him at the
Long House. Kathleen reminded him of his promise and waved as the car pitched and rolled up the track from the
cottage to join the main road to Belfast. O'Neill heard the exhaust pipe hit the ground and was aware of stones flying from the rear wheels as Drummond's impatience to be away
made him put his foot down too soon. O'Neill looked sideways at the man and saw that he seemed agitated. 'What's the matter?' he asked.
Drummond licked his lips nervously and pretended to
concentrate on the road.
'Out with it, man,' O'Neill insisted.
‘
The Bairn has been finding out who shopped you and O'Donnell to the British.'
'So?'
'It's the way he's been going about it.'
'Well, go on,' prompted O'Neill beginning to lose
patience.
'He has been taking the knees from anyone he suspects
and who can't prove they're innocent!'
O'Neill's insides turned over. Were his worst fears being
realised? 'I can't believe that Finbarr . . .' he started to say
but Drummond interrupted him.
'It's true, I'm telling you. He's guessing blindly and
capping anyone he thinks is a possible. By the time he's
finished there'll be no one over four feet tall in Belfast!'
'You've said enough!' said O'Neill harshly but only bec
ause rank obliged him to. Drummond was a good man.
There had to be a deal of truth in what he said. They
changed cars twice, the last time to a news van which took
them to the Long House.
Kell seemed triumphant when they got there and was smiling when O'Neill announced his arrival.
'I've found him!' said Kell.
'Found who, Finbarr?'
‘
The bastard who betrayed you and O'Donnell.'
O'Neill congratulated him and asked who it was. He did
not recognise the name.
'Mary Tynan's boy,' said Kell. 'He overheard O'Donnell
and his mother talking about the meeting and what safe
house you were going to use. He decided to sell you.'
'Bastard,' said O'Neill. 'How did you find out?'
'A process of elimination,' said Kell smugly. There were a
limited number of people who knew about the meeting. We
questioned all of them.'
'Why did he do it?'
'You can ask him. He's downstairs. In fact, you can carry
out the sentence.'
O'Neill descended to the sub-basement of the building accompanied by two others. 'He's in here,' said one of them
opening up a heavy wooden door. The room was lit by a
single bulkhead lamp encased in a wire screen that dripped
with cobwebs.
Lying in the corner, on a dirty camp bed and clad only in
his underpants, was a boy of about twenty. His right
knee-cap had been shot off leaving a bloody mess of bone
and gristle. The room stank of fear and excrement.
O'Neill approached the bed and looked down at the
whimpering figure. The boy's head was turning rapidly
from side to side and his lips were moving incessantly. 'Oh
Mammy . . . Oh Daddy . . .' he repeated without pausing.
O'Neill felt sick at the sight. 'Shut up!' he commanded but
the boy appeared not to notice and continued with his
chant, 'Oh Mammy . . . Oh Daddy . . .'
'I said shut up!' snapped O'Neill and the noise stopped.
'Why did you betray us?' he asked.
The noise from the boy's stomach said that he had lost control of his bowels again.
'Answer me!' O'Neill insisted.
'Money . . . money. It was for money,' blubbered the
boy, trying desperately to avert O'Neill's anger.
'How much?'
Silence.
'How much?' O'Neill brought his face close to the boy's.
‘
Two hundred pounds.'
O'Neill repeated the figure while he considered
O'Donnell's death and the loss of his own arm. 'What were
you going to do with . . . two hundred pounds?' he asked.
'A motorbike
...
I was going to buy a motorbike.'
Words failed O'Neill. He turned on his heel and went over
to the two men by the door. One of them handed him a
pistol and he accepted it without saying a word. Almost without a pause he went back to the boy and shot him once
through the head.
O'Neill left the room and went to the lavatory at the end
of the passage where he retched up the contents of his
stomach. He had difficulty supporting himself against the brick wall with only one hand and, as he looked down into
the bowl, the empty sleeve of his jacket that Kathleen had tucked into his pocket swung free. It had a safety pin in the
cuff.
One of the two men had waited for O'Neill before returning upstairs and asked him if he was all right. O'Neill, avoiding
his eyes, said that he was. As they got to the end of the
basement corridor O'Neill heard a moaning sound come
from one of the rooms. He asked about it.
'Have a look,' said the man with what O'Neill thought
was suppressed anger in his voice.
There were three men inside the room. All had been
knee-capped. The doctor who had performed the operation
on his arm was tending one of them. He looked up at
O'Neill as he came in then looked away again without
saying anything. O'Neill backed out and closed the door.
‘
They were the other suspects,' said the man with as
much sarcasm as he dared.
The phrase 'process of elimination' repeated itself inside
O'Neill's head.
O'Neill was aware that Kell was searching his face for signs
of weakness when he returned upstairs. The fact that
Nelligan, Kell's minder, was grinning suggested that they
had been sharing a joke. That the grin stayed on Nelligan's
face when he entered suggested that it might have been
about him personally.
'Did you do it?' asked Kell.
'He's dead,' replied O'Neill.
'A lesson for the learning,' said Kell.
'What lesson did the other three down there learn?' asked
O'Neill, unable to hide his anger. For a moment it seemed as
though he had lit Kell's fuse but the cloud of anger that
hovered on Kell's face disappeared to be replaced by a slight
grin. 'We sometimes have to do unpleasant things in war,
Martin,' he said in a voice that was ten below zero.
Feeling that it would be pointless to provoke Kell further
O'Neill changed the subject. 'Did you find the key to the
safe?' he asked with his heart in his mouth.