Tm sorry
...
I know you can't believe that, but I am. It was the most horrible plan.'
'So why didn't you stop it?' demanded Avedissian.
'It was Bryant's doing - him and his bitter hatred of the Irish.'
'Why?'
'He thinks that being so long in the Irish section has
destroyed his career. He believes that successive gov
ernments have refused to tackle the
IRA
head-on as he would like. He has always believed that the fight should have been
taken to the enemy. Fight fire with fire, that sort of thing, but
every scheme he has come up with over the years has been
turned down as being either too aggressive or too politically sensitive. He has always taken the rejection of his plans
personally; he has become paranoid about the "Public School
Mafia" as he calls them. Sometimes I think he hates our side
as much as he does the opposition.'
'And his latest scheme?'
'He saw a photograph in a newspaper of a handicapped
child whose parents had been killed in a car crash and noticed that the boy bore a superficial resemblance to one of the royal
children. It gave him an idea for an operation that he thought
would prove to the powers that be that he should be running
the section instead of playing number two.'
'Why did nobody stop him?'
‘
This time Bryant was clever. He sold the idea to Sir
Michael as purely a confidence trick to destroy
NORAID
and
undermine
IRA
morale. There was no mention of ever using
a real child, but he maintained that, for the scheme to have a
chance of success, everyone would have to act and behave as
if the kidnap had really happened, and Sir Michael agreed.'
'Why didn't it stay that way?'
'Bryant was obsessed with the operation. He saw this as his
one big chance to show how good he was.'
'So he planned his own version all along?'
Sarah Milek nodded. 'He also diverted funds from within
the section to employ some dubious operatives of his own.'
'And the boy?'
'The child was still in temporary accommodation after the crash while the social services decided what to do with him.
Bryant came up with transfer forms for a children's home at
the other end of the country, on the grounds that some
distant relation of the boy had been located and adoption
might be a possibility. The local authorities were only too
happy to see their problem solved.’
'But surely Sir Michael must have suspected something
was going on while Bryant was doing all this?' Avedissian protested.
'He did, but at the wrong moment his past caught up with
him.’
'What do you mean?'
'One of Bryant's people came up with something on Sir
Michael himself, a series of indiscretions involving young
boys. Bryant virtually took over the operation and the
section from then on. Sir Michael became little more than a
figurehead. Bryant ran the show.'
‘
That's why the old man committed suicide,’ said
Avedissian, remembering the story in the papers.
'He couldn't bear the shame,’ said Sarah Milek.
'But Bryant's scheme failed,’ said Avedissian.
'It's true that he didn't get the money, but the
INLA
was
wiped out in Belfast and Bryant got the credit for that. He also
set up the ambush that killed Kevin O'Donnell. His record
says that he will be made head of section in the near future in
spite of any opposition from high places.'
'Why doesn't somebody tell the truth about him? You, for instance?' asked Avedissian.
'I only know what Sir Michael told me before he died and
even then I suspect that there are bits of the story I don't
know. I don't really know much about what he was using the
outsiders for.'
'He used them to wire bombs to cars,’ said Avedissian
quietly.
'What?'
'It doesn't matter. You know enough,’ accused Avedissian.
'Knowing something and proving it are two different
things.'
'There must be someone you could go to?'
'I'm not that brave, Doctor. Bryant is a powerful man. He's
above the law, whatever politicians might say, and, quite
frankly, he scares me. You don't cross a man like Bryant and
get away with it.'
Avedissian closed his eyes and whispered, 'Now where
have I heard that before?'
'Pardon?'
Avedissian ignored the question and said, 'I have to talk to
Bryant. Where is he?'
'He's at a meeting. He's one of the advisers on security
matters for the royal birthday party,’ said Sarah Milek. When
Avedissian looked blank she added, 'There's to be a specially
televised birthday party tomorrow. The
Blue Peter
pro
gramme is hosting a party for handicapped young people
from all over the country. Members of the Royal Family will
attend.'
Avedissian remembered reading about it, but now that he
knew that Bryant was involved he saw it in a different light and alarm bells started to ring inside his head. 'Where is it to
be held?' he asked.
'That is being kept secret,’ said Sarah Milek.
'God, that could be it!' gasped Avedissian.
'Could be what?'
'Kell! He's going to hit the party!'
'But. . .’
'That's what he meant by the "last thing anyone would
think of in the circumstances'" A hit on the very child he was
supposed to be negotiating for on the other side of the
Atlantic!'
'But how? Security is always tight on these occasions.'
'I don't know, but I'm almost sure that must be it. Can
Bryant be contacted?'
'Yes if it's urgent.'
'It's urgent.'
'Come back to the office.'
Avedissian waited impatiently while Sarah Milek telephoned
Bryant. He heard her say why she was calling but could not hear Bryant's response when she told him who was with her.
He took the phone and put it to his ear.
'Well, Doctor, this is a surprise,’ said the voice that
Avedissian remembered.
‘
I’ll bet.’ said Avedissian evenly. 'But the boy and Paul Jarvis
won't be coming back to embarrass you. They are both dead.’
'I'm sorry. War can be very unpleasant, Doctor, and that's
what it is, a war.'
'And being "a war" excuses everything? How comfortable.
Do you think the child understood it was "a war" when his skull was caved in? You make me sick to my stomach.'
'Whingeing sentimentality doesn't do a lot for my con
stitution either, Doctor. Don't you realise what was at stake? A chance to wipe out
NORAID,
cut off that running sore for
good, and you expect me to listen to your maudlin crap about
one orphan boy who would probably have grown up to be another street sweeper in Luton!'
'You bastard!'
'Of course I'm a bastard, Doctor. If it wasn't for bastards
like me then fifty-odd million people in this country could
not sit comfortably on their arses watching
Dallas
and pre
tending that they are not the sort of people who could ever
do what I do. It's called hypocrisy, Doctor, but, being in the
profession you're in, there's no need to tell you that, or are
you going to pretend that all you nice, middle-class fellows
really are interested in athlete's foot and lorry drivers'
piles?'
'You need psychiatric help, Bryant. You're sick.'
'If we're going to start talking about psychiatry, Doctor,
then you are really batting on my wicket.’
'Don't you care about anything, Bryant?'
'Winning, Doctor. I care about winning.'
'Just like Kell.'
'What do you mean?'
'Kell knew all along that you were trying to set him up.
He's been planning to pay you back and I think I know how.'
'Goon.'
'He is going to hit the royal birthday party tomorrow.'
'I suppose he wrote and told you all this,' sneered Bryant.
Avedissian told him how he and Kathleen had come to be
captured by Kell after attempting to free her brother.
'Her brother!' exclaimed Bryant. 'You're resurrecting her
brother? Really, Doctor, this is too much. I appreciate how
badly you would like to play the Lone Ranger and hunt me
down but surely you don't expect me to believe all this
twaddle?'
'It's true, I swear it. The O'Neills are here with me in London. I suggest we meet and . . .'
'Oh come on, this is Boy Scout stuff. If you will take my
advice, Doctor, cash in your chips while you're ahead. Find
a nice little job somewhere and try to make the best of
things.'
'Until you find me?'
'I no longer have any interest in you, Doctor. You can't
hurt me. Who would believe the ramblings of a struck-off
doctor sliding towards alcoholism? You wouldn't even
make an amusing pub bore with a story like yours.'
Avedissian controlled himself and said as evenly as he
could, 'What I have told you is true! Kell is already here in
England. If you won't work with me and the O'Neills and you won't call off the party, then at least tighten security.
Put more men in the field!'
'Security is already tight, Doctor. There is no possibility of
an attack succeeding. The entire estate will be cordoned off.
You couldn't get a tank through even if you knew where
the place was.'
Avedissian thought he saw how he could convince Bryant
to take him seriously. He said, 'Kell already knows where
the party is being held.'
Bryant fell silent for a moment before saying quietly, 'I'm
all ears.'
'It's to be in Valham,' announced Avedissian.
'Never heard of it,’ said Bryant.
'Then nearby.'
‘
There is no place called Valham, or whatever it was,
within a fifty-mile radius of this estate,' said Bryant finally.
Avedissian was utterly deflated. It had to be the party Kell
was interested in, or was he letting his own arrogance blind
him? Could there be another target? 'I don't know for certain
that it's the party Kell is going to hit,' he conceded. 'Only that
it's something very big.'
‘
Take my advice, Doctor,' said Bryant. 'Quit while you're
ahead.' The phone went dead.
'He didn't believe you?' asked Sarah Milek, although she
already knew the answer.
Avedissian shook his head. 'Arrogant fool,' he muttered. He turned to Sarah Milek and asked, 'What does Valham
mean to you?'
'Nothing.'
'I don't want to know any secrets. Just tell me if it seems like a valid target for Kell to be interested in.'
'I wasn't lying,' said Sarah Milek. 'I genuinely have never
heard of it. But we can look it up if you like.' She brought
down a book of road maps from the bookshelf and looked up
the index before flicking through the pages. ‘There,' she
announced. 'It's a village in Norfolk.'