The Killer II (17 page)

On Thursday 29
th
July he settled down to watch the news and was horrified by what he saw.
Two bombs had gone off in London and they were the work of the Provisional I.R.A.
Eight soldiers had been killed, but they were guards on parade and bandsmen playing in Regent’s Park.
Horses had died too and Liam couldn’t believe that his old comrades had chosen such soft targets.
What point were they trying to make?
He hated bombs and had always refused to have anything to do with them.
Bombs were the tools of cowards and he watched the news report in disbelief, first with anger and finally with deep shame for his past associations.
He was overwhelmed by sadness and, as always in times of strong emotion, his mind turned to thoughts of his Mam.

Later that night the phone rang.

‘Hello?’

‘Liam, my boy, have you seen the news?’

‘Aye
Mr.
Turner.
I don’t know what to say.’

‘No, it’s a terribly bad state of affairs.
Can you be ready for a little trip by 9am tomorrow?’

‘I can.’

The silver Mercedes arrived on time and Liam walked out with a small case.
‘It’s good to see you again
Mr.
Turner.’

‘You too, dear boy.
I just wish it were under different circumstances.
This is worse than last year in Chelsea,’ said Turner as he started the car and headed out on the road.

‘Aye,’ Liam nodded, remembering the bombing that had happened within d
ays of his “escape” from the Ma
ze.
‘Who’s the target and how long will I be away?’

‘No target, Liam.
That’s the trouble, you see.
We didn’t see this coming – not at all and it has us in quite a flap.
Something has gone terribly wrong with our intelligence and heads may roll.’

‘You?’

‘Oh no, quite the reverse in fact.
I have been called in to save the day, dear boy, because it seems I might have the one operative who could help.’

‘Me?’

‘Quite.’

‘But if there’s no target, how can I help?’

‘Intelligence, my lad.
We are going somewhere nice and secure for a serious chat with some very important people.’

‘You are
fuckin
’ joking.’

‘Liam I have missed you, but not that much.
Will you kindly mind that tongue of yours.’

‘Sorry, but I’m an operative like you said.
That means I operate.
I go out and kill people.
I’m not a
fu
… I’m not an intelligence officer.’

‘You are a source of intelligence, Liam, a source and we need to talk about some people you are acquainted with.’

‘I told you everything that I could months ago.
You need to let me get out there and do something about this.
They bombed poor
fuckin
’ horses for Christ’s sake.’

‘Liam, really.’

‘Well I’m sorry, but honestly how messed up can it get?’

‘I know, dear boy, I know.’

The drive wasn’t long and they were soon at an airfield.
A helicopter whisked them away and by early afternoon Liam was walking into a room he remembered only too well.
He had spent weeks here at the end of last year being rigorously grilled by men in suits and politely questioned by Turner who had kept offering him cups of tea.
There were three suits in the room now, one of whom he recognised from his previous time here, and two new faces.

‘Shall I organise tea for everyone?’ Turner suggested and Liam couldn’t help but smile.

A secretary arrived with the refreshments and Liam braced himself for re-interrogation the moment she left, but the feeling was immediately different.
These men were clearly worried.
There had been a fundamental failure in their intelligence and they were desperate for his help.
They even made an effort to be polite.
A whole cup of tea was consumed while they discussed the weather and Liam was just considering sticking out his little finger and requesting
cucumber sandwiches when the suit he recognised from before cleared his throat and the room quietened respectfully.

‘
Mr.
O’Neil,’ he began, ‘before we go any further we would like to thank you and congratulate you for your excellent work with McKee and NORAID.
If only we could get rid of the rest of Washington’s scum the same way.’

‘
Scum?’ Liam asked in surprise and he noticed Turner raise his eyebrows too.

The suit caught
himself
quickly.
‘I apologise.
That was unprofessional of me.
No, no, I can’t go as far as to call them scum, but they are definitely dirty.
I think we can all agree on that.’

The other two suits and Turner nodded, so Liam nodded along with them.
It seemed to be the polite thing to do, but he hoped the man in charge would clarify.
He did, and he stood to make the point.
‘Just the other week an American official, elected no less, made the following statement.’
He reached for his notes and read: “We must pledge ourselves to support those brave men and women who, this very moment, are carrying forth the struggle against British imperialism in the streets of Belfast and Derry.”

Liam’s eyes widened in disbelief and his head shook from side to side as the man went on.
His voice was rising now and he was clearly very angry.
‘Do you know what happened after he made that statement?
Do you?
No, you don’t.
He received rapturous applause, that’s what happened.
The
American people suck it all up.
The American dream, the American way, is to support terrorism.’

‘
Now really,’ Turner tried to interrupt, but the suit would not be silenced.

‘
Terrorism, what else can you call it?’ he went on, his fist banging the desk.
‘Look what they’re doing with the Afghans.’

‘
But that’s different.
Even we…’

‘
Yes, even we want the Russians out of Afghanistan, but at what cost?
Have they learned nothing from Vietnam?
“One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter.”
Is he?
Is he really?
How about one man’s freedom fighter leads one country to arm another country to blow up their allies.
Special relationship my foot.
Until the Americans have a Londonderry or two in their own back yard they will never learn.
That’s why we need men like you,
Mr.
O’Neil, and I thank you.
I thank you from the bottom of my heart.’

As the man underlined the words “Thank you” with a hand to his breast Liam thought he looked as if he was trying to run for Congress himself.
The other two suits were staring down at the desk in front of them now and the room was uncomfortably silent.
‘You’re welcome,’ he muttered, unable to think of anything else to say.

It fell to Turner to rescue the situation as he rose to his feet.
‘Yes, yes, old chap.
We all know that the American people have been hoodwinked by their own government, but really we are getting a little bit off the
subject here.
Shall I call for more tea?’
The main suit sat and nodded, though the anger still showed clearly on his face.
Liam wasn’t sure he could blame him.
He knew a bit about NORAID from the old days and Turner himself had suggested they had far greater support than they should have, but to hear a speech on the subject was something he hadn’t expected.
Thankfully the arrival of tea provided the little break they needed and when Turner began the proceedings again Liam was immediately alert.

‘
So, to the matter in hand.
We are most concerned about the terrible attack in Regent’s Park, are we not?’
Nods all round.
‘So we are here to discuss Peter Moore.’

‘
Was that
fuckin
’ bastard behind the bombings?’ Liam asked, jumping from his chair.
He noticed Turner wince, but the others seemed unconcerned by his language.

‘
We have no idea,
Mr.
O’Neil, and that’s our problem,’ said another suit,
who
might have been called Smith but he couldn’t remember.
It was hard to tell these men apart.

‘
I should have taken him out when I had the chance,’ Liam spat as he retook his seat.

‘
Well, that’s as may be, but what we’re trying to do is piece together our information here.
Clearly we missed something.
We’ve had Moore on our radar for some time, as you know, but not necessarily at this level.
We have to try to find out who masterminded these bombings, and he’s one
of our candidates.
There was that meeting that you witnessed.’

‘
Fuck, do you think that was when they planned it?’

‘
It’s possible, we just don’t know.
I understand you saw who was present.’

‘
Aye, but I only recognised Mad Dog and later found out that Moore was there too.’

‘
So you didn’t see William Nolan there?’

‘
Willy Nolan?’
Liam was genuinely shocked to hear that name come up in this conversation.
‘No, no, he definitely wasn’t there.
What would he have to do with something like this?’

‘
Maybe nothing
Mr.
O’Neil, but Moore and Nolan have a long history.
They were at school together, you know.’

‘
What?
No, I had no idea.
Fuck me, Willy Nolan.’
This was certainly news to him and it shook him for a second, but then he considered further.
‘Hey, wait a minute.
Just because two kids went to school together doesn’t mean anything.’

‘Oh indeed,’ the suit agreed.
‘Of course there were many other children at school with the pair of them.
Your father, for example, was…’

‘
Me Da?
What the fuck are you suggesting?’

‘
Calm down
Mr.
O’Neil, we are not suggesting anything.
We have nothing on your father at all.
I just use him as an example of other children.
In the case of Nolan and Moore, however, their association went far before the school gates.’

Suddenly Liam felt very uncomfortable.
The mention of the father he never knew had caught him off guard, but Willy Nolan he had known well.
Willy was one of the good guys as far as he was concerned and he’d saved his skin on at least one occasion.
He could believe Moore capable of anything, but not Willy.
He lit a cigarette to give himself a few seconds to gather his thoughts.
The last thing he wanted to do was say something he would regret, something that might give away the fact that he knew Nolan far better than he had admitted previously.
He took a deep drag of his fag and sipped from his tea as suit number three spoke for the first time. ‘Well we need to get someone on the inside to see what we can find out,’ he said.

‘
Me?’ Liam gasped with a deep intake of breath that took some of the tea down his windpipe and he was immediately rendered speechless by a coughing and spluttering fit that he couldn’t control.

‘
No, no, we didn’t mean you,’ he heard one suit exclaim while Turner was at his back, thumping him hard and muttering, ‘Wrong hole, dear boy, deep breaths,’ and someone else called for water.

It was several minutes before order was restored and Liam felt ridiculously embarrassed by what had happened, but at least it had deflected interest from Willy Nolan for a while.
When he was finally breathing easily again he offered a sheepish, ‘Sorry,’ confirmed that he was OK and nodded at the suggestion that they continue.

‘
Of course we have no intention of putting you on the inside, dear boy,’ began Turner, taking over proceedings.
‘Goodness me, we are not that idiotic.
You are dead and you need to stay that way.
No, what we need is information to help us get someone else in there quickly do you see?’

‘
Ah, OK,’ Liam nodded.
He was greatly relieved.