The Trojan Boy (6 page)
Authors: Ken McClure
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Medical, #Suspense, #Thrillers
O'Neill tried to open his eyes but found that he could not.
He concentrated hard but still to no effect. It was ridiculous.
He was conscious but trapped inside a body that refused to respond to any instruction he issued. He could feel nothing
except a burning pain coming from his left arm, but that
was the thing that was not there any more. Perhaps he was
dead? It was a big disappointment if he was for he was still
there, damn it! Locked inside a useless hulk of flesh. Good
God, he would be able to hear everything at his own
funeral, the volley of shots, the patter of earth on the lid of the coffin and then nothing, endless, eternal, black nothing.
But he would still be there!
He concentrated hard but still to no effect. It was ridiculous.
He was conscious but trapped inside a body that refused to respond to any instruction he issued. He could feel nothing
except a burning pain coming from his left arm, but that
was the thing that was not there any more. Perhaps he was
dead? It was a big disappointment if he was for he was still
there, damn it! Locked inside a useless hulk of flesh. Good
God, he would be able to hear everything at his own
funeral, the volley of shots, the patter of earth on the lid of the coffin and then nothing, endless, eternal, black nothing.
But he would still be there!
O'Neill's brain rebelled violently at the thought and sent a
tremor down his right side. The tremor shook him free like
an air bubble that had been trapped at the foot of a pond
and he surfaced to open his eyes.
tremor down his right side. The tremor shook him free like
an air bubble that had been trapped at the foot of a pond
and he surfaced to open his eyes.
'Doctor!' said a voice. 'He's coming round.'
A shadow moved over the light and the voice of the doctor
said, 'How are you feeling?'
said, 'How are you feeling?'
Another voice said in rasping tones, 'Move! I have to
speak to him.'
speak to him.'
O'Neill recognised the voice as Finbarr Kell's. He
struggled against the intransigence of his lips but to no avail.
He was falling into blackness again. Down, down, down.
Perhaps there would be sunshine when he stopped falling.
That would be nice, sunshine . . . grass . . . flowers.
struggled against the intransigence of his lips but to no avail.
He was falling into blackness again. Down, down, down.
Perhaps there would be sunshine when he stopped falling.
That would be nice, sunshine . . . grass . . . flowers.
O'Neill was unconscious for the better part of two days
while his body struggled to scrape by on the borderline
oxygen supply that his vastly depleted blood volume could
transport. On the third day he was through the crisis and started to get better and Kell came back to the Long House
in the evening. O'Neill heard the squeak of the pram wheels
as Nelligan, Kell's constant minder, manoeuvred him
through the door to park him at the foot of the bed.
while his body struggled to scrape by on the borderline
oxygen supply that his vastly depleted blood volume could
transport. On the third day he was through the crisis and started to get better and Kell came back to the Long House
in the evening. O'Neill heard the squeak of the pram wheels
as Nelligan, Kell's constant minder, manoeuvred him
through the door to park him at the foot of the bed.
There was a long moment when neither man spoke but just looked at each other. Kell's head had always struck
O'Neill as being too big for his body but he supposed that
this was an illusion created by his legless torso. Nevertheless
it seemed as if all the pores on Kell's face were quite dis
cernible as the cold eyes, magnified by strong, rimless
glasses, surveyed him under a hairless head.
O'Neill as being too big for his body but he supposed that
this was an illusion created by his legless torso. Nevertheless
it seemed as if all the pores on Kell's face were quite dis
cernible as the cold eyes, magnified by strong, rimless
glasses, surveyed him under a hairless head.
'Well, Martin, it seems that even an intellectual has given
up something for the cause at last, eh?' said Kell eyeing
O'Neill's bandaged stump. He seemed pleased with his joke.
up something for the cause at last, eh?' said Kell eyeing
O'Neill's bandaged stump. He seemed pleased with his joke.
'I'm no intellectual, Finbarr.'
Kell smiled but there was no humour in it. 'Of course you are,' he said softly. 'All that book learning
...
of course you
are.'
...
of course you
are.'
O'Neill stayed silent.
'What went wrong?' asked Kell.
'The Brits knew we were coming. They were waiting for
us.'
us.'
'Bastards!' spat Kell. Then they were tipped off?'
'Must have been,' said O'Neill.
'Any ideas?'
'No.'
'I'll find the bastard if it's the last thing I do,' said Kell in a
way that utterly convinced O'Neill that he would.
way that utterly convinced O'Neill that he would.
'Meanwhile I need the keys to the safe. Do you know where
they are?'
they are?'
'No,’ lied O'Neill. He had a promise to keep before he handed them over. 'Have you checked O'Donnell's room?'
Kell looked at him as if he were mentally defective. 'Of
course I've checked O'Donnell's room,' he rasped.
course I've checked O'Donnell's room,' he rasped.
‘
They'll turn up', said O'Neill.
They'll turn up', said O'Neill.
'No doubt,' said Kell with a look that sent shivers down
O'Neill's spine.
O'Neill's spine.
'I'd like to see my sister,' said O'Neill.
'Ah yes, the schoolteacher sister.' Kell smiled and O'Neill
thought that he looked even more evil when he did that. 'I
don't want her coming here. It's too risky.'
thought that he looked even more evil when he did that. 'I
don't want her coming here. It's too risky.'
'I heard that there's a Brit plant in the street?'
‘
There
was.
Arm got caught in a hawser winch at the
docks. Tore him in half.' Kell smiled again.
There
was.
Arm got caught in a hawser winch at the
docks. Tore him in half.' Kell smiled again.
'What's to happen to me?' asked O'Neill.
‘
The cottage at Cladeen. It will be safe there and your
sister can look after you.'
The cottage at Cladeen. It will be safe there and your
sister can look after you.'
‘
Thanks.'
Thanks.'
'Anything for my men . . . Martin.'
The doctor changed the dressing on O'Neill's stump in the
morning and seemed optimistic that the risk of infection had
passed. He advised waiting another day at the Long House but O'Neill was adamant that he be taken to Cladeen and in
the end the doctor agreed. O'Neill travelled in one of the
news vans, an uncomfortable journey that lasted three
hours, but the thought of fresh air and quiet countryside
sustained him.
morning and seemed optimistic that the risk of infection had
passed. He advised waiting another day at the Long House but O'Neill was adamant that he be taken to Cladeen and in
the end the doctor agreed. O'Neill travelled in one of the
news vans, an uncomfortable journey that lasted three
hours, but the thought of fresh air and quiet countryside
sustained him.
There was a chill in the evening air when they arrived at
the loughside cottage and Neill saw smoke rise from the chimney as they turned off the road to negotiate the narrow
track leading to the water's edge. The van started to lurch
on the rough surface and O'Neill stopped it, saying that he
would rather walk, it would be easier on his arm. He
watched while the driver reversed the van up the track, and nodded goodbye before continuing on down to the cottage
where Kathleen was waiting. She came to meet him.
the loughside cottage and Neill saw smoke rise from the chimney as they turned off the road to negotiate the narrow
track leading to the water's edge. The van started to lurch
on the rough surface and O'Neill stopped it, saying that he
would rather walk, it would be easier on his arm. He
watched while the driver reversed the van up the track, and nodded goodbye before continuing on down to the cottage
where Kathleen was waiting. She came to meet him.
'So you came back then?'
'Most of me,’ said O'Neill, nodding to his left shoulder.
Tears started to run down Kathleen O'Neill's face as she
looked at O'Neill's bandaged stump.
looked at O'Neill's bandaged stump.
'Don't,’ said O'Neill softly.
Kathleen came towards him and put her head on his
chest. 'I knew it would come to this,’ she said. 'I always
knew.'
chest. 'I knew it would come to this,’ she said. 'I always
knew.'
They went inside the house and O'Neill sat down while
Kathleen made tea. 'Or would you like something
stronger?' she asked.
Kathleen made tea. 'Or would you like something
stronger?' she asked.
‘
Tea will be fine.'
Tea will be fine.'
As O'Neill sipped his tea Kathleen looked at him and said,
'It's going to be over now, isn't it?'
'It's going to be over now, isn't it?'
O'Neill shrugged and said, 'You don't retire from the
organisation, you know that. They don't give you an elec
tric toaster and a Teasmade and wish you well with the
roses. It's a commitment for life, or until we win freedom.'
organisation, you know that. They don't give you an elec
tric toaster and a Teasmade and wish you well with the
roses. It's a commitment for life, or until we win freedom.'
'A political commitment! I'm just saying that it's time you
left the field, especially now that Kell is in charge.'
left the field, especially now that Kell is in charge.'
'You know then?'
'All Belfast knows.’
'I'm tired,’ said O'Neill.
'Rest then. We'll talk later.'
The subject of O'Neill's 'retirement' came up again as he and
Kathleen walked by the lough on the following evening.
Kathleen walked by the lough on the following evening.
'Have you thought about what I said?' asked Kathleen.
O'Neill said that he had.
'Well then?'
'There's something I have to do.'
'Oh there's always going to be something you have to do!' said Kathleen angrily. 'What kind of a life do you think this
is? Do you think I enjoy being Martin O'Neill's sister? Do
you think I enjoy having soldiers storm into my house
whenever they feel like it? Do you think I enjoyed losing
every boyfriend I ever had because of who I was? Do you?
Do you think I enjoy having parents whisper behind my
back and wonder just what kind of woman is teaching their children?'
is? Do you think I enjoy being Martin O'Neill's sister? Do
you think I enjoy having soldiers storm into my house
whenever they feel like it? Do you think I enjoyed losing
every boyfriend I ever had because of who I was? Do you?
Do you think I enjoy having parents whisper behind my
back and wonder just what kind of woman is teaching their children?'
O'Neill was taken aback at the outburst. 'I thought you
understood,’ he said weakly.
understood,’ he said weakly.
Kathleen looked at O'Neill holding the stump of his arm
and relented. 'Oh I do,’ she conceded. 'But enough is
enough. You can't go on like this. I can't go on like this.
You're crip . . .'
and relented. 'Oh I do,’ she conceded. 'But enough is
enough. You can't go on like this. I can't go on like this.
You're crip . . .'
'Crippled,’ said O'Neill, completing the word.
'Yes, crippled,’ said Kathleen quietly. 'You've done your bit. Call it a day.'
'Perhaps you're right,’ said O'Neill.
'Do you mean that?'
'I really do have one more thing to do. It was O'Donnell's
last order to me. I promised him just as I am promising you.'
last order to me. I promised him just as I am promising you.'
'What was it?'
'You know better than that.’
O'Neill withdrew his arm from the bedclothes and looked at
his watch, now painfully aware that it was on his right
wrist. He angled it so that it caught the moonlight coming in
through the bedroom window. It was three in the morning
and he could not sleep for there was too much on his mind. Uppermost was the problem of the safe in the Long House
and how he was going to be able to get the envelope from it.
He got up quietly and crossed to the window to look out at the waters of the lough.
Would the contents of the envelope help him to understand
the nature of the order? he wondered. Please God that they would for he was by no means confident that he could carry
out such an order without understanding the reason behind
it.
his watch, now painfully aware that it was on his right
wrist. He angled it so that it caught the moonlight coming in
through the bedroom window. It was three in the morning
and he could not sleep for there was too much on his mind. Uppermost was the problem of the safe in the Long House
and how he was going to be able to get the envelope from it.
He got up quietly and crossed to the window to look out at the waters of the lough.
Would the contents of the envelope help him to understand
the nature of the order? he wondered. Please God that they would for he was by no means confident that he could carry
out such an order without understanding the reason behind
it.
There would have to be a reason, a good reason, for
O'Neill had never been very good at assuming the good intentions of his superiors. In fact, he had discovered some years before that he possessed entirely the wrong mentality
for military life of any sort. He had discovered within
himself an inherent weakness that had made him uneasy in the field ever since. As he stood in the pale grey moonlight
he thought back to that day, the day of the ambush.
O'Neill had never been very good at assuming the good intentions of his superiors. In fact, he had discovered some years before that he possessed entirely the wrong mentality
for military life of any sort. He had discovered within
himself an inherent weakness that had made him uneasy in the field ever since. As he stood in the pale grey moonlight
he thought back to that day, the day of the ambush.
O'Neill and six others had been returning to their
farmhouse hideout after an operation near the border and,
as always when they returned, they were approaching with
caution in case an ambush had been laid for them.
farmhouse hideout after an operation near the border and,
as always when they returned, they were approaching with
caution in case an ambush had been laid for them.
O'Neill had ordered the others to wait while he himself
had gone on alone to investigate. As he had lain in the grass
watching the huddle of cottages a child had run out into the
yard. It had waddled across the dirt with its nose running
and a full nappy impeding its knock-kneed gait. O'Neill had waited for its mother to come out and get it but she had not. Instead she had called to it from inside the house and there
had been fear in her voice. Fear that had warned O'Neill that she was not alone.
had gone on alone to investigate. As he had lain in the grass
watching the huddle of cottages a child had run out into the
yard. It had waddled across the dirt with its nose running
and a full nappy impeding its knock-kneed gait. O'Neill had waited for its mother to come out and get it but she had not. Instead she had called to it from inside the house and there
had been fear in her voice. Fear that had warned O'Neill that she was not alone.
Quite suddenly a British Paratroops officer had come out
from the cottage and sprinted over to the child to sweep it
up into his arms. He was turning to take it back to its mother
when he saw O'Neill pointing the gun at him and froze in
his tracks. Their eyes met as O'Neill prepared to fire but did not.
from the cottage and sprinted over to the child to sweep it
up into his arms. He was turning to take it back to its mother
when he saw O'Neill pointing the gun at him and froze in
his tracks. Their eyes met as O'Neill prepared to fire but did not.
Thinking that O'Neill's reluctance had to do with the child
he was holding and, rather than use it as a shield, the officer
had put it down gently and shooed it away from him. He
had then stood up to face death. The simple gesture of
humanity had not been lost on O'Neill. He had lowered the
weapon and indicated with the muzzle that the officer
should finish what he had started. He had seen the look of
puzzlement in the man's eyes and then the slight nod as he
picked up the child again and disappeared into the house. O'Neill had returned to tell his group that the hideout had
been blown. They could not use it any longer. Humanity or
weakness? The question had remained unanswered within
O'Neill all these years.
THREEhe was holding and, rather than use it as a shield, the officer
had put it down gently and shooed it away from him. He
had then stood up to face death. The simple gesture of
humanity had not been lost on O'Neill. He had lowered the
weapon and indicated with the muzzle that the officer
should finish what he had started. He had seen the look of
puzzlement in the man's eyes and then the slight nod as he
picked up the child again and disappeared into the house. O'Neill had returned to tell his group that the hideout had
been blown. They could not use it any longer. Humanity or
weakness? The question had remained unanswered within
O'Neill all these years.
On Saturday morning Avedissian
sat in the lobby of the
Brecon Inn feeling distinctly ill-at-ease. The feeling was
born of not really knowing why he was there or, indeed,
who or what he was waiting for. He had just had to say,
'Someone will be coming to meet me,' for the third time to a solicitous member of the staff. But who would it be? Sarah
Milek? Sir Michael? Someone new?
sat in the lobby of the
Brecon Inn feeling distinctly ill-at-ease. The feeling was
born of not really knowing why he was there or, indeed,
who or what he was waiting for. He had just had to say,
'Someone will be coming to meet me,' for the third time to a solicitous member of the staff. But who would it be? Sarah
Milek? Sir Michael? Someone new?
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