The Trojan boy Page 6

  The tarmac at the front of Llangern House felt ridiculously civilised to Avedissian as he walked towards the house. It was so incredibly easy to walk on after the stamina-sapping rough ground of the past week. He was met by the major who was waiting at the door. 'You are leaving us, Avedissian,’ he said. Avedissian's questions were met with a raise of the hand and the reply, 'No idea, old chap. All I know is that you're to be picked up at seven this evening. Time for a bit of a wash and some food, eh?'

  Avedissian resigned himself to another wait and had started to climb the stairs to his room when the major called after him. 'Oh, and by the way, old chap. Keep the moustache. Lose the beard.'

  That the day was warm did not detract from the pleasure Avedissian took in having a hot bath. He soaped himself repeatedly then made waves in the tub with his knees to clear the suds from his chest. He removed his beard with a fresh razor and brushed his hair into order.

  As he looked at himself in the mirror and smoothed down his unaccustomed moustache between thumb and forefinger Avedissian had to admit that he looked an awful lot better for his time at Llangern. The flab had gone from his middle and the muscles on his shoulders and chest looked firm and hard. His hair was a bit on the long side but it only served to make him look younger. He felt better inside too. Total abstinence from alcohol and freedom from the cares of civilisation had cleared his head. He felt alert and capable and ready to serve Queen and Country in whatever role they required. He just wished that they would tell him soon.

  After a meal that was over-indulgent in terms of quantity if not quality Avedissian was handed a pile of newspapers to read as he relaxed. It was his first contact with the outside world since he had come to Llangern.

  The lead story in many concerned the success of the British Forces in Northern Ireland in an action which had resulted in the death of Kevin O'Donnell, a leading IRA figure. Another high-ranking terrorist was believed to have been seriously wounded in the same action. There was speculation as to whether or not the death of O'Donnell might lead to a new wave of violence as O'Donnell was widely believed to have been the moderating influence on the IRA’s war council.

  There was speculation that interest rates might have to rise after a new run on the pound, which had sunk to an all-time low against a basket of European currencies. Entry to the European Monetary System was advocated as a possible measure for the future.

  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 darkness 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 interested 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 because rank obliged hi
m 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.

  'No, we'll have to blow it.'

  I’ll have a look before I go,’ said O'Neill hoping that he sounded calm for his pulse was racing. This might be his only chance to get his hands on the envelope.

  Kell fixed him with a smile and eyes that seemed to see right through him. 'Why not?' he said.

  O'Neill felt as if he were standing on broken glass.

  O'Neill left the room and paused for a moment in the quiet of the corridor. He could hear his heart beating. He could never serve under Kell. The man hated him, not just disliked, as he had always known, but hated. He could feel it in the air whenever he was near him, enveloping him like a malignant vapour.

  O'Neill walked quickly and quietly along the corridor to the little room that had been O'Donnell's. It was unchanged because The Bairn could not use it. A brick support pillar prevented the manoeuvring of his pram through the doorway. O'Neill was glad. It would not have been right to have the little psychopath in O'Donnell's room.

  He knew exactly where the safe key was because O'Donnell had told him before he died. He pulled one of the drawers right out of the desk and turned it around. There, taped to the back with red masking tape, was a small plastic card, the electronic key to the safe. He removed it and put the drawer back on its runners. Now for the safe itself.

  The safe was built into the end wall of a long narrow room known as the Council Room, which served as the place where sector commanders met to discuss strategy. It had an oval table and eight chairs in it but very little else. O'Neill tried the door. It was locked. He drew his lips back over his teeth in exasperation and released his grip on the handle slowly so as to avoid noise. What now, damn it? He would have to find the key.

  As O’Neill considered where it might be, he heard Nelligan's voice raised in laughter. Nelligan could always be relied upon to appreciate Kell's humourless wit. Big, dumb, faithful Nelligan. Kell's friends were his friends; Kell's enemies were his enemies. The body of an ox and the brain of a rabbit, and he had no love for O'Neill.

  As Nelligan's voice grew louder O'Neill realised that Kell's door was about to be opened and he had no wish to be discovered lurking near the Council Room. He moved swiftly away from the door and returned to O'Donnell's room to wait there with the light off and the door slightly ajar. He heard the squeak of the pram wheels going in the other direction and breathed a sigh of relief. In the darkness he wondered why Kell never had his wheels oiled but, in his heart, he thought that he already knew the answer. The Bairn wanted people to know when he was coming, wanted them to know… and be afraid.

  The voices faded and O'Neill knew that he would have to act quickly. The key to the Council Room must be somewhere in the room that Kell had just left. He glided silently along the corridor and slipped into it, closing the door behind him and clicking on the light. He looked around for inspiration.

  There, on the wall, was a wooden board with keys hanging on it. O'Neill gave silent thanks and went over to read the Dymo Tape labels, 'c room' said one on the third row. O'Neill removed the key and the door opened behind him.

  'Oh… excuse me. Oh, it's you, Mr O'Neill…'

  O'Neill did his best to recover his balance. 'I was looking for the key to Mr O'Donnell's room,' he lied.

&
nbsp; 'It's not locked.'

  'In that case…' O'Neill smiled and walked towards the door.

  'Where's Mr Kell?' asked the man.

  Was that suspicion in his voice? wondered O'Neill or was it guilt playing tricks on him? 'I don't know,’ he said calmly, 'I was looking for him myself.'

  O'Neill did not know the man but guessed that he must be one of Kell's proteges. 'I'll come back later,’ he said as he squeezed past him and started walking towards O'Donnell's room. He felt the man's eyes on his back all the way but when he turned round there was no one there. It had been his imagination.

  O'Neill let himself into the Council Room and approached the safe. He pressed the electronic key into the slot and heard the mechanism respond. There was a large sum of money in the main vault, but more important and lying on its own on the top shelf, as O'Donnell had said, was a sealed white envelope. O'Neill removed it and put it into his pocket. He closed the safe door and, as the lock reset itself, he suddenly became aware of another sound, the single squeak of a pram wheel.

  Fear threatened to paralyse O'Neill, his throat was so tight that he could hardly breathe. He knew that Kell was behind him but the question was, how long had he been there? There was no alternative, he had to brass it out. He put the key back in the slot and watched the door swing open again hoping that Kell would believe that he was just trying out the key. He gave a grunt of satisfaction and turned round to feign surprise at the sight of Kell and Nelligan in the doorway.

  'I found it,’ said O'Neill, holding up the card.

  'So I see,’ said Kell evenly and without smiling. 'Where?'

  O'Neill told him the truth.

  Kell looked over his shoulder at Nelligan and said, 'I thought you searched O'Donnell's desk?'

  'I didn't look there,’ confessed the big man with a hangdog expression.

  'No matter,’ said Kell quietly. The main thing is we have it.' He held out his hand and O'Neill walked over to drop the card into it. 'Anything interesting in there?' Kell asked, fixing O'Neill with a stare.