Jason Steed Royal Decree

by Mark A. Cooper

  “Not at all, Mrs. O’Neill. He’s a good lad. I’ll never forget that race he won at the pool, and it seems Cailin likes him.”

  “Yes, well thank you for bringing him home.”

  He drove off and left Jason in a cloud of exhaust fumes.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jason pulled on his pajamas and turned out the bedroom light. Gazing out the small bedroom window, his mind was elsewhere. How would he contact Scott or Battle Axe Brenda and inform them that the Rev Ian Flanagan is meeting SS on Saturday? Could it be the same person? As soon as he tried to put the pieces together, his mind went back to Cailin. Kissing her outside the fish and chip shop, not caring if anyone saw them.

  “Am I in love Charlie Teddy?” Jason asked the stuffed toy. He climbed into bed and lay back, with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. If I am falling in love, it’s like stepping into water, first slowly getting wet, then suddenly becoming completely submerged, and then I’m out of my depth. But it feels good.

  Jason lay for hours. He didn’t need to sleep and dream fantasies. His life was now better than any dream could ever hope to be.

  The next two days passed like a sleepy haze. He found himself thinking of Cailin. They spoke on the phone after school but were only allowed ten minutes. Thursday night, Maude would be going to bingo. Jason hatched a plan to contact Scott and Battle Axe Brenda.

  Gober couldn’t help but notice Jason was head over heels with Cailin. She was all he spoke about. He agreed to help Jason call her on the schools nurse’s phone. Although Jason had intentions of calling Scott, he went along with Gober’s plan.

  At lunchtime, when the lunch lady was not looking, Jason and Gober put some cut up carrots, mash potatoes, and some cake from their lunches in a plastic bag. Gober added some chocolate milk for good effect. Hiding under his jacket the boys left the canteen and made their way to the school library. They took cover behind a large shelf full of non-fiction books. After checking the coast was clear Gober took a mouthful of the mixture. He poured the rest on the floor.

  Gober staggered out and made his way to the Liberian with Jason.

  “Miss, Gober’s not feeling well. He’s just puked up all over the floor,” Jason said.

  Miss Pinkleton, the school Liberian, looked up over the top of her glasses and eyed Gober suspiciously.

  “Uh-oh he doesn’t look good,” Jason said as Gober held his stomach.

  Gober leant over and spat out the mixture on the Liberians desk. She jumped to her feet, trying to avoid his vomit.

  “Really boy, did you have to do it on my desk?” she cried, trying not to vomit herself.

  “Miss, shall I’ll go and get the nurse?” Jason asked trying not to laugh. To his amazement Miss Pinkelton started to heave and threw up her elf in her wastebasket. “I’ll take that as a yes then.” Jason smirked.

  Jason ran down the corridors. He came to the school nurses office and barged in.

  “Miss, Gobnait O’Grady and Miss Pinkleton have both thrown up in the library. She asked me to get you,” Jason said.

  “Jason Norris you should knock before entering. What, both of them have been sick?” She frowned, picking up a bag and towel.

  “Yes miss. I bet it was the school diner. The chicken looked half cooked to me.”

  She hurried down the corridor. Jason watched her large lumpy body bounce up and down while she hurried down a corridor. As soon as he watched her turn the corner, he went back in her office and picked up the phone and called the number George had previously given him.

  To his annoyance it was not picked up until the fifth ring. “Hello,” came an unfamiliar voice.

  “This is Jason Steed I need to speak to Scott or Battle Axe urgently.”

  “Hello, Jason this is Paddy Murphy. Scott is not here, and who did you ask for?” Paddy asked.

  “Battle Axe Brenda.”

  “Haha, you boys are so cruel. She’s not here either.”

  “What’s going on? That’s Scott’s job, to be there. I need to meet them tonight,” Jason snapped.

  “They should be back by tonight. They flew over to England to attend George Young’s funeral.”

  “Oh, I never knew. I should have went but I’m stuck here.”

  “Jason, you are doing what George wanted. If you want to do something for George, keep working on the case and find out what you can. Tonight you say, where?”

  “Have them meet me on the corner of Shankhill Road by the post office just after eight,” Jason said.

  “I will pass the message on Jason, stay safe young man,” Paddy said.

  Jason got out just in time before the school nurse got back with Gober. The plan worked much better than they had hoped for. Gober was sent home. While he waited for his mother to pick him up, Jason sat with him.

  “Did you call your bird?” Gober whispered.

  “Yeah thanks. Did you see Miss Pinkleton? She threw up for real. It was gross,” Jason said, pulling a face as if he was going to be sick.

  “I know, it was classic. She had diced carrots in her vomit too.” He laughed.

  *

  A small, lonely figure tucked himself in the door way of the post office. He shuffled his feet and dug his hands into his pockets, trying to keep warm. How long had he been waiting? It must have been fifteen minutes. They were late. He looked up and down the street. An old man walking his dog and a few parked cars, other than that it was empty. Jason lifted his shoulders, almost trying to cover his neck and ears with them to keep warm.

  Car lights gave away the location of a car travelling in his direction. Jason peered from his hiding place to get a better look. It slowed down to a crawl. He walked out onto the sidewalk and walked towards the car. It pulled over and an interior light came on. Jason noticed Paddy and Battle Axe in the front. Someone in the back opened the back door. Jason jumped in.

  “You’re late. It’s bloody freezing standing there waiting for you,” Jason said as the car pulled off.

  “Hi Jase, we only just got back,” Scott said.

  “Hi Scott, you look smart. How was the funeral?” Jason asked, noticing Scott was wearing a black tie and blazer.

  “It was a big deal. Four black horses and a carriage, over a hundred people following, a whole brigade of police turned out. His wife and son where there. It was sad,” Scott explained.

  “I even saw a few from the criminal underworld paying their respects. George may have been their enemy and even put a few in jail from time to time, but they still respected him,” Brenda interrupted.

  The tension between Scott and Paddy was picked up by Jason, who took his friends side and became off towards Paddy.

  “Paddy said you have some urgent information?” Brenda asked.

  “Yeah kinda strange really. Have you heard of the Reverend Ian Flanagan?” Jason asked.

  “Of course we have. I may be Irish, but we are not all thick Jason,” Paddy snapped.

  “You said it.” Jason shrugged.

  Paddy stopped the car and turned and stared at Jason. “You’ve got a big mouth for a small boy.”

  Jason ignored him. “Like I was saying, Brenda, have you heard of him?”

  Paddy spun the wheels of the car and pulled off again. Scott grinned at Jason and gave him a high five. Both boys seemed to take delight in annoying Paddy.

  “Yes, he’s a royalist and unionist. He’s on our side against the IRA. He represents most protestant people who want to remain part of Britain.”

  Scott interrupted. “No, Brenda he’s not on our side. George Young said we don’t take sides. We are simply here to find out who is supplying the guns and bomb making equipment and report back. Then you arrest them, and we go home.”

  “Well you know what I mean,” Brenda tutted.

  “No we don’t,” Scott argued. “But anyway Jason, what of him?”

  Jason took a deep breath and waited for everyone to calm down. “Well Rev Flanagan is meeting a business man on Saturday at his home. He meets him
two or three times a year. This business man goes by the initials ‘SS.’ So if he’s meeting him, and Shamus and Bradan also meet with him, this guy ‘SS’ must be selling arms to both sides.”

  “That’s impossible. The Rev Flanagan is a man of the church. He’s on our…” Brenda paused. “He’s one of the good guys.”

  Paddy stopped the car on the side of the road and turned to Jason. “Is this information correct, boy?”

  “No I just made it up for a laugh. Derrrr of course it’s real, and if he is just a man of the church how come he lives in a great big house with new cars and the largest TV I’ve ever seen? It’s ginormous. He’s loaded,” Jason said.

  “Jason, who ever told you this is wrong,” Paddy said. “He may have a large home, but he doesn’t get paid that much.” He shook his head from side to side. “What would the great George Young have said?”

  “Well done.”

  He looked at Jason. “Or,” added Paddy. “He might advise you not to be a silly little boy.”

  Jason’s rage made him tremble. He pulled himself forward and starred at Paddy. “My information is correct. His house is huge. It’s not just his TV; the whole place is like a palace inside. He wears a Rolex watch. His wife has one too, and his son has more records in his room than a Virgin music store. They have TVs in all the bedrooms as well. He’s either taking money from the collection box, or he is dealing with this guy ‘SS”.

  “I doubt you’ve seen it with your own eyes. Rev Flanagan and Shamus are sworn enemies. No way would he let a brat of Shamus O’Neill’s into his home,” Paddy said.

  “Are you calling me a brat as well as silly?” Jason frowned. “Brenda, what is the point of me giving you information if we have Paddy Murphy here doubting everything I say? I thought this was a SYUI mission. Why is he even here?” Jason cursed.

  “Jason, Paddy is Irish Undercover intelligence. We are on the same side. He knows these people better than anyone,” Brenda said.

  “Well, tell Mr. Irish Undercover un-intelligence that Rev Flanagan invited this silly little brat into his home on more than one occasion, and I’ve seen it myself, and his daughter told me about Saturday.”

  The car went silent again. Jason sat back in the seat. Paddy eventually spoke.

  “Sorry, Jason. You have done better than expected, and if you are correct and I am sure you are, then you have uncovered something that we didn’t see. Well done. How did you get access into his home to see the bedrooms?”

  “Cailin his daughter, she’s thirteen and the prettiest girl in Belfast. We swim in the same team, and I’m kind of, well her…” Jason paused.

  “Her what?” Brenda asked.

  Jason gave a nervous smile. “We are more than just friends.”

  “Jason Steed. I knew it! You stud. I bet you made out with her.” Scott laughed, giving Jason another high five. Jason puckered his lips with a smile, closed his eyes, and nodded, looking rather pleased with himself.

  “You’re not here to start making out with girls, Jason,” Brenda said.

  “I know I’m undercover, but I had to play along. That’s all I did at first. Then, I got carried away. Now I really, really like her, and she thinks the same about me. It just sort of snowballed into a girlfriend relationship. The good news is I found out about SS.”

  As Jason climbed out of the car, Paddy also climbed out of his seat and looked at Jason.

  “I need to have a word with you,” Paddy said, pointing his finger at Jason.

  “You can have two words,” Jason said callously. “Good-bye

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A hundred feet from the Flanagan home, at a safe distance, sat a van painted with wording that readGrady Gallagher’s Plumbing, Number 1 Plumbers in the Number 2 Business. Inside the back of the van were two SYUI agents armed with powerful binoculars and cameras with long distance lenses. The back windows were covered with a dark film, making it impossible to see in. They arrived just after nine in the morning and watched for any movement at the Flanagan home.

  Just after ten, Cailin and her mother left the home together. They were going into Belfast city shopping. Cailins brother, Niall, had already left to play rugby with his friends.

  For the next three hours, the SYUI team sat in the van and waited before something eventually broke the boredom.

  A highly polished black Jaguar pulled up outside Rev Flanagan’s home. A man in his sixties stepped out. He wore a white shirt, blue tie, and black pants. He opened the back door and pulled out his blazer. The SYUI team took picture after picture of him.

  After pulling on his blazer, he checked his grey handlebar moustache. He licked his thumb and forefinger and twilled each end. He collected a large case from the truck of his car, eyed up and down the street and marched, almost military style towards Rev Flanagan’s home. The front door opened as he approached.

  “Please come in, sir.” Rev Flanagan smiled. The two men shook hands.

  The old gent placed his case on the dining room table and, with two clicks, opened the case. Rev Flanagan peered inside at the explosives and smiled.

  “Would you look at that, victory in a case. And here is something for you,” Flanagan said. He passed the old gent a large bundle of cash. “It’s a pleasure as always doing business with you, SS.”

  The man he called SS flicked the bundle of money in his hand. “Is it all here?”

  “You know me better than that. Twenty thousand in cash and not a penny more. Daylight robbery, if you ask me, but we need to make an example of the IRA and let them know they don’t own Northern Ireland,” Flanagan said.

  The old man stiffened and nodded. “Well, one must be off. When you need me again, the usual contact will work.” He gave his hand to the reverend and Flanagan gave a quick shake. Then, he turned to leave. He took a few steps and froze in his tracks. He eyed a framed photograph on the mantel piece and snatched it, looking closing at the image. His face turned white, his eyes bulging wide in disbelief he gasped.

  “That’s my daughter Cailin. She had just won a race at her swimming club,” Rev Flanagan said.

  The old man held it firm with one hand and stomped his finger on the picture. “Bloody hell. It can’t be. It just can’t be. But boy does he look like him. Who’s the boy with her?” He demanded.

  “Oh that’s her swimming partner, although I think they are sweethearts now.” He paused and studied the panic stricken old man who was clearly agitated by the picture. “Do you know him?”

  “What’s his name?” SS asked.

  “That’s Jason, Jason Norris. He lives with a Catholic family. Not our sort of people, but she’s young and she likes him. Great little swimmer he is, quite an athlete.”

  The man walked over to the couch. His face had now turned ashen like he had seen a ghost. He slumped down, looking straight ahead. Rev Flanagan sat next to him and took the picture from him.

  “Jason Norris you say?” SS asked.

  “Yes, what of him? Do you know him?” Flanagan asked.

  “Norris, well I never. I have to go.” He never shook Flanagan’s hand. He made his way to the front door and let himself out.

  From outside, he looked up and down the street. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the van and sighed. He hurried down the steps to his car, jumped in, and pulled off. He stopped when he was level with the van and got out. He walked to the back of the van and opened the back door. Inside, two-startled SYUI officers faced him. Their cover was blown.

  He pulled out a revolver and shot the two men point-blank before collecting the cameras and jumping back into his car. The Jaguar roared into life and sped off away from the scene.

  *

  SYUI and the police sealed off the area. Brenda Hatchet and Paddy arrived at the scene in Paddy’s Ford Cortina. They stepped out of the car and flashed their ID badges at the police and walked towards the van. The two bodies where still inside. A police photographer took pictures. Brenda strode towards the van and peered inside.

  Brenda spok
e to other SYUI officers and police. An ambulance was eventually allowed to take the bodies away. Later, the van was transported back to the army barracks. A forensic team went over it. Scott watched them working and read the notes they made.

  The police went house to house asking questions. No one had seen anything. A few homes close said they heard gunshots and stayed well clear of the windows. Paddy Murphy had gone with the police to Rev Flanagan’s home. Flanagan said he was writing a sermon for Sunday’s service. He had been invited to a church in North Belfast. Paddy thanked him for his time and made his way back to the army barracks.

  Brenda sat heavily in a chair. She was distraught. Losing two SYUI officers just a few days after she had taken over and on her orders would pay a toll on her. She looked up at Scott who was peering inside the van. Paddy returned and marched towards her. He looked at Scott who was looking inside the van and shook his head.

  “What’s wrong with that kid? Hasn’t he seen enough blood? He should be at school, not here looking at that. It’s not healthy, not bloody normal, for a kid to be staring at blood and brains scattered around the inside of van,” Paddy said.

  Scott heard him and stepped back from the van. He looked over the notes and paced up and down, trying to piece everything together.

  “What did Flanagan have to say?” Brenda asked.

  “Said he was writing a sermon. I don’t believe him, and I have to admit it, Jason was right about Flanagan. He lives like a king,” Paddy said.

  “What did you say?” Scott asked.

  “All right, don’t rub it in. Your mate was right, and I was wrong.”

  “No, I’m not didn’t mean that. I knew Jason would be right. What did you say about a king?” Scott asked.

  “Oh, that Rev Flanagan lives like a king. His house has marble floors, the largest TV I have ever seen, and a Persian rug in front of the fire. The home is full of antiques, silver candlesticks, and oil paintings on the walls. And wouldn’t you know it, just to rub it in, I see a picture of Jason smiling at me on the mantel, taunting me for being wrong,” Paddy said.