The Watchman's Grace

by Craig Johnson

  Duncan sat in a chair beside Peter before noticing his peculiar mood.

  “Peter, why so silent after hearing all this? You look as if there are more pressing matters on your mind.”

  Aidan interrupted at that juncture. “There is much more at stake Duncan. We know the identity of that gunman. You are sitting right beside him.”

  Duncan jumped from his seat and looked at Peter. “You…tell me there is some mistake here! Peter, is that why you left the grounds so quickly? Dear God, please tell me how it all happened!”

  “All of that is not necessary right now,” interjected Aidan. “If Peter did not fire on that assailant, you would not be alive. That man, whoever he is, was attempting to assassinate you. By Providence’s grace he spotted the bastard and struck him down.”

  Duncan came over to Peter with tears streaming from both eyes. “Oh, I am so sorry Peter! I had no idea…I owe you my life!” He bent down and grabbed the seated Peter around his shoulders in a thankful embrace. “We will sort it out for you, whatever it takes!”

  Aidan allowed the touching scene a lingering moment before continuing. “With haste to be made, our dear Peter has but two choices. Either he turns himself in to the Metropolitan Police or leaves any threat of prosecution. It is that simple.”

  Duncan returned to his chair and regained composure. “Either decision imperils him and puts a great disadvantage on his life.” He thought over his next words carefully before continuing. “If there was a witness to the shooting who could vouch for Peter’s actions, I would be all for presenting him to the police.”

  Peter finally came back to reality. “Did you not say the authorities have no witnesses?”

  “Yes Peter, you are correct. Therefore, not one soul can attest to the validity of your story, plausible as it may be. We all know the strong hand of law will only see a corpse and a shooter. All else in their eyes will be idle speculation.”

  Aidan added his perspective to the discussion. “I have to agree with Duncan’s reasoning so far. Now you could stay in Dublin for an indefinite period of time, since there are no witnesses to pinpoint you as a suspect. But a life spent constantly looking over your shoulder is a half-life at best. All it would take is for one person to come forward and your illusion of freedom would be shattered.”

  Peter became even more involved in the conversation. “Something feels all wrong about this. There was a gunman who was set on taking Duncan’s life. When the corpse was discovered, not only was his gun missing, though any way to identify him. Does this sound like the actions of a disorganized, fanatical crackpot?”

  Duncan then came to a sudden realization. “Wait one moment; how did you come into possession of a firearm Peter? I’ve always known you as being firmly against using weapons of violence.”

  At that point Aidan assumed his responsibility. “Look to me son for your answer. Before the event at Wheatstone Fields I took Peter into confidence and furnished that firearm for your mutual protection. The Men of Goodhope were receiving very serious rumors of possible aggressive action against your cause. To his utter misfortune and your saving grace he accepted.

  “Returning to the serious decision at hand, I take Peter at his suggestion. Here you have an unidentified assassin known to no one at a huge local rally. Their weapon mysteriously disappears with no trace. Taken together, it is hard to reconcile all of this with the actions of a lone, disgruntled assailant. I deem it to have the hallmark of a more professional action. In which case Peter would have no chance of fair process if he were to turn himself over to the authorities.”

  Duncan responded with some disbelief to his father’s insinuation. “Are you suggesting this was a sanctioned assassination attempt? Is that not reaching a little too much into fanciful skullduggery?”

  Peter was frustrated at Duncan’s reaction. “Listen to me! There have been a number of people, mostly total strangers, who have come time and again to caution us about our safety. Your father has credible sources which heard increasing reports of perverse plans to be launched against our movement.

  ”Now at our biggest rally to date it is just coincidence you are targeted for murder? Is it not strange how all traces of his identification are nonexistent? We all know what the Realm is capable of when they perceive any threat to their power!”

  Duncan felt a touch naive after hearing Peter’s account of the facts leading up to Wheatstone Fields. “You both must pardon my initial reaction. It is very hard for me to accept the atmosphere in Ireland is so poisoned that taking my life could be justified. I will take leave of common sense no longer and replace my unfailing blind belief in good faith.”

  “There is no need to apologize Duncan. We are all under the weight of certain evil which challenges our very existence. Now, based on all that I have heard, let me make a bold opinion.

  “Peter, you know me to be a forthright individual who has a profound allegiance to the ideals of fair play. If this were under other circumstances, I would recommend you pay the consequences of your action and avail of a court’s judgment.

  “However, that trait of conscious cannot dissuade me from the practicalities here. The sum tally of all I know and have heard leads me to suspect an unnatural tone to these events. Therefore, we could enable your passage out of the country before any strange occurrence unsettles your safe position. Of course, I leave the decision to you alone.”

  Peter remained silent as he pondered all which was known to him. Never in his life had he taken action against society’s general rules of conduct. Though the more he put reason to mind, Peter knew Aidan’s advice made perfect sense. If he handed himself in, with no witness to his valor, they would most certainly find him at fault. He knew what choice had to be made.

  “Duncan, Aidan, I realize how foolhardy my surrender to the police would appear under such conditions. Though it cannot take away the fact I killed a man, a hard burden which I will always carry. Regardless of his intent, a mother, wife or child patiently awaits his return. One can only hope any co-conspirators are not equally heartless in this regard and tell them his fate.

  “To stay on in Dublin would be an intolerable state of affairs. Whether known or not, the very fact of my terrible secret would affect relationships in both material and unseen ways. There is no way I could put anyone through these ordeals.

  “Aidan, I will gladly accept your offer of passage from Ireland. My assumption is there are no guarantees, but my choices are severely limited at present.”

  Peter’s supreme sense of urgency was totally understandable. Yet it would be a major oversight not to grasp the wholesale changes which would result. For Duncan, it meant severing from his truest companion. In Aidan’s case, he cared for Peter as one of his own. And all of them knew the heart which would be hurt most; their dear Maggie.

  Aidan came over to where Peter sat in nervous silence. He placed a gentle hand on his left shoulder in a calming gesture.

  “Peter, you’re showing great courage in your decision. One could chance the outcome in staying on, since there is no evidence to force your departure. Nevertheless, the relentless actions of our opponents would make your future arduous indeed. Having the wisdom to grasp an opportunity to begin anew is no abandonment of your bonds. Rather, it keeps the best memories intact, never to be stained with an untimely demise.

  “Duncan, please enter Peter’s flat this evening to gather all his required personal effects. Pack enough garments to make his journey comfortable though not overburdened. We will all meet here at six on the morn tomorrow. Peter, you will stay at Goodhope House tonight in a guest room. Does everyone understand our course of action?”

  Duncan and Peter nodded their heads in solemn approval. Too overwhelmed with their respective emotions, the trio exchanged farewells and went about their business.

  Walking along the familiar route back to his St. Stephen’s flat, Duncan was hit fully with an eerie sen
se of silence. Peter and he were not engaged in their usual stimulating conversation. A welcome opinion was not readily available in the top flat. And soon there would be no presence to mark the man he could trust with his life.

  While putting together Peter’s belongings for this most important journey, Duncan fell to the living area floor in sorrowful long tears. Their covenant of friendship, ideals and ambitions was now laid to rest in the timeless mausoleum of beautiful yesterdays.

  Back at Goodhope House, Peter’s mind was exhausted from many powerful thoughts too early for reconciliation. His life hung once again at the mercy of these Malloys. Fortunately he could avoid facing Maggie with his terrible dilemma. She was currently visiting relations in Belfast, not expected back until early afternoon tomorrow.

  Plain truth dictated all he had known would be painful footnotes to a brilliant yesterday. A miserable period of nervous tomorrows lay waiting before this crisis would pass, if ever. It became so overwhelming his weary body began to shut down. After initially fighting fading physical strength, Peter fell into the longest of slumbers.

  Later that evening Aidan Malloy went to answer a hurried knocking at the entrance. He opened the door to find Samuel McGee panting on the other side.

  “Samuel, it’s good to see you back again. I didn’t know if you would meet with any success. Please come in.” The two men went ahead to the main study. After pouring two neat Irish whiskies, Aidan joined Samuel in an open chair beside him.

  “Thank you Aidan,” Samuel replied on taking the liquor in hand. “Wheatstone Fields was still abuzz after all that happened. Who would suspect otherwise? There was no new information to be gleaned, but one of our stewards, Martin, noticed something in passing.

  “He remarked on how two men were going about the place asking what happened earlier today. They were not police, of that he was sure. In fact, they were still doing their business when he pointed them out to me.

  “I assumed they were just nosy reporters or the like. So then I headed for the local Metropolitan quarters to speak with anyone about Wheatstone Fields. As you can imagine, most were tight lipped, recognizing me as emcee for the rally.

  “However, there was a fellow at the front desk that seemed pleasant enough. Told me there was still no news of a suspect or an identity for the victim. Then, to my complete surprise he wished me well with our cause! Aidan, the lines are surely blurred in the tumult of these times.”

  Aidan appreciated Samuel’s information. “Thanks again for the extra effort. Can I get you anything; some food from the pantry perhaps? You must be famished!”

  Samuel smiled in appreciation. “I’ll take you up on that offer. Though there is one more important piece of information. Just as I was leaving that kind lad at the front desk, I spotted a self-important man stride towards him. He announced himself as a Major Thurston, wishing to see the person in charge of interrogations at Wheatstone Fields.”

  Aidan almost dropped his glass in stunned acknowledgement. Composing himself quickly, he fired an urgent question at Samuel.

  “Samuel, was this major in civilian clothes?”

  He anticipated Aidan’s question. “I have seen the manner of them before Aidan. He was in no army dress. I will bet my last note he was from that damn British Security Force, the silent patrol which are a power unto themselves. Now why would an intelligence agent question the progress of a civilian murder?”

  Aidan put down his drink immediately. “People know the British Security Force is here to aid both the Irish Constabulary and Dublin Metropolitan Police with training and other matters of organization. Officially they are improving matters of professionalism deemed lacking when they started the Irish Constabulary in 1822.

  “Nevertheless, we know better. Unofficially they are direct agents of the Realm who perform tasks which the Irish Constabulary could never be involved in. If they are inquiring, the shooting is far more intricate than we first imagined. Good work Samuel! Now I shall fetch some food before your departure.”

  Walking towards the large pantry, Aidan knew his sharp instinct was proving spot on. There was now a plausible reason why the stricken man had no identity.

  On early morning Peter awoke from his fitful rest. Today heralded an unwelcome beginning for the new life of an unsuspected fugitive.

  From this point forward, all familiar routine would be buried in the tumultuous upheaval of Wheatstone Fields. Each goodbye would be fraught with the urgent reconciliation of strong emotion versus cruel fact. All the while, purposeful knives stood poised to shred years of good standing if unsheathed by an anonymous declaration from a new witness.

  Best as he could, Peter strove to maintain dignity under relentless pressure. Though when the trio met in Goodhope House’s main study, layers of tensions conspired to suffocate any good thoughts its occupants held.

  “Good morning Peter and Duncan,” Aidan began in a measured tone. “Last night was an uneasy rest. Sleep struggled to escape me and goodwill evaded my mind. I tell you this not to bring negative sentiment cascading around us. Nay, I will always speak with the candor of open rapport which we must continue to foster. No masked performances will enhance our position while unseen opponents plot their intentions.”

  “My trust in you and your family remains absolute,” replied Peter. “There remains no room to hide any thoughts among us. Aidan, I lay my future upon your sound judgment.”

  “I accept most humbly Peter. Duncan has your belongings as requested. Unfortunately, it has come to my attention that the British Security Force made inquiries about yesterday’s shooting. This is a very serious matter, since I know they usually act on secret order from the Realm.

  “Since we know beyond suspicion the Malloy family is under surveillance, I will ask you to lodge in a more inconspicuous area of the house. Goodhope has a hidden passageway behind the study which leads to a small though comfortable living quarter. Please remain there until the time of your departure.

  “Peter, with the Security Force poking about, your conclusion to leave Ireland appears well placed. I will need a couple of days at the latest to arrange details for your travels, both inside Ireland and emigration. Understand our efficiency on every matter may mean the difference in your success. That is all for now. Please everyone, keep your utmost discretion.”

  Peter left the study knowing he just crossed a real threshold between freedom and confinement. Until his feet left Irish soil there would be no unguarded moments. He gathered all his belongings to move into the concealed quarters. Once settled inside, he could not escape that queasy feeling of looking over the rough edge of a bottomless precipice.

  Chapter Thirteen

  TRYING TIMES

  Plans broken, dreams shattered, ambitions thwarted, hearts undone

  From the instant he secured the incriminating evidence of a rifle and personal identification, Officer Murray was made ill thinking of what had just occurred. Rushing back to Security Force’s headquarters, he replayed in his mind the series of events leading to this fatal juncture.

  Since leaving Major Thurston’s office that transformation day he was in constant dialogue with Sergeant Wilson. Together they coordinated to the slightest detail each aspect of their plan’s execution. When all eventualities had been overcome, Murray finally met the operative whose experience was vital for their success.

  Roland Winston-Hall looked every bit the dashing adventurer one would assume him to be. His resume included years of service handling various capacities in the British Army. Most countries of the Empire had worn his heels at some point, especially more contentious regions like India.

  Winston-Hall held an air of self-confidence which did not offend. Rather, he commanded respect with little action or rapport. Roland Winston-Hall carried the fathomless qualities of a man who lived in shadows of deep intrigue, preferring it to remain so.

  When numerous posters plastered around D
ublin were proclaiming the rally at Wheatstone Fields, Winston-Hall conducted his usual reconnaissance of that site. He promptly reported back to Wilson and Murray it would serve as an ideal stage. Final preparations were made before a closing presentation with Major Thurston. At the conclusion, all four parties were in total agreement. Saturday would be the date for their performance.

  Sunshine greeted all assembling outdoors in a kind wink of golden delight. On the ground, Murray and Winston-Hall prepared with flawless execution. Officer Murray served as liaison for Winston-Hall’s mission.

  As morning progressed, even he was taken aback by the sheer number of spectators, flocking in by twos and threes through one main entrance. Only then did Officer Murray comprehend the scale to which this grassroots appeal had grown. Surrounded by thousands of disenchanted, ignored and discontented citizens, he grasped some reason for government concern.

  “An ideal venue for today’s mission,” remarked Roland Winston-Hall. “We shall be lost amongst the shouting masses, free to put a stop to the main character in this Common Man Movement.”

  “Perfectly agree with your assessment Roland,” responded a cautious Officer Murray. “You can see where I will be positioned. Of course you know our meeting point after the deed is completed. Well then, here is best of hopes to a successful conclusion.”

  Roland Winston-Hall ignored Murray’s outstretched hand. “Remember one thing Officer Murray. A true professional never accepts that fate governs proper action. Results are the proof of one’s success, and nothing less.” He coolly walked away from Murray, melting into the gathering montage of attendees.

  Murray took the offense in stride. Concentrating fully on his task at hand, he glanced at the discrete area where Winston-Hall would set up position. Taking care to place himself a fair distance away, he took up a location which afforded a view of both proceedings onstage and the assassin. Nothing else remained to be done, except performance of the final act.