Deadly States
by
Nicholas Clark
Deadly States
Copyright © 2012 by Nicholas Clark
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law. Brief written
quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews are permitted.
CONTENTS
1979, County Down, Northern Ireland 1
CapeTown, South Africa, 1994 19
The Dust Settles 30
Warrior’s Way 40
The End of Civilisation 48
Cannon to the left of them...54
Ghosts of Christmases Past61
Class Reunion68
The Enemy of My Enemy...79
To have and to Hold97
The Devil is in the Detail105
Rogue Agent128
The Devil’s Own138
Shadows of History146
The Gift Horse155
Forbidden Love164
The Nest of Evil181
The End of the Affair199
The End of the World 207
Hell on Earth214
Spreading Armageddon 227
The Font of all Evil 234 NoTurning Back 241 Maxixe, Mozambique 253
Epilogue
256
1979, County Down, Northern
Ireland
Eighteen soldiers dead, at least, and with the sound of bullets still ringing in his ears, Jack Malaney once again found himself with an impossible decision to make. He looked past the MI5 agent at the bullet riddled lorry. The front of the vehicle was smouldering and two army technical officers were approaching it cautiously so that they could examine the unstable device inside the vehicle. Scores of people had been saved that day because of his bravery and intelligence, but with so many dead, Jack found it hard to feel that he had achieved something worth celebrating. The question from the MI5 officer was more like an assertion that Jack had failed, rather than a sincere request from one colleague to another. You messed up and we are giving you the opportunity to do better. He had already given all he had to the operation; he wasn’t sure that he had the strength left to give anything more.
“We need an answer now, Jack. I know it’s short notice. I know you have been through hell today already, and over the last few years; but you know that we wouldn’t ask this of you if we had any other choice. It’s either you, or no one.”
Jack looked the man right in the eye. He cleared his throat.
“I...” Jack stumbled. Jack was exhausted, and sore and angry. Whatever choice he made in that moment would be regretted at a later stage; the only question that he had to ask of himself was which choice would he beable to live with—the answer to that particular question was oddly well balanced. “Jack,” the man continued, as he placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “If you really don’t think that you can continue with this operation, then we will all understand. Obviously we will be bitterly disappointed, but it is a decision that we will accept with reservation.” Somehow the words rung hollow. They would bring him back to
London to a low-key hero’s welcome. He might even get to meet some important politicians; members of the Royal Family even, but after a short passage of time they would turn their back on him and he would be left to find his own way in the world, and Jack’s new world was one where survival depended on the protection of others. It had been a long time since he was even remotely interested in what the strategists back in London thought about him—this was a decision by Jack Malaney for Jack Malaney.
“You can go back to your old life and we can start the process of placing a man in the IRA over again,” said the man.
Jack quickly translated what the man was really saying. You will set our fight against the terrorists back by years. You will be responsible for the deaths of many soldiers, policemen and members of the public. Every death at the hands of the terrorists in the next few years will be on your head. The subtext was not as subtle as the MI5 officer had intended, but he definitely wanted Jack to focus on the subtext and Jack did not much care for the clumsy attempt at manipulation. He had played that game with a much more seasoned officer a few years back in London, and he didn’t fall for the bullshit he was being sold then either. He was well aware of how high the stakes were and how dangerous it would be for many people if he walked away now. Yet he also knew that the day would come when he would have to walk away and the same arguments that were being used now to put pressure on him to stay would still be as loud and as strong at that time. He made up his mind, though if he was completely honest with himself he knew from the moment the idea was put to him what he was going to do. Perhaps
his spy masters knew what they were doing when they recruited him? Jack was a man who was duty bound by morality and that was a much stronger bond than being duty bound to Queen and Country. The normal spy could use contempt for the political system to walk away when the going got tough, but Jack was different—if it was the right thing to do then that is what he would do.
“If I do agree to continue with the operation, exactly how in the hell are you going to explain what has happened here?” Jack asked. “We had planned to draw a line under this operation here today. I sure as hell haven’t been briefed on the possibility of continuing with the op. If I don’t know and you don’t know, then what in the hell do you want me to say to the IRA?”
Of all the betrayals and lies that the folks in charge could inflict on a spy, lying about when an op was to end was the worst in Jack’s book. It was like extending the tour of duty for battle weary troops just as they are packing up to head home. It was disgusting. Jack sat up. He was in pain but it wasn’t as bad as he first thought—he bit down hard to hide the pain—he was already formulating a plan in his head and if he followed through with the plan then it would have been a bit hypocritical for him to complain about his pain.
He was bleeding and he was badly bruised, but he was not down and out. Before the MI5 officer had time to reply, Jack stood up. The officer moved in to assist him but Jack waved him away with his right hand. The officer moved back slightly and waited patiently, ready to move in at a moment’s notice should Jack show any signs of faltering. Jack steadied himself and he looked the man straight in the eye, waiting for an answer.
“Eh... The attack was foiled and you escaped?” the man suggested.
Jack shook his head.
“You see,” Jack began. “This is the problem that you guys have when it comes to the Irish. This is the problem that you have always had. You underestimate them. You see yourselves as more intelligent and better military strategists. It simply isn’t true. Unless we can come up with a rock solid cover story then you will be sending me to my death. It is as simple as that. And as much as I want to help beat this group I am not prepared to walk willingly to my own death just on the off chance that whoever is waiting for me on that boat will not ask the right questions. Believe me, they will. And a hell of a lot more questions besides, right before they put a bullet in my head and throw my body into the sea. If I am exposed as a spy then there is no way in hell you will ever get another agent in as deep as I was. You know that as well as I do. The door will slam shut. So, do you really want to take that chance?”
Jack and the officer began to walk towards the lorry; keeping a safe distance. The officer assumed Jack wanted to check out what was happening in the back of the lorry, but the truth was
that Jack merely wanted to stretch his legs in an effort to shake off some of the pain that was pulsing through his body—to being with.
“So Jack, what do you suggest?” asked the officer. Jack
turned to face the man.
“Honestly, given what has gone on today, I have no idea what I could say to them that they would believe,” Jack said. “They are driven by actions. The bomb in the South and the bombat Warrenpoint will be celebrated; those behind the attacks will be hailed as heroes and they will be above all suspicion. The men in charge of the bombs that didn’t reach their targets will always be viewed with suspicion, no matter how loyal they are to the cause. You only thought that the Russians were paranoid.”
They walked past the lorry and Jack stopped for a moment to see how the technical officers were getting on with the bomb. The officers were dressed in heavy bomb resistant, protective gear, and the visors on their helmets meant that Jack could not take a reading from the expressions on their faces as to how their efforts were progressing. Given the fact that the men were moving painfully slowly he could only assume that it was not going well. The MI5 officer sensed Jack’s curiosity and so he shouted over to the men.
“How is it going?”
The technical officer closest to the back entrance of the lorry turned to Jack and the MI5 man and he gave the thumbs down sign.
“There’s a surprise,” Jack said, dismissively.
“What do you mean?” asked the officer, with a hint of suspicion in his tone.
“The man who put that device together is one of the most devious and devoted individuals I have ever encountered, and I know quite a few Celtic fans. If he hasn’t booby trapped the bomb then I will be pleasantly surprised.”
The officer smiled.
“Jack, those guys are seasoned officers. They have defused every possible device you could think of. Believe me, they will not make any mistakes.”
Jack shook his head and he smiled.
“Mate, I couldn’t think about one kind of bomb, and how it’s put together. I didn’t build that one, but even if I had, I wouldn’t trust it. But I can tell you this for nothing, that bomb will explode, one way or the other,” Jack said, with absolute certainty.
The tone of Jack’s voice told the MI5 officer that he was serious. A look of concern on the man’s face quickly changed to one of panic. He turned to the men in the back of the lorry.
“Guys,” he called. “You aren’t going to defuse this one. Stand down. Wewill carry out a controlled explosion. From a safe distance.”
The bomb disposal officers were experts and they were very good at what they did, but they only did what they did because they were ordered to do so, and when they were told to step away from danger, they were not going to stop to ask why. They jumped down from the back of the lorry and then they moved away quickly to safety. Once at a safe distance the men began to remove the protective clothing.
“I will organise a controlled detonation,” said the MI5 man.
Jack smiled.
“I have a better idea,” Jack said. “Give me your gun.” Automatically
the man produced his personal protection pistol.
He began to hand the gun to Jack, but he stopped short of releasing the weapon.
“Do you think this is a good idea Jack? If they find this weapon on you when you are on the boat they will kill you.”
“The gun,” Jack said, simply. The
man let go of the weapon.
“I won’t be taking it with me to the boat,” Jack said.
The look on the man’s face changed from confused to terrified in about the same amount of time that it took Jack to flick off the safety, aim the weapon, and start firing.
“What the hell are you doing?” yelled the officer.
Jack fired a warning shot at the lorry. The soldiers close to the lorry began running in all directions. Jack paused long enough for them to make it to what he estimated was a safe distance and then he began to fire at the bomb once again.
“Jack!” screamed the officer. “What the hell are you doing?”
Jack stopped firing again.
“I am creating a cover story that they might actually believe,” Jack said, in a matter of fact, way.
The look of resolve on Jack’s face told the officer that he meant business. The man paused for a brief moment before he ran towards a nearby garden to seek shelter behind a wall. Jack smiled. Typical, Jack thought; more than willing to send others into harm’s way, but at the first sign of any personal danger he runs like hell. The thought of the MI5 man cowering behind the wall brought a brief smirk to Jack’s lips.
Jack took aim at the bomb and he carefully squeezed the trigger. The first shot had been a warning to the soldiers, but now his attitude grew more serious and determined. He squeezed the trigger. Every soldier in the immediate area held their breath. The bullet sank into the device without disturbing it enough to set it off. Another bullet impacted beside the first—and still no explosion. He couldn’t be certain, but a rough count told him that at most he had three bullets left. If one of them didn’t hit the target and detonate the device then he was going to look more than a little silly. There was no chance that anyone would give him another gun to have a second crack at it. He took aim again and he carefully squeezed the trigger. This was to be his first serious marker shot. It didn’t exactly work out that way. The hot air ahead of the blast wave picked Jack up off the ground and it carried him as far as the garden where the MI5 man had taken refuge. Jack hit the ground hard, and rolled several feet before coming to a stop on his back just in time to see the massive fireball streak across the sky, yards from his face. The heat from the fire lasted only a moment,
6
but the smell of burning diesel fuel lingered for a lot longer. The air around him was momentarily cleared of all oxygen and Jack struggled to catch his breath.
Jack slowly turned to face the MI5 man, half expecting to find a smouldering corpse sitting in the foetal position. The man was cowering behind the wall. Jack got to his feet. Some of the soldiers were running towards the burning wreckage, others were standing their ground, completely stunned by what had just happened. They didn’t know if they should be walking up to Jack to shake his hand, or arresting him before he caused any more damage. Jack, still holding on firmly to the gun, got to his feet. He walked across to the MI5 man with confidence. The man looked up at Jack with bewilderment. The man quickly found his confidence and his voice.
“What the hell were you thinking!” the man yelled. “You could have bloody well killed us all. Are you mad?!”
“I told you. I need a cover story that they might actually believe. The town is surrounded by
happening, to report back
many IRA volunteers watching what is to the leadership. They don’t trust the media. If the bomb doesn’t go
town to find out why. If it
off they will make their way into the does go off they will scatter into the countryside ahead of the blast front. I need them to scatter. If one of them sees me here with you then I am as good as dead. And I don’t even know who these men are; I just know that is the way the IRA does things. That’s why that bomb had to go off. That’s why I did it,” Jack paused before continuing. “That’s why I shot a soldier and then set off the bomb,” Jack explained.
The man nodded his head in reluctant agreement and then he looked completely confused.
“You shot a soldier? When?”
Jack grinned slightly. With a swift and graceful motion he pointed the gun at the MI5 man and fired. The man screamed with agony as the hot bullet tore through his thin flesh. The man grabbed his left leg just below the knee and he started rolling around on the ground in agony.
“Like you said, we all have to make sacrifices. If a soldier doesn’t turn up in one of the local hospitals with a real wound, they will know
7
about it andI once again will befacing somevery tricky questions. For the next coup
le of days you are going to do a spot of acting. Congratulations, you have just enlisted in the army. We are in this together, right?” Jack asked.
The man looked up at Jack with hatred etched across his face. He remained silent. Jack took aim again—a sadistic bluff. The man shielded his face with his hands. Jack lowered the weapon once the man was suitably terrified.
“Organise a car for me; we do n’t have a lot of time,” Jack demanded.
The man looked up at Jack with contempt and hurt, like a scolded child.
“For god’s sake, it’s only a flesh wound,” Jack said, dismissively. “If we don’t get this thing moving in the next few minutes then we might as well call it a day. Every minute I stay here, the chances of discovery increase. Not to mention the small matter of there being a boat to catch. The others can’t afford to wait in the middle of the Irish Sea just in case I escaped.”
Jack began to walk away. He stopped for a moment to look down at the man one last time.
“We don’t have all day, boss. Things to do, people to meet,” Jack finished, with a barely disguised grin.
The drive through the Northern Irish countryside was uneventful. The security force presence on the routes leading into Banbridge was barely noticeable, and for reasons that Jack could not fathom, the few checkpoints that were up and running were only concerned with vehicles heading towards the town. Nothing like closing the door after the horse has bolted, and blowing the stable up, Jack thought. A few miles away from the bomb that Jack had just detonated and there wasn’t a policeman or soldier to be seen.
It was a glorious pain, suffering and History would remember that day for a very long time, but for Jack, the full force of that scrutiny had not yet begun. How could such a heavenly
question,
place fall foul of such self-destruction? It was an often-asked and having spent some years with the most extreme elements of that
day, and completely out of sync with the great death that had descended across the island. society Jack knew the answer to the question—because they knew that they were right.
Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2) Page 1