words from her subconscious, disturbed by his fidgeting. He smiled at her warmly, pulling the clothes up over her. ‘There is a way darlin and as God is me witness I’ll find it.’
‘Eh what?’ she muttered.
‘Nothin love, yer only dreamin. Go back te sleep.’ His partner wrinkled her nose, eyes still tightly shut, turned away and was immediately asleep. Connor felt an inner contentment, his heart swelled at the familiarity of the simple action. Placing a kiss on her exposed shoulder he lay back and drifted off. His slumber was interrupted by the phone’s shrill insistence. ‘Yes Tullen speaking. Right I’ll be over at ten. Yes, see you then.’ Fully awake, Moira raised herself up on one shoulder. ‘Who was that love?’
‘Oh just a mate,’ he lied. ‘He wants me to look at some gear.’ Connor felt uncomfortable at having to lie but had no choice. ‘Ye know what I do for a living Moira. If a bargain comes my way I have to snap it up.’
I’ll come with ye, we can have breakfast out and it’ll give me a chance te see my man in action,’ she chuckled.
‘Ach no Moira, sure ye’d be bored out of yer tree. It’s only auld scrap and the like. I don’t want yer tender ears abused listenin te a lot of gypsies cursin an swearin. I’ve never struck a deal we one of them yet without bein called a robbin bastard.”
‘They’re probably right,’ she giggled teasing. Tullen tickled until she squealed for mercy.
‘Okay, maybe another time. I want te get me hair done anyway,’ she agreed. He drank a glass of milk before showering. Flashing a hint of thigh she seductively attempted to lure him back into bed but he demurred settling for a passionate kiss. Moira stared at the door as it closed behind him. With all her heart she yearned to trust him but there was a niggling doubt picking at the faith she had bestowed upon him. For once she allowed her heart to sway her decision. She was hopelessly in love with the man and the fear of what she may unearth forced her concerns deep into the recesses of her mind. Through glistening eyes she studied a photograph taken only two days hence, ‘Holy Mother please watch over him. If he is caught up in the struggle, please give him guidance.’ The emptiness of a life without him pressed heavily, filling her with a terrible foreboding.
Peter Daley, Con’s commanding officer who also, was intrigued by the item shown on the early news bulletin, demanded his presence. As the events of the previous evening, in the ill-fated household unfolded, he sat impassively listening but unlike the myriad of viewers he was already in possession of the facts. Via an informant in police force Daley had been briefed on the attack almost as soon as the investigation had commenced. The identity of the unfortunate family was the cause of his dismay. Being, by virtue of his position a suspicious man, the commander of the West Belfast brigade did not hold with coincidence and the death of Blackmore’s family so soon after his attack on Riley would by some, be construed as such. Daley was extremely worried that a republican and obviously sadistic lunatic had slain the people out of some deranged sense of justice. If this was the case, the assailant would have to be found and dealt with quickly, quietly and permanently. Hopefully the murderer would be a local man, that being the case it would prove a relatively simple matter to find him. ‘There aren’t to many shirt lifters on this patch,’ he told himself without much conviction. The suspicion that the intruder was probably a homosexual had been conveyed with relish by the informant. A natural abhorrence for that, which he considered deviant, surfaced and with a shudder he growled, ‘If the perverted bastard turns out to be one of ours, I’ll have his dick cut off and sewn into his mouth, by God I will.’
As arranged the two men met at a small café in the city centre. ‘What about ye Con? Great weather eh.’
‘Hi ya Peter, How’s Carla and the kids?’
‘Grand couldn’t be better,’ he smiled. ‘Give us two Ulster fries love and two mugs of tea. Throw an extra couple of rashers on them as well,’ said Daley. Tullen enjoyed his meetings with Peter, he was always at ease in the jovial company of the other. It never ceased to amaze the younger man how he adopted an attitude of complete indifference when decreeing that a man should die. Connor could not recall there ever being any vehemence in his boss on such occasions. Nothing personal, merely business. Some would describe his attitude as callous but not Tullen. The man was a professional and the target for most part got what he deserved, no more no less. The age or creed of the victim was an irrelevance. Whether he or she was an eighteen year-old squaddie or a tout from around the corner made not the slightest iota of difference. Peter Daley’s philosophy was, a person is responsible for his actions and therefore must suffer the consequences of such actions. Unlike his superior Connor had many regrets, especially when he read in the papers that the recipient of one of his bullets was a mere teenager. He was confused, no disillusioned, with his purpose in life. The incident with Billy Clements had unsettled him and now there was Moira to add to the equation. For the first time since he joined, Tullen had considered the assassinations carried out by him as murders. He wanted no further part in the execution of a human being, the burden of guilt was becoming unbearable. Of course Moi-ra was right, it was all a load of macho bullshit wrapped neatly in a package labelled patriotism. Astute as always Daley sensed the tension in his
subordinate, ‘Fry too greasy Con, you look like yer havin trouble digestin it?’
‘What? No it’s grand Peter, I’m just a bit squeamish today, had a couple too many last night,’ he lied.
‘Shit that’s a shame, ye’d think that they’d come up we a beverage that doesn’t give ye a hangover instead of spendin all that money sen-din bloody eejits into orbit. Aye and the price of it. Thank God Jamesons is made here, I’d hate the thought of payin some jock for the privilege of givin me a headache.’ Tullen’s mood lightened for the first time. ‘Anyway Con I didn’t bring ye down here te discuss self-inflicted injuries. Did ye see the papers this mornin?’
‘Naw I never had the chance yet, why?’
‘It wasn’t good lad. Do ye remember our chat about Blackmore?’ prompted Daley.
‘Was there more on the news about the raid?’
‘No not that, some nutter came into his home last night and topped his wife and children.’
‘Lord help us, do we know much about it? Any idea who did it?’
‘Not yet, listen to me Con. The bastard came into the house and raped the son before slitting his throat and then turned on the others. He stabbed the wee girl over a hundred times. Our source says that the poor wee soul was raped as well. The RUC believe the boy may have been forced to have sex with his sister. But wait till ye hear this. They are pretty sure that the mother, God help her, was made to watch it all takin place. After he was through we the kids he began torturin her to death. He kept her alive by makin superficial cuts, she must have suffered for ages. To cut a long story short, he finished her off by driving the knife up her…’ The hardened IRA man could not bring himself to relate Black’s final act of barbarity. He was visibly trembling. Tullen could never remember Daley so overcome with emotion. ‘Anyway he painted some sort of message on the wall. I’ll be gettin a full report shortly but that’s all I have up to the present. Tullen had sat silently listening to his superior’s account of the attack, taking time to collect his thoughts before speaking.
‘We have one hell of a problem here Peter,’ he began. ‘If yer man turns out te be a Catholic or heaven forbid a volunteer, it would do the movement irreparable damage.’
‘Exactly Con and that’s why we are havin this discussion. Oh one thing I forgot to mention, the peelers think the bastard may be a queer. They are waitin for results of semen taken from the girl’s er, well ye know. They are almost certain that the boy’s DNA will match. Of course the semen taken from the boy will be vital evidence if the peelers catch yer man. We don’t want that to happen. The fucker must never see the inside of a courtroom. Know what I mean Con? No time to waste l
ad on yer way. Start puttin the feelers out and try to find out how many fruits we have in the parish. See if any are associated with the movement,’ he added sadly. ‘Like I said before, when ye do find him make him disappear. Fuck knows what the prods are thinkin. This sort of shite is just what they want, Christ can ye imagine the rhetoric. Get him Con, get him quick.’
Picking up a copy of the Belfast Telegraph on the way,’ Clements hurried home to read what Walter Dane had written. ‘Clara Black-more and her two children Jason aged twelve and sister also named Clara were discovered by this reporter late yesterday evening.’ The article went on to tell how the family were brutally slain but omitting the sexual detail in the interests of decency. There was a reference to the killer leaving a message written in the victim’s blood but gave no indication of it’s content. Dane described how an audio cassette informing him of the atrocity, had been played back to him via telephone. Clements thoughts turned immediately to the meeting in London and to Carter Fairchilds, suspecting the exile of committing the crime. Reacting immediately and seething with anger, he requested an interview with John at his earliest convenience. An affirmative answer was received in record time. Having moved to a position of trust the red tape of having to use go-betweens was dispensed with. Upon arrival he found Starrett to be in a buoyant mood which initially set him back on his heels. Here they were in the centre of a tangled mess that if left unchecked could lead to serious recriminations. Clements was bemused. Why was his superior taking the news of Blackmore and his family’s demise so casually? John was not about to let things get out of hand. He was very much aware of Billy’s demeanour having been pre-warned that the young operative was in foul temper over something.
Later that night Billy was picked up at his home before being transported to the rendezvous. No formalities were observed on this occasion. Starrett and his sidekick Tommy Cairns sat side by side at a table in the sparsely patronised restaurant. The proprietor, a loyalist sympathiser was requested to organise a quiet table for three. There were to be no customers within hearing distance of the table. The man had no idea whom his guests were, suffice to say that they were very important and had chosen his establishment in the interests of security. This had the effect of swelling his already considerable head to the proportions of a hot air balloon. ‘Please take no notice of the table’s occupants,’ he was told. ‘Just let the wee girl do her job as usual and under no circumstances lead her to believe that they are anything special. Oh by the way Arthur, don’t you be takin too much interest in the proceedings either,’ he was ordered. ‘As a matter of fact, best you don’t talk to them at all, unless you’re spoken te of course. I’ll give ye the nod when they arrive and ye just send the waitress over normal like, okay.’ As far as all were concerned Tommy Cairns was in charge and the others were members of an elite club which only had the interests of Ulster at heart. The fact that they had chosen their meeting in his restaurant made him feel very honoured. All the same, yer man didn’t have to treat him like a common labourer, he thought sourly, glaring at the lackey.
‘I know how te keep a secret,’ he informed the go between, allowing his disgruntled feelings come to fore.
‘It’s not a question of secrets Arthur,’ he was informed. ‘Security is the name of the game. Anyway, we can get any amount of volunteers but people like yerself, upstandin pillars of the community are hard te come by. No sir, yer loyalty has not gone unnoticed,’ cajoled the other, laying it on like syrup, ‘And we would never want te compromise that. Besides if ye get picked up by the branch or fingered by some tout, isn’t it best that you know nothin in the first place. Not that a brave yin like yourself would squeal on us. For our own peace of mind, your safety comes first.’ The man shrugged at the memory of the conservation, ‘What ye don’t know can’t harm ye Arthur. Upstanding member of the community my arse. Your man must think I came up the Lagan in a bubble. Agh fuck him anyway, the proprietor was inwardly seething. When the party finally arrived he did what was asked of him, keeping a discreet distance. Arthur was the soul of discretion, virtually ignoring the threesome’s existence.
The waitress fussed around taking their orders. She gave Billy a cheeky smile as she leaned over him, her breast brushing his cheek. He waited until she had completed her task before speaking.’Do ye want te tell me what’s goin on John?’ snarled Billy.
‘What do you mean son. As I recall, it was you who asked to meet with me,’ retorted the leader.
‘Don’t give me a load of double talk. Awe fuck it, one day I am over speaking to the Blackmore woman and the next thing I know she is lyin in a fuckin morgue,’ replied Clements crossly.
‘I still fail to understand where this conversation is leading Billy.’
‘At the moment the finger of guilt is pointin right at yours truly, that’s what I’m gettin at John.’
‘Can I ask you to keep your voice down son, you are disturbing the clientele. Now, whom do you think is responsible for that piece of nonsense then?’
‘I hope its not whom I think it is,’ spat Billy, in a parody of his superior.
‘Now just hold on a minute there wee man,’ interjected Cairns, speaking for the first time.
‘No Tommy, let the young man finish,’ said John, staring into Clements’ face.
‘If it was that bastard Fairchilds…’ John raised his hands palms outwards as if to ward off an imaginary attacker, halting the younger man mid sentence. ‘Do not say another word. For a start, the big man was under strict orders not to harm the woman. Goodness Billy, what do you take us for? He was told to forget about the matter as soon as you reported your findings. We are not in the habit of killing innocent woman and children son. By the way, you haven’t exactly enamoured yourself with him. I don’t know what went on between you two over there but my advice is, watch your back. Enough said on the subject. For the umpteenth time, you are guilty of jumping to conclusions, letting your emotions get the better of you. There are other reasons why Carter would not be responsible for this outrage. To start with, he would not risk coming over here without our help. The big fellow is far too well known by the opposition. He would hardly get to the runway at Heathrow without the RA knowing about it. Secondly, you are aware of his sexual preferences, I believe young woman are his speciality. He would hardly choose the boy in preference to the girl. If you read the report in the Telegraph, the killer is a homosexual. You can verify Fairchilds’, how shall I put it, tastes, yourself Billy. You were present when he dealt with that fenian bitch who lured the two young soldiers to their deaths. Now I know that you were unhappy with his method of interrogation but-…’ This time it was Clements who interrupted.
‘Is that what ye call the rape and mutilation of an eighteen year old girl. Do ye want me te go into detail?’
‘No thank-you Billy, I find that particular subject distasteful to say the least. Let us get back to the present shall we. You know George committed suicide don’t you?’
‘Jesus no, when did that happen?
‘Earlier today, it seems that an over zealous prison warder took pleasure describing the attack in detail.’ answered John in disgust.
‘Sick bastard, he should be made te pay dearly for that piece of nonsense,’ growled Clements, through gritted teeth.
‘Oh yes Billy, you can count on that. I would say his life expectancy is rather short. But that is not your concern son. I assure you the matter is in hand,’ he smirked, winking at Cairns. Our priority is to apprehend the person responsible for the atrocity. At the risk of sounding callous, there may be a great deal of political progress to be gained from the unfortunate incident. Mr. Riley is being touted as an innocent victim, murdered simply because he was a Catholic. That puts us in a very bad light. If we can prove that the Blackmores were assassinated by the opposition, it would carry a lot of weight. Unlike ourselves, the common man has a very short memory.’
‘Fuck, I don’t beli
eve what I’m hearing,’ argued Clements.
‘Shut up and listen to what the man has to say,’ hissed Cairns.
‘Thank-you Tommy, now where was I? Ah yes, If we can connect the IRA, or some madman belonging to the scum, to the crime, it will do irreparable damage to their cause in the States. Can you imagine the impact if those, misguided people, were convinced that the RA is recruiting homosexual, child molesting murderers. The bank would soon run dry. No one wants to be associated with that kind of thing. Are you following me now son,’ he asked, in his annoyingly condescending way.’In a word John, no,’ answered Billy sadly.
‘Meaning?’ countered the commander.
‘There are some things more important than political gain. A patriot died fighting for what he believed to be right, now his family is gone as well. Those people deserve to be laid to rest in peace. Blackmore has more than paid his dues. For us to use their deaths for our own ends only serves to cheapen their memory.’
‘Bravo, admirable sentiments son but unfortunately, this is the real world and any foothold we can gain in our struggle against nationalism, be it fair or foul, regrettably we must utilise. I didn’t write the rules son, that is how it is. Have I convinced you of Fairchilds’ innocence in the affair,’ he asked, dismissing Clements’ argument.
‘Aye I suppose so,’ he replied, resignedly. ‘But ye can’t blame me for my suspicions. The man is a liability John and gettin back to yer earlier warnin. If I come across him, this side of the water, he’s a dead man and that’s a promise.’
‘Fair enough. I take your point but he is a loyal servant. I shall relay your message to him. Besides, it is highly unlikely that you will ever come into contact with him again. You did sterling work in London Billy. The report was first class. Word has come back from our people regarding the consequences of the failed mission. The whole thing was a culmination of bad luck and misjudgement. Turns out, the Brits have a new commanding officer who has a penchant for changing orders and indeed, routes, at a moment’s notice. Apparently he times squad’s individual progress and records the details. That way he has a fair idea of traffic intensity at a given time. The computer works out the averages and suggests the quickest routes to be used. Quite ingenious really. It means that he can direct a team to an incident during an emergency and be assured that they will arrive at the shortest possible time. Say, for instance, he receives a call informing him of trouble on the Malone Road at five o’clock. No problem, he punches in the exact position of the nearest patrol and within seconds the computer will work out the route, taking into consideration traffic conditions and road-works, if any, in the vicinity. Troops are dispatched in no time and with the minimum of fuss. He seems to be one clever cookie; I shall have to keep my eye on him. Anyway he was trying out one of his random exercises and it happened to take the patrol through the village at the exact moment that the lads were completing the op. I was guilty of one of your bad habits Billy, jumping to conclusions before I have all the facts. A lesson well learned should an operation be interrupted in the future. As for yourself Billy, at present we have no further business but there is one last thing. I refer to your present employ. It is standing in the way of your development. We feel that you should resign. After you become unemployed you should see your finances improve considerably. Well that about wraps it up, unless you have anything you wish to add Tommy,’ he concluded, turning to his second in command.
Seeds of Evil Page 15