Seeds of Evil

by Robert Kitchen

  A heated discussion ensued with a few hardliners refusing to listen to reason. The decision was swayed in John’s favour by a representative who relived the Enniskillen remembrance day bomb. He painted a picture of devastation and despair describing the destruction of the town centre. ‘I lost a cousin in the explosion and have nothing but hatred for the bastards who planted it but John is right, the more we kill the worse it becomes. Who would have believed that the troubles would be with us for nearly thirty years and not a glimmer of hope for a solution? We have tried everything else why not do as Lennon says and give peace a chance. Someone has to make the first move and I for one am behind Starrett one million percent. Shit what do we have to lose? If the other side breaks the ceasefire we can always go back to the status quo.’ Not all were convinced but agreed grudgingly that something extraordinary had to be done to rid the province from the terror caused by the Preacher.

  Arrangements were made for a clandestine meeting between the heads of the two factions. The historic event took place on the British mainland the following Sunday. Security was tight with the identities of the representatives a closely guarded secret. Chairing the meeting was the secretary of state for Northern Ireland. Political representatives of both factions were also present; Starrett had demanded this as a prerequisite in order to give the peace talks a kick-start. The agenda for the initial meeting between the warring factions was restricted to one item, apprehension of the serial killer commonly known as the Preacher. Starrett being the instigator was invited to open the discussion. As he had previously pointed out, the biggest threat to the security of the civilian population of Ulster was the Preacher. He went on to say that a temporary end to hostilities and sharing of information was the best way to ensnare the killer. His suggestion that a select team made up of one person from each faction was treated with a certain amount of apprehension as well as surprise. It was tantamount to asking a man to stick his head in the lion’s mouth. He could give no promises for the security of the IRA operative accept his word but quickly added that he was willing to accept the assurances of his counter-part as to the safety of his man. The others listened intently to the remainder of his oration and to his surprise the IRA chief stood extending his hand without saying a word. Dumbfounded Starrett accepted the gesture noting the handshake’s firmness. Allowing the gravity of the occasion time to register the other spoke for the first time. ‘It must have taken a great deal of courage for you to bring about this gathering sir and I am sure that you have made a few enemies in the process. Indeed you may have put your life on the line for it’s purpose. I for one believe your intentions are honourable and give the endeavour my complete support. I shall convey to the army council your genuine proposal and call for a cease-fire. Let us pray that our political leaders can come to an amicable solution that will end the conflict once and for all. I am getting too old for this dangerous game. Let me confirm that I agree with your proposal and you shall have your answer before midnight tomorrow. I do have one stipulation. The RUC must be kept out of the affair. I may trust you but I will have no truck with them, agreed?’ he added, extending his hand a second time. Starrett hesitatingly accepted it and with a wry smile turned from his adversary. Politicians who had come prepared for a slanging match had the wind taken from their sails. The secretary of state stood open mouthed at the unexpected turn of events. Composing herself she said, ‘Gentlemen we stand on the precipice of an historic and momentous occasion. It appears that we have achieved more in a matter of hours than either side has done in the last three decades. I trust in God that the political representatives will take up the gauntlet and work to end the most torrid period in the history of your beautiful island. Thank-you gentlemen, I stand in awe at your courage and candour. I leave this place a more enlightened individual.’ The meeting was completed in exactly one hour and twenty-seven minutes.

  Confirmation of the cease-fire reached Starrett at ten o’clock the following evening. He allowed himself a smile for the first time in weeks as word came through that a temporary end to hostilities would come into effect at six am. on the following morning.

  There were more punters than usual and the atmosphere in the club was light as Tullen occupied his usual seat in the corner. A youth with lank greasy hair and an intimidating attitude approached his table. ‘Your name Connor mate?’ he inquired brusquely.

  ‘Who wants to know?’ replied Tullen, matching the other’s aggression.

  ‘Hey take it easy big man,’ said the youth, showing considerably more respect. ‘I was asked te tell ye te call this number. A grubby hand proffered an even grubbier piece of paper.

  ‘So ye’ve delivered the message, now ye can fuck off,’ said Connor testily, snatching the scrap from the young man’s hand. The other turned on his heel and slunk away feeling exceedingly less cocky. Tullen recognised the number immediately. Downing his pint he quickly headed for the club’s side exit. On his way past he glared at the youth who stood sheepishly deflated at the bar. ‘Ah fuck him,’ he muttered as he felt the rains needles sting his cheek. Feeling miserable he strolled to the only public phone box that he knew would have escaped the attentions of local delinquents. Vandalism of this particular appliance would result in the person responsible obtaining a valid claim to disability allowance. He punched in the six digits and waited for the familiar voice to answer. ‘What?’ called the receiver.

  ‘Fuck me but ye have some way we words. Did ye never fancy goin in te tele-sales?’

  “Ah Con how ye doin? Get yer wee fenian arse round here right away I’ve a bita news for ye.’

  ‘Aye right,’ replied Tullen wearily, he was not in the mood for cheery conversation. After replacing the receiver, he turned up his collar and trudged up the Falls Road. Ten minutes later he was in a safe location being offered a can of draught Guinness. ‘Christ ye have a face as long as a Lurgan spade. Get that down yer neck and sit down for I’ve some strange news te tell ye. ‘Are ye sittin comfortably?’ quipped Aherne, one of Daley’s lackeys. ‘Right then, I’ll begin. The army council has called a cease-fire. All hostilities ended last night but the announcement will be made at six tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Ye have te be fuckin jokin. Yer not are ye?’ observed Tullen incredulously. ‘And where exactly does that leave us? What’s it all about?’

  ‘It’s the preacher who’s caused it.’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Con.

  ‘Fuck me Con, use yer loaf. The murderin bastard has become public enemy number one. We have te get rid of him as soon as possible. To that end yer presence is required. The big man wants te see ye at eight o’clock.’

  ‘What the fuck for, he cant have much use for the likes of me now?’

  ‘Search me, he didn’t say but he seemed a bit miffed. Says he’s had some kind of directive and doesn’t like it. Even he has te follow orders.’ Connor finished his drink, said his goodbyes and headed toward his rendezvous with Daley. ‘Ah Connor, there ye are. What about ye?’ Tullen was immediately on the defensive. Daley only used the operatives Christian name when something nasty was in the offing.

  ‘Hello Peter, things were going pretty well until ye called, how’s about yerself?’ replied Tullen, letting the other know that he was aware bad news coming his way.

  ‘Things were okay, what does that mean I wonder?’

  ‘Ye never call me Connor unless ye have some shite te throw my way.’

  ‘Aye ye always were the smart one there’s no denyin that. As usual yer right. I have a very dangerous job te hand out and you are the only man I can trust te bring home the bacon. Shite is the only way te describe this particular request. It has te do we the madman, the Preacher. Ye know the score; we are as close to catchin the bastard as Paisley has te becomin the next pope. The prods are in the same boat but between the

  pair of us we may have enough information to point us in the right direction.’

  ‘So,’
said Tullen suspiciously.

  ‘The bosses had a discussion and it is part of the cease-fire agreement that we pool our information.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’

  ‘Fuck me, there’s no easy way te say it so here goes. They want one of our operatives to work with a UDA man and seein as ye were workin on the job anyway, ye Connor have been nominated as our rep.’

  ‘Ye’ve got te be jokin, say yer fuckin kiddin Peter.’

  ‘Sorry Con, I’m as serious as cancer.’

  ‘Ye know that my usefulness as an operative will be compromised, yer probably signin my fuckin death warrant.’

  ‘Sorry Con it’s orders.’

  ‘Orders me fuckin arse, the reason that I have been so successful is because of my anonymity. There’s hardly a sinner knows of my existence and ye want me to hang a sign around me fuckin neck sayin, meet Connor Tullen IRA. special branch. Fuck me, join up we the UDA, how long do ye think I’ll last Daley, eh?’

  ‘Yer as safe as houses Con, no sweat.’

  ‘As safe as houses, that’s a joke. I may be safe for the time bein but what happens after we catch yer man? If we catch him and that’s a fuckin big if. What then eh? There wont be a safe town in Ireland for me. I’m as good as dead.’

  ‘It’s not as bad as all that Con, there will only be one man workin with ye, that’s part of the agreement. Ye will both be workin independently of the two organisations; yer mate will be in the same boat as yerself. Ye make yer reports individually and only the guy yer workin with will see yer face. This operation is top secret. Only the people at the very top know of it’s existence.”

  ‘Is that a fact? I feel so much better,’ mumbled Tullen sarcastically. ‘And when does this debacle commence, or is that top secret information too?’

  ‘That’s the ticket. Tomorrow night, ye have te stand at the Belfast Telegraph building. At eleven o’clock the guy will pick ye up and head out of town in the direction of Carrick.’

  ‘That’s a comfort, thanks a bundle. What if this is a set up and the guy decides te drive by blastin?’

  ‘Watch the telly tonight at six. Ye’ll get yer answer then.’

  A grim faced newsreader disclosed the names of the victims of the serial killer known as the Preacher, describing the scene as an abattoir. She went on to tell of an ambulance man who had to be relieved from duties, so harrowing was the experience of removing the innocents from the scene of the crime. Mass rioting had broken out in the Maze prison due to both loyalist and republican prisoners fearing for the safety of their loved ones. Nathan Black sat impassively watching the woman as she related the latest nightmare. ‘Loved ones, how very poetic. They should have thought about their so called, loved ones, before they made the decision to kill other peoples,’ he informed the lady conversationally. ‘For the first time in their miserable lives the bastards are aware of what it is really like to lose someone you love. Yes indeed I do believe that my campaign is having the desired effect,’ Having voiced his opinion to the oblivious newscaster he calmly finished his drink and retired to bed.

  Tullen listened intently as he devoured his favourite meal of fish and chips, which balanced, precariously on his lap. Nine innocent people, he thought, as a pang of guilt tugged at his conscience. He believed truly that he and others of his ilk had brought about the tragic deaths of those poor people. As he followed the newsreader’s comments he reflected upon his own involvement. How he had been an instigator, possibly the cause of the horrific occurrences. Had he been the one to push the maniac over the edge? He reflected on the sorrow and misery that he himself had caused and for the first time he hated himself. ‘Legitimate targets,’ he growled, ‘What a fuckin cop out.’

  The newscaster’s mood brightened considerably as she introduced the next item. ‘An era of hope has begun. In the past twenty-four hours leaders of the two main paramilitary forces namely the UDA. and IRA. have called for a cease-fire and a halt to all hostilities. As a mark of respect to the families of the victims murdered by the Preacher both factions have called for a temporary end to the fighting. Representatives of both communities have hailed the decision and in a joint statement they have vowed to work toward a permanent cessation of the conflict. Politicians from both sides of the divide have conveyed their deepest sympathy to the families of the victims and shall do everything in their power to bring the killer to justice. A concerted effort is being made to ensnare the murderer before another drop of innocent blood is spilt. Furthermore the leaders and politicians from both factions have been given a mandate to come to an amicable agreement which is acceptable and fair to all, in order to bring about an end to three decades of bloodshed which has ravaged and scarred our small province. The cease-fire has already come into being. Let us hope and pray that it will bring about a permanent and lasting peace which in turn should generate happiness and prosperity to the whole of the community.’

  Tullen slowly got to his feet. Appetite gone, he discarded the remains of his meal to the confines of the rubbish bin. An overwhelming feeling of elation had replaced the guilt that he had felt only moments earlier. He had been given the opportunity to make amends for his violent past and he was going to grasp it with both hands. Rushing to the phone he began dialling Moira’s number. His fingers fumbled across the keypad in his excitement inadvertently pressing two digits at once. Taking a deep breath he began again this time more deliberately. After four excruciatingly long rings her welcome voice came on the line. ‘Did ye see it Moira? The news, did ye see it?’ he babbled.

  ‘What are ye on about Con?’ she replied. ‘Is that any way te greet the woman ye love?’

  ‘Sorry darlin but this is important. The evening news on the telly, did ye catch it?’

  ‘Ach no, sure it’s always the same anyway, all doom and gloom. It depresses me te hear what yon monster has got up to next. Why? Have ye won the Irish lotto or somethin? She wagged.

  ‘No sweetheart it’s better than that.’

  ‘Better than winnin a million, what is it Con? Are ye gonna keep me in suspense forever?’

  ‘It’s a cease-fire, both parties have agreed to call an end to hostilities. They want an end to violence darlin, isn’t that great?’ There was no reply as Moira lowered herself into a seat in an attempt to digest the information that he just related.

  ‘Hello, hello are ye there love?’ he shouted. There was a crackling noise as she drew the receiver across the armrest of the chair.

  ‘Yes darlin I’m here, I just can’t believe it. It sounds just to good to be true. Are ye sure ye got the whole story?’

  ‘Oh ye can believe it’s true sweetheart for I’m still watchin it on the telly.’

  ‘What exactly does it mean love?’ she asked fighting to control her excitement.

  ‘For one thing it’ll mean a lot of redundant IRA men,’ he chuckled.

  ‘Please God let it be true Con,’ she uttered, as his news finally hit home. A tear formed and trickled down her cheek, the gravity of his words gave her a glimpse of their future together. ‘Con darlin please make it be true,’ she beseeched.

  ‘I’ll call ye later love, later in the week. I am goin to have a few things te sort out okay. Love you, talk to ye soon.’

  ‘God knows, I love ye too Tullen. Call me sooner rather than later,’ she commanded, before replacing the receiver.

  A third party was similarly glued to the early evening news. Billy Clements did not share the others elation, on the contrary he was more than a little concerned with the strange turn of events. ‘Cease-fire me bollocks,’ he grumbled aloud. ‘It’s all very well for yon prick John to spout about peaceful solutions, he’s not the one meeting a fuckin IRA. man tonight. He’s not the one with his cock on a block. What if yer man’s a hard line nutter who doesn’t want a fuckin cease-fire? What then? Fuckin bang and yours truly gets a fuckin hero’s funeral, that’s what’ll fuckin
happen. What’s the fuckin point anyway? Twenty-eight years of conflict and to what end? Do they really think the IRA are gonna say, fuck it lads we’ve failed, better luck next century? Let’s shake hands and have a pint, like fuck they will. They wont be satisfied until they have some bead rattlin bastard callin the tune from Dublin. Ah fuck it, who cares anyway? He could hardly be worse than Thatcher or yon fucker Kermit the frog, what’s his name Major.’ Having given the television a piece of his mind he flicked the off button and morosely began to prepare for an unwanted meet with the enemy. ‘Wonder what he’s like,’ thought Clements aloud. ‘Who’d have thought that I’d be workin we a fuckin provo.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘He may be the smart one but he sure as fuck wont look as good as you,’ said Billy, smiling into the mirror.

  CHAPTER 33

  The car dropped Tullen at the corner of North Street in Belfast. He watched dejectedly as it sped away. He could not remember feeling more vulnerable as he watched it disappear up York Street. As usual for that time of the year the wind was howling and the inevitable rain began to spill it’s first drops upon his unprotected head. ‘Fuckin great,’ he observed. ‘When yer man blows me away, I’ll be left soakin outside the fuckin Telegraph. I can just picture the headline. ‘Hitman Misses Last Edition.’ Affording himself a wry smile, he scrutinised the black and white photographs in the rag’s display case. His heart was thumping as the moment of truth finally arrived. Connor held his breath as a vehicle slowed and drew to a halt at the kerb. Straining his eyes he peered through the now driving rain trying to catch sight of the driver. The man was crouched low in the front, he was by all intents and purposes alone. Connor was reluctant to move forward but was prompted by a sharp blast from the vehicle’s horn. Slowly he edged closer aware of the danger he was placing himself in. As he neared the car the passenger door flew open startling him. ‘Get fuckin in will ye,’ came a gruff command from the conveyance’s interior. Tullen did as he was bade but remained alert watching for the smallest sign of treachery. The driver’s hands remained where he could see them clenched tightly to the wheel. So far so good. Moving with more conviction Tullen jumped into the passenger seat dragging the door closed in one movement. Instantaneously the car sped away from the kerb with a screech of breaks. A hostile silence purveyed as each man groped for an opening gambit. It is not every day one comes face to face with a man who wants to kill him. ‘Hello there, filthy weather,’ Tullen broke the ice as he recognised the familiar face behind the wheel. Clements was concentrating on the road and breathing a sigh of relief. He had been sure that this was going to be his last day on earth. A built in distrust of Catholics had told him there was no way one would honour a promise. ‘Where in the name of fuck are ye takin me Billy? chuckled Tullen. Clements was startled at first then very angry. ‘I thought ye weren’t supposed to know who… ‘ he began to say but momentarily lost control as the first glimmer of recognition took hold. He had to fight with the wheel to bring the car back on an even keel. ‘What is this some kind of fuckin joke? If it is, I’m not laughin. What are you doin here Graham? Oops silly me, I know that’s definitely not yer real name,’ growled Clements. ‘Go te the top of the class Billy but one thing’s for sure it must be fate. This has got te be the most bizarre situation I have ever encountered. Do ye believe in fate Billy?’