‘What are you doing?’ she asked, but even as she spoke she realised with a small sense of shock that she already knew the answer.
‘Just checking,’ he replied lightly, opening his door and reaching across to open hers.
‘You don’t really expect a bomb, do you?’ she asked as she took her seat.
He started the engine. ‘You can’t be too careful. This funeral’s been a high-profile affair and PIRA are always watching.’
‘Here?’ She was incredulous. In the Surrey hills?
‘We’re only thirty miles from the centre of London, and I’d be considered a good catch by PIRA. The Senior ATO in Northern Ireland.’
‘That’s your job?’ ‘.
‘Running all the EOD sections in Northern Ireland, yes. Above me is the Colonel or Chief ATO. I’m in day-to-day command while he attends all the meetings with the top brass, looks after overall strategy and all that. Or in theory. The reality is rather less formal. Many of our duties are really shared and we stand in for each other as the need arises.’
She frowned. ‘Is he the one I’ve heard referred to as Top Cat?’
Harrison drove past the church, the crowds now dispersed. ‘That can be him or me, but the term’s a bit old hat now. It used to be our radio call sign in the old days. And “Felix” for any bomb-disposal operator. The nimble cat with nine lives.’
She shivered involuntarily, remembering Jock Murray at Seven Dials. ‘No wonder your wife isn’t happy with what you do.’
The major smiled gently. ‘She’s never really understood and I doubt that many wives do. There is the odd — let’s say dramatic — moment, but mostly it’s just routine. It’s rarely hands-on stuff, that’s strictly for the movies.’
‘But you’ve had casualties?’
He nodded, studying the road as it opened up beyond the congested high street. ‘We’ve lost twenty in Northern Ireland since the troubles began and twenty-four injured. The majority were in the early days while our techniques were being developed, but you still can’t eliminate all the risks.’
She was intrigued, trying to imagine what his service life was like. ‘Are you ever at risk, Tom?’
‘Only from dying of boredom with all the paperwork,’ he laughed. ‘My job’s to supervise. I’ve done my bit — being a born coward I’m quite happy for the youngsters to have their turn now.’
Somehow she didn’t quite believe his reply. It came a little too easily; too glib and well-practised.
Pippa had said as much to him the previous night when he’d returned to the family home in Pimlico, a house that his wife’s father had bought for them.
Harrison had made the mistake of mentioning his involvement with the Europa suitcase bomb. It was still fresh in his mind, his nerves still raw and he’d wanted to talk to someone about it. Pippa was not the wisest choice.
‘What is it with you, Tom?’ she’d challenged. ‘You’re always trying to convince me you don’t get involved any more and now you come up with this one. How many other times do you do this and don’t tell me? For God’s sake, you’ve done your share over the years — God knows how many weeks’ sleep I’ve lost with the nightmares — so why? So you happened to be there and the ATO wasn’t. Who cares if the bloody Europa blows up?’
He had poured himself a drink at the Louis Quatorze cabinet — another gift from Pippa’s father. ‘It’s my job. Blowing up the Europa has always been one of the Provos’ big dreams and it would be the biggest possible propaganda victory for them. I took all necessary precautions, minimised the risk and did the business. It’s what I’m paid for.’
‘I’m not your bloody colonel, Tom!’ she had almost shrieked. ‘Don’t give me your bloody official sitrep or whatever your jargon is. It’s me you’re talking to, your wife. Jock died last week and I expect he gave Brenda exactly the same bullshit. Oh, darling, there’s nothing to worry about, it’s all remote nowadays — and now he’s dead and it could have been you the other night in friggin’ bloody Belfast!’
He had downed his double finger of whisky hard, enjoying the burning rasp in his throat. ‘So what do you expect me to do about it?’
She stood across the room from him and glared. ‘What do I want you to do, or what do I expect you to do? I want you to jack it in, Tom, like I’ve always wanted. I want you to put me and Archie fucking well first for once.’ She was small and beautiful and magnificent in her rage. Her slightly plummy voice excited him when she resorted to gutter language; in bed she would sometimes use words he would hardly have guessed she knew. ‘You know there’s a place for you in the company, on the board.’
‘Daddy’s company,’ he mimicked unkindly. But he knew really that he meant it and so did Pippa. ‘I know nothing about public relations and I’ve no time for the press — that hardly qualifies me.’
She placed her hands on her hips. ‘Yes, Tom, that is what I expected you to do. Bloodyť nothing. This silly thing you’ve got about Daddy. You resent this house and you resent his offer of a board position in his company. Why? He was a major once, just like you. He comes from a military family. So what is it? Is it this damn I‘11-stand-on-my-own-two-feet thing, resenting a helping hand from your wife’s rich family ‘
‘Don’t be crass, Pippa,’ he said, but he knew she wasn’t too far from the truth. Her father had risen to the rank of brigadier in the Brigade of Guards and never tired of letting Harrison know that he didn’t consider technical ‘blue-collar’ arms of the services, like ordnance disposal, to be ‘proper soldierin’ ‘, as he liked to put it. Without saying so directly, he made it perfectly plain that he would have considered a cavalry officer to have made a far more suitable husband for his daughter. ‘I’m staying with bomb disposal because it’s what I know and what I’m good at. And I happen to enjoy it.’
‘Even though it means living apart from me?’ she challenged.
‘That was your decision.’
She didn’t like that; it edged her onto the defensive. ‘I’ve played the dutiful wife, Tom. I spent nine years living behind the wire while Archie was growing up. It’s my turn now. I’ve got my career to think of.’
‘I know that.’ He meant it. ‘And so have I.’
Pippa shook her head slowly as though in exasperation at an irascible child. ‘But it means we continue living apart, Tom, and that’s not good for our marriage. You can’t always expect me to be waiting with a warm bed for your nine days’ R and R every six months.’
If it had been a warning, or a hint of things to come, then Harrison had missed it. After three months of enforced celibacy in Lisburn, Pippa looked more dark and delicious than ever, a sheen of perspiration on her face after a long summer’s day in her hectic office, her silk blouse and the hip-flaring business skirt looking fetchingly tired and crumpled.
Hoarsely he said: ‘Let’s go to bed.’
She had given a small, tight smile, but had not resisted.
Now Casey Mullins was saying: ‘I can sympathise with your wife,’ as he approached the driveway to the Murrays’ mock Georgian home. ‘Especially having seen what happened to Jock. But at the same time I’d be very proud of you.’
He glanced sideways at her and caught her smile; it was wide and infectious and it lifted his spirits as he turned into the driveway and parked.
‘Just one thing, Casey,’ he said as he switched off the engine. ‘Can you remember if Jock opened the door of that car?’
She shook her head emphatically. ‘Definitely not. He actually told me he’d break through the window in case the bomb had been wired to the courtesy light or something.’
“That’s good. Running out of time is one thing, I hate to think of Jock getting caught out by that old trick.’
She walked with him towards the house, puzzled that such an academic point could mean so much to him. After all, Jock Murray was dead — did it really matter how?