‘Tierney was talking crap to save his life,’ Trenchard replied testily. ‘I saw Dougan’s body and can confirm that the daughters identified it.’
‘If a car explodes, which is fairly unusual in itself,’ Harrison replied, ‘there’s precious little left to identify. Just possibly that was the idea. Was it by accident or design that the crash occurred in Eire? And why didn’t PIRA have the remains of a martyr and former hunger striker brought back to Milltown Cemetery?’
‘You seem to know an awful lot about this, Tom,’ Nash began to realise.
Harrison glanced at his colonel. ‘I realise what I’ve done is out of order, but I was on leave and asked a few questions in the village where Dougan supposedly died.’
Nash chewed on his lower lip. ‘And this business about Billy Baker and what Killy Tierney said? How d’you know about that?’
Harrison hesitated. He and Trenchard had been friends for a long time; mention of his own and Casey’s involvement, which he understood had not been reported, could land the man in deep trouble.
‘My fault,’ Trenchard intervened. ‘I told Tom about it in the mess, but then he is a senior officer and he’s been very much involved… The difference is that Tom thinks that Killy Tierney might have been telling the truth. I don’t.’
Harrison drew himself to his full height and addressed himself directly to Nash. ‘There’s one way to confirm this, John. I also visited Dougan’s youngest daughter yesterday and obtained
Clodagh Dougan’s supposed address in Vancouver. Maybe your people could check it out? If she’s there, obviously I’m wrong.’
Nash was irritated, with Harrison for delving into matters that weren’t his concern, and with Trenchard for sharing confidential information. ‘Anything else?’ he demanded sarcastically.
Harrison nodded. ‘Clodagh is close to her sister. Yet she said she had no telephone number — she didn’t even give one for her place of work.’ He paused. ‘I also learned that Clodagh is a highly paid electronics expert.’
It was the same full picture that had convinced CATO that there could be something in it.
Nash made his decision. ‘I’ll have the address checked out and we’ll take it from there.’
‘And you’ll let us know?’ LloydWilliams pressed.
‘Of course. Now if you’ll excuse us, I need to catch the next available shuttle.’
He motioned Trenchard to follow him and the two men walked out of the office to the waiting car.
Nash said: ‘I don’t believe you, Don. We set up a deal with King Billy and we weren’t too particular how he chose to achieve his side of the bargain. Yet when he had that information, you chose to ignore it.’
‘I haven’t ignored it, John, it’s in your report. I just chose not to act on it, because I think it’s a load of bunkum. I still do. I thought we had enough on our plate without a wild-goose chase.’
‘Well, you work for me now, not Group. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were taking advantage of your old contacts with 14 Int. Well, I want you out of the Province and back in London. Do you know which man actually pulled the trigger to kill Tierney?’
‘Yes.’
‘It wasn’t Baker himself?’
‘No.’
‘Thank God for small mercies. Then charge the murderer and get King Billy and the rest released on a technicality. I’ll square it with Knock and the DCI.’
‘So Billy will get his place at the talks?’
‘It’s not up to me, but I doubt it. He’ll be happy enough to be released. I gather they’ve enough problems at Trafalgar House without King Billy throwing in his ten penn’orth.’ Nash climbed into his car beside the driver and lowered the electric window. ‘But before you do that, check the Vancouver address. Report to me with the result in London — in person.’
From the window of CATO’s office, Harrison and LloydWilliams watched the car pull away.
‘I just hope that’s not my pension driving off, Tom.’
‘So do I, sir. Let’s just hope I’m right.’
LloydWilliams continued watching the disappearing car.
‘Don’t suppose you know much about Celtic legend, do you?’
‘Not much call for it outside Wales and Eire.’
‘I’m talking about AIDAN — derived from the name of the ancient Celtic god of sun and fire. I’ve been digging around in some old books. The English equivalent is Hugh.’
Harrison stared at him in disbelief. All the time Hughie Dougan had been enjoying a smug little joke with them.
‘Pack your bags, Tom,’ CATO said softly, ‘and go back to the mainland. I don’t want you setting foot in the Province again. That’s official.’
19
‘Sure ‘tis a grand drop of malt, so it is.’ Abe Powers sat on the edge of his armchair, elbows i resting on his knees and his big hands clasped together, and glanced sideways at the Secretary for Northern Ireland. Sir Ralph Maynard, a man almost as large as the American in physical stature, met the senator’s eyes momentarily. A tic of a smile flickered across the Englishman’s otherwise impassive face. Clearly they were both bemused, unsure what to make of the elderly and bewhiskered clergyman.
‘Another glass?’ Powers offered.
Bishop Joseph McLaverty was like a shrivelled little gnome, dwarfed by the huge armchair in which he sat. Clerical collar, tweed jacket with leather patches and pince-nez balanced on the tip of his nose. Hardly the strident-voiced ogre that both men had been expecting.
‘Some temptations are more difficult than others for a man to resist,’ he chortled. ‘But at my age, there can be little harm in it.’
Powers reached for the bottle and topped up McLaverty’s glass; Maynard declined a refill. ‘Tell me, Bishop,’ the senator asked. ‘You’ve been here at Trafalgar House for three days and so far you’ve declined my offer to address the delegates. I’m curious to know why?’
The clergyman nursed the glass of malt lovingly between his rheumatic fingers. When he spoke his voice was quiet and slightly squeaky, the words selected with deliberation and delivered in a rambling, humorous tone. ‘If I were to open my mouth and say just one sentence, all the Unionist politicians would stand up and walk out. And I really don’t want to be seen as the man who destroyed the chance of peace.’
‘I’m sure the Unionists would hear you out,’ Powers said. ‘We’ve developed a very cooperative atmosphere here.’
But even as he spoke the words, he knew they weren’t strictly true. Divisions were becoming more apparent between the parties as they got down to the fine details of the proposals. He was beginning to get an uneasy feeling of impending doom. He wondered if the bishop’s presence had had anything to do with it, had somehow changed the atmosphere?
McLaverty’s watery eyes twinkled. ‘Sure there’s a lot of give and take and I’m most impressed. In fact I’ve spent my time just listening and inwardly digesting. Sitting in on all the little subcommittees and working parties, finding out what it’s all about.’
‘And what do you think?’ Sir Ralph Maynard asked directly. He was finding the old man’s shilly-shallying more than a little tiresome.
‘Your proposal for an independent Northern Ireland?’ He contemplated his glass. ‘Novel, so it is. Novel, but not new.’
Powers picked up on the patronising tone. ‘Not new, Bishop, but maybe the mood of the people is right for it now. Not back in the seventies or eighties, but today, when everything else has been tried, perhaps the time is right.’
‘Perhaps, but will it stop the violence?’
Maynard’s smile was as stiff as his starched white collar. ‘I think you’re more the one to answer that,’ he said pointedly.