BlindFire (25 page)

   The door was suddenly kicked open and Sahra thrown in to the room, landing by Beths feet.

   "Sahra.... Are you alright?
"

  Her eyes vacant and staring at the floor, she mumbled something incoherent. Then crawled to the darkest corner and curled herself up in to a ball.

  "They did something terrible to you... Didn't they."  Said Beth softly, as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  "Shut the feck up
..." Demanded Jack, his Irish
accent lightened by
years
of
living in self imposed exile.

  "What do you want from us?"

  The Irishman limped toward Beth dragging his left foot. It was as if he was showing himself to her. "Your husband did this to me."  He said slowly stroking the huge disfiguring scar on his face. ".....Have you any idea what it feels like to be this disgusting to look at."

  "You should consider yourself lucky."

  "Oh yes, and why is that then?
"

  "Because you’re not dead." She paused for a second, feeling brave. ".....Yet."

  Jack raised a hand across his body then changed his mind, letting his hand fall as his gaze drifted over to Sahra. "And what the
hell is wrong with that girl...? Can't she speak or something?
"

  "What have you done to her?" Beth
s
pat venomously.

  He shook his head. "I know what you’re
thinking..... But
I haven't touched her.
.! And I haven’t touched you either.
"

  "Oh I bet you didn’t..!” Beth spat.

  This time he didn't change his mind. A stinging back hander smashed Beths head in to the wall. The e
ye began to redden and swell up
immediately as her nose gushed deep red blood. "I haven't touched a kid in three and a half years."

  Beth tried to stem the flow of blood with her hands, and was ut
terly surprised when Jack tossed
her an old rag.

  "I didn't want to hit you, you know. Just keep quiet and you both will do fine."

  "Sahra
…!
"
Beth c
ried "Come over here.... Let me keep you warm."

  Sahra seemed miles away in a world of her own. She was shaking and muttering something under her breath.

  "I swear to god I never touched her." Said Jack then dragged Beth over to Sahra. "See
if you can't comfort her..!
Or something."

  “What do you want with us?”

  "
All in good time
.
.! Do you think big Danny will come after me again..? Like he did after I killed his first wife?” Mckay said and sat down on a wooden crate. “He must have loved her! He sure put up one hell of a fight.” He grinned as he remembered that night on the railway bridge. “Picked me up and tossed me in front of a bloody train, so he did!”

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t make any mistakes this time
."
Beth said quietly and stroked Sahra’s cheek. “You killed all those girls, all those boys?”

  He nodded his
head in misery. "I must have been sick. You see it was a craving, like cigarettes or alcohol; I simply had to have it......
I had to!
" He rubbed his eyes. ".....When I got hit by that
train
something happened
! Something
that I can't explain... When I woke up in the recess under the platform I thought
I should be dead and I thought about those poor wee boys and girls…  And what I'd done to them
."

  Beth thought she saw tears and ventured on. "So what's all this about."

  "This is about going home, back to
Ireland
. This pea
ce process is a load of   shit
e
, there’s no way the old men would give up thei
r arms just like that. That
Rothschild
shite
knows what's going on."

  "What can
you do about it, he's in
Afghanistan
."

  "No he's not. If he doesn't supply me with what I want I
may have to kill you and the girl… I don’t want to but I will if needs be.
"

  Beth noticed him look away. It was as if he was a totally different man to the on
e she’d heard about over the years
.

 
"Don't worry, it’s something I'm quite good at, you won’t feel a thing."

  That fact was something she didn't doubt, but whatever that train did when it hit him could mean the difference between death and survival.

  "I suggest you get some sleep. There will be food and drink here when you wake up."

  Beth found herself saying thank you, and then bit her tongue. Sahra was already sleeping, perhaps it was better if she stayed that way until the bitter end thought Beth and held her close sharing body heat.

  "I should be on my way now, the Secretary of state for
Northern Ireland
is about to make his last Press Conference."

***

     Sir Hugh Patrick was already late when his motorcade and security team pulled up outside the National Conference Hall. His speech had been carefully written by a professional, so there were no great worries about letting anything important slip out. He went over it again and again in his mind, unable to remember much of it he chose to read directly from the paper.

  As was the case with most press conferences, Reporters swarmed around his car taking photographs and screaming out questions.

  Security was quick to deal with them and soon he was inside, on his podium.

  After asking for some water and taking a sip he began his speech in earnest. "Even one year ago we would never have dreamed the Irish would lay down their arms and
join us around the table of p
e
a
ce. Indeed, even as I speak weapons are being handed over to the authorities and several long term hostages have been released."

  A look of confusion spread throughout the reporters then one asked. "...There has never been a mention of hostages before..... Who are they? And why haven't the public been informed before."

  Sir Patrick continued with his speech. ".....In turn the British Governme
nt has released over twenty
prisoners......."

  Another Reporter interrupted. "What right do you think you have to release dangerous convicts? Or is this some kind of appeasement designed to pacify the war-lords in
Ireland
."

  "Would you please k
eep your questions till the end, t
hankyou."
T
he secretary of state
said whilst
at the same time mopping
sweat from his brow
. "
Both
Sinn Fein
and delegates from the so-called Real IRA have
been invited to the commons in two weeks for the singular purpose of debating the future of Northern Ireland. That ends my statement are there any questions."

  The secretary was drawn to the reporter in the front row by his icy stare and nasty facial disfigurement. "You Sir.... In the front row."

  Jack stood up and pointed to himself then smiled when the secretary nodded. "I have only one question." He said trying to deepen his accent. "Who exactly is pulling the strings behind this fucking charade you Brits are peddling."

  It was obvious from the look on the Secretary’s face that there wasn't going to be an answer
.

  As the security moved in Jack raised his hands and walked towards the door. "It's OK. I'm going." Then
he
shouted back over his shoulder. "It'
s a fe
cking charade of treachery.
You people are a disgrace to
Northern Ireland
.
"

  As soon as he was out of the conference room Jack pulled out a bike chain and lock, wrapped it around the door handles then swallowed the key as he left.

  The Semtex filled camera stood alone on its tripod as the built in time delay ticked away tick, tick, tick then silence, five seconds later the device exploded splattering the crumbling walls with bone and flesh. The ones who weren't killed outright fought for oxygen, scrambled over broken bodies and struggled to open the doors with their last breaths.

  Sir Hugh Patrick looked intently at the ceiling, was it a light he could see. Then he thought h
e could hear the fa
int sound of his
recently deceased
wife calling his name, then he new why and smiled.....

***

  Gunter had been sat in front of the monitors since arriving back at three that morning. He was watching the old tapes over and over again trying to find something, anything.

 
"That bastard has
got to be on here somewhere." He quipped. "How else would he know where we are....? He must have been observing this office for quite a while."

  Danny
leaned forward. He stared so hard at the faces in the picture that they seemed to disappear after a while. He was willing himself to recognise Mckay in the hundreds of vans and cars that travel past the offices everyday. "It's no bloody use...”

  "Calm down." Said Gunter trying to stifle his own fears. "We will find them... Trust me."

  "Should we tell the Police?"

  "No, not at all. Let’s just wait for his next move."

  The Colonel timed it perfectly, walking through the door just as Gunter screamed "I've got it..."

"You
've got what?" He asked.

  "Oh. Hi John, had a good trip.... This blue van has gone past here several times and also when I stop the film here....." He pressed a button on the remote control.”....And blow the picture up." He pressed another button.

  All three of them stared at the screen, and in particular Jack Mckay sat at the wheel of a blue transit van.

  "He reall
y is alive...” Said Danny

  "I think we can safely assume as mu
ch..!
" The ring of the telephone cut him off, he picked up the receiver immediately.

  "Hello John
ny
..... It’s been a while, how’s your shoulder."

  "Mckay." The words left a foul taste in his mouth, and it showed. "What exactly do you want?"

  "How do you like my handiwork, or haven't you seen the news yet."

  The Colonel covered the mouth p
iece with his hand and asked Danny
. "What's he talking about?"

  "The Secretary of state for
Northern Ireland
was killed in a bomb
b
last
earlier
to
night.”
He replied.

  After
taking a deep breath he said.
"What was the point of that, he was only the mouthpiece of the government for Christ sakes."

  Jack chuckled mischievously. "I disagreed with his policies, so I voted him out."

  "So what do you want?"

  "I want names.... Lots of names."

  "Who's names?"

  "I want the moles .... I want the virus that you injected into
Northern Ireland
."

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Yes you do.... And just to let you know I mean business, ha
ve a look out outside
."

  The colonel took his phone
and
strode over to the window with the other two following close behind
.
Their office was three floors up at the front of a modest business complex and surrounded by a busy car park. Looking down into the rows of cars below the
Col
on
el’s eyes came to rest on a solitary figure.

   “Ok Mckay!” He said into the handset. “What am I meant to be looking at?”

  “That guy stood beside your car… Don’t you recognise him?”

  “Should I?”

  Jack laughed. “Let’s not make things difficult Johnny. I’ll tell you who he is! Godfrey Jennings the son of Sir Liam Jennings and the personal aid to the recently deceased secretary of state for
Northern Ireland
!”

“He’s just a spotty teenager.” Danny said.   “What’s he doing down there?”

  “He’s just standing there, looking up at us!” Gunter Said. “I’d better go and see what he wants.”

  The
Col
on
el raised a hand to tell everyone to be quiet and stay where they were. “What do you want Mckay?”