Killer Intent

by Tony Kent

  Those lights convinced Joshua to examine the area more closely. Parking his car in an adjacent street, he made his way through the shadows and into the grounds of the garage on foot. Once there he located the motion-sensitive security lights on the front wall of the unkempt garage forecourt. A closer look revealed that the device was of a very high standard for such a run-down establishment; he had come to the right place.

  Joshua flattened himself against the closest wall, to fool the motion sensors that he was a part of the structure. Safely concealed, he edged his body towards the battered garage doors, never losing contact with the wall. Not even when he reached the doors themselves. Joshua slid his way across their aged, rotting wood. Felt brittle splinters break off and catch on his clothes. His body stayed in contact with the doors, neither he nor they making a sound.

  Once at the centre of the doorway Joshua manoeuvred his body for a clear view through the thin and uneven gap where the doors joined. The line of sight was direct but limited. Through the space he could see three men standing, Michael Devlin among them. Liam Casey was nowhere to be seen. All were facing the side. Watching. Listening. Joshua could only assume that it was Liam Casey who was somehow captivating their attention. It was unlikely he was doing so for their entertainment.

  Joshua could tell from the movements of the light that there was at least one other person in the lock-up. Or more likely two.

  Whatever else was going on inside – whoever else was in there – did not matter. All Joshua needed to know was that he had found the brothers. Satisfied, he slowly retraced his steps, first against the doors and then the wall, and then back to his parked car. Once there, Joshua waited for them to emerge.

  He did not have to wait long.

  Less than twenty minutes later the dim glow of the interior lighting cast itself across the darkened forecourt. It was followed within seconds by the high beam of the forecourt security light. Joshua held his thin telescopic sight in his hand, ready to catch the details of who emerged. It was not needed. The group of five men who climbed into the waiting Land Rover parked on the forecourt were plainly the lock-up’s full complement.

  Joshua slid himself down into his seat. The brothers’ vehicle had to pass him on route to the main road into Belfast and so Joshua needed to be concealed. Once the Land Rover had passed he waited to allow for a respectable but manageable following distance. The brothers deserved more respect than Joshua would usually allow, and he would not forget that the driver was probably experienced in avoiding both surveillance and pursuit.

  The journey to Grant’s home took around five minutes. Joshua parked a safe distance from the property, on a long street that led to a small, run-down terraced house. From here he observed Grant’s near leap from a rear passenger’s door.

  As the Land Rover sped away, Joshua mentally noted every detail. Stanton would want them all. He watched Grant run along his garden path before shifting into first gear and – when the vehicle was far enough ahead – he pulled back into the road and continued to follow.

  As he passed Grant’s house Joshua took note of the door number, invisible from where he had parked. The detail memorised, he returned his eyes to the road and, in doing so, he almost missed the smooth, swift movement on the nearside pavement.

  Almost.

  Joshua’s peripheral vision was just one of the factors that made him so good at his job. Without it he might have overlooked the same sight that had delayed him just days ago. The sight of a stone-faced Joe Dempsey, stalking his prey.

  ‘Shit!’

  Joshua weaved through traffic as he watched Dempsey, now in his rear-view mirror. It was no surprise to him to see Dempsey turn from the pavement, onto the path that led to Grant’s front door. If Liam Casey could find whatever had led them to Grant, Dempsey could sure as hell do the same.

  ‘Shit!’

  Joshua’s mind was suddenly torn between two choices. He could continue after Devlin and Casey, as Stanton had instructed. Or he could go back and deal with the threat posed by Dempsey while the man didn’t expect it.

  The first choice meant following orders. But the second could save his life.

  Ordinarily there would be no dilemma. Stanton would be ignored. The brothers would be abandoned. Dempsey would be dead. But these were not normal circumstances. With Joshua’s family at risk, he did something unnatural.

  He asked for permission.

  ‘What can I do for you, Sergeant?’ Stanton answered on the second ring. He always did.

  ‘Guidance,’ Joshua replied, still keeping pace with the speeding Land Rover. ‘I’m following Devlin and Casey. I’ve just seen them interrogate a guy and then watched them bring him home. Which means he must have told them everything or else I doubt he’d be walking. Now they’re heading somewhere else and I’m following like you said. But there’s a problem.’

  ‘What problem?’

  ‘The man they were questioning, he’s about to get a visit from Joe Dempsey. So what do I do? Follow them or go back and deal with Dempsey? I need to know. Now!’

  ‘Calm down, Sergeant, there’s no need to become agitated.’ Stanton’s voice was as flat as always. ‘Describe the person they were interrogating.’

  ‘Do we have time for this?’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant, we do. Describe him.’

  ‘He was young. Early twenties. Looked like a bookworm. I don’t know other than that. Does that help?’

  ‘It does. I think I know who it is. I want you to stay with Michael Devlin. We don’t know what he and his brother have found out so it’s important we keep close.’

  ‘But what about Dempsey? What about what this guy tells him? We have to keep a lid on that too.’

  ‘We do, Sergeant, and I will. You’re not the only asset I have in play. Now, please, stay with them and leave Joe Dempsey to me.’

  Dempsey moved along the pavement at speed. Benjamin Grant was in his sights. The young academic moved fast along the path into his house, closing the door behind him.

  There are times when it helps to give notice of your arrival. There are times when it does not. Grant was coming home with fresh wounds from a determined interrogation. Dempsey saw these details and knew that, tonight, the second approach was best.

  Dempsey increased his speed as he turned onto Grant’s path. It grew until he hit the front door, just moments after it had closed. Hard and fast, the force took the heavy wooden structure off of its frame and hinges.

  Grant had got no further than his hallway.

  Dempsey did not lose a step of pace. He caught up with Grant and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck before he had a chance to run.

  ‘I want to know everything about Eamon McGale.’ Dempsey’s voice carried no hint of compromise. ‘And I want to know what you told Michael Devlin.’

  ‘I, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Grant’s legs buckled beneath him. ‘I don’t know a Michael Devlin.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me! What did you tell him?’

  ‘OK, OK.’

  Grant offered no resistance at all further. The night had destroyed his resolve.

  ‘I told them everything.’

  Dempsey moved his face closer. So that Grant could feel the heat of his breath as he spoke.

  ‘Then it’s good you’re used to the story, because now you’re going to tell it to me.’

  SIXTY-THREE

  Stanton pressed the red disconnect button. The line went dead.

  He placed the phone onto the table and sat back into his high-backed chair. Then he began to tap his fingers absentmindedly as he thought through the fresh developments.

  That Stanton was at his desk so late proved how out-of-control events had grown. The most meticulously planned operation of his life had become a debacle.

  The thought of how well things should have gone haunted him.

  McGale had played his role to perfection. Better than that, even. And the faked True IRA threat against President Howard Thompson’s life had done exac
tly as Stanton intended. It had caused the world to focus on the former leader instead of Sir Neil Matthewson, the man who had actually died. A focus only strengthened by McGale’s wounding of Thompson as he shot at McGale. That was a stroke of luck Stanton could not have hoped for.

  Joshua, too, had successfully completed the first of his tasks. A perfectly placed bullet had cleared a path for McGale. But, looking back now, that victory had been their last real success.

  All the mistakes from that point could be traced back to Joe Dempsey, and therefore to Stanton’s miscalculation. Stanton had recognised that Dempsey’s presence at Trafalgar Square could prove problematic. A remote possibility, but a possibility nonetheless. Stanton had dealt with it by keeping Joshua in the dark. To do otherwise risked revealing to Joshua that Stanton knew his true identity. That was valuable information, to be used later if necessary. Just as Stanton had done. But it was also itself a potential distraction, every bit as big – bigger, even – than the sudden appearance of Joe Dempsey. And so Stanton had chosen to keep it from Joshua. To rely upon the odds against Joshua spotting Dempsey in a crowd of thousands, particularly when Dempsey’s placement was on the opposite side of the square to where McGale would be.

  That decision had been his first mistake.

  Luck had also played its part. The plan had been years in the making. Every precaution had been taken. Even McGale’s unlikely arrest and detention had been accounted for, by the long-standing purchase of Sergeant Trevor Henry. A failsafe that would ensure McGale’s convenient ‘suicide’.

  But fate had intervened, and even that brilliant contingency had proved insufficient.

  Stanton had of course known that McGale might see a lawyer before he could be silenced. The odds against that were significant. Under English Law a terror suspect can be kept incommunicado for days. Denied the right to see or contact anyone. Even a lawyer. It was a long shot that this power of isolated detention would not be used, but Stanton had been prepared nonetheless. And so he had been ready when – with the encouragement of a prime minister desperate to protect his own interests – Daniel Lawrence had spent time alone with McGale.

  Any person having one-to-one access with the man was unacceptable. Not that McGale knew anything that could lead directly to Stanton. The professor’s knowledge was deliberately inaccurate. But he knew enough to raise questions. Questions that could lead to the truth. This Stanton could not allow. And so Daniel Lawrence had had to die.

  Stanton had hoped that Lawrence’s death would be the end of it. Somehow it had not, and now it seemed that loose ends were multiplying at an uncontrollable rate.

  The resilience – the sheer nuisance – of Michael Devlin had been wholly unpredictable. As for Sarah Truman, Stanton still had no idea how she had stumbled onto the story. Not that it mattered. She was involved. The damage was done. In truth she added little; Stanton still believed that matters would have been resolved quickly if he faced Michael and Sarah alone. But now he faced much more.

  Michael Devlin’s past presented a host of loyal connections that Stanton could not have anticipated. Problems he could do without. Problems which now posed the greatest threat to the success of his operation.

  Stanton took a calming breath as he looked around his home office. The extra oxygen helped his anxiety. As did his surroundings. Stanton’s ability to think and act under crippling pressure had brought him this far in life. They had paid for much of the opulence that now surrounded him.

  Those same qualities would see him emerge victorious. Of that much he was sure.

  Another deep breath. A slow exhale. Stanton’s head cleared. His resolve returned. It forced the despondence from his mind. The steps that would deal with Devlin and his brother had been taken. The arrangements made. It would not be pretty, but it would be effective.

  Joe Dempsey was a different matter. The DDS agent had disrupted every careful plan. The man’s determination and resourcefulness had surprised at every turn. Now the time had come to remove the thorn from his side.

  Stanton put the telephone to his ear. Dialled a familiar number. Waited to be answered. For once he did not activate his voice modulator.

  ‘It’s me,’ he said, as the expected voice greeted his call.

  ‘How are things panning out in Belfast?’

  ‘Mostly under control.’

  ‘Mostly?’

  ‘What do you think? He’s getting too close.’

  ‘I did warn you. He’s good.’

  ‘I know. I should have listened. It’s time to end his involvement. Once and for all.’

  ‘He’s that close?’

  ‘Getting closer by the minute.’

  ‘And you’re sure there’s no other way? Without tackling Dempsey head-on? He’s a dangerous bastard.’

  ‘I’m certain. Do you have the sufficient assets in Belfast to act? Because we need him dealt with quickly and effectively.’

  ‘There’s no one there we could rely on. There’s no one else that good. I’ll have to do it myself.’

  Stanton hesitated for a moment. He was surprised by the statement. But he would not turn down the offer.

  ‘OK. Then just make sure it’s done soon. I don’t want Dempsey turning up at my door.’

  The call was ended without the courtesy of a farewell. Stanton sat back in his chair.

  For the first time in hours he felt the situation coming back under his control. Michael Devlin and Liam Casey were dead men. Joshua would see to that, once Stanton was ready.

  And now his second problem would soon be resolved, too. It would receive the personal attention of the one man he trusted absolutely. The one man as dedicated to their cause as Stanton was himself.

  It was enough to reignite the fire inside him.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  ‘You’re going after who?’

  The fear in Anne Flaherty’s voice was unmistakable. It said all it had to about the dangers of Liam and Michael’s next step.

  ‘Robert Mullen.’ Liam’s nonchalant response fooled no one. ‘He’s behind this, Anne. So we don’t have much of a choice.’

  ‘So you’re just going to go take him, are you? You’re going to go out and kidnap the one person in the whole of Belfast who can bring this back to our door? You do this, Liam, and you’ll start a war we might not win.’

  ‘And if I don’t, Anne, then I leave Mikey and Sarah to die. I don’t see another way. Do you?’

  Twenty years at Liam’s side had educated Anne in many ways. Her hold over him was not strong enough to change his mind. She knew that.

  Instead she turned her attention towards his brother.

  ‘And you?’ Anne’s finger pointed at Michael. ‘You think it’s OK to turn up after twenty years and drag your idiot brother into something that’ll be the death of him?’

  ‘Anne, I’ve asked him not to get involved.’ Michael explained. ‘It’s not why I came back. If this Mullen guy is dangerous then I don’t want any of you involved in this. I can run. We can run. I don’t want any of you hurt.’

  ‘You can run?’ Liam interrupted. ‘And what? You don’t think Mullen can chase you, Mikey? For so long that you’ll run out of steam? Then what? When I hear that Mullen has caught and killed my little brother? What do I do then, eh? I murder the bastard, that’s what. Does no one see this? One way or another I end up killing him. So I might as well do it on my terms. I might as well do it now.’

  A moment of silence filled the room. Four people, all considering the logic behind Liam’s words.

  Only Anne refused to accept it. She spoke fast, her thoughts jumbling out.

  ‘It’s not that simple, Liam. Mullen’s maybe even bigger than you now. At least as big. And he’s a ruthless bastard. And how are you even going to lay your hands on him? He’s always surrounded by protection. But even if you manage to do that and you come away in one piece, do you think the lunatics that work for him aren’t going to come after you?’

  ‘You’re telling me nothing I don’t know, Ann
e.’

  Resignation made Liam’s words sound angry.

  ‘But there’s only one way and so I have to take it. I don’t have a choice on this one. We’re taking Mullen tonight.’

  The decision was made.

  Liam stalked out of the room. Michael, Sarah and Anne were left speechless in his wake.

  The silence did not last.

  ‘How the hell could you let him do this, Mikey?’

  Anne’s anger was now focused on Michael.

  ‘I didn’t mean for this to happen, Anne. I didn’t even know who Robert Mullen was, let alone that he was involved in this. I begged Liam to step back when I knew. To leave me to it. But he wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘Liam never bloody listens, but you shouldn’t have put him in the position in the first place. You knew what he’d risk to help you.’

  ‘I wasn’t even sure he’d speak to me, Anne. Much less protect me. Jesus, you saw how he reacted when we showed up this morning. Like he wanted to kill me. How could I know he’d be willing to start a war for me?’

  ‘Of course he’d bloody be willing to start a war, you idiot!’

  All of Anne’s frustrations poured out as she spoke, her face now a mix of anger and tears.

  ‘He served seven years in the Maze for a man you killed. Do you think he could lose that kind of loyalty? That need to protect you? Your brother can preen and posture all he likes, Mikey, but he’s loved you like no one else his whole life. He followed everything you ever did. Bought English newspapers to read about your trials. All we’d ever hear from him and from your father was how well Mikey was doing. How he was over in England, beating them at their own game. For Christ’s sake, he might have resented the fact that you never came back but he never stopped loving you. And now it’ll probably get him killed.’

  Michael did not respond. He did not seem to know how.

  Anne could see the hurt in his eyes as her words sank in. Words that had crushed him. It had not been her intention. Not that she had one; Anne had simply been lashing out in anger. But now she wished she could take them back.