A Traitor in the Family

by Nicholas Searle

  ‘Not at all. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my time.’ This was what Richard was supposed to say and it had the advantage of being mostly true.

  ‘Plenty of time to bury the old skeletons, then?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Richard smiled politely.

  ‘Well,’ said Pope-Norton, ‘got a good one here. Particularly wanted to talk it over with you. Hope you’ll have time to give it the once-over before you’re off to London. Be good to have your view. I’m sure your successor will be a perfectly good man, but …’

  ‘I know what you mean. I’ve been round the course a few times. And my successor’s a woman.’

  ‘Oh really?’ This stalled the conversation for a few moments as Pope-Norton strove to compute. Eventually he continued: ‘You must introduce us when she’s in town. Anyway, this case. Don’t know if you’ll be excited by it. Rather hope you will be.’

  Richard tried to look suitably attentive, unable to remember the last time he’d been excited by anything in the province. Terrified, yes. Bored, certainly. ‘Yes?’ he said.

  ‘O’Neill,’ said Pope-Norton.

  ‘O’Neill?’

  ‘That’s right. Ex of Belfast. Now living in South Armagh.’

  ‘O’Neill as in he of the continental campaign,’ said Freddie Spencer drily. ‘As in crack operator. As in public enemy number one, if memory serves. Place him?’

  ‘You’ve recruited Francis O’Neill? I’m impressed.’ Richard thought he could see Geordie grin minutely. Freddie Spencer sighed but gazed on implacably.

  ‘No, no,’ said Pope-Norton. ‘I think we’d be putting newspaper down our trousers in expectation of the inevitable caning if we’d had a pop at Francis O’Neill. He’s a bit out of our league.’

  ‘Or so your masters would say,’ interjected Spencer.

  ‘The brother,’ said Geordie softly. ‘Liam.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Richard. ‘A lot younger, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s a bit wet behind the ears, yes. But we think he has potential, don’t we, gents?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Spencer.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Geordie.

  ‘What’s he like as a person?’ Richard addressed himself to Geordie.

  ‘As the major says, sir, a bit immature. Headstrong if you like.’

  ‘I don’t particularly. Headstrong’s not good. And how’s he ended up talking to you people?’

  ‘Phoned up the main switchboard, bold as brass,’ said Spencer. Richard raised his eyebrows. ‘Yes, we thought that. Took all the necessary precautions. Every care. It’s been all right so far.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Richard. ‘RUC in the know? Everything all square with them?’

  ‘Of course, Richard,’ said Pope-Norton. ‘We’ve learned from our mistakes. Of course we’ve told our friends all about it. Everything’s tickety-boo as far as they’re concerned.’

  Richard glanced at Freddie Spencer, one of the key practitioners, while he was serving, of the it’ll-be-all-right-on-the-night-what-they-don’t-know-won’t-trouble-them school of operations. Freddie’s own proximity to certain of the Loyalist paramilitaries had also been, at best, questionable. Spencer was expressionless.

  ‘And they’re relaxed? Don’t want a piece of the action?’

  ‘Let’s put it like this. They’ve given us the all clear. I can show you the note if you like,’ said Pope-Norton.

  ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘To be frank, I think there’s a little jealousy there,’ said Pope-Norton.

  ‘Understandable,’ said Richard, and Geordie shifted slightly in his seat.

  ‘But they’ll let us get on with our stuff.’

  ‘Hmm. Good.’ He looked up at the three men.

  ‘The thing is,’ said Pope-Norton, ‘we wondered whether you might want to look at our bright young thing. Before you head off to your new job. Evaluate him. Value your input.’

  ‘It’s probably better to let you get on with it, don’t you think? Geordie knows his onions. Develop him. See in six months where we are?’

  ‘We were thinking, Freddie and I,’ continued Pope-Norton, as if Richard had not spoken, ‘that with his access he might even make the grade to your exalted ranks.’

  ‘Well, David, I’d feel very uneasy about poaching your joes. It’s not something I like doing.’

  ‘I quite understand. And I’m appreciative. But for the greater good? Queen and country? We understand, don’t we, chaps?’

  ‘Yes,’ chanted Freddie Spencer and Geordie Smith in unison.

  Richard, too, understood. The incentives had altered within the military. They’d got the idea that it was good for them to nurture new people for the high table. That there could be potential for their street informants to become real spies, and that they would gain kudos as a result. He must be polite.

  ‘Look, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll give it a bit of a ponder. Don’t suppose you could send the papers over sometime?’

  ‘Of course, of course. We’ll get them over to your office quick sharp.’

  ‘Excellent. Give me a couple of days to mull and I’ll get back to you.’

  He knew the conversation with Charles the next time he was in head office would be difficult.

  ‘Take my advice, Richard. Humour them,’ said Charles.

  Easy for him, sitting in London, just seeing out his time. Richard was the one in Belfast.

  ‘This is going nowhere, Charles. Liam O’Neill has spent the whole of his short life doing as little as possible. He doesn’t associate with Republicans, he’s been disciplined by them for petty crime, he’s nine years younger than his brother and they’re not close. Plus, he’ll have his own agenda.’

  ‘Don’t we all have our own agendas, Richard?’

  Richard looked at him.

  ‘The thing is, Richard, we need to maintain good relations with the military. They’re not such a bad lot when all’s said and done. They have a difficult job.’

  The moment when Charles became emollient was the moment to feel concerned.

  ‘Don’t we all, Charles?’

  ‘Indeed. Look, I know Freddie Spencer gets a bad press. But in the end our job is to defeat these people.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘All these rumours about Freddie, they’re wildly exaggerated, I’m sure.’

  ‘Rumours? Such as?’

  ‘You know. His proximity to some of the Loyalist factions. Ill-advised certainly, at least for it to be quite so blatant. But is there really so much wrong with reaching out to those of a similar mind? Even if they’re a tad overenthusiastic.’

  ‘A tad overenthusiastic?’

  ‘Whatever our mealy-mouthed politicians – or our mealy-mouthed bosses, for that matter – may say, the job is about crushing these bastards, by fair means or foul in my book. Strange bedfellows and all that. It’s easy for us to be prissy. Real life doesn’t have to intervene for us.’

  ‘Or real death, so it would seem.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Never mind. These good relations. Can you describe relations based on dishonesty as good?’

  It was Charles’s turn to widen his eyes. ‘I find your naivety wholly endearing, Richard. Always have. I admire your youthful enthusiasm –’

  ‘I’m hardly a youth, Charles.’

  ‘You damn well are in comparison with me. You’ve never served in the forces, have you?’

  ‘You know I haven’t, Charles,’ said Richard, ready for the inevitable lecture that drew on Charles’s experience in a Guards regiment.

  ‘The army is a different universe.’

  ‘Like the past?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘They do things differently there.’

  ‘Well, as I was saying … well, yes. Indeed. They do. Do things differently, I mean. You’d imagine the army was a place for straight talking? Well, it isn’t, not by a long chalk. Give an officer less than an A box marking at appraisal time and you might as well be signing his dismissal papers. This is the same. We say a
nything even mildly disobliging and the major gits it.’ He smiled, evidently impressed by his cowboy accent.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So go and see this character. Say some nice things in the debrief. Write them a letter saying don’t phone us we’ll phone you. Kick the can down the road. They will then do whatever they want with him. Or alternatively take him on yourself. See if it’s possible to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Waste of time from my point of view, but it may satisfy your bleeding-heart sensibilities for him to be safely sidelined. If you’re so set on giving them the bum’s rush you can do it when you’re in my chair.’

  Richard could understand why Charles was being moved on. But why so gently?

  ‘There’s no point kicking against it,’ said Geordie as they sat in the car in darkness. The radio sputtered into the earpieces they were wearing under their woollen hats. It was a test message. ‘The gaffer’s determined this is his big triumph. If you don’t take it on he’ll see that as a green light for us to plough ahead ourselves.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Not paid to think.’

  ‘You’re not paid to breathe, Geordie.’

  ‘Well, whatever I think is irrelevant.’

  ‘Not to me.’

  ‘Aye. That’s as mebbe. What I think is, there’s no point kicking when you’re on a loser. We both know the score. It’s already decided. By my bosses and like as not by yours.’

  ‘We’ll see. I’ll be in charge on my side soon.’

  ‘And what? Everything’s going to change?’

  ‘You sound world-weary, Geordie.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you be? A succession of Tim Nice-But-Dims who see this as a stepping stone and fucking Freddie Spencer with his handkerchiefs sticking out his pocket like some conjuror with a rabbit up his arse. This fucking mess. Ireland was a mess before I got here. Has been all the time I’ve been here. Always will be. In my lifetime anyway. Why we can’t just clear out and leave them to fight it out is beyond me.’

  ‘How long to go?’

  Geordie consulted his watch. ‘Six,’ he said and they were silent for a moment.

  ‘What do you make of the boy?’

  ‘Hopeless, but I didn’t tell you that. You’ll work it out for yourself soon enough. Complete gobshite. Won’t listen for a second. Reckons he’s going to be in an ASU any minute. On his brother’s coat-tails. Bit of the old stardust, he keeps saying. And then he winks. Flaky as hell. But the major’s convinced this is the one.’

  The boy looked little different now under the harsh neon light than when he’d first seen him, thin and bent against the misty rain, hood up, smoking a cigarette as Geordie drove past him prior to the pick-up.

  Goodness knows where they were. After the boy had climbed into the back seat the military cavalcade moved away, turning off the bypass quickly and negotiating the country roads, this way and that, hedgerows flashing by in the headlights. It could scarcely have been less obvious had they put up posters in advance advertising the carnival. But that was just Richard’s opinion. Eventually they pulled off into a long driveway.

  And now here they were. In this safe house, wherever it was. It was quiet but for the sound of water dripping off the boy’s jacket on to the linoleum floor as he sat on a plastic chair, cigarette between finger and thumb, bowed down, legs apart, as he drew the last of the nicotine from the burning stub. A kitchen of some kind, cheaply equipped, harshly strip-lit. Not the sort of place where confidences could easily be elicited.

  ‘Bit wet out, Liam,’ said Geordie.

  ‘Aye,’ said the boy, still looking down. ‘You don’t say.’

  ‘Liam, this is the boss I was talking about.’

  He glanced up and then looked down again.

  ‘Hello, Liam. I’m Richard.’ To Geordie, ‘Is there somewhere more comfortable we could sit?’

  Geordie looked over Liam’s bowed shoulder and shook his head. Richard sighed. Liam showed no sign of having heard. Richard drew up a chair opposite him. Geordie switched on the kettle and delved for tea bags and mugs.

  ‘Do you want to take your coat off? Let me hang it up for you,’ said Richard.

  ‘Cold,’ said the boy.

  ‘You’ll soon warm up. Heating’s on. I can feel the radiator. Best dry your coat off.’

  Geordie flicked the tea bags into the sink, splashed some milk into the mugs and brought them over, gripping the handles in one large hand. ‘Get that down you,’ he said.

  Liam raised his head and looked at them in turn. ‘Checking me out?’ he said to Richard, attempting a wry smile.

  ‘I wanted to meet you. I thought it was right, now.’ He bided his time.

  ‘I was saying to Mr Smith, I know all kinds of stuff. About the RA, about my brother. Ask me anything. What I don’t know I can find out. I can go down to Francis’s place. Any time. I can get inside. Bit of Francis’s old stardust. All youse got to do is tell me what youse want.’ He winked.

  ‘That’s very good. I’m very interested. But shall we take things one step at a time?’

  Richard looked at him. He was so young. A kid. Perhaps they were like policemen, joes. The older you got, the younger they looked. He knew from the file that Liam O’Neill was twenty-two years old but he looked like a child, gaunt and gawky, lank-haired, permanently suspecting and suspect, ill-at-ease and defiant.

  ‘Well, then, Liam. Shall we get going? What made you phone our people in the first place?’

  ‘I’ve got those things you asked for,’ said Liam, addressing himself to Geordie. ‘And I can’t be long. I’m expected back.’

  ‘Never mind what I asked you for,’ said Geordie, taking a seat. ‘This is important. I thought you said you had all evening.’

  ‘Yeah, well. I forgot. I’m meant to be seeing Gary down the pub.’

  ‘Not exactly vital, is it? Not like you’re missing your own heart transplant operation, is it? I told you you needed to find time for this. All right?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ He shot a glance at Richard and looked at Geordie. ‘Yes, Mr Smith.’

  ‘There we are, then,’ said Richard. ‘Why are you seeing your friend Gary this evening? Anything we’d be interested in?’

  ‘No, he’s just a mate.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Um, I’m seeing him about a microwave he might be able to sell me for me ma.’

  ‘Well, let’s talk later about what you might be able to say to him, shall we?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ He looked again, before adding, ‘Sir.’

  ‘Richard’ll do fine, Liam. Now then, shall we get down to business?’

  ‘If you like.’

  ‘I do like,’ said Richard without aggression. ‘So, what prompted you to pick up the phone? In your own time.’

  ‘I was sick of it all. Ireland’s going down the pan. All this trouble. And Francis is up to his neck in it. I thought I might be able to protect him.’

  ‘I see. So you think the IRA is a bad thing?’

  ‘Fuck yes. Don’t you?’

  ‘What I think is rather by the by, Liam. I’m interested in your thoughts. So you want to help stop the IRA doing all those nasty things it gets up to?’

  ‘If you like.’

  ‘Don’t let me put words into your mouth, Liam, please. I’m just trying to get a picture of what you feel. That’s all. No problem. There are no wrong or right answers. Say what you think.’ He smiled in encouragement.

  ‘Well, you’ve probably got it just about right.’

  ‘Good. Ever been in trouble with the RA?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know they like to think they’re the law in West Belfast. Judge, jury and so on. Have they ever had you in to discuss your behaviour?’

  Liam O’Neill looked at Richard, calculating. He looked back, implacably amiable.

  ‘There was one or two things when I was a kid. Nothing serious.’

  ‘I know. We all get up to things when we’re teenagers. Anyone in particular
you dealt with?’

  ‘It’d be Martin Dempsey who spoke to me.’

  ‘Verbal warning, would it have been?’

  ‘A bit more. Nothing too bad.’

  ‘I see. And what did you do after that?’

  ‘Spoke to Francis about it when I saw him.’

  ‘Spoke to Francis. And what did he do?’

  Liam shrugged. ‘Couldn’t do nothing. Told me the Belfast Brigade was in charge of its own business and he couldn’t interfere. He wasn’t there no more.’

  ‘And when would this be?’

  ‘Three or four years back.’

  ‘I see. He must have known this Martin … what was it?’

  ‘Dempsey. Yeah, he knew him well enough.’

  ‘But he wouldn’t have a quiet word. Did you feel angry at that? Just a bit?’

  ‘No. He’ll have had his reasons.’

  ‘So you’re not doing this out of grudge?’

  ‘No. I just think …’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Richard. ‘But of course we couldn’t let you do this and be out of pocket, could we?’

  Liam looked more directly and his face lightened.

  ‘I’m not in this for the money,’ he said.

  ‘No. I can see that. Though we would insist on paying you generously for your commitment. If, that is, we can come to an arrangement over how we play things. I’m curious. Doesn’t it worry you at all, coming to us?’

  ‘Not particularly. Should it? You’ll look after me, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course. But I’m wondering why you seem so relaxed with it. It’s a big step and I can imagine people in your position feeling pretty concerned.’

  ‘Worried they might be putting me up to it?’ He grinned.

  ‘Not at all. And of course it’s a good thing that you can handle the pressure.’

  ‘There you are, then.’ That petulant little grin was back.

  Richard attempted to keep his sigh inward and inaudible. ‘Yes. There we are. Good. Shall we talk about how you might help?’

  ‘There’s all kinds I can do. I can spend more time with Francis. He can get me in in Belfast.’

  ‘I thought he didn’t interfere?’

  ‘Well, I’m on all fours with Martin Dempsey now anyway. He’ll find me something to do for the boys. Run guns or something. Or I could spend more time down there with Francis. Find out what he’s doing.’