Seeds of Evil

by Robert Kitchen

lesser-known magazines. I must confess to having plagiarised the ideas from there.’

  ‘Why is it Maurice that you always sell yourself short? The ideas may have come from magazines but you had the flair to make the furnishings complement their setting. That my friend is a rare talent indeed.

  ‘Thanks anyway,’ said Scott, his face reddening. ‘I’m sorry Nick, I’m not used to people paying me compliments. Actually I am a bit of a loner. In fact I can’t remember the last time that anyone came to visit and that I am sorry to say is a fact,’ added Scott.

  ‘That Maurice is a real shame. People don’t realise what kind of person you really are. I’m sure if a friend of the opposite sex was to see what a home maker you are, you would not remain a bachelor for long.’

  ‘Cut it out would you. You’re going to embarrass me again, anyway I don’t feel comfortable in the company of women and I’m not ashamed to say I never have felt the inclination to pursue one either.’ Black decided to change the subject. He had no intention of forming a sexual relationship with this man. He had at first contemplated the idea but dismissed it out of hand when he observed Scott’s reaction to the quarrel a week earlier. No Maurice Scott would soon be jumping though hoops for him. No need to take unnecessary risks. The man was somewhat unpredictable and a sexual advance may bring about a totally adverse result. ‘I know that it is a touchy subject Maurice but I am in the business and I thought that I could steal a peek at your equipment.’

  ‘Well actually Nick, that is probably the real reason for my asking you round this evening. I still feel a wee bit awkward about that whole incident. You won’t be aware of it but I have spent the best part of my working life in the force. I have abided by the rule of law since I could walk and at the end of the day have very little to show for it. I have never discussed my work outside the office with another living soul and that includes relatives, not that I have any close ones.’

  ‘I’m sorry Maurice,’ interrupted Black. ‘It was never my intention to compromise you in any way.’

  ‘No, no let me finish Nick,’ said the Irishman solemnly, holding his large hands in front of him for emphasis. ‘What I was going to say is that I feel closer to you, than I ever have with another living person. I treasure the friendship between us and I don’t give a damn about the force or the murdering bastards in the paramilitaries. As you know, my hobby, no its more than that, my passion is my computer equipment. You asked me the other week about my records in work. You were correct in your assumption, I do bring them home with me. I watch the bulletins and make a history of all known terrorists from both camps. I have complete profiles on most members of the

  INLA., the Provo’s and the loyalist UDA. and UVF. I have case histories of unsolved murders and most terrorist related crimes. I play Sherlock Holmes if you like and with the help of Agatha, my pet name for my PC., I have solved a few crimes months before the other so called detectives have come even close.Shit I had a murderer tagged a whole year before they even suspected him,’ he boasted.

  ‘I don’t quite understand Maurice. Are you telling me that you knew who committed a murder and did not divulge it to your superiors?’ asked an incredulous Black..

  ‘You’ve got it in one. What I would like to do is share the information with you. We could possibly work together on cases. A bit like Holmes and Watson. ‘I don’t mean to sound childish and I am asking you to break the law but if you just give it a couple of evenings I’m sure you will become as hooked as I am. I’m telling you all this because I trust you implicitly. The information that I have divulged this evening, should you repeat it, would result in my discharge from the force. I would also, more than likely, have to face criminal charges.’

  ‘Jesus Maurice, I don’t know what to say!’ exclaimed Black. ‘This is a bombshell of nuclear proportions you have landed in my lap. I’m excited I have to admit yet afraid at the same time. Of course I would never betray your confidence but I must have time to think about your proposition. Please give me a day or two,’ Black’s performance was outstanding. He could not believe the gold mine that he had stumbled upon. His meeting Scott had been a most fortuitous experience and he was bound to take full advantage of the situation. The man had everything that he required and much more. Nathan could hardly contain himself. He expressed deep concern for the danger of his friend’s situation but begged forgiveness for having to leave early. In truth he was so elated at Scott’s revelations that he feared the other would see through his performance. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, he told Scott that his mind was in turmoil. He had to have time to evaluate and must leave before he became too embroiled in a situation from which there may be no turning back. He assured Scott that no matter what decision he came to, that he would still remain his friend, promising to meet the policeman in their local two days hence.

  CHAPTER 15

  Monday crawled at a snails pace for George Blackmore. He was due to meet the man at nine thirty. Frowning he observed the minute hand of his imitation Rolex. This was it, tonight he would submit his plan to John. There was no way that his superior could abort the operation. Had he not gone over it a thousand times? His head was buzzing with detail. He had discussed every aspect of the attack with the other three, going over the plan again and again for what seemed like a million times. No he had left nothing to chance. Blackmore was adamant. The place had been under observation for two weeks, any longer would cause suspicion. There had been no army patrols and few RUC. It would be as easy as falling of a log, still he was uneasy, what if he had missed something? Some detail so simple yet critical enough to destroy the project. The hands on the clock face finally crawled to the appointed hour. Blackmore got to his feet, kissed his wife and set off for his rendezvous. He stood shivering in the north wind waiting to be picked up but was oblivious to the cold. His mind was reeling, recounting every component of the plan. So wrapped in his thoughts was George that he hardly noticed the car pull up beside him. ‘Excuse me mate!’ called the driver.

  ‘Eh, what?’ stuttered a startled Blackmore. He was still somewhat confused when the driver asked him if Rose Brennan lived on this street. ‘What?’ he repeated, giving the driver cause for concern. ‘Oh sorry mate miles away,’ he finally replied, only realising that he was being spoken to.

  ‘Rose you say, Rose Brennan. Agh sure she moved away a year ago. I think she lives down the road a bit, near the Arches. Aye that’s right I remember now, Cheviot Avenue but I don’t know the exact number.’

  ‘Thanks mate, I can always ask somebody when I get there,’ answered the driver.

  ‘Ye wouldn’t do us a favour and drop me off at the Arches, seein yer goin that way wud ye?’

  ‘Aye no bother,’ agreed the driver helpfully. ‘Hop in,’ he said, feeling more at ease. Proprieties of security completed, the driver mentioned that Blackmore had given him cause for concern.

  ‘Agh well no harm done, we’ll be off then,’ he was informed. At last Blackmore was on his way. Now that he was actually travelling to the meet his apprehension began to abate. No way, he told himself, my plan is foolproof there is no way in the world that John can knock it back. He was one hundred percent correct in his assumption. George laid out the plan in great detail, meticulously covering every aspect. From the pick up of the first stolen car, which would be parked a half-mile from the scene, through the change over to the car they would use to do the job. He covered all contingencies and had backup procedures for every foreseeable hazard. John asked a few questions pointed out some pitfalls but Blackmore had taken them all into account. The meeting ended with Blackmore being patted on the back, congratulated for his diligence and most importantly getting the affirmative go ahead. He was elated, to the point of being overly enthusiastic, so much so that that John felt it necessary to bring the man down to earth. ‘Steady now George son, remember this is a solemn occasion. You will be striking a blow for Ulster but let us ne
ver forget that you will be taking a human life. Be sure that your aim is true and remember the lives of your comrades are in your hands. I wish you luck on your mission and may God be with you.’

  George Blackmore was awe-struck. Being in the exalted presence of such a man was a rare privilege, aye and by God he would do his duty. As the car pulled away, leaving him a solitary figure on the pavement, he looked skyward and thanked God for choosing him to be the instrument of his justice. The recently promoted cell leader swore before the almighty that he would defend the Protestant faith until death. He vowed to do everything in his power, with the aid of his comrades and the Lord’s help, strike another blow to wipe out the abomination of Catholicism.

  CHAPTER 16

  Connor Tullen was thinking about Clements. How could fate possibly have chosen such a man to be his saviour? He had nothing against being saved by a Protestant. Religion had never been an issue with Tullen. What rankled the most was the fact that he had been saved by a bigot. During their night out Clements had tried to probe into his background. What school did he go to. What district did he come from, searching questions that would help to ascertain a person’s religion. Tullen had remained non-committal, tight-lipped and totally focused. He was too experienced at dealing with Clements’ ilk and found that he actually enjoyed the cut and thrust of the interrogation. Ascertaining Billy’s religion had been ridiculously simple. To his recollection Connor Tullen had never heard a Catholic refer to himself as an Ulster man. That coupled with the fact that his rescuer’s name was Billy had left little room for doubt. It did not take Sherlock Holmes to deduce the other’s faith. Eventually Clements had tired of the game, choosing instead to enter into conversation with a large bosomed Dutch girl who happened to smile in his direction. Tullen chuckled at the memory. Billy Clements may be a rough Belfast man but he had a boyish charm that had the lady swooning in record time. He was brash and self centred but oozed self-confidence. Tullen was amazed when Clements said to the girl, ‘I’ll give ye half an hour and if yer not back with a friend for me mate here, it’s adios babe.’ Less than twenty minutes had elapsed before the young lady was back with friend in tow. Shit he really is something else, Tullen smiled at the memory. It’s a pity our path’s will never cross again. He was interrupted from his reverie by the shrill tone of his telephone. On the other end of the line was Gerard Graves native of Derry’s famous Creggan district. ‘Hello, Belfast city morgue,’ answered Tullen.

  ‘Have ye any empty boxes?’ boomed the voice, through the receiver.

  ‘Could you speak up please, I’m partially fuckin deaf,’ bantered Tullen, which brought a guffaw by way of reply. ‘What do ye want Gerry. Jesus won’t you culchies ever learn that ye don’t have to shout from one city to another. Phones were inverted to do the job for ye.’

  ‘Agh don’t be like that brother, sure you know fine well electricity baffles us farming folk.’

  ‘Folk is it, are you sure ye don’t mean stock?’ His sarcasm was answered by another bellow of laughter, causing Tullen to quickly pull the receiver from his ear. ‘Come on now Gerry what the fuck do ye want?’

  ‘Why is that ye always think I’m wantin somethin when I call ye?’ asked the voice indignantly.’

  ‘Christ that’s a goodun , maybe it’s because ye’ve never given me anything in the twenty year’s I’ve known ye.’

  ‘Agh that’s it then, if yer gonna be like that I’ll not tell ye my news.’

  ‘News is it, and what news wud you have that cud possibly interest me?’ retorted Tullen.

  ‘Oh I think you might want to know this wee snippet now.’

  ‘Well go on then. I’d say I’m all ears but I think ye’ve busted me right eardrum.’

  ‘Fuck you. I only rang to tell ye Moira’s home.’

  ‘Moira, Moira Lavery?, Tullen’s heart gave a lurch. Are ye sure Gerry?Don’t fuck me around now.’

  ‘Now ye know I wudn’t be that cruel brother. She flew in yesterday. Says she’s finished with the States. Sure we all got arseholed in Jennies’ last night. Will ye be coming up at the weekend? It wud be a nice wee surprise for yer woman.’

  ‘Agh I don’t know Gerry. Sure she ran away and left me, what wud she be wantin with me anyhow?’

  ‘Ye’d be surprised brother. All she talked about was you the whole fuckin night. She got right melancholy once the drink had grabbed her.’

  ‘Aye right, wud ye stop windin me up Gerry?, said Tullen warily.

  ‘Honest te God Con, no wind up. If you don’t believe me call Sean, he was there too.’

  ‘Ask me brother if I’m a liar,’ chirped Tullen, sarcastically.

  ‘Ach bollocks te ye then, if ye don’t believe me it’s your problem. Do ye think I’ve got good money to waste on the bloody phone?’ snapped Graves.

  ‘Take it easy now big man, ye can’t blame me for being sceptical. Sure ye know we were as good as married when she just upped and left. I don’t want to be gettin into the same auld rut now do I?’

  ‘Right enough Con, anyway give it a bit of thought and come up anyway. Sure it’s been ages since we had a pint together. Givus a bell on Thursday night no matter what you decide.’

  ‘Will do big man. Hey, thanks for the call.’ Connor Tullen replaced the phone and sat slowly down.

  His memory raced to the time when he had first met Moira Lavery. She was having an argument with a female neighbour. Her cheeks were glowing red as she defended her younger brother who hid sheepishly behind her skirt. The boy had broken the neighbour’s window causing the woman to pounce like a preying mantis catching the lad a hefty clout. The assault was bad enough but not contented with brutality she had hurled abuse at him as well, bringing into question the boy’s parentage and decrying the Lavery family name. ‘Ye rotten auld bitch,’ screamed Moira. The cheek of ye hittin me wee brother, sure he’s only nine.’

  ‘Aye nine he is, goin on twenty, the wee rip,’ retorted the irate neighbour. ‘Anyway I don’t want to stand here bandying word’s with the likes of ye.’

  ‘Bandy is it? The only bandy one around here is yerself. Wud ye luk at those legs, ye cud drive a number nine bus between them. Come to think of it, that’s the only thing that hasn’t been between them.’

  ‘Why ye cheeky wee bitch, I’m gonna tear yer fuckin eyes out,’ screamed the older woman, launching herself at Moira like a tigress that had missed a few meals. Moira spun away and came back like a vixen protecting her young. Gerry and Connor were over in an instant quickly getting between the protagonists. Connor smiled at the memory, placing his arms around her slim waist he had lifted Moira bodily off the ground. In her frustration she had squirmed and twisted trying to break free from his grip but Tullen held on resolutely trying to reason with her. His attempt at peacemaking was to no avail as she writhed and screamed, hurling obscenities. Eventually he frog marched her down the street. Her younger brother, filled with a new resolve, was kicking at Con’s shins. If he could carry her out of seeing distance, he reasoned, there was a chance that he could appease her anger. Gerry, for his part, had better results guiding the older lady home and cajoling her with the offer of a nice cup of tea. ‘Now take it easy Maisey, sure it’s only a windy. Jesus you’d think the house had been knocked down,’ he reasoned, trying to pacify the woman. At the other end of the street, Moira Lavery aimed a well-directed back heel that caught Tullen just below the left knee. He dropped his captive like a disgraced politician, at the same time bending to grip his wounded leg. Weaving his fingers together around his damaged knee he hopped around like a one legged gigolo at a disco. When Moira surveyed her handiwork, she leaned against the wall and howled with laughter. Tullen was furious. ‘Funny eh,’ he sulked, still rubbing at the rapidly swelling wound. Moira just put her hand to her mouth, took another peak at Tullen and burst out laughing again. ‘Agh shite,’ growled Connor, turned and hobbled back up the street.

&n
bsp; ‘Wait, wait a minute will ye. I’m sorry I kicked ye so hard. Is your leg all right?’ asked Moira, finally showing a modicum of concern.

  ‘Grand thanks, I think me Olympic sprinting career’s finished and regards refereeing women’s wrestling, I’ll be tearin up my application form.’

  ‘Ach stop yer wingen wud ye, it can’t be that bad. Who are ye anyway?’ she added, realising that she had inflicted damage upon a complete stranger.

  ‘Douglas Bader,’ he grumbled still hobbling.

  ‘Agh come on, I said I was sorry. Are ye a friend of Gerry Graves?’

  ‘I don’t know whether te answer that or not.’

  ‘Shit, why not?’

  ‘If I say yes, maybe you don’t like him and I get another kickin, aye and if I’m not a mate of his, ye won’t like that either, so I think I’ll just pass.’

  ‘Ye’re a big coward that’s what ye are’ said Moira, flashing an impish grin. ‘Gerry Graves is me cousin so he is and I only kick strangers once,’ with that she turned on her heels and strutted back up the street. Connor Tullen was spellbound. He could not come to terms with his feelings. Gingerly he examined his shin, which by now had begun to swell and was turning an ugly puce. Never before had he been affected like this. His leg was throbbing but he felt great. If she had not had the argument maybe they would never have met. One thing was certain, he was determined to see the girl again. He also vowed that he would contrive their next meeting.

  Connor Tullen was besotted. It did not take long for their next encounter. Tullen was visiting relatives in the city and had known Graves since childhood. They were an unlikely pair with Tullen the street-wise city boy and Graves more of the country cousin type. In spite of their obvious differences they hit if off immediately and their friendship had stood the test of time. Gerry was into folk music and Tullen, although more of a country music fan, did not mind accompanying him to folk clubs now and then. It was on one such occasion that Connor was to encounter the beautiful Moira again. Tullen was enchanted as he watched the smiling redhead weave a spell around her companions. He wanted her more than any other woman on the planet. To Connor she was the only person in the room. He was disturbed from his reverie by the foghorn bellow of his friend. ‘Wud ye for Christ sake take this pint outa me hand brother. What are ye starin at anyway?Aw I see, it’s our Moira, feared she’s gonna give ye another hidin,’ laughed the big man, slapping Tullen on the back and almost crushing a lung.