Seeds of Evil

by Robert Kitchen

  ‘What is it?’ asked his colleague excitedly, infected by Clements’ mood.

  ‘Ah nothin,’ lied Billy but the penny had finally dropped. He now realised why his superior was giving him a rough ride recently. John had wanted him to head up the operation. Be that as it may, why was Riley singled out for special attention apart from the fact that he was a Catholic? He parted company with a wry smile leaving his companion even more confused.

  ‘Ah fuck it. I’m glad that I wasn’t picked to go on that bit of business,’ muttered Tommy, before turning his attention to the racing form.

  A familiar envelope nestled among the junk mail on the mat in Clements’ hallway. He had trodden upon them as he entered the flat. Giving an exasperated curse he stooped to pick them up. ‘Another message from me old chum in England. Fuck that’s cuttin it fine, John wants to see me tomorrow night. Can’t be another job already. I’ll find out soon enough,’ he concluded, dismissing the communication from his mind.

  An overnight bag sat packed by his bed. After much soul searching Tullen had decided to visit Derry for the weekend. His stomach churned at the thought of meeting her again. A vision of the woman he had loved so intensely flashed before him. She was smiling with her head tilted as she always did. Snowy white teeth gave angelic serenity that belied her fiery disposition. With a shake of the head he tried to clear the vision from his memory. Impossible, she was perched on a ledge in the far reaches of his soul; his heart ached yearning for a single glimpse, a hint of her perfume, the brush of her lips. Had she changed or did she still possess those same impish qualities that had first drawn him to her. Connor hated her for leaving but he knew that she only had to smile to have him grovelling at her feet, like an abandoned puppy. As he drove onto the West Link which by-passes Belfast city centre and would lead him onto the motorway to Derry, he pondered on the magnetism which was drawing him inexorably toward her.

  A tormented hour and a half later, he drew up outside the door of his friend Gerry’s house. A smile as broad as a Belfast accent stretched the expansive face of his old pal. ‘How’s about ye brother? Long time no see,’ bawled the big man, almost squeezing the life’s blood from Tullen’s body.

  ‘Take it easy wud ye, I’ve only one set of ribs,’ screamed Connor, playfully.

  ‘Agh ye townies are all the same, weak as a bride’s first brew.’

  ‘Aye that’s somethin ye’ll hardly find out about. Sure how in God’s name wud an ugly bugger like yerself find a woman, other than a school for the blind? Christ ye wudn’t even find one there, her guide dog wud bite the arse of ye.’

  ‘Ye came up eh? Couldn’t stay away from the wee woman.’ Tullen bridled at this, muttering an obscenity before brushing past his friend and entering the house.

  ‘Ye know where the room is. I have to run a message. I’ll be back in an hour. Why don’t ye take a shower for ye look like shite.’ Tullen laughed, shook his head and made for the stairs. Smiling, he reflected upon his relationship with the gentle giant. Try as he might, he could not remain angry with Gerry for any length of time.

  Taking his friend’s advice he unpacked and stepped into the shower. The hot water had the desired effect. As the warmth enveloped him his earlier tension quickly drained from his weary body. Eyes closed and the needles of hot moisture, stinging his flesh Con’s thoughts turned to Moira. Hot water soothed his fatigued body. He gently massaged the lather between his legs. Feeling himself stir at the erotic memory of their lovemaking, he was startled at the sound of the shower’s plastic curtain rustling. His eyes flew open as a strange hand gripped firmly around his erect penis. ‘Jesus,’ he screamed pulling away but at the same time raising an arm to defend himself.

  ‘Ye’ll go blind doin that,’ whispered a familiar voice from the past. Trying to focus through eyes stung by soap, Con was taken aback, her unmistakable laughter made him gasp involuntarily.

  ‘What the fuck’s goin on,’ he yelled.

  ‘Christ but ye’re a wee charmer,’ laughed Moira, still gripping him tightly. ‘I remember the time when ye didn’t have te ask what was goin on. Do ye mind if I join ye?’ Tullen was confused, she always had the ability to surprise him and here she was doing it again. He had driven nearly a hundred miles to instigate a confrontation yet here he was allowing her to manipulate him like always. Hungrily he grasped for her, pulling her to him. He smothered her with kisses speaking her name as if it was a deity. Unable to control his emotions he impaled her thrusting angrily until he exploded inside her. Connor opened his eyes to see the beautiful face of his beloved. He began to speak, wanting, no needing to chastise her, to punish her for the sorrow that she had inflicted upon him but the words dissolved like a pleasant dream. Moira pressed her fingers to his lips, ‘Not now,’ she beseeched. ‘Let me feel your body close to mine. God ye don’t know how much I missed the strength of ye holdin me. Leave the questions for tomorrow darlin. I beg ye. Please don’t spoil the moment that I have prayed for.’ They stood entwined, a single entity. It was as if they had never been apart. Connor’s anger dissipated, banished to another time to be replaced by feelings of joy and hope. How could he castigate the woman he adored, this beautiful vulnerable creature. She was back in his life casting her spell upon his soul. Tullen realised that his need for her was greater than ever before. He was forced to admit that he could never deny his love for this woman, he was hers to control. He would do whatever she desired. For the first time in six long years, he was no longer afraid and he wanted to shout it from the roof tops but instead, merely gazed into eyes, as emerald as the land that he had been willing to die for and whispered solemnly, ‘Welcome home me darlin Moira. Promise me that ye’ll never leave me again.’ Tears welled as she buried her face in his shoulder and cried. Huge heaving sobs which threatened to tear her apart. Not knowing what to do he tenderly held her to him, waiting for her tears to subside. ‘God, I was so afraid that ye wouldn’t forgive me. Thank-you for being so understanding darlin. Brushing the back of her hand across his shoulder she became aware of the ugly scar. ‘Oh holy mother, what has happened my love?’ Uncomprehending, he held her from him smiling into her beautiful face, ‘What, what’s wrong love?’

  ‘Yer poor shoulder, what has happened?’

  ‘Oh that,’ he replied casually, ‘I had a wee accident. I’ll tell ye about it some time but not right now. We must get dressed, Gerry will be back any minute.’

  ‘No he wont, yer friend has other fish te fry tonight.’

  ‘Why ye crafty wee bitch. Are ye telling me that you and yon bugger Graves hatched this up between ye?’

  ‘Sort of,’ she answered, her eyes twinkling. ‘Actually it was me who cajoled him into it. How is a girl supposed to get the attention of a busy man such as yerself? He wont be back until the morrow, I hope you don’t mind?’ she grinned, in her own special way.

  ‘Mind, why should I mind? Here I am, a man totally in charge of his own destiny, then you walk back into my life and take over,’ he growled in mock horror. ‘I love it. Just promise that ye’ll stay.’ At that moment Connor Tullen’s future took a turn for the better. With a knowing glance she took his hand, guiding him toward the bedroom.

  Their lovemaking was slow and honest with a passion that Con thought he had lost forever. They laughed, talked and lay content in each other’s arms. There was no mention of past indiscretions, which would keep for another time. Tullen had never experienced such unmitigated happiness. Later, he lay beside her, watching the rise and fall of her unblemished breasts. Silver shards of moonlight glistened on her body. The sight of her beautiful form made his heart swell. Carefully, so as not disturb her slumber, he lowered his head to brush his lips across her brow. It was at that moment that he vowed never to lose her again. Content with this solemn promise he relaxed and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER 18

  Checking through a mountain of mundane bills and nuisance m
ail, Clara Blackmore discovered an invitation. At first she refused to believe the accompanying letter, discarding it as the usual trash one receives in the post. Lucky you, have won a holiday to Barbados. Just buy a lifetime subscription to Genuine Bullshit Magazine in order to claim your prize. She was about to rip it to shreds when something told her to read it more carefully. There were no offers of a time-share or fifteen-percent discount off your first purchase. Simply a compliment slip, three club class tickets to London and hotel reservations in the name of Blackmore. Nonplussed, she delved deeper to find a cheque for the sum of five hundred pounds made out to her name. On the back of the compliment slip was a cryptic message. ‘ For your peace of mind and George’s well-being, please accept the invitation.’ An unsettling command accompanied the gift advising her not to mention it’s existence to anyone, especially the authorities. She was scared out of her wits. First her husband is arrested and now this, her world was in total disarray. What in the Lord’s name was happening? The orderly regime that she called married life was in turmoil and threatening to self-destruct. George accused of murder, police ransacking her home and now strange messages were arriving at the door. What was she to do? Perhaps she should call the police or better still her friend Sadie. Yes that’s it, she must tell Sadie. She will know exactly what to do, after all her husband was one of those paramilitary what’s-its. Hesitantly she dialled her pal’s number, no answer. Clara let it ring uttering a silent prayer. ‘Oh God please answer Sadie, I need you Sadie please be in.’ The phone kept ringing for a lifetime. She was about to hang up when blessedly, the familiar voice of her best friend came on the line. ‘Sadie’s institute for stray Frenchmen how may we help?’ Clara smiled in spite of herself.

  ‘Thank God you’re in Sadie. I need your help. I’m at my wit’s end,’ she gushed, spitting out the sentences in a staccato of fear and confusion. ‘Please come over.’

  ‘Right away?’ enquired Sadie.

  ‘Yes please love, I need your advice,’ pleaded Clara, on the verge of hysteria.

  ‘Is it George? Is he okay?’ asked her friend, at last showing concern.

  ‘Yes, well no, at least not directly, come quickly. I’ll tell you when you get here. I cant talk on the phone.’ Putting her friend immediately at ease, Sadie promised to be with Clara in ten minutes. ‘What is it love, tell yer auntie Sadie? Is it the kids, are you all right?’ she blurted, as the door opened.

  ‘Yes, I mean it’s not the kids it’s me, the kids are fine. Shit I’m babbling, I must be cracking up. Sadie I don’t know how to handle this. I don’t know about any of these things,’ she murmured, tears trickling down her cheeks.

  ‘There now, ye poor thing. What is it love? Ye know I’ll help ye if I can. Is it money trouble, have you got yerself in debt?’

  ‘No it’s nothing like that,’ answered Clara, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

  ‘Look, let me make us a cup of tea. That’ll give ye time to gather yer thoughts. Then when ye feel up te it, ye can tell me all about it, okay.’

  ‘Thank God you’ve come, I don’t think I can cope without telling somebody about it,’ offered Clara, beginning to feel a little more at ease. ‘Yes a cuppa will help Sadie. You know I can’t remember if I have eaten today.’

  ‘That’s alright love, I’ll make us a sandwich as well then, sure I’m famished meself. Bang goes the diet,’ laughed Sadie, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  ‘Grand Sadie, you know where the stuff is don’t you?’

  ‘Aye I’ve been around this auld shack once or twice. Is that the new cooker ye were telling me about?’ came a query from behind. Sadie had momentarily lapsed into her old nosy self. On a better day she would have enquired about the appliance’s cost and whether or not it had been bought on tick. Discretion decreed that her friend had enough on her plate without being reminded of financial problems. Sadie prattled on as she prepared the snack but her friend was only half listening. Clara’s mind was on other things. She gave a few polite replies when there was a break in the conversation but her friend knew that Clara’s thoughts were fixed on her present predicament. A plate of ham and mustard sandwiches was laid neatly on a serving tray accompanied by two steaming mugs of freshly brewed tea. Clara sniffled and smiled at her pal. ‘Thanks for coming Sadie, you’re the only one that I can trust. This is a bit difficult but I need your advice.’ She related the story from the beginning omitting nothing. ‘What do you think I should do about the tickets Sadie? Why would anyone send me tickets to London in the first place? Sure I don’t know a sinner across the water.’

  ‘Clara, do ye know anything about George? I mean what he gets up to when he goes out at night? It seems to me that George is in the same situation as yon bastard of mine.’

  ‘Situation, what situation? I don’t know what you’re talking about Sadie. I swear to God this whole affair is a total mystery to me,’ blurted Clara, losing her composure for the umpteenth time. Tears began to cascade down her cheeks, which were puffy from previous bouts of weeping and lack of sleep. Sadie was over in a flash enfolding her friend in her comforting beefy arms, gently rocking her as if she was one of her own brood. ‘There now love,’ she cooed, attempting to calm the other. ‘I didn’t mean te upset ye. Look, blow your nose and begin again. Or better still , let me try to make some sense of the whole sorry mess,’ said Sadie, lifting the correspondence from the table. She handed Clara a Kleenex,which she readily accepted and obediently used. ‘Now,’ she began, It seems to me that your man is involved with one of the organisations.’ Clara began to protest but was cut short by Sadie’s raised hand. ‘Let me finish Clara, I know the signs. Ye can tell me I’m daft later but bear with me for a while. As I was saying, George has got to be in something, I have no idea which one nor yet do I care. Fuckin scum the lot of them. That stupid bugger of mine, he’s in the UVF, he was in it for years and I didn’t know a thing. Buggerin off at all hours without so much as a kiss me ass. Sound familiar?’ Clara sat open-mouthed nodding as her friend’s words began to hit home. ‘I thought it was another woman at first but he said it was fishing.’ Continued Sadie. ‘Fucking fishing and I believed him. They came for him in the middle of the night, dragged him by the hair out of bed. I will never forgive the bastard for that. The kids had to stand and watch as the soldiers carted him away. The wee one still wets the bed. Wrecked the house they did searching for God knows what but they never found anything, not a fucking sausage. Still they dragged him away.

  The wee bastard wasn’t out fishing he was out committing murder. In the name of Christ do you know what he was yelling when they threw him into the wagon. ‘For God and Ulster,’ what a fucking joke. Well he’s inside doing twenty five years while I’m out here having to bring up two kids who think their father’s William fuckin Tell. Anyway, after the Brits. lifted him, I got a message similar to yours. Oh no holiday in London but they told me te open a bank account. They gave me a few bob te start the ball rolling. Every month, regular as clockwork, money went into the account. There was never another message, just money. It stopped after a year, as quickly as it had started and without a word of warning. I suppose they thought six thousand quid was all the wee bastard was worth. So you see Clara, things have probably changed since then but it seems te me that this is their way of taking care of their own. I don’t know what your man was up te but I am willing te bet my eyeteeth it was for God and Ulster.’

  Clara’s complexion became waxen. Incredulously she sat staring at Sadie for several minutes, then abruptly her mood took on a dramatic change. A smouldering anger manifested itself within her as she began to realise that the words her friend had spoken were true. George had been out to all hours with hardly an explanation. Then there were his long spells of inactivity, when he was cold and aloof. Angrily she sat pondering on the nights when he made love like a rutting boar. Then the memory of their love-making, the evening before the nightmare began, came flooding back. Love
did not enter into it, he practically raped her before discarding her like a used tissue. Many times he had played out the same scenario. Did he go out to commit robbery, or worse murder, on those occasions? The thought sent a chill down her spine. ‘I wonder how many people he has killed,’ she spat. ‘You have hit the nail on the head Sadie. How could I have been so blind?’ Again tears spilled from her eyes but now they were tears of frustration. She was castigating herself for ignoring the signs. If only she had challenged him. Enquired where he had been on his disappearances. ‘The bastard did not care a fig for me, or the children. He was too busy playing big boy’s games to worry what would become of us when they caught him. The bloody bastard, I hope he rots in hell.’ She began to sob now, the tears flowing as if from a breached dam. ‘Damn him, damn him to hell,’ she screamed.