The Judas Gate

by Jack Higgins

  ‘Yes, Mr Talbot.’

  ‘And you know me well enough,’ Jack Kelly said, and Mickeen nodded.

  ‘Why did you try to come to my grandfather’s funeral?’ Talbot demanded.

  ‘Sure, and I thought it would be open to anyone.’

  ‘And how did you know that it was happening when it was?’

  ‘Everyone in Collyban knew, Mr Talbot. They were all talking about it in the Green Man. Somebody you thought you could trust must have blabbed.’

  And because he knew very well that was the logical explanation, Talbot become even more incensed. ‘And what about your nephew, Sean Dillon? I know you’ve spoken to him earlier. What was that all about?’

  ‘Nothing at all, Mr Talbot.’ Mickeen was desperate. ‘He’s family. He just called me from London to say hello.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ Talbot shouted. ‘There’s more to it than that. Tell me, damn you.’

  He kicked at Mickeen’s face, catching the edge of the trolley, sending him swinging further under the car. He almost fell over himself, grabbed at the raised handle of the hydraulic jack, releasing it, and the car subsided. Mickeen cried out in agony and then there was only silence.

  Kelly shoved Talbot out of the way, reached for the handle and quickly raised the car. He crouched, picked up the inspection lamp and leaned in. Mickeen’s face was covered in blood, there was torn flesh on the forehead and he detected bone. It was a dreadful sight and he moved back.

  ‘You’ve done for him.’

  ‘Are you certain?’ Talbot said.

  ‘See for yourself. Would you think anyone could survive injuries like that?’

  ‘I’ve seen men wounded in battle survive some terrible things, and not just when I’m Shamrock. It would be simple to make sure if I had a pistol.’ Talbot was strangely calm now. ‘Do you have one?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘I assumed you always carried.’

  ‘Not any more,’ Kelly said. ‘Only on certain occasions, and today wasn’t supposed to be one.’ He checked Mickeen again. ‘No, I say he’s dead.’

  He lowered the car again and Talbot said, ‘Why are you doing that?’

  ‘So that when they find him, they’ll think it was an accident. Now let’s get out of here.’

  They ran through the rain to the BMW and got in. As Kelly drove away, Talbot said calmly, ‘Well, that’s taken care of that. Dillon won’t be pleased about his uncle, but the stupid old bastard had it coming.’ He turned to look at Kelly, that strange cold smile on his face. ‘Don’t you agree?’

  And Jack Kelly, not happy at all, managed a nod. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘Good, then let’s get back to the house as soon as possible. They’ll be wondering what’s happened to us.’

  It was Paddy O’Rourke, walking down to the pub, who noticed that there were no lights on in either the house or the garage and went to investigate. What he found when he raised the car again horrified him. Like Kelly, he assumed the worst, but called the county air ambulance service, which served remote country areas.

  For some reason, he didn’t want to leave his old friend, so didn’t go seeking help, just sat there holding Mickeen’s cold and apparently lifeless hand. After twenty minutes, he heard the sound of the approaching helicopter. He had switched on all the garage lights and went out and waved frantically, and a Chinook helicopter settled on the forecourt, bringing out all the customers in the Green Man, headed by Martin Curry.

  The paramedics wasted no time, examining Mickeen, then pulling a kind of turban over his head, strapping him to a special stretcher and taking him inside the Chinook. As O’Rourke watched, they worked on the old man until he was festooned with tubes and bottles.

  One of the paramedics shouted, ‘You’re the one who found him? Give me your name and phone number. The police will want to speak to you. It’s a good thing you found him when you did.’

  ‘I thought he was dead,’ O’Rourke shouted.

  ‘Almost.’

  ‘Where are you taking him, Newry?’

  ‘No, the Seaton Hospital in Belfast. They have a great neurological unit. Only forty miles. We’ll have him there in no time.’

  He scrambled back inside, the Chinook lifted and was away. The crowd moved back to the pub. Curry said, ‘What happened?’

  ‘He was working under the car and the jack slipped or something and the car fell on him.’

  ‘Where did they say they were taking him?’

  O’Rourke told him, and Curry said, ‘That’s a great hospital. They’ll look after him. Anyway, you’ve earned a drink this night, Paddy, so join me in the pub.’

  The wake was in full swing and half the village seemed to be there, enjoying the spread offered by Emily and her helpers on the well-stocked tables. And drink was taken, of course, as one would expect at an Irish wake.

  Jean Talbot was working her way through the tenants and she paused to greet her son. ‘Where have you been? I was worried.’

  ‘Something Jack and I needed to sort out, didn’t we?’

  Secrets again. She knew instantly from his heightened colour and his glittering eyes. ‘Whatever it is, just calm down. Have a word with Father Cassidy, I really think you should.’

  He was exasperated and sounded it. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  Young Jane was passing with a tray of glasses of champagne. He took two. ‘Good girl,’ he said and, as he turned away, emptied one glass in a quick swallow. He looked around the room, saw no sign of the priest. The study door had been closed for privacy, but he found Cassidy in there, sitting in a wing-backed chair leafing through a book.

  ‘Too noisy for you out there?’ Talbot said as he closed the door.

  ‘I’m getting old; the years are overtaking me. How are you bearing up, you and your mother?’

  ‘As if a very great weight has been lifted from our shoulders.’ Justin tossed back his champagne.

  Cassidy glanced up at the empty wall above the fireplace. ‘I see you haven’t wasted any time in taking down your grandfather’s portrait.’

  ‘They have a weekly bonfire behind the stables. I had considerable pleasure in consigning the portrait to the flames personally.’

  There was a certain amount of pain on Cassidy’s face. ‘The man has passed on, Justin, let go, renounce this continuing hatred.’

  ‘Forgiveness, is that what you’re preaching today? Forget how I suffered, Father – the way he treated my mother was abominable.’

  ‘Forgiveness is everything. Christ even forgave Judas when he stepped in through the gate at the Garden of Gethsemane to betray him.’

  ‘Well, as he hanged himself, it didn’t do him much good.’

  ‘Because he couldn’t forgive himself,’ Cassidy said. ‘Once he stepped through that gate – the Judas gate, as it has become known – there was no going back. It’s the same for all of us when our actions betray our loved ones, we also betray ourselves.’

  Talbot took it badly. ‘Are you suggesting this applies to me?’

  Before Father Cassidy could reply, the door opened and Jack Kelly looked in. ‘Ah, there you are, Justin. Could I have a word? It’s important.’

  Justin was so angry that he didn’t even excuse himself, and followed Kelly through the crowd and out of the front door. They stood in the porch, rain falling.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Talbot asked.

  ‘I’ve heard from Curry at Collyban. Mickeen was found by his mechanic, who called in the air ambulance service and the Chinook flew in.’

  ‘So what are you telling me?’

  ‘They found a spark of life.’

  Talbot grabbed him by his tie. ‘You said he was dead.’

  ‘And well he might be. They’re delivering him to the neurological unit at the Seaton Hospital in Belfast. Plenty of people on the staff there are sympathetic to our cause. We’ll have no difficulty finding out what’s going on.’

  ‘If he gets to open his mouth, I’m finished,’ Talbot
said.

  ‘Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,’ Kelly said. ‘In the state he’s in, he could die at any minute. For the moment, I want you to carry on as normal. Don’t discuss this with anyone, and that certainly means your mother.’

  ‘Did Mickeen have any kin in Collyban?’

  ‘All gone abroad years ago.’

  ‘So Sean Dillon could be his only relative.’

  ‘I’d say so, and I know what you’re getting at. He’s bound to be informed one way or the other.’

  ‘Then I’ll have to be ready for him,’ Talbot said.

  ‘With a pistol under your pillow?’ Kelly shook his head. ‘You’ll need more than that with Dillon. Anyway, I’m off to make some calls to Belfast. I’ll talk to you later.’

  He hurried away through the rain and Talbot turned and went back in. A match flared in the depths of the great porch, revealing Jean Talbot lighting the cigarette she’d come out to enjoy earlier when she’d been interrupted by the arrival of her son and Kelly.

  Secrets, always secrets. As she inhaled, the glow of the cigarette illuminated that porcelain face and dark eyes. On the other hand, there was a mystery man named Sean Dillon. Perhaps there were things she could find out about him. She flicked her cigarette out into the rain and returned inside.

  8

  It was six-thirty at Holland Park, evening dark closing in when Dillon and Holley called with the intention of taking Roper down to dinner at the Dorchester. As they were discussing it he got a call from the Gulfstream and put it on speaker.

  ‘We’re on our way back,’ Ferguson told him. ‘We left an hour ago.’

  ‘Farley informed me they’d received a return flight plan. I thought you’d be staying longer. Didn’t you like it?’

  ‘No, Roper, it didn’t like us, which is why we left as soon as possible, so shut up and listen to what happened.’

  As might be expected from an old military hand, the report was brief, but concise and clear, leaving nothing out.

  ‘Holley and Dillon are with me,’ Roper said. ‘You’ve really been to war, General.’

  ‘You could say that. We’ve left seven men dead, one way or another. Have you any comment, Daniel?’

  ‘Colonel Ahmed Atep and Abu Salim weren’t there when I last visited. I could believe many things about Dak Khan, but the Al Qaeda connection is something new.’

  ‘It’s a good thing Captain Abu Salim was on your side,’ Roper told Ferguson.

  ‘He certainly saw Colonel Atep off in spectacular fashion, but that was the Pathan in him. A matter of honour and revenge for his two Sergeants,’ Ferguson said.

  ‘So where does this leave us?’ Roper asked.

  ‘With further proof that Shamrock exists, and another codename – an important person in London known as the Preacher.’

  ‘Unfortunately if we insert that into the computer and demand an answer, it will give us precisely nothing,’ Dillon cut in.

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ Ferguson answered. ‘Not when Roper starts digging. I’ve every faith in him.’

  ‘Most kind,’ Roper said. ‘We’ll be seeing you in about nine hours or so?’

  ‘That’s it. Over and out.’

  Roper shook his head. ‘What an amazing exploit.’ ‘Something to celebrate,’ Holley told him. ‘Are you up for the Dorchester?’

  ‘Try and stop me,’ Roper glanced at the clock. ‘Let’s say about a quarter to eight. I’ve got a few things to wrap up here.’

  At Talbot Place, there were still villagers in the Great Hall, many with drink taken, but people were having such a good time that they didn’t want to go. Justin leaned against the wall by the study door, watching his mother holding court at the foot of the stairs; so popular, so loved by the people, he told himself with a kind of envy, but then she was Mary Ellen come back to life.

  He was waiting for Kelly and getting impatient. It had been almost an hour since the man had gone to his car to get things moving in Belfast, but suddenly there he was, entering through the front door and hurrying over to him.

  ‘I’ve got news,’ he said. ‘Let’s go in the study.’

  They went in, and Justin closed the door and shot the bolt. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I’ve been in touch with a friend, Brian Carson, who shared a cell with me in the Maze prison. He’s a good man and owns a large construction company, but his silent partners are a Provo syndicate. He only has to lift a phone to contact our sympathizers.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Mickeen was taken straight into intensive care, where a scan diagnosed a fractured skull and possible brain damage. He hasn’t recovered consciousness and is scheduled for emergency neurosurgery.’

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘No, there’s more. Apparently he could die at any moment. There’s only a five per cent chance of him surviving the surgery.’

  ‘So we just live with it and hope,’ Talbot said.

  ‘That’s it, Justin, but our source in the hospital is absolutely sound. Whatever happens, we’ll be informed as quickly as anybody.’

  Talbot laughed harshly. ‘Well, let’s hope the old bastard obliges us all by dying quickly. We’ll have a drink on it.’ He started to move to the bar and his mobile sounded.

  It was the Preacher, and Talbot nodded to Kelly, a finger to his mouth, and put his mobile on speaker. ‘I presume the funeral passed without incident?’ the Preacher said.

  ‘Perfectly, but this is Ireland and people expect a wake,’ Talbot told him. ‘Half the villagers are still here enjoying themselves.’

  ‘I’m glad someone is happy,’ the Preacher said.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Talbot asked.

  ‘Ferguson and Miller were enticed into a trip to the border area by an illegal gun runner named Dak Khan, on the promise of meeting Shamrock.’

  ‘Where an ambush was waiting, I presume? Did something go wrong?’

  ‘My information is sketchy. Apparently Khan and his people were all disposed of.’

  ‘Could we have it in plain language? Khan and his people have ended up dead and Ferguson and Miller were responsible?’

  ‘So it would appear.’

  ‘Well, good for Ferguson: there’s life in the old dog yet. He is, after all, a Grenadier. All I can say is your asset needs changing. He’s obviously hopeless.’

  ‘He’s dead, too,’ Hassan Shah said. ‘A car bomb.’

  ‘Not Ferguson, that one.’ Justin Talbot shook his head. ‘Not his style. I’m sure your man had plenty of enemies. Well, at least that means you don’t have to get rid of him yourself now.’

  ‘Al Qaeda will punish his killers as they deserve, and the same will happen to Ferguson and his people. I wouldn’t be so cavalier, Talbot. The fact that they’re persisting in the search for Shamrock means that they are your problem, too.’

  ‘Well, I’ve had other things on my mind. For the moment, you’ll have to manage without me.’

  He switched off and Kelly said, ‘You’re not going to share the Mickeen Oge Flynn problem with him then?’

  ‘Am I, hell. Now, let’s have the drink.’ He went to the bar and poured whiskey.

  Kelly took the glass offered. ‘I remember in the old days when I was on the Army Council, Charles Ferguson was top of the list of people you didn’t get involved with if you could avoid it.’

  ‘Now you know why.’ Justin emptied his glass. ‘It’s been a long day. Let’s see if we can ease everyone out.’ He pulled back the bolt and led the way into the Great Hall.

  There was silence, and then Jean Talbot moved in through the curtains. Seeking her son earlier and finding the study door bolted, curiosity had sent her round to the terrace. She’d halted at the study’s French windows, partially covered by a half-drawn curtain, aware of the murmur of voices. The window was never locked. She’d eased the handle and opened it just enough to hear everything that was being said, and none of it made her happy. And she had not the slightest idea what to do about it.

 
Dillon, Roper and Holley were about to set out to dinner, when Dillon’s mobile sounded.

  ‘Switch it off, for Christ’s sake,’ Roper said.

  But it was too late, for Dillon, already answering, heard the unmistakable Ulster tones of a young woman saying, ‘Would that be Mr Sean Dillon, of Stable Mews, Mayfair, London?’

  He slipped back into the accent of his childhood. ‘It is indeed, my love.’

  ‘I’m calling from Belfast, Mr Dillon. I’m Sergeant Eileen Flanagan, Police Service of Northern Ireland.’

  ‘And what can I be doing for you?’

  ‘An old gentleman called Mickeen Oge Flynn has been admitted to Seaton Hospital, and a search in his wallet has discovered a next-of-kin card.’

  Dillon was all attention. ‘Mickeen is my uncle. I’m his only relative. Has he had a heart attack or something?’

  ‘No, it’s nothing like that. I’m not supposed to go into clinical details. If you phone the hospital, they’ll be able to answer your questions.’

  ‘For the love of God, girl, can’t you tell me more? Is it serious?’

  ‘All right, but don’t get me into trouble. He was working under a motor car and it fell on him. He was discovered by his mechanic, one Patrick O’Rourke. The air ambulance service brought him to the Seaton Hospital in Belfast. I understand it doesn’t look good, but, really, you’ll have to talk to the hospital about that. I have Patrick O’Rourke’s mobile phone number, would you like it?’

  ‘Yes, I would.’ Dillon went to Roper’s desk and found a pen and she dictated the number to him.

  ‘Will you be coming?’ she said.

  ‘Definitely. God bless you.’

  The others waited expectantly and he told them the worst. He said to Roper, ‘If you could get Seaton Hospital online and find me the right person to speak to, I’d appreciate it.’

  ‘I’ll get right on to it,’ Roper said. ‘You do intend to go over there?’

  ‘As fast as I can, so we’ll need to check out flights from Heathrow.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Holley said. ‘I’ll fly you myself.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Dillon said.