there was more to it than that?
He had spent many nights staring at one ceiling or another, turning it over in his mind, but every time he came close to the answer he looked away. One day he might have the strength to see that part of himself.
When he joined the Black Watch Royal Highland Regiment at the age of twenty, David Campbell had no concept of where his life would lead him. He was following the path of many boys from Glasgow, and knew full well he’d end up in Belfast, patrolling the streets, dodging bricks and bottles. The first time a woman spat on his boots, he had stopped in his tracks, staring at her in shock.
“Fuck away off home,” she’d said.
“Ignore her, lad,” the sergeant called from behind.
Belfast was a different place now. When Campbell approached the city just an hour before, he was impressed by the number of cranes dotting the skyline. These metallic signals of prosperity towered over every corner of Belfast; in the west where the Republicans’ power was strongest; in the east where the Loyalists held sway; in the south where the city’s wealthy had always lived; in the north where Protestant and Catholic fought over every inch of ground.
The city’s invisible borders remained the same as when Campbell first walked its streets holding a rifle eighteen years ago. The same lowlifes still fed off the misery they created, deepening the divisions wherever they could. The same hatreds still bubbled under the surface. But the city had grown fat, learning to mask its scars when necessary and show them when advantageous.
He turned from the window, went back to the sole bedroom, and dumped the holdall’s contents into a drawer. A flash of color caught his eye. There, among the worn clothes, pistol and loose rounds, lay his old Red Hackle. He lifted it, feeling the plume between his fingers. He hadn’t been able to wear the Black Watch’s traditional insignia for long.
Campbell was just five days past his twenty-third birthday, with less than three years of service, when he had been called to see the Commanding Officer. Lieutenant Colonel Hanson was a gruff man with a deeply lined face, who instilled fear into all under his command. Campbell’s chest fluttered as he knocked on the door.
“Enter,” a voice barked from inside, the Scots accent thick and hard.
Campbell opened the door, stepped inside, closed the door without showing the colonel his back, marched five paces, snapped his heels together and saluted. The colonel casually returned the gesture from behind his desk. Campbell kept his eyes straight ahead, ignoring the third man present.
“You may sit.” The colonel indicated the empty chair facing him. Campbell did so.
“Congratulations on your promotion, Corporal,” Colonel Hanson said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’ll get straight to the point. Have you heard of Fourteen Intelligence Company?”
“I’ve heard rumors, sir,” Campbell said. His nervousness intensified. Fourteen Intelligence Company was undercover, annexed to the SAS. It didn’t officially exist, but it was no secret. Fourteen Int did the dirty work, the stuff no one owned up to, the kind of things ordinary people go to prison for.
“Then you’ll know Fourteen Int is charged with intelligence gathering, and plays a vital role in our operations in Northern Ireland. It works closely with, but independently of, the Royal Ulster Constabulary, Special Branch, MI5, Force Research Unit and regular Army. It handles agents and informants in all the paramilitary groups in the Province and has saved countless lives.” Major Hanson indicated the third man, seated to his right. “This is Major Ross.”
“Good morning, Corporal,” Major Ross said. He wore no uniform but was instead casually dressed. His accent was Birmingham, or maybe Dudley.
“Good morning, sir,” Campbell said. Sweat trickled down his ribs.
Major Ross lifted a file from the desk and opened it. “David Patrick Campbell. Born in 1969 to a mixed-religion marriage, rare in Glasgow, and raised Catholic. Do you practise?”
“Sir?”
“Your religion. Do you go to Mass?”
“Not since I was at school, sir.” Campbell kept his back stiff, his hands on his knees.
“You left school at sixteen, no real qualifications, despite having above-average intelligence. Various menial jobs, a few stretches on the dole, before you joined the Black Watch. Why did you sign up?”
Campbell shifted in his seat. “There was nothing else to do, sir. No job. No future.”
Major Ross smiled. “I see. And what did your parents make of it?”
Campbell stared at Major Ross while he searched for a lie.
“Answer the major,” Colonel Hanson said.
A lie wouldn’t come, so Campbell was left only the truth. “I wasn’t speaking with them at the time, sir.”
“And why was that?” Major Ross asked.
“We’d had a falling-out a couple of years before, sir.”
“Over what?”
“I’d rather not say, sir.”
Colonel Hanson’s face reddened. “You’ll answer the question, corporal.”
“I had some trouble with the law, sir. My parents didn’t take it very well.” Campbell looked down at his hands.
“Some trouble with the law,” Major Ross echoed with a sly smile. “That’s one way to put it. You kicked the
