Day of Reckoning

'Certainly, Brigadier.'

Regan was pushed out, and Ferguson turned to Dillon and Blake. 'So, we take him to Holland Park, where you, Dillon, will squeeze out the last drop of juice.'

'My pleasure, Brigadier,' Dillon said.

They delivered Regan to Holland Park and drove in through the electronic gates. The security guards wore neat navy blue blazers and flannel slacks.

'Nursing home? What is this?' Regan asked.

'It's a fortress,' Ferguson told him. 'And the gentlemen in blazers are all military police. There's no way out of here, as you'll find for yourself.' He turned to Dillon. 'Let Helen settle him in and feed him. You and Blake stay. I'll be back.'

His Daimler drove away. They took Regan up the steps between them, his wrists still manacled. The door opened and a very large man appeared.

'Mr Dillon, sir.'

'Another one for you, Sergeant Miller, one Sean Regan. He shot a Royal Military Policeman in Derry two years ago.'

'That would be Fred Dalton.' Miller's face was like stone. 'He survived, but had to take a medical discharge. Oh, I'll take good care of you, Mr Regan.'

He reached for Regan's left shoulder with a hand the size of a meat plate, and Helen Black came down the hall stairs. 'Is this the prisoner, Sergeant Miller?'

Miller got his feet together. 'Yes, ma'am.'

'Good. Room ten, unpack him, then we'll have sandwiches and tea in the parlour.'

'As you say, ma'am.'

Regan turned. 'What is this? Who's she?'

'Sergeant Major Black, and don't be a male chauvinist, Regan,' Dillon said. 'She shot two Provos in Derry and holds the Military Cross.'

'Fuck you, Dillon.'

'That's bad language in front of a lady. We can't have that, can we, sergeant?' he asked Miller.

'We certainly can't, sir.' Miller squeezed Regan's left arm very hard. 'Up we go, there's a good gentleman.'

Blake said, 'Now what?'

'Oh, they have a canteen, a kitchen. We won't starve.' Dillon smiled. 'We'll sort Regan out later.'

Upstairs, Regan was astounded. He had a decent bedroom, a bathroom, a view of the garden, even if it was through barred windows. He even had a fresh shirt, blazer and slacks, like the guards'. Miller took him downstairs to a small sitting room, a gas fire flickering in the hearth. There was soup, ham sandwiches and a glass of dry white wine. Miller stood by the wall, enigmatic. Regan, slightly euphoric at the difference from Wandsworth, said, 'Could I have another glass of wine?'

'Of course, sir.'

Miller poured the glass of Chablis, and behind the mirror Ferguson, Dillon, Hannah — who had just arrived — and Helen Black watched.

Ferguson said, 'You all know the story by now. This is a bad business, so we make sure he talks. I'd like you to go in, Sergeant Major, and you, Dillon. Facts, that's what I need.'

'Certainly, sir.' Helen Black nodded to Sean. 'Good guy, bad guy, suit you, Sean?'

'Nothing better. Takes me back to my days at the National Theatre.'

'Yes, you have told us that one before. Let's do it.' She led the way out. 'But follow my lead.'

'Shall I leave, ma'am?' Miller asked, as they stepped into the room.

'No, I might need you, Sergeant.' Her voice was different and very hard. 'This is a Provisional IRA gunman. He crippled Fred Dalton. Do you think Fred was his first?'

'I doubt it, ma'am,' Miller said coldly.

'Right, but I'd like you to manacle him, Sergeant. Once a killer, always a killer.'

'Certainly, ma'am.'

'Now, look here,' Regan protested.

'Just hold out your wrists and be a good boy.'

Regan was sweating and very, very worried. He'd had three weeks in Wandsworth, with the lavatory bucket, — the twice-a-week showers, the unwelcome attentions of certain wild-eyed prisoners, and others: basic English criminals who didn't like the IRA. The contrast of his treatment at the safe house spoke for itself. In a way, he'd thought he was going to be all right, but now he had this woman who looked like his elder sister, acting like the Gestapo.

She unbuttoned her jacket, revealing the holstered Colt. 'Now then, let's get started.'

Roper had joined the group on the other side of the mirror. 'She's really very good.'

'Outstanding,' Blake agreed.

'And still won't take a commission,' Ferguson said. 'You can't buy her, sir,' Hannah put in.

'I know,' Ferguson sighed. 'Very depressing.'

And then, Helen Black started to work.

The change was astonishing. This pleasant, decent Englishwoman seemed to take on a new persona.

'I've been fighting people like you for years. The bomb and the bullet, women and kids — you couldn't care less. I shot dead two of your bastards in Derry. They were parking a van with fifty pounds of Semtex on board outside a nurses' hostel. Well, we couldn't have that, could we? I took a bullet in the left thigh, got the bastard who did it, then sat up and got his friend in the back as he ran away.'

Regan was terrified. 'For Christ's sake, what kind of woman are you?'

She grabbed his jaw and shook his head painfully from side to side. 'The Apache Indians used to give their prisoners to their women to go to work on. I'm that kind of woman.'

'Excellent,' Ferguson said. 'She should be at the National Theatre herself.'

'You crippled a comrade of mine. Fred Dalton.' She took out her Colt and touched him between the eyes. 'These are hollowpoints, you scum. I pull this trigger and your brains are on the wall.'

'For God's sake, no,' Regan cried.

Dillon caught her wrist and turned the gun. 'No. Sergeant Major, this isn't the way.'

She turned, as if in fury. 'I'll be back.' She walked out. Regan was shaking. Dillon said to Miller, 'Uncuff him, Sergeant, he isn't going anywhere.'

'As you say, sir.' Miller got out a key and unlocked the manacles. Dillon opened his old silver cigarette case, took out two cigarettes, lit them, and gave Regan one.

'There you go, just like in Now Voyager.'

Regan was shaking. 'What in the hell are you talking about?'

'Never mind, Sean, I've a weakness for old movies. Now listen. Me, I got smart. I could have faced a Serb firing squad, but Ferguson is an extraordinarily powerful man. He saved my life, and in return I dropped working for the glorious cause and work for him instead. Which means I'm alive.' Regan was trembling, and Dillon turned to Miller. 'A large brandy, Sergeant.'

'Certainly, sir.'

Miller opened a cupboard and returned with a glass, which Regan emptied at one throw. He looked up at Dillon. 'What do you want?'

'What's best for you. Look, Ferguson's in charge now, and you did shoot that fella, Dalton. Peace process or not, he'll make you stand up in court if he wants to.'

On the other side of the mirror, Ferguson said, 'In you go, Sergeant Major.'

Helen Black went back into the sitting room, a document in one hand. 'All right, I've had enough. It's back to Wandsworth for you, you bastard.'

Regan simply fell apart. 'For God's sake, tell me what you want, just tell me.'

'Excellent,' Roper said. 'Pure Gestapo. They used physical abuse much less than people realized. Didn't need to. They just messed with their heads.'