probably be none too pleased either.
‘Kathryn,’ a voice said from behind as her bag was placed on the seat beside her. She whipped around to see Father Kinsella and got to her feet, expecting to find Hank too. When there was no sign of him her eyes rested on the priest’s.
‘It’s not been the best of days,’ he said. ‘Don’t ask me any questions, Kathryn. I’ve just come to tell you to go home.’
‘You expect me not to ask about my husband?’
‘No, but I don’t have an answer for you, that’s all. You have your return air ticket. Get a hotel for the night and go back to your children in the morning.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Yes. That’s it.’
A dangerous blend of rage and frustration began to percolate in her. ‘And you expect me to just walk off and do as I’m told and not even question what the hell is going on just because you say so?’
‘I do, Kathryn,’ he said with an assertive look.
‘Well, damn you!’ she said, raising her voice.
Her ire did not appear to have any effect on him.
‘It’s a war we’re in, Kathryn.’
‘I’m not at war with anyone.’
‘Sure you are. You were born into a family at war. You hate these people as much as I do, you always have.’
‘I hated them because I was told to. It wasn’t my hate. It was my mother’s, and yours. Mostly yours . . . You’re an evil man.’
‘Evil, am I? Because I’m a priest at war? Go home, Kathryn, you don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I always thought you were evil, even when I was a child. That’s why I was always scared of you. I grew up with this stupid war and you know something, I don’t have a clue what it’s all about. And the reason I don’t have a clue is because what you’ve all been saying to me all my life doesn’t make any sense. Not today. I think it’s only people like you keep it going because you enjoy it. That’s why Hank isn’t here. That’s why you’re evil.’ She picked up her bag and stared into his eyes. ‘I don’t know what it was I did today, but I have a feeling that was evil too . . . If you don’t tell me where my husband is, right now, I’m going to find an English police station, walk in and tell them everything that I did and your part in it.’
‘Is that right?’ he said with a threatening look. ‘Are you sure you want to be playing those kind of games with me?’
‘Try me,’ she said just as defiantly.
Instead of being angry, he broke into a chuckle as he surreptitiously looked about to see if anyone was watching. He walked around the seat row to get closer to her.
‘Ah, Kathryn, Kathryn, Kathryn. For a moment there I was foolish enough to take on that Irish temper of yours—’
‘I’m not Irish, Father Kinsella,’ she said, cutting him off.
‘I’m American.’ She turned to leave and he grabbed her arm brutally.
‘Now you listen to me.’
‘Get off me,’ she shouted.
‘If you ever want to see your precious children again—’ and then he froze. Kathryn was staring at him in utter horror because of his threat, but Kinsella’s peripheral vision had picked up something that shut her out of his mind as warning bells rang in his head. Still holding Kathryn’s arm, he jerked his head around to see a man standing, watching, a few feet away. He didn’t know the man but he identified the eyes: they were as cold and malevolent as his own.
Kinsella weighed him in an instant and knew it was the enemy. In all of Kinsella’s years as a primary antagonist in the fight against the English he had never actually confronted the enemy himself. He had met many English, of course, and seen soldiers and police, but never had he actually come face to face with those who took part in the fight. He noticed a slight cut on his cheek and knew that he had seen him before, from a distance, that very evening, outside the MI5 headquarters. The man watching him like a predator was undoubtedly one of their dark forces and Kinsella had immediate respect for him if nothing else.
Kinsella let go of Kathryn’s arm, all the while keeping his eyes on the man, and noticing a pretty girl a few feet away watching him.
Stratton had been studying this large man in a tweed jacket talking with Mrs Munro as he walked across the hall, but it was not until he saw him grab her arm and utter what sounded like a threat to her children and then turn to look at him that he noticed the dog collar. It might not be too much of a wild guess that this man was the priest Lawton had referred to.
‘Father Kinsella,’ Stratton said, more of a statement than a question.
‘And who might you be?’ Kinsella asked, hostility in his voice, an instinctive reaction since this man was obviously a fighter like himself. He might never have faced the enemy before but that did not mean he would not be up to the task. If anything, years of hatred had ensured his aggression come the opportunity.
Stratton weighed the situation.Was this American a RIRA godfather? If so, he no doubt had a great deal to do with the events of the last few weeks. It was times like this he asked himself what Sumners would want him to do. He could arrest him on suspicion under the terrorism act, but there were other games to play.That was an aspect he enjoyed about this business. It wasn’t always about grabbing everything in reach. In fact, it was often quite the opposite. Stratton took a long look at the man. His arrogance was the clue to his next move.
‘I’m here for Kathryn,’ Stratton said.
‘She’s with me and we’re catching the first flight to the States,’ Father Kinsella said.
‘Don’t push it,’ Stratton said. ‘You can come along too if you want. Or you can walk away, alone.’
The priest knew he had lost this fight before it began.
But at least the man wasn’t here for him. The best he could do was cut his losses and walk away. He eyed Stratton coldly for a moment then looked at Kathryn.
‘You be careful, girl,’ he said, softly, hoping the threat was hoisted aboard.
Kathryn stood firm and looked at him defiantly. Father Kinsella could see it in her eyes and nodded. He stepped back, took another glance at Stratton, then walked away.
‘Be seeing you,’ Stratton said, unable to resist the parting shot, something for the man to sweat over.
The priest paused and started to turn his head to look at Stratton, then changed his mind, clenched his jaw, and walked on.
Kathryn turned to face Stratton as Aggy came alongside him.
‘Hank’s going to be okay,’ Stratton said.
‘When can I see him?’ she asked.
‘Soon . . . We need to go back into London. Some people want to talk to you.’
‘Am I under arrest?’ she said. There was no fight left in Kathryn. She felt tired and humble but above all relieved it was all over, the kidnapping at least. She felt guilty, even though she did not know exactly what she had done wrong.
‘That’s not for me to say,’ Stratton said.
She nodded and picked up her bag. Perhaps her feeling of guilt stemmed from her flirtation with the idea of freedom from Hank. She would live with that for the rest of her life.
Stratton indicated the exit and she walked past him towards it. Stratton and Aggy followed.
‘If he is a RIRA godfather, why’d you let him go?’ Aggy asked, out of earshot of Kathryn.
‘The devil you know . . . This war’s gonna last a long time. He’s not gonna get lost. I suspect she knows him pretty well. If he did have anything to do with what went on today we’ll have all the help we want from the Americans. He may be more useful on the street and we can pull him in any time. Something tells me that one will be in the fight to the bitter end.’
‘Will she be arrested?’ Aggy asked.
‘For meeting terrorists and carrying a parcel with no idea what it contained because she thought it would get her husband back? I doubt it. She’s the wife of a hero who risked his life in the fight against terrorism and helped save thousands of lives. He’ll probably be decorated by the Americans and us, and her part in it will remain a
