The man hesitated a second then backed off.
Doyle knocked on the door once then walked in. He recognised Jonathan Parker immediately.
The Commander of the Counter Terrorist Unit was seated behind his antique desk sipping from a bone-china tea cup. Only his eyes moved in Doyle’s direction as the younger man entered the room.
‘Have a seat, Doyle,’ said Parker, setting down his cup.
Doyle did as he was instructed, his attention now drawn to the other individual in the room who was sitting on a large, leather sofa to the right of Parker’s desk. He was holding a manilla file on his knee.
There was something familiar about him.
Parker nodded in the other man’s direction.
‘Doyle, I’d like you to meet Sir Anthony Pressman, the Home Secretary.’
That’s what the pricks in the suits were here for.
Pressman ran appraising eyes over the counter terrorist but his expression remained indifferent.
‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on?’ Doyle said to his superior.
Parker took a deep breath.
It’s about what happened in Belfast,’ Parker said quietly.
‘Which is where I should be now, not here discussing it,’ snapped Doyle.
‘I know how good you are at your job, Doyle. That’s why I’ve overlooked certain aspects of your behaviour over the years. You’re the best we’ve got and I don’t mind saying it.’
Doyle waved a hand in front of him. ‘Did you pull me off a fucking case to give me a testimonial?’ he said, ‘Because if you did, thanks a lot but put it in writing and let me get back to work.’
‘What you did in Belfast was unacceptable.’
Doyle turned slightly in his seat. The words had come from Pressman who was flicking through the file before him.
‘What I did in Belfast was unavoidable,’ the counter terrorist said sharply.
‘Have you any idea the damage you caused? The cost of your actions?’ Pressman continued.
Doyle smiled humourlessiy and shook his head. ‘I couldn’t give a fuck about
the cost,’ he said.‘l was trying to neutralise two known terrorists, in case you hadn’t
noticed, they’ve already killed ten people in the past three months.’
‘“Neutralise”,’ Pressman mused.‘What a quaint term. The problem is, Mr Doyle, that your actions caused more than a million pounds’ worth of damage to property and endangered countless innocent lives, not including those of the men you were attempting to “neutralise”. One of whom, I hasten to add, is now dead. Killed by you.’
‘They both would have been if I’d had my way,’ hissed Doyle.
‘The peace process between Great Britain and Ireland is continuing as we would wish. Action such as yours will only jeopardise an already unstable situation.’
Doyle got to his feet. This is bullshit,’ he said dismissively. ‘What am I supposed to do? Slap them on the wrists and tell them not to be such naughty boys?’
‘Sit down, Doyle,’ Parker told him.
The counter terrorist hesitated a moment then slumped back into the chair.
‘It isn’t as if this is an isolated incident, is it, Mr Doyle?’ Pressman said.
‘Your record with this organisation is littered with insubordination, disobedience and a complete disregard for the nature of your position.’
The nature of my fucking position is that I get paid for tracking down and removing terrorists,’ Doyle rasped. ‘People who are a threat to this country.’
‘Do you see yourself as a patriot, Mr Doyle?’
‘I’ve never thought about it. I’m just doing a job.’
‘How many people have you killed during the course of your duties?’
‘What the fuck has that got to do with anything?’
‘Your record,’ Pressman held up the file. ‘Includes your psychiatric report.
I’m not an expert, Mr Doyle, but from what I’ve read, some of your behaviour has bordered on the psychotic’
‘You’re right. You’re not a fucking expert. You know nothing about me or the way I work.’
‘Sean Doyle,’ Pressman read. ‘Only son of Irish parents. Both dead. You live alone. Never married. Borderline alcoholic. Sociopathic tendencies. You have a problem with authority. You’ve been injured on numerous occasions, two of them almost fatal. After both you were offered retirement but refused. May I ask why?’
‘Is it important?’
‘I’m curious. I can’t understand why a man would want to continue in a line of work that guarantees his being put at risk on a regular basis. Is there so little in your life, Mr Doyle, that you’re prepared to jeopardise it so easily?’
‘Someone once said to me that a man with nothing to live for has no fear of death,’ Doyle observed.
‘Very profound. Where is that man now?’
‘I shot him.’
A silence descended, finally broken by Pressman. It says in your file that you were involved in the death of a fellow counter terrorist agent some years ago,’ the Home Secretary noted. ‘Georgina Willis.’
Doyle glared at the politician. ‘We were working together when she was killed,’ he said.
‘In the Republic of Ireland.’
‘Spot on.’
Another long silence.
‘You may or may not be aware, Mr Doyle, that my government is presently engaged in talks with Sinn Fein with a view to ending the violence in Northern Ireland once and for all,’ said Pressman.‘Incidents such as those precipitated by you in Belfast recently are hardly conducive to the fulfilment of such a peace.’
‘You’re not negotiating with the IRA,’ Doyle said disdainfully.‘You’re surrendering to them.What have they contributed to this so-called peace?
Nothing. What about decommissioning?’
That will come,’ Pressman interjected.
‘Bollocks,’ snapped Doyle. ‘How many of the fuckers have you released from prison?’
‘That is a necessary step agreed to by both sides.’
‘Five more of them are released at the end of the week, aren’t they?’
That is the plan.’
This fight isn’t with the guys you’re talking to. The men I was after in Belfast are a new breed. They couldn’t give a fuck about your talks and your promises. They couldn’t even give a fuck about Sinn Fein.’
‘I assume you mean the so-called Real IRA?’
That’s exactly who I mean.’
‘Real IRA. Continuity IRA.They’re a very small fringe operation.’
Doyle shook his head.‘In three years they’ve already been responsible for twenty-eight bombs in Ireland and five over here. If decommissioning does ever happen, there’ll be plenty more of the Provos wanting to join them. This problem isn’t going to go away.’
‘Well,’ said Pressman, closing the file. ‘Whatever happens, it won’t concern you any longer, Mr Doyle.’
The counter terrorist shot Parker a look.
‘If it’s any consolation, Doyle, I’m against this,’ said the older man.
‘Against what?’ Doyle snapped.
The Home Secretary pressed his fingertips together and regarded Doyle evenly.
‘You’re being removed from the Counter Terrorist Unit,’ he said.
Removed!’ Doyle rasped. ‘Your methods are unsuitable,’ Pressman continued.
‘And, quite frankly, so are you. Your behaviour in Belfast proved that beyond question.’
‘I was doing a fucking job. For this country.’
‘A job you are now considered unfit for,’ Pressman observed.
Doyle looked at Parker.
