country, thought Leary, smiling at
his philosophical musings. Perhaps that was why they had chosen to call the meeting here. He sucked on his cigarette and waited.
Matthew Finan found a suitable spot about halfway up the slope. He turned and looked back into the dimly lit car park and found that he was able to pick out the shape of the Renault easily.
Moving quickly, he unzipped the black bag and removed the contents.
The Heckler and Koch HK8I rifle felt reassuringly heavy in his hands. He swung it up to his shoulder and peered through the nightscope, easily picking out Leary in its green hue.
Finan slammed in a twenty-round magazine and chambered one of the 7.62mm rounds, then he moved the weapon slowly and evenly until the cross-threads settled on Leary’s head.
Finan lowered it again and released the bipod on the front of the barrel. He propped the twin metal legs against a tree stump and settled himself into position on the damp grass.
He unwrapped a piece of chewing gum and pushed it into his mouth.
He waited.
Leary took a final drag on the cigarette then dropped it and ground it out beneath his foot. He rubbed his hands together and decided that due to the chill in the air he might be better off in the car. After all, he didn’t know how much longer he’d have to wait. Leary closed the door and turned the key in the
ignition. He allowed the heater to blow hot air for a few minutes, warming his hands at the vents, then he switched it off again.
‘Come on,’ he muttered, gazing first at his watch then at the dashboard clock.
He leant forward to switch on the radio.
There was a light tapping on the passenger-side window.
Leary turned quickly. He saw a figure outside the car. Almost unconsciously he allowed one hand to touch the butt of the Glock as he reached to unlock the door.
‘It’s open,’ he called.
The figure outside didn’t move.
‘I said, it’s open,’ Leary repeated. ‘Get in the front.’
The door opened and a thin-faced man with thick, black hair slid into the seat.
For long seconds he and Leary regarded each other indifferently.
It was the older man who spoke first.
‘You’re late,’ said James Mulvey.
‘It was a long drive,’ Leary told him.‘Perhaps if you’d picked somewhere nearer, I’d have got here sooner.’
Mulvey wasn’t slow to pick up the edge in Leary’s words. His eyes narrowed slightly.
‘Where’s Finan?’ he wanted to know.
‘He’s around.’
‘Why isn’t he with you? He needs to hear what we’ve got to say too.’
‘So, where’s Donnelly?’ Leary wanted to know.
Mulvey hooked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Inside.’
‘Go and tell him to come out here.’
‘It’s warmer inside. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink. The both of yous.’ Mulvey prepared to open the Renault’s door.
‘I’m fine here,’ Leary told him.‘Whatever you’ve got to say, say it.’
Mulvey drew in a deep breath. There’s no need for this, you know,’ he said gently. ‘We’re not the enemy.’
‘Are you sure about that, Jimmy?’ Leary chided.
Mulvey’s face registered anger.
‘You got me here to talk,’ the younger man said.‘So talk.’
Matthew Finan readjusted the sight on the HK8I and pressed his eye more firmly to it. He carefully arranged the cross-threads so that Mulvey’s head was at their centre.
Then he gently rested his finger on the trigger and waited.
James Mulvey shifted in his seat and allowed his gaze to travel from the windscreen to the interior of the car. There were several tapes scattered round the back seat. An old newspaper open at page three. Some sweet wrappers.
The car smelt of cigarette smoke.
‘It’s like a bloody tip in here,’ Mulvey observed.
‘You didn’t drag me halfway across Ireland to talk about the state of my fucking car. Jimmy,’ Leary snapped. ‘Now what do you want?’
Mulvey pulled at the lobe of one ear and regarded his younger companion.
‘What you’ve been doing has got to stop,’ he said finally.
Leary met his gaze and held it.‘Says who?’ he wanted to know.
‘Northern Command. What I’m telling you comes from the top. From the men in charge.’
‘From the men in charge of you,’ barked Leary, pointing an accusatory finger at the older man.
‘What you’re doing isn’t helping the Cause,’ Mulvey hissed. ‘Fucking bombs here, there and Christ knows where. Those days are over, Declan.’
‘For you, maybe.’
‘We’ve won. The Brits are prepared to give us what we want. Prisoners are being released every week. Jesus, your own brother comes out in two weeks.They haven’t insisted on decommissioning. There’s no need to keep fighting.’
‘It’s still not our country though, is it? Why did you join the organisation in the first place, Jimmy? Can you remember?’
Mulvey exhaled deeply. ‘I wanted my country back,’ he said. ‘I wanted the Brits out. I wanted guys like me to have the same kind of chance as any Proddie. I wanted an Ireland ruled by Irishmen. I wanted those six fucking counties over the border to be part of that Ireland.’
‘So why have you given up?’ Leary asked. Too old? Too tired? Did you lose your guts in the same jail cell you lost your ideals?’
Mulvey turned angrily in his seat. ‘I was fighting for this country while your mother was still wiping your fucking arse,’ he rasped.
That was your choice. Just like it’s my choice now. Ten years ago you’d have been patting me on the back, not telling me to stop.’
Ten years is a long time. A lot’s changed.’
‘How long were you in Long Kesh?’
‘Seven years.’
‘And for what?’
‘For what we’ve got now. We’ve got peace on our terms. We’re as close to a united Ireland as we’ve ever been.’
The six counties are still ruled from London, Jimmy. It doesn’t matter what fancy names you give to those bastards who sit at Stormont. They’re doing what the
Brits tell them. In my book that doesn’t make a united Ireland.’
There are Sinn Fein delegates in London this week having talks with the British government. It’s a politicians’ game now, Declan, not a soldiers’.’
‘So what are you telling me, Jimmy?’
‘I’m telling you to lay off. You, Finan and the rest. You’ll destroy everything we’ve fought for if you don’t.’
‘Bullshit. The Brits are never going to give us everything we want.’
They will in time. But not while you and your boys are running around planting bombs on fucking buses.’
‘You “sixty-niners” are all the same,Jimmy. You think because you started this that it’ll end when you want it to.’
