“Sounds fun. As long as you promise I’ll win.”
“The only tip I’ll give you is to ignore whatever I tell you will win. That will narrow the field down for you.” Recent luck had led him to believe his selections amounted to highly valuable information for anyone looking to pick a horse to finish second.
“Are you finished?” Tom asked.
“I think I’ll have a bit more coffee. You get going if you need to.”
“You certainly do enjoy your caffeine.”
“I’d tell you it’s my only vice but I’d be lying.”
Tom got up from his chair and leaned forward to kiss Melanie on both cheeks. “I’ll call you about Friday. If you change your mind let me know in time, so I can invite Julia or someone else!” Then he turned and headed for his room, turning back at the entrance to the dining room to look at her and remember the moment. He couldn’t be sure when or if he would ever have breakfast again with Melanie Adams.
Connor had arrived early at the park for his second meeting with the Brit. It was another ice cold day in keeping with his mood and he hoped he wouldn’t have to wait around long. He didn’t fancy sitting on the nearby bench and freezing to death so walked in a wide circle around the meeting spot. A few hardy types had braved the freezing cold to stretch their legs. Everyone walked with a purpose though; no one was just taking a lunchtime stroll for the sake of it. On a warmer day the benches would be filled with office workers eating their sandwiches but not today.
Connor had telephoned the previous day to the Head of Operations in Belfast and updated him about his first meeting with Jones. He had promised to go straight to see the Chief and update him. It wasn't easy to telephone the Chief directly at home, especially regarding the most delicate matters, as it was always assumed someone was monitoring his calls. Connor wanted to know from the Chief what limits were there on his actions. He knew it was important to the Chief to silence the Murphy boy but was it truly at any cost, as he’d first suggested. Connor knew those words had been spat out in anger. And it hadn’t been the right time to question what the Chief said.
Connor was an expert shot and normally that was sufficient for his work. However, what if the only way to guarantee a result was to detonate a car bomb as Murphy passed. That had always worked well in the past but such unrefined methods were no longer considered acceptable. Semtex going off in a public street inevitably led to a risk of widespread casualties. There was supposed to be a cease-fire in place. Connor made it very clear to his contact he needed the Chief to spell out very precisely what was acceptable.
Connor spotted Jones hurrying towards the meeting point, which given he was carrying more than a few extra pounds, was quite an achievement in itself. Connor intercepted his path by coming up behind him. “I’m here,” he said simply but it was enough to make Jones jump, which had been the intention.
Connor came straight to the point. "What do you know?” he said brusquely.
“Let’s walk,” Jones said, but it sounded a bit too much like an order for Connor’s like. “More private,” Jones added encouragingly.
Connor immediately found himself having to walk faster than he liked, to keep pace with the man. A bit of a bloody ex soldier’s march, he thought.
"He’ll be up before the judge tomorrow,” Jones said. “A two minute appearance in court to hear the charges. Then he’ll be remanded in solitary until his trial.”
“I need to know routes and time.”
“He’s in court at four.” Jones reached into his inside coat pocket and withdrew some folded paper. “I’ve marked the map,” he explained, as he handed the paper to Connor. “Give me a number where I can reach you in case they change the time or anything.”
Murphy had brought with him a compliments slip from the hotel, detailing the address and telephone number.
"I'm staying here,” he said, thrusting the slip towards the Brit who glanced at it before folding it neatly and placing it in his pocket.
"I hope you’re not planning anything too wild,” Jones cautioned. “It would be totally unacceptable. We don’t want mayhem on the streets of London. Neither do I want to see innocent people harmed.”
“A very touching speech. Now why don’t you just bugger off?” It amused Connor to emphasise the word bugger. They had Jones on film with the fifteen year old who had encouraged him to enjoy her however he wanted, just don’t make her pregnant.
Jones saw no point in responding. He understood the innuendo. He wanted to be away from here as soon as possible. Being around this terrorist made him feel unclean as everything about Ireland did nowadays. For him it was a place synonymous with death and despair. The people who lived in the North deserved what they had created. A little piece of hell on earth in his opinion, inhabited by more than one devil. He did though want to know how many terrorists there were running around London. He didn’t want their troubles soiling where he lived.
“What backup do you have?” Jones asked.
“That’s my business.”
“You bloody Irish are all the same.”
"Know a lot of Irish people do you?”
Jones looked surprised by the question. "Enough," he answered.
"Only I wondered where you'd gained your in-depth understanding of the Irish people,” Connor said sarcastically. “Was it from fifteen year old girls or did you actually meet some adults?” Connor didn’t know too much about Jones time in Ireland apart from how he had been trapped. He assumed he might well have been responsible for the death or imprisonment of old friends. He remembered the soldier like march and wished he could have Jones in the sights of an Armalite, rather than be
