Thursday March twenty-ninth. GeorgeBlack-more took on full responsibility for the termination of James Riley. One week from this date at ten forty five Blackmore would calmly walk into Riley’s Post Office and shoot the man dead. Two shots, one in the forehead and one in the temple for insurance. Then he and his accomplices would rob the post office and be gone in one minute and forty seconds. It was cold and damp. People were milling around the post office. Giro day again, Riley’s patrons had made it through another miserable week. Similar scenes were being enacted in most towns and cities throughout the United Kingdom. Today was different. Two dangerous men collars turned up to ward off the biting wind ambled past the post office. One stopped, looking over the head of an octogenarian, striving to see inside. Three queues of souls eagerly waiting for their government handout were milling about. Impassively he shrugged, turned to his friend and indicated that they should come back later. The old lady looked up and smiled ‘Aye,’ she said. ‘If you get into this queue, you could be as auld as me by the time you reach the counter.’
‘Yer not wrong Mrs. yer not wrong,’ agreed Blackmore, turning on his heel and heading away from the place.
‘What do ye think?’ asked his tall sallow compatriot, the third accomplice, the one Black-more was unsure of.
‘What do ya mean?’ he snapped.
‘What about the fuckin crowd George. In the shop?’ prompted the other.
‘Well there’s two ways of luckin at it son. One, if they give us any trouble we top a few. If they don’t there will be that many witnesses they won’t know what end of them’s up,’ replied Blackmore, affording a grudging smile.
‘I still don’t understand,’ countered the other, somewhat nonplussed.
‘Agh it’s simple. When ye have two people witnessing an event they give slightly different stories. So when ye get twenty or thirty seeing it, ye’d be lucky if ye cud get two te agree on anything. One person would say Ronnie Barker did it, whilst another would argue that they seen Ronnie Corbett. The whole thing will be over in the blink of an eye. Most people will be running for cover. Some will be diving to the ground, others will be protecting their kids. It will be pandemonium. No son, a crowd is better. Nobody wants to be a hero in a crowd. Why should they, when the fucker next te them has done a Jessie Owens?’
‘Aye yer right, I see what ye mean now George, it’s a goer then.’
‘Too true my man, that’s one less republican come this time next week’.
Billy Clements was confused. Why would Dave Graham lie to him? Had he not saved the man’s life? There was something very fishy about that guy and come to think of it, he seemed to avoid talking about his neighbourhood. Clements tried to remember back to the evening of the attack. It had been four days now. He had tried the phone number Tullen gave him. ‘No-one by that name here mate,’ had been the reply to his query about Dave Graham. Another thing that struck Clements as odd, was the way Graham had taken the attack. He had not given it much thought at the time but the other’s reaction was becoming apparent now. When a complete stranger tries to run you through, you don’t just shrug your shoulders. There was no shock afterwards, he took the incident in his stride, indeed he hardly mentioned the attack again. Strange behaviour for a common five eight. No I think our Mr. Graham has something to hide. I wonder if he is in something and if so, which organisation? I am going to have to do a wee bit of snooping around. See if the name Graham rings any bells, that is if Graham really is his name.
Nathan Black was sitting in his usual spot waiting for Scott to put in an appearance. He was dressed casually, sipping a gin and tonic whilst surveying his surroundings. He marvelled at the people’s apathy. The previous evening a bomb had gone off in a pub killing two people and a young man had probably been crippled for life in some barbaric punishment beating. Not one person seemed to give a damn. He could quite easily be sitting in an hotel lounge in England or Germany or anywhere for that matter. But he was not, he was here in Belfast watching a bunch of callous bastards ignore murder and torture happening beneath their noses. What of Scott, what would he think of yesterday’s catalogue of disaster? He decided to experiment.Slowly he reached over and opened the newspaper fully, completely obscuring the table. Scott, when he did eventually put in an appearance, could not miss the banner headline. ‘Belfast. City of The Damned.’ Two more innocent lives forfeited, where in God’s name will it end?was the impassioned observation of the journalist. Scott was a couple of minutes late. His pint sat on the bar already settled with the distinctive ice cream head, the trademark of a well-kept cellar. ‘Hello Nick, mine I hope?’ said Scott.’Yes Maurice of course but if you would prefer something else?”
‘You’ve got to be joking, look at that head, nectar from the gods,’ he smiled, wiping the froth from his lips with the back of his hand.’I thought we’d sit here this evening if you don’t mind. My back is rather stiff from driving and these seats are more comfortable than a bar stool.’ Scott
positioning himself between the seats glanced at the newspaper and casually remarked’Business as usual I see,’ referring to the headline. Without further ado he folded the paper and asked Black where he had been today. Black was incensed. This buffoon is no different from the rest of them. Bloody animals, he thought. Keeping his emotions firmly in check he related how he had, had a successful day in Coleraine but found the drive, ‘A little tedious,’ due to the heavy rain.
‘I’ve just the cure for what ails you Nick,’ advised Scott.
‘I’m intrigued,’ replied Black.
‘Don’t be intrigued my man, be hungry. I bought a couple of pounds of fillet steak some wine and a baked Alaska for dessert. Please come to my place to dine this evening. I’m a passable cook you know, well at least I do a good steak. What do you say Nick? If you don’t mind me saying it, you look a wee bit stressed. It’ll do you good to have an informal evening. Shit you can even put your feet up if you wish. What do you say?’ pleaded Scott.
‘Well put so eloquently, how can one possibly refuse but on one condition.’
‘Yes and what would that condition be?’ inquired Scott, suspiciously.
‘I insist on bringing the wine.’
‘Done,’ agreed the Irishman, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Scott gulped down the last of his drink. ‘Now I must rush to get the meal prepared. I’ll expect you at eight thirty on the dot.’
‘Aye Aye captain. Just one small detail before you beat a retreat. Haven’t you forgotten something?’
‘No I don’t think so’, answered Scott, a look of puzzlement shading his face.
‘Your address old boy. I still don’t know it.’
‘Oh God, how bloody stupid of me. Sorry Nick, its number eleven Park Avenue. You know where I showed you when we were looking for your digs.’
‘Ah yes I remember, well off you pop and I’ll see you at precisely eight thirty.’
True to his word the Englishman was on Scott’s doorstep at exactly the agreed hour. Everything was prepared in anticipation of his arrival. Black was pleasantly surprised at the interior of the policeman’s home. He was by all accounts fastidious in his choice of decor furthermore the place was spotless. Vivaldi was playing in the background and a bottle of very acceptable sherry was decanting on a sideboard. Well, well, thought Black, our Maurice is full of surprises. ‘I must compliment you on your choice of decor. This really is a most pleasant room,’ said Nathan, accompanying the compliment with a sweep of his manicured hand.
‘Thanks Nick, but its no big deal really. I subscribe to town and country and a few other
lesser-known magazines. I must confess to having plagiarised the ideas from there.’
‘Why is it Maurice that you always sell yourself short? The ideas may have come from magazines but you had the flair to make the furnishings complement their setting. That my friend is a rare talent indeed.
‘Thanks anyway,’ said Scott, his face reddening. ‘I’m sorry Nick, I’m not used to people paying me compliments. Actually I am a bit of a loner. In fact I can’t remember the last time that anyone came to visit and that I am sorry to say is a fact,’ added Scott.
‘That Maurice is a real shame. People don’t realise what kind of person you really are. I’m sure if a friend of the opposite sex was to see what a home maker you are, you would not remain a bachelor for long.’
‘Cut it out would you. You’re going to embarrass me again, anyway I don’t feel comfortable in the company of women and I’m not ashamed to say I never have felt the inclination to pursue one either.’ Black decided to change the subject. He had no intention of forming a sexual relationship with this man. He had at first contemplated the idea but dismissed it out of hand when he observed Scott’s reaction to the quarrel a week earlier. No Maurice Scott would soon be jumping though hoops for him. No need to take unnecessary risks. The man was somewhat unpredictable and a sexual advance may bring about a totally adverse result. ‘I know that it is a touchy subject Maurice but I am in the business and I thought that I could steal a peek at your equipment.’
‘Well actually Nick, that is probably the real reason for my asking you round this evening. I still feel a wee bit awkward about that whole incident. You won’t be aware of it but I have spent the best part of my working life in the force. I have abided by the rule of law since I could walk and at the end of the day have very little to show for it. I have never discussed my work outside the office with another living soul and that includes relatives, not that I have any close ones.’
‘I’m sorry Maurice,’ interrupted Black. ‘It was never my intention to compromise you in any way.’
‘No, no let me finish Nick,’ said the Irishman solemnly, holding his large hands in front of him for emphasis. ‘What I was going to say is that I feel closer to you, than I ever have with another living person. I treasure the friendship between us and I don’t give a damn about the force or the murdering bastards in the paramilitaries. As you know, my hobby, no its more than that, my passion is my computer equipment. You asked me the other week about my records in work. You were correct in your assumption, I do bring them home with me. I watch the bulletins and make a history of all known terrorists from both camps. I have complete profiles on most members of the
INLA., the Provo’s and the loyalist UDA. and UVF. I have case histories of unsolved murders and most terrorist related crimes. I play Sherlock Holmes if you like and with the help of Agatha, my pet name for my PC., I have solved a few crimes months before the other so called detectives have come even close.Shit I had a murderer tagged a whole year before they even suspected him,’ he boasted.
‘I don’t quite understand Maurice. Are you telling me that you knew who committed a murder and did not divulge it to your superiors?’ asked an incredulous Black..
‘You’ve got it in one. What I would like to do is share the information with you. We could possibly work together on cases. A bit like Holmes and Watson. ‘I don’t mean to sound childish and I am asking you to break the law but if you just give it a couple of evenings I’m sure you will become as hooked as I am. I’m telling you all this because I trust you implicitly. The information that I have divulged this evening, should you repeat it, would result in my discharge from the force. I would also, more than likely, have to face criminal charges.’
‘Jesus Maurice, I don’t know what to say!’ exclaimed Black. ‘This is a bombshell of nuclear proportions you have landed in my lap. I’m excited I have to admit yet afraid at the same time. Of course I would never betray your confidence but I must have time to think about your proposition. Please give me a day or two,’ Black’s performance was outstanding. He could not believe the gold mine that he had stumbled upon. His meeting Scott had been a most fortuitous experience and he was bound to take full advantage of the situation. The man had everything that he required and much more. Nathan could hardly contain himself. He expressed deep concern for the danger of his friend’s situation but begged forgiveness for having to leave early. In truth he was so elated at Scott’s revelations that he feared the other would see through his performance. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, he told Scott that his mind was in turmoil. He had to have time to evaluate and must leave before he became too embroiled in a situation from which there may be no turning back. He assured Scott that no matter what decision he came to, that he would still remain his friend, promising to meet the policeman in their local two days hence.