The car dropped Tullen at the corner of North Street in Belfast. He watched dejectedly as it sped away. He could not remember feeling more vulnerable as he watched it disappear up York Street. As usual for that time of the year the wind was howling and the inevitable rain began to spill it’s first drops upon his unprotected head. ‘Fuckin great,’ he observed. ‘When yer man blows me away, I’ll be left soakin outside the fuckin Telegraph. I can just picture the headline. ‘Hitman Misses Last Edition.’ Affording himself a wry smile, he scrutinised the black and white photographs in the rag’s display case. His heart was thumping as the moment of truth finally arrived. Connor held his breath as a vehicle slowed and drew to a halt at the kerb. Straining his eyes he peered through the now driving rain trying to catch sight of the driver. The man was crouched low in the front, he was by all intents and purposes alone. Connor was reluctant to move forward but was prompted by a sharp blast from the vehicle’s horn. Slowly he edged closer aware of the danger he was placing himself in. As he neared the car the passenger door flew open startling him. ‘Get fuckin in will ye,’ came a gruff command from the conveyance’s interior. Tullen did as he was bade but remained alert watching for the smallest sign of treachery. The driver’s hands remained where he could see them clenched tightly to the wheel. So far so good. Moving with more conviction Tullen jumped into the passenger seat dragging the door closed in one movement. Instantaneously the car sped away from the kerb with a screech of breaks. A hostile silence purveyed as each man groped for an opening gambit. It is not every day one comes face to face with a man who wants to kill him. ‘Hello there, filthy weather,’ Tullen broke the ice as he recognised the familiar face behind the wheel. Clements was concentrating on the road and breathing a sigh of relief. He had been sure that this was going to be his last day on earth. A built in distrust of Catholics had told him there was no way one would honour a promise. ‘Where in the name of fuck are ye takin me Billy? chuckled Tullen. Clements was startled at first then very angry. ‘I thought ye weren’t supposed to know who… ‘ he began to say but momentarily lost control as the first glimmer of recognition took hold. He had to fight with the wheel to bring the car back on an even keel. ‘What is this some kind of fuckin joke? If it is, I’m not laughin. What are you doin here Graham? Oops silly me, I know that’s definitely not yer real name,’ growled Clements. ‘Go te the top of the class Billy but one thing’s for sure it must be fate. This has got te be the most bizarre situation I have ever encountered. Do ye believe in fate Billy?’
‘What the fuck are you on? I don’t believe in fate or coincidences. This whole gig has got to be one big set up and Joe Cunt here is the pig in the middle. How far does this wee plot go back? That was a pretty convincin performance in Spain. I really thought yon greaser was tryin te kill ye. Ye must have had some laugh at my expense. Who else is in on the fuckin joke eh?’
‘If I could get a word in edgeways I’d explain that I never knew that ye existed before ye saved me life in Spain. Ye have to believe that or the operation is fucked before we start. Use yer head Billy, how could we possibly have staged an incident like yon? Fuck me if ye had arrived a split second later I was a dead man.’
‘Okay, just say ye have me convinced, although I’m not sayin that I am, how come out of all the people in the RA. they managed te choose you?. Explain that one to me.’
‘I can’t Billy, as I say it must be fate. Somebody up there is watchin over us. Ye saved me life Billy, we are fraternally bound. There’s no doubt that I owe ye me life and I always honour me debts. If there was a way I could have known that ye were involved with other camp I would have picked ye to be my partner. I trust ye with me life Billy cause in point of fact ye gave it back to me. I’m pleadin with ye te trust me on this one, for what it’s worth, they couldn’t have chosen a better team.’
‘That’s some pile of horse shite ye came away with there but I have te admit yon wee Spaniard had the look of murder on him when he tried te skewer ye,’ agreed Clements grudgingly. ‘One thing’s for sure I’ll feel a bit easier turnin me back on you rather than some other fenian fucker.’ Tullen laughed, as relief flooded through him. For the first time in days he felt safe. His laughter was full bodied and honest, verging on hysteria. Clements could not help himself, try as he might he could not control it, so affected by his companions mood that he burst into laughter as well. Tullen was right of course, an inseparable bond had been formed in Spain and both men realised with joy and commitment that they could rely upon each other implicitly. Clements drove on through Carrickfergus heading inland before pulling into the driveway of a cottage which stood back off the road. ‘This will be our billet for the duration Davy. Fuck it I know yer name’s not Davy. If we are gonna be partners I think we should start as we mean te go on,’ said Clements, offering his hand. Slowly Tullen accepted it and holding on firmly revealed his real identity. ‘Connor Tullen at your service, Con to me friends.’
‘Aye right,’ uttered Clements, nonchalantly refusing to admit that he genuinely sought the others friendship. A lifetime of bigotry is hard to discard in one moment of understanding. Despite his reservations he knew that a friendship had formed between them and who was he to argue with fate? ‘Okay, as the song goes you’d never get into our house we a fenian name like that, so prudence demands that ye stick te Davy, if yer gonna go knockin around my neck of the woods. As for me I’m not so keen te take on the mantle of alter boy just yet Con, no offence. If we stray into bandit territory ye can say me name is Simms, yeah Tommy Simms, that’s pretty cosmopolitan, agreed.’
‘Tommy’s all right, I suppose but ye know us mickeys can tell a prod from a mile off. Yer eyes are too close together.’
‘Fuck off,’ laughed Billy. ‘Tommy Simms has a kind of ring to it, a man wud have te be fuckin psychic te tell a man’s religion from than handle.’
‘Fair enough Tommy and I shall remain Davy,’ agreed Tullen. ‘This is some fuckin mess eh. Where do we begin te look for a homosexual nutter.’
‘First things first, let’s start with what facts we are certain of,’ Clements clenched his right hand and punched his left palm to stress his point. ‘One,’ he began bending the little finger of his right hand. ‘The guy is a queer. Two, we are ninety nine percent sure he is English. Three he is not fussy about his victims, any old Paddy will do Protestant or Catholic. Paddy is his pet name for us by the way. Four he has managed te gain access te some highly sensitive information. Five, he only kills the families of known players. Six, we are pretty certain that he works solo. Seven, the murders are always brutal, so he is stressing a point. Eight, the man is as mad as Charlie Man-son. Nine, he always uses the blood of his victims to write crazy messages on walls. And that’s about it, thank fuck I was running out of fingers.’ Connor took a few moments to consider what Billy had said before beginning with his input.
‘The first two attacks were sexually motivated. I mean he molested the boys, among other things, so why has he stopped with that shit. My bet is that he may, no, probably has a boyfriend here. If I am right, he gets charged up while he is doin the business and afterwards pays his lover a visit. It isn’t a fact I know but it does tie in with the end of the attacks on the boys. What do ye think?’ Clements nodded excitedly.
‘I think it’s as good a theory as any. So?’
‘If we can find a gay with an English partner who turns up horny on the night of the murders six to four on he is our man. Now to get back to what ye were sayin earlier about access to secret info. How the fuck did he manage to get his hands on it? Only two possible answers he’s either a cop or he knows one with a big mouth.’
‘No it doesn’t make sense. You know how touchy the RUC. is about lettin the mainland peelers into the secrets of the black magic box,’ quipped Clements.
‘Ach maybe yer right, we have a couple of good leads te start with. Let’s hope he has a boyfriend. No offence Billy but if he does it’s near certain that the guy’s a prod. It stands te reason that an Englishman would be as inconspicuous as Yasser Arrafat at a Jewish wedding, if he were te set foot on our soil.’
‘I suppose yer right,’ agreed Billy gloomily.
‘Secondly, we have te find out how he got hold of his information. Could be he’s knockin off an RUC. man but that’s highly unlikely seein as how they’re all ugly bastards,’ chuckled Tullen. Clements grinned, appreciating the joke.
‘Very fuckin funny yer a regular Dave Alan.’ They juggled around with a few ideas and reminisced about Spain before calling it a night.
Amateur detectives they may have been but for all that their assumptions were pretty much correct. Tullen’s theory about Black’s sexual needs was virtually bang on. Nathan had grown attached to the young barman who sated his needs without compliant. Indeed Black’s love-making was at it’s most intense after committing an atrocity. He had compelled the youth to keep their liaison a secret. It had been a fairly reasonable request that Giles was only too happy to agree with. The young barman adored him and would under no circumstances jeopardise his friend’s business or social standing. Gifts lavished upon the boy were treated as a bonus, never a precondition. Giles was hopelessly in love with his, as he liked to think of Black, English conquest. Discretion had been easy at the start of their liaison but it was becoming more and more difficult to shroud their union as his feelings for Nathan deepened. So strong was the emotion that he was bursting at the seams. Giles could not resist the temptation he simply had to share his news with his closest friends. One such acquaintance was Terry Aster, his real surname was Arthur but he preferred the sound of Aster. Coincidentally, as well as being a friend of Giles, Terry was also an Informant for the UDA. He had been on the lookout for an Englishman as requested by his superiors. An Englishman who travelled back and forth from the mainland and may possibly have formed a relationship. Aster listened intently as Giles preened over his latest affair with his upper class lover. Playing on the young barman’s ego he managed to cajole the nationality of his friend’s latest. How lucky the Brit. was to have picked such a wild Irish rose. Terry’s suspicions were aroused when Giles refused to put a name to his lover. ‘Oh no you don’t,’ cooed Giles. His identity is for me and me alone. I don’t want to share him with anyone.’ Aster detected agitation in his friend’s voice, he was virtually squirming. There was more to this English boyo than meets the eye. It may come to nothing, thought Terry but an English executive does fit the bill. Suspicions aroused he came to a decision. It was too soon to jump to conclusions but the stranger did merit further scrutiny. Aster determined to delve much deeper and with any luck he would ascertain the foreigner’s identity. Little did he know it but Aster had came closer to ensnaring the Preacher than any other since Black’s first murder, more than a year ago. Satisfied with his decision and anxious not to arouse suspicion he dropped the subject. Slowly, slowly catch the monkey. Terry was extremely satisfied with his evening’s work, tomorrow was another day.
After departing from Giles’ flat, Aster decided that his first priority would be to follow his pal for a day or two. By doing so he would catch a glimpse and if he was lucky, discover the identity of the mysterious lover. On other occasions he passed on duff information only to be shit upon from a great height. He was aware of the gravity of this operation; therefore he was reluctant to disclose his findings until he was absolutely certain of his facts. Perhaps the boy had fabricated his new friend. He may be boasting and the mystery man could be a figment of a fertile imagination. As it turned out, the informer did not have long to wait. Whilst sipping a drink in the bar the following evening, he noticed a change in Giles’ demeanour. The boy was positively glowing. There was a spring in his step, which was not apparent the previous night. He noticed how the barman kept scrutinising his watch every few minutes. He had an air of expectancy. Aster concluded correctly that Giles had been in contact with the mystery man. He hoped that they had arranged a meeting for that very evening. Terry slipped away from the bar a short while before Giles was due to finish his shift. Positioning himself in a darkened doorway he settled to wait for the barman to exit from the bar. He smiled as Giles looked neither left nor right but rushed headlong into the street and made off in a hurry down the road. Taking care to conceal himself from the other’s view Terry set off, maintaining fifty yards between himself and his friend. Bingo, the boy had deviated from his usual route home opting instead to turn left into one of the numerous, poorly illuminated side streets. Terry rushed to the corner and passed the intersection glancing down the street as he did so and was elated to see Giles entering a parked car. In that instant he noticed that the vehicle was occupied by another man but the distance and poor lighting barred him from forming a definite picture of the driver’s features. Nathan smiled, leaned closer to the Giles and gently caressed his inner thigh. Lightly he brushed his lips across the boy’s eyelids before covering his mouth with a lingering kiss. He could not be certain but he thought that there was a furtive movement in the shadows. With care he positioned himself so as to peer over his lover’s shoulder. Gradually his eyes adjusted to the light and yes there was a person observing the car. Tenderly he guided the boy’s head toward his lap. He did not want the other to know that they were being watched. For a moment he closed his eyes savouring the moment as the barman’s moist mouth enveloped him. Giles always knew exactly how to please him. Black’s knowledge of human nature told him that the watcher’s curiosity would draw him closer to ascertain precisely what Giles was doing. He bet that such a person could not resist the voyeur’s craving for a glimpse of the erotic. He was not disappointed. Aster drew closer to the car but had more sinister reasons for doing so. He had gambled that the pair in the car would be so embroiled in passion that they would not notice him at all. There was no way to catch a good look at the occupant’s face but he satisfied himself with noting the vehicle number-plate. Having achieved what he had set out to do, Aster grinned and beat a hasty retreat. Unfortunately for him his departure was too hurried. Black suspicions were confirmed when the stranger’s retreating steps became strides then a loping run. Beside himself with rage he grabbed the boys head forcing it up and down on his penis seeking quick release. Giles mistaking his roughness for passion applied himself more vigorously to the task. Finally the murderer lurched clutching the young man’s head firmly as he exploded into his receptive mouth. Fighting for composure he tenderly drew the boy’s face up to meet his own.
‘Giles darling,’ he cooed, ‘You do that so well. You have been a good boy haven’t you?’
‘Whatever do you mean Nick?’ he answered warily.
‘Do you remember our pact to keep our little dalliance secret?’ prodded Black
‘Yes of course love, why? What’s wrong?’
‘Oh I don’t know. You seem a little rattled by the question, like a schoolboy whose been caught at some mischief. Come now Giles, I’m sure it’s tempting to confide in a close friend, I know it is on my part. A relationship such as ours should be heralded from the rooftops not hidden like some sordid affair. There are nights when I lie awake thinking of you almost bursting to run to the phone and tell all my friends how lucky I am. Come Giles darling, we must have no secrets between us. Love is constructed upon a foundation of trust. I can sense it, you did confide in someone didn’t you, please tell me,’ he uttered soothingly.
‘Oh Nick darling,’ replied Giles. ‘You are so very clever, you can read me like a book. I couldn’t help myself, I had to boast about my handsome English lover just a teeny bit. You do understand don’t you? Tell me you forgive me and I promise never to be bad again,’ pleaded Giles flashing his most disarming smile.’I should be really angry with you but what good would it do either of us,’ chuckled Black. ‘And what did you tell your friends about me my little stool pigeon?’
‘Only that I have found the most wonderful person in the universe. How a day doesn’t go by when you are out of my thoughts. That I am bursting with pride to have something as thrilling and unbelievably fulfilling in my life. And that I adore the ground you walk upon,’ whispered the young barman as he stared lovingly into the eyes of hell.
‘God but you paint such a glowing picture of me. What other little snippets did you divulge, my name perhaps?’
‘Lord no, that would have been betraying the trust you placed in me. That is our special secret. I don’t want to share any part of you with anyone and that includes your name. I would never break a promise like that and it hurts me that you even thought that I ever would,’ snapped Giles, genuine hurt written upon his face. ‘Forgive me my pet, I did not mean to hurt you. You are priceless and I suppose you wont share your friends names with me,’ he teased.
‘Please stop your teasing Nick. I only told one person and he is a lifelong pal. As the movie stars say we really are just good friends. His name is Terry, Terry Aster.
‘How absolutely marvellous, I simply have to meet someone who bears such a charming name.’
‘It’s not his real name actually. His surname is Arthur but he preferred Aster so that is what he goes by.’
‘Intriguing, it’s about time that I met some of your friends but one at a time please.’
‘Oh that’s wonderful, I am so pleased. At last I get the chance to show you off. I’ll take you round to meet him first thing in the morning,’ enthused Giles.
‘Why wait until tomorrow? There’s no time like the present. I feel like a party. Let’s go to his place right away. Perhaps we could have a threesome,’ teased Black.
‘No fucking way. I’ll tear his balls off I’ll…’
‘Easy my little wildcat, I’m only teasing. Who would want to choose cotton when he could be wearing silk,’ purred the Englishman.’
‘I hate it when you tease, I get frightened,’ pouted his lover. ‘Let’s forget Terry for tonight. We can go back to your place and I’ll show you heaven,’ he whispered stroking Nathan’s thigh.’
‘No Giles you have excited my curiosity, I must know more. A man who changes his name on a whim must have some amusing tales to impart. I won’t take no for an answer,’ added Nathan.
‘Oh alright, if we must. We can call past his place on the way home but we aren’t staying long. We have some unfinished business,’ uttered the younger man huskily.
‘I hope your friend likes wine. I happen to have a couple of bottles of South African red in the boot.’
Having negotiated a twenty-minute walk, Aster had barely settled when he was startled by an insistent knock at the door. He had just completed his report to his UDA. controller and his nerves were taut from the experience. Recently he come to loathe his involvement with the organisation and cursed the foolishness of youth which had driven into their clutches. Fearing the worst, he eyed the door nervously hoping whomever was there would think him absent and depart. He was beginning to breathe more easily when the door banged again. ‘Who is it? Who’s there,’ he stammered.
‘It’s me Giles, who did you think it was, the RUC?’
‘Oh it’s you, you never know who’s come to do you in these days,’ he grumbled, as he opened the door. Aster was both nervous and surprised to see the tall lean figure of Black proffering two bottles of wine. ‘Hello Terry, this is the man I’ve been raving about. Nick meet Terry, Terry this is Nick,’ gushed Giles, beaming.
‘Well Nick, at last we meet. I’ve heard so much about you I think I know you already,’ flirted Terry. Giles would not divulge your name or personal attributes but he positively glows when he broaches other matters on the subject of his new friend. I am overwhelmed to make
your acquaintance,’ smiled Aster. ‘Giles wasn’t exaggerating you are the handsome one aren’t you. And you come bearing gifts, how thoughtful.’
‘Ach cut the crap Terry and bring the corkscrew. Nick is thirsty and he didn’t come here to be the target for your childish humour,’ chided Giles, bristling.
‘Lighten up Giles, I’m sure Terry means nothing by it,’ Interjected Nathan.
‘Why thank-you Nick, poor Giles is so smitten he seems to have lost all sense of irony. Don’t pout Giles, make yourself at home while I rustle up some glasses.’ The newcomer spoke pleasantly of his past. He did what came naturally to him, charming and flattering as only he could be before dropping his bombshell.’Do you enjoy watching others in the throws of passion Terry? I personally fail to see the advantages in voyeurism. I mean it is much more fulfilling to indulge in felatio rather than watch it taking place, don’t you think?’ purred Black. He could see the look of unease on Aster’s face and began to warm to the task.’What exactly do you mean by that remark?’ parried the host.
‘Come now Terry, you followed Giles to our rendezvous. It must have taken you by surprise to see your friend get straight into action because I observed you came closer to the vehicle. Were you satisfied with what you saw? I mean was Giles’ performance to your liking?’
‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. I resent being accused of being a peeping Tom and I think it’s time that you and Giles hit the road.’
‘I could not agree more but there is something I must do before-hand.’ In a flash he was across the floor applying a hammerlock to the startled informer. As if by magic a blade glinted in his hand and in one lightning fast movement was slicing through the hapless Aster’s jugular. Giles gave a squeak of surprised terror but before he could leave his seat, Nathan was on him pinning him down. ‘You Giles darling really are one stupid, fucking bitch. I gave you everything and all I asked for in return was discretion. But that was too much to ask of a simpleton such as yourself. You spoiled everything, couldn’t keep your pretty mouth shut, could you? You stupid fucking bastard. You leave me with no alternative, I am afraid our parting is about to cause you some pain. Gripping the younger man’s arm firmly, he levered it over the armrest of the settee exerting pressure on his elbow. Staring into Giles’ face he drew the blade down the length of the boy’s inner arm. Blood spurted and gushed from the gaping wound. In shocked fascination Giles watched as his life’s blood spilled to the carpet. ‘When the police eventually arrive, they shall find the pair you in a state of advanced anaemia, sorry bad joke. Anyway they will draw the conclusion that you and Mr. Aster must have decided to end it all in some bizarre lover’s pact.’
‘God Nick why? I love you,’ gasped Giles.
‘I should tell you that my name is Nathan, I owe you that much and for what it’s worth I was rather fond of you, goodbye Giles,’ whispered Black placing a last kiss on the boy’s brow. Seconds later the youth’s eyes glazed as the life force departed. Nathan gave a sigh then busied himself testing both men’s pulses, making absolutely certain of their demise. Satisfied, he made for the door but turned to survey the scene for a final time. Giles eyes were staring at him in hurt innocence. Feeling a glimmer of remorse he returned to the boy, kissed the open mouth and tenderly closed Giles eyes for eternity. Silently he closed the door behind him and after ascertaining that there were no witnesses to his presence at the apartment, made good his escape.
Eliminating the two friends was the best he could do at present but he was uneasy. He hated being forced into situations and this particular incident fell into that category. Giles was gone and it pricked his warped sense of duty that an innocent had to be eliminated. And there was Aster to consider what if his motives for following Giles were not purely selfish? The damage was done and if the man was some kind of snitch, well he Black, had rid the world of one more piece of garbage. Having decided that there was no further action open to him, he felt better and dismissing the affair from his mind, returned to his car.
Five days had elapsed before the bodies of Terry and Giles were discovered. A friend of the former had a key and had became worried as Aster had failed to return his calls. News of the deaths of the two young men was forgotten virtual minutes after it’s release. Belfast is a violent city and the demise of homosexual lovers was barely worth a mention. The Belfast Telegraph had printed an item on the second page inferring exactly what Black had predicted. Giles had killed Aster in an undisclosed argument and followed the murder by taking his own life. A tragic end to the troubled lives of two members of Belfast’s gay community. ‘Fuckin hell,’ exclaimed Clements, upon reading the article. ‘Yer man Aster is one of our touts so he is.’
‘Yer jokin,’ replied Tullen, turning to look at Clements. ‘And who the fuck is Aster?’ enquired Connor.
‘Oh sorry, here in the Tele. There’s an article about two woofters in some sort of suicide pact. Anyway, one of them, a guy or should I say gay, called Aster was workin for us. Seems like too much of a coincidence that one of our people turns up dead not long after we ask him to be on the look out for yer man. Let me make a few calls, maybe he found somethin out. With a bit of luck he may have passed on the information before he died.’ Enthusiastically Clements rushed to the door shouting over his shoulder, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’ The door closed with a bang before Tullen could utter a word. Two hours later Billy was back wearing a grin that could accept a pizza sideways.
‘For fuck’s sake say somethin, or are you gonna stand there lookin like Father Ted’s sidekick Dougal, all fuckin night,’ prompted Tullen.
‘Well now,’ began Billy smugly. ‘It’s common knowledge that fenians are alright at liftin big heavy weights but when it comes to yer academic stuff-… ‘
‘Bollocks, are ye gonna tell us what ye found out, or do I have te jam a hurley stick up yer hole te get ye te talk,’ jibed Tullen.
‘Easy now amigo, all in good time,’ teased Billy.
‘Ach for fuck sake givus a break Billy.’
‘Okay, the RUC. reckon that the two boys were dead at least five days, right?’ Tullen nodded assent. ‘Well our man Aster made a call six nights ago. Said he had spied his mate Giles with a big English bloke in a car.’ They were engaged in more than casual conversation. As a matter of fact, it was impossible for wee Giles te talk at all, if you get me drift. I asked if Aster was upset that his boyfriend was into smoking pork and get this, they were not involved romantically, if that’s the correct terminology. It seems that Terry and the barman had been friends from childhood and their friendship was purely fraternal. Ergo the lover’s tiff theory is a load of auld bollocks,’ said Clements smugly. ‘Brilliant Billy, it looks like the Preacher has made his first major balls up. Did the Brit have a name?’ enquired Tullen excitedly.
‘Sorry no name but we do have a description of him. He is tall, at least six foot. Blond hair and very good lookin.’
‘Is that all?’ asked Connor, not trying to hide his disappointment.”
“Oh ye of little faith,’ smirked Billy.
‘There’s more? bubbled Tullen, brightening.
‘Jesus ye sounded just like Jimmy Cricket then. Yes my friend I’ve saved the best for last. Yer man Aster was a Proddie, not a thick Mick like yerself,’ chuckled Clements.
‘Christ I wish I’d bin born with a blue nose, instead of handsome,’ retorted Tullen.
‘Yer man Aster took the registration of the car. It was rented from Hertz.’
‘Now that has got te be the best news I’ve heard since we got mixed up in this bullshit. How long before we find out which depot the car was rented from?’
‘Hold yer horses Sherlock, I told ye we were clever didn’t I. Even as we speak the wheels are in motion. By this time tomorrow we should have a name, place of hire and the bastard’s address. Is that quick enough for ye?’ boasted Clements.
‘I hate te say it but you Proddies are as sharp as lances. Shame yer all so fuckin ugly.’
‘Fuck you very much. Let’s get out of this dump for an hour, I’m sick of lookin at four walls. What do ye say te a couple of pints, I think we’ve earned them.’
The following morning, the telephone’s electronic warbling awakened Clements. Eyes tightly shut, he stretched out his hand groping at the side table’s surface for the offending device. ‘Aye,’ muttered Billy wearily.
‘What way’s that te answer the phone. You’ll never make a career out of tele sales Billy boy.’
‘Ach it’s you, what time is it Tommy?’ replied Clements, having recognised Cairns’ voice.
‘That’s a wee bit better, not much though. It’s ten te eight. Leave yer fenian buddy to sleep and get yer arse down to Belfast right away. I’ll meet ye in the usual place at half ten. Don’t be late now,’ ordered Cairns. Before Clements could protest their was a rattle and the line went dead. ‘Fuck it that’s all I need,’ grumbled Billy, as he reluctantly dragged his body from the bed. ‘Shite,’ he groaned feeling the effects of the previous night’s drinking. Making as little noise as possible, he showered, shaved and was dressed within twenty minutes. He listened for a moment for Tullen to stir but no sound emanated from the other man’s room. Satisfied that he had not disturbed Connor, he tiptoed to the door and exited into the fresh morning breeze.
Tullen was wide-awake and had been, long before the phone rang. ‘Clements must have been summoned,’ he told himself. Although he trusted Billy he was far from happy with the situation. What if another party got the order to dispose of him when they finally caught up with the maniac? After all Clements owed him nothing but on the other hand, he Tullen was indebted to Billy for saving his life. What if his UDA. masters decided to settle an old score. They could kill two birds with one stone and nobody would be the wiser. Billy could easily make out that the Preacher had killed him.
At exactly ten thirty Clements entered the bar as specified by Cairns. To his surprise Starrett sat at a table at the end of the bar. John nodded before glancing at the seat next to himself. Accepting the command, Billy strode over to the table and occupied the seat beside his superior. ‘Guinness isn’t it Billy son?’ said Starrett.
‘Grand John, it’s a surprise to see you here. I thought I was meeting Cairns,’ ventured Clements. ‘Extraordinary situations demand extraordinary measures. I heard about your breakthrough. I think you may have stumbled unto our killer. I had to come down and congratulate you personally Billy. You haven’t disappointed me son. Keep up the good work.’ said Starrett.
‘Early days yet John, don’t want te be countin too many chickens while the fox is in the coop,’ rejoined Clements.
‘Of course Billy, you are of course, entirely correct. Having said that, there is cause for optimism. The investigation is coming along nicely. But I am glad to see you are not over confident. It’s good to see someone with a little bit of grey matter between the ears.’
‘Okay we’ve dispensed we the flattery, why don’t ye tell me why ye really brought me here John?’
‘You are becoming very astute Billy, perhaps more clever than I gave you credit for,’ said Starrett wistfully. ‘Nothing sinister really. I do not want to have to repeat myself, so, if you can bear with me for a while longer, Tommy will be back from the toilet and all shall be revealed. I believe he ordered you a pint on his way there. How is yer man behaving himself?’
‘Who, Tommy?’
‘Come now Billy, enough with the jokes. Your partner in crime, the taig, who else?’ snapped John irritably.
‘He seems okay,’ replied Billy cagily. ‘Why do ye ask?’
‘He’s not asking any naughty questions is he Billy?’
‘What do ye mean by that? Even if he had, which he hasn’t, do ye think I’m stupid enough te answer them,’ replied angrily.
‘No reason to become defensive Billy. It was a perfectly reasonable question.’
‘Defensive, what is this? You put me into this fuckin job. I didn’t ask for it remember. Look John I’m tired and hung over. Are ye gonna tell me what all this shite is about or not?’ growled Billy.
‘Okay,’ sighed Starrett. ‘A wee birdie told me that you and the taig had a party last night. Is that correct?’ ‘Before I answer that question, I have one for you. How the fuck do ye know who I was with last night? We had an agreement that no one but me was te see the other operator’s face. Seems te me that the treaty didn’t last too long John.’
‘Of course you are right Billy. I did bend the rules somewhat but it was in your interest. For your safety son.’
‘Okay I’ll accept that, but if this investigation is goin te succeed then I have te trust the other guy with me life. I want yer word that all tails will be taken off from today John.’
‘If that is the way you want to play it, agreed. So to get back to my question. What were you and your man up to?’
‘We went for a couple of pints, te celebrate like,’ answered Clements, now genuinely on the defensive.
‘I fail to understand why you would want to do that. I mean it’s a bit out of character isn’t it. A loyalist volunteer drinking with his worst enemy. You seem to have hit it off rather well.
Is there something that you are keeping from us Billy? Something we should know about?’
‘Like what for instance,’ replied Clements scowling.
‘This is like pulling teeth. Did you meet him somewhere else, have you made his acquaintance in the past,’ hissed the commander.
‘No. What the fuck is happenin here? Am I bein interrogated? We had a breakthrough. We got the news about Aster and the car from Hertz. It made us feel good, so we went for a couple of drinks. We thought we had did very well seein we’re not from Scotland fuckin Yard.’
‘Okay okay, it’s understandable I suppose but it showed a lack of common sense on your part. Don’t ever forget that he is our enemy Billy. There may come a day when you have to kill the son of a bitch,’ spat John.
‘What is this? What are you tellin me? That this is all a joke. Are we gonna go back on our word?’ Before Starrett had time to reply, Cairns arrived at the table carrying fresh drinks for himself, John and the Guinness for Clements.
‘Ah yer here Billy boy, there ye are, a pint of slack, just the way you like it.’
‘I was just explaining to Billy that it is bad policy to get drunk in the presence of one’s enemies. The bastards have a way of exploiting every situation, wheedling information out of a person, without him ever suspecting it. Isn’t that right Tommy? A man is at his most vulnerable when he is drink taken,’ said John sagely. His henchman was nodding vigorously.
‘Dead right John, a buddy has te be up early in the mornin te catch they bastards asleep,’ agreed Cairns, eager to please.
‘Well enough said on that subject. On to more positive matters. The information that you requested is right here Billy,’ said Starrett, tapping a large manila envelope lying on the table before him. ‘It is a pity that Mr. Aster was killed. We could use more people like him, disregarding his sexual preferences of course. The car was rented at Belfast City airport two weeks ago, by one Nicholas Carver. Our Mr. Carver is a clever so and so. He called the rental office the day after the murders of Aster and his friend, complaining bitterly about the shoddy vehicle they had supplied. Alleged that the car had malfunctioned causing him to miss an important meeting. The cheeky bugger told them where to pick the car up and that he would only pay for the days that he had use of it. Apparently he was very abusive, demanded that they reimburse him with the balance due to him. He is nobody’s fool, paid in cash when he picked the car up.’
‘Was there an address?’ asked Clements excitedly, his quarrel with Starrett already pushed aside.
‘ Oh there was an address alright but unfortunately it was for the Stormont hotel. We have checked on his home address and it turned out
to be fictitious, which would stand to reason if he was our man. By the looks of things you and your mate have hit the jackpot. Nick Carver is almost certainly the Preacher. So we have some tangible evidence at last, or at least he is not a ghost any more. You have every right to celebrate Billy but be sure it is in moderation next time.’
Clements left the meeting seething. It was not so much that he had been reprimanded but the way that John had meted out the admonishment. Starrett had made him out to be an idiot and that he found hard to swallow, very hard indeed. He yearned to give the pompous bastard a piece of his mind but knew that in doing so his fate would be sealed. No matter how the investigation turned out, John would hold the indiscretion against him, so he reluctantly held his tongue. His mood had not improved by the time he returned to the house and Tullen picked up on it immediately.
‘What gives Billy, your gub’s trippin ye?’
‘I was summoned to a meetin with me elders and betters. It seems that blue noses and taigs sharin a pint is a recipe for disaster. I wonder who saw us out together? It seems that our wee gig isn’t as secret as promised,’ he grumbled. ‘Ach fuck them, listen Con,’ enthused Billy, his excitement growing. ‘We have put a name to the nutter. It will obviously be false but add it to the description and ask a few relevant questions, who knows, we may find out a lot more about yer man. If he stayed at the Stormont then others will surely have seen him. This is our first tangible evidence,’ said mimicking his superior. ‘You and me are goin to the Stormont my man so tidy yerself up and try not to act too much like a gyppo, will ye.’
‘Fuck me, hark at Beau fuckin Geste, wud ye.’
‘Beau who?’
They arrived at the hotel bar at eight o’clock and as usual it was virtually empty. Early evening was not a profitable time for the Stormont. ‘Two pints of Guinness please,’ said Tullen, smiling at the smartly liveried barman.
‘Coming right up sir,’ replied the plump figure behind the bar. With the air of a professional he set about drawing the drinks. Tilting the glass at the perfect angle, making sure that the liquid flowed silently into the receptacle and spooning off the access froth to leave a creamy off-white surface.
‘Now that’s what I call a good lookin pint my man,’ enthused Connor. The man was obviously flattered, smiling as he asked for the required payment. ‘Three pounds eighty please sir,’ the barman informed him. ‘And cheap at half the price,’ said Tullen, proffering a five pound note. ‘Keep the change.’
‘That’s very kind. Thank-you very much sir,’ replied the beaming barman. Having struck up a dialogue with the man Tullen said, ‘That was bad news about the youngster who worked here wasn’t it?’
‘What news sir,’ replied the barman, displaying a look of genuine confusion.
‘Giles, the young lad who was on the news the other day,’ prompted Connor.
‘Oh God Giles, yes it was tragic. Everybody was shocked, he was very well thought of on both sides of the bar,’ answered the man sadly.
‘I’m not casting dispersions but he was gay wasn’t he?’ probed Tullen slyly.
‘I believe he was sir, now if you will excuse me, other customers require attention,’ said the barman coldly, showing displeasure at the direction the conversation was taking. Tullen said no more, he had all night and he did not want to alienate what he regarded as a valuable source of information. The best thing would be to leave but time was not on their side, so he took time to allow the steward’s to mood mollify.
‘Another two pints please Peter,’ requested Tullen courteously, taking great pains to impress on the barman that he was merely trying to be friendly and that his earlier remarks had no ulterior motive. Again the steward pulled two perfect pints, setting them down in front of his customers. Another five pound note was exchanged and as before Peter was told to keep the change.
‘Thank-you very much sir. It was becoming apparent that, ‘Thank-you very much sir,’ was his stock reply to a gratuity. The young barman’s demeanour had brightened considerably because he was smiling broadly as he accepted the tip.
‘Look Peter, I’m sorry if I offended you earlier. It was thoughtless of me to bring up your friend’s lifestyle. I am sure that you miss him,’ said Connor sympathetically.
‘Oh it’s alright sir, Giles was a really nice person. As I said before, he was popular with the staff and customers alike and I personally do miss him,’ replied the young barman sincerely.
‘You knew him well then?’ interjected Clements, speaking for the first time.
‘You could say that, we went to school together,’ smiled Peter.
‘Oh I’m sorry, it must be really hard for you,’ observed Tullen, showing real feeling.
‘Yes it is, I went out with his sister for a couple of years. We lived in the same street. His family are devastated,’ Peter informed them emotionally. Tullen eyed the youth for a while before continuing. ‘Ye’d want te catch the bastard who killed them then,’ said Connor, lapsing into his familiar Belfast dialogue. Peter was visibly shocked. Tullen’s remark set him back on his heels.
“What do you mean. Look who are you people?’ said Peter, apprehension growing.
‘We’ll get round te that in a minute. Let’s say that we are a we bit sceptical. We don’t believe your pal committed suicide.’ As a matter of fact we know that he and his friend definitely did not. They were murdered. The crime was made te look like a lover’s tiff.’
‘This is incredible, who are you guys? The RUC. said it was a tragic accident. They implied that Giles was jealous of Aster and killed-’ The boy broke down before he could complete the sentence, distraught by their revelations. I’m sorry we upset ye Peter but you have to know the truth. What time do ye get off?’ asked Clements.
‘I wont be finished until well after midnight,’ answered the barman. ‘But I don’t see what any of this has to do with me,’ he added warily. ‘Are you men with the special branch or something?’
‘No not really Peter, we are just a couple of concerned citizens,’ Clements informed him. ‘Isn’t that right Mr. Brown.’
‘Absolutely Mr. White,’ said Tullen, immediately in tune with his partner’s subterfuge.
‘One thing I would say Peter, and ye can take it as a bit of advice ye understand, this conversation never happened. As a matter of fact my colleague and I were never here. Do ye follow the drift?’ said Clements menacingly.
‘I beg your pardon?’ answered the now very frightened barman.
‘What my friend is tryin te say,’ explained Tullen, glaring at Clements, ‘Is that this is a very delicate situation, an extremely dangerous one. If you bear with us and not discuss our conversation with anyone, things will be a lot safer.’
‘Oh right,’ said Peter relaxing but still totally confused.
‘Okay Peter what say you meet us at the front entrance at say, a quarter to one’’ requested Tullen.
‘I suppose it will be alright. And I will keep it to myself,’ he added as an afterthought.
‘Brilliant Peter, thanks for your co-operation,’ said Billy, laying a twenty-pound note on the bar. ‘Thanks for the excellent service,’ he announced loudly and winking before turning away from the bar. They left behind them a very frightened young man who dutifully served out the remainder of his shift. One or two of the other bar-staff did notice his mood swing but passed no comment. At least not verbally. Everybody’s entitled to an off day, thought Nancy, a pretty new addition to the team. She had been employed as a replacement for the unfortunate Giles. Although she was too shy to admit it, Nancy had quite a crush on the young barman. She watched as he busied himself washing glasses and clearing away the last residue of the evening’s trade. Something was definitely amiss. Peter was always so cheerful at this time of the evening, knowing that the shift was only minutes from completion. Nancy had steeled herself to confront him as to the reason for his glumness but at the last moment decided to leave well alone. ‘Girl trouble I hope,’ she murmured.
‘What?’ replied Peter absently.
‘Oh just thinkin out loud,’ she lied blushing.
Nancy is really very pretty. I must pluck up the courage to ask her out one of these days, thought Peter, as he replaced his final ashtray. He had opted to hold back until all the staff had gone. He wanted to make sure that none was privy to his meeting with his new acquaintances. Nancy was proving to be an annoyance and he was about to suggest that she go, when she thankfully announced her departure ‘Well that’s me finished, do you need a hand?’ she offered. She chose not to hide her disappointment when he refused her offer of help. ‘Suit yerself,’ she snapped, rushing from the room in a flourish. The night shift cleaner arrived shortly after and was curious to find Peter still on the premises. ‘Jesus Pete, have ye no home te go to? What are ye doin here at this time of the night. Perhaps yer hangin back waitin te give me a wee cuddle,’ she wagged.
‘Sure you’re too much woman for a mere slip of a lad like me Maisey. I thought I’d get a few things sorted for tomorrow,’ he lied. ‘Just about done, there that’s it, see you,’ he said, making a final adjustment to an ashtray on the bar counter. With a smile he headed for the door. The young man was unaccustomed to lying and had began to redden. He beat a hasty retreat before the old lady noticed his discomfort. He had almost forgotten the meeting but the memory of the two strangers came flooding back as he neared the front entrance. A cold sweat had broken on his face and he was gripped by apprehension. What if those two men were murderers? Perhaps it was they who had killed Giles and Terry. Contemplating calling the police, he remembered the veiled threat made by the one who called himself Mr. White. Peter was near to panic. What was he to do? ‘How do I get myself into such bloody messes?’ he whispered. ‘Nothing I can do but go through with it I suppose,’ he decided under his breath. Glancing at his watch he stepped bravely forward, ready to confront the nightmare. The road was darker than he ever remembered it, more empty. Where was all the traffic? He peered up and down, not a sinner to be seen. He waited for ten minutes constantly scrutinising his watch. Where the hell are they? Giving a sigh of relief he concluded that they had changed their minds. With an unconscious shrug he turned left and headed for home. It usually took about fifteen minutes for him to negotiate the journey from home to his place of work and vice-versa. At present Peter lived with his parents but was saving hard for the down payment on a place of his own. He was thinking of his investment as he toyed with the night’s tips held tightly in his hand, which in turn was buried, securely in his right trouser pocket. Unfortunately his respite was short-lived, interrupted by a harsh whisper coming from a darkened shop doorway. ‘Peter over here,’ startled, he turned to see the one called White. ‘Oh lord help me,’ he muttered, as he hesitantly edged toward the source of the sound. His dread had come rushing back and a cramp tugged at his bowel as he sidled into the cramped space. ‘Sorry if I gave ye a wee fright Peter but you’ve no need te worry, yer as safe as the bank of England. We had to make sure that ye kept yer promise. An interception by the RUC. would have proved inconvenient,’ Clements told him.
‘What do you want from me? What’s going on Mr. White?’
‘Just bear with us a wee while longer and don’t look so worried. Yer perfectly safe, on me mother’s life, honest,’ Clements leaned out of the entrance raising an arm above his head as he did so. Moments later a car drew up to the kerb, it’s driver was Tullen. ‘Get in the back seat Peter it’s freezin out there,’ smiled Tullen. Obediently the youth complied, although he asked himself why?
‘Where are you taking me Mr. White?’ he asked timidly.’
‘Sorry about the false names and all the James Bond bullshit Peter but it’s for the best really. We are goin te take ye for a ride in the country. We have a house with lots of gadgets in it. Recording equipment and stuff. We want to interview ye sort of like they do on the telly. That way we wont miss anything and we can go over it
again and again. Is that okay?’ reasoned Tullen, trying hard to put the boy at ease.
‘Okay,’ replied Peter, but was far from satisfied with his present predicament. He was thinking about his parents and his two younger sisters. Wondering if he would ever lay eyes upon them again. Silently he prayed to the Lord to bring him safely through this nightmare. ‘I hate to have te do this Peter but we must cover yer eyes. It’s purely in the interests of security,’ said Connor apologetically.
‘Oh God no, you are going to kill me, aren’t you. Please don’t do it mister, I don’t know anything. You have the wrong person.’ The boy was reduced to tears.
‘Easy son. You have te believe us. We mean ye no harm. Look get out of the car and walk away but if ye do ye’ll be lettin Giles’ murderer walk away and he will most certainly kill some other kid. Do ye want that on yer conscience?’ asked Tullen. His words had a calming effect on the barman who looked defiantly into his eyes.
‘What exactly is it that you want from me?’ he asked, more in control than at any time since he met them hours earlier.
‘As I said before, all we want is te ask some questions. We record what ye say and ye’ll be back in yer own bed in a couple of hours, I swear te God,’ replied Billy. ‘Here you take the blindfold and put it on yerself. It’s only a precaution for our safety.’ Peter did as he was asked and settled back in the seat. ‘That’s the good lad, the sooner we get there the sooner ye’ll be home.’
‘Sorry I don’t know about this kind of business, I’m not into violence and stuff. You know what I mean?’ As he fumbled with the offensive piece of cloth, Billy noticed how much young barman was trembling. The hardened killer felt so inadequate. He simply did not have the words to allay the boy’s fears.
‘We’ll be there soon Pete, just relax and enjoy the trip. For Peter the journey was far from relaxing, indeed it was a terrifying. He wanted to urinate but he was afraid to ask them to pull over. As he lay in the rear of the vehicle his mind drifted away from his present plight. The sounds penetrating the upholstery of the seat were ever changing. Noises that he had previously ignored, cried for attention. He concentrated on the unfamiliar sounds. ‘Funny,’ he thought loudly.
‘What’s that?’ asked Clements.
‘Oh I was thinking aloud. It’s funny how you never realise how many different types of road surfaces there actually are. I mean as we drive along there is a bump and the noise from the road changes from a hiss to a rumble. Do you know what I mean?’
‘If it’s any consolation Peter, I know exactly what ye mean. I have been in the same position as ye find yerself on countless occasions,’ Billy informed the barman.
‘You’re kidding me,’ retorted Peter, for first time that evening he was beginning to relax..
‘Oh yes, I wont mention any names but I have a boss who would not let me get a gander at his face. He used te say it was for security reasons but when I eventually did get to meet him eyeball to eyeball it became obvious that he was lying,’ said Clements.
‘Oh why was that?’ asked Tullen.
‘ Cause he is an ugly bastard,’ blurted Billy, bursting into rapturous laughter.
‘Never listen te this eejit Peter, his ma dropped him on his head when he was a bairn,’ grumbled Tullen, annoyed with himself for taking Clements’ bait. ‘How are ye gettin on back there? Are ye comfortable enough? added Tullen.
‘Yes I’m okay,’ he replied, a little too quickly. He did not want to upset his captors unnecessarily. That was another thing. Why did he think of the pair as captors? They were going out of their way to reassure him, even drawing him into conversation and never really threatening him. Despite his earlier apprehension, he felt reassured. If they were going to do something terrible to him, they would hardly be so accommodating. His mind was in a turmoil. Who are you trying to kid? he admonished himself. You’re in a car with a couple of terrorists, how the hell do you know what a murderer says or does to his victims? That thought in mind, visions of the infamous
Shankill Butchers came flooding in, filling him with a new unmentionable dread. He pictured himself hanging from a hook as they systematically hacked at his unprotected genitals.
‘Wake up Petey boy, were home,’ prodded Clements.
‘What, who..?’ he had drifted off and awakened totally disoriented.
‘You’re the dark horse eh,’ observed Clements. ‘I’m glad te see ye’ve suddenly began te believe we’re not Burke and Hare.’
‘I must have fallen asleep,’ he explained absentmindedly.
‘You sure did and what a racket ye made as well, thrashin around like a long distance swimmer we cramp,’ laughed Connor. ‘Anyway here we are, safe and sound, just like we promised,’ Tullen informed him.
‘Let me help ye out of the car,’ offered Clements. ‘Careful now, don’t bump yer head. That’s it, bend forward slightly and swing yer legs over the side. Peter obediently complied. ‘I’ll take yer arm and guide ye into the house. The sooner the better, it’s bloody freezin out here,’ complained Billy. Peter decided that no amount of speculation would help him out of his present situation, so meekly he allowed himself to be led like a blind man to whatever fate awaited him. ‘Can I use your bathroom please?’ he asked. ‘I’ve been bursting to go for ages.’
‘God of course, sorry Peter apologised Tullen. ‘It’s just along the hall, last door on the right,’ he said, removing the blindfold. The younger man blinked as the light attacked his eyes. Moments later his sight returned to normal and he set off at a trot in the direction of the toilet.
‘Last right,’ affirmed Clements toward the retreating figure.
‘That kid’s scared shitless Billy,’ said Tullen.
‘Yer not wrong there, poor wee bastard must think he’s for the off.’ The sound of flushing followed by the protest of idiosyncratic plumbing reverberated from the bathroom.
‘ Christ the almighty, them pipes sound like fuckin Zulu war drums,’ laughed Clements. Running water and splashing noises heralded Peter’s exit and taught them a lot about the boy’s personal hygiene.
‘Ye must be feelin better now Pete. Can I get ye somethin te drink,’ offered Billy.
‘No thanks, I don’t drink,’ he replied.
‘How about coffee or tea or a lemonade then,’ said Tullen.
‘No nothing really,’ answered the barman, I’m dead beat and I’d like to get this over with as quickly as possible, if you don’t mind,’ he added awkwardly.
‘Fair enough, we just have to set up the camcorder and audio equipment. Have a seat and we can get the ball rollin in a couplea ticks,’ said Tullen helpfully. The two operatives set to work and as promised were ready for the interview moments later. ‘All set,’ said Clements. Tullen sat down beside Peter who was nervously fidgeting on the sofa. ‘Just see if ye have us in focus there, Mr. White.’
‘Spot on,’ replied Clements.
‘Now then, where do we begin?’ Tullen pondered aloud, positioning himself opposite Peter. ‘You are wondering who we are and what our involvement with the murders of your friend and Aster is. It is only fair that we should fill ye in with as much detail as possible. It is important to us that ye realise we mean ye no harm. If ye’re scared of us ye won’t be completely focused and maybe forget some minute detail okay. Tullen looked the boy in the eye as he spoke. ‘What do ye think Mr White?’ he said turning toward his partner.
‘I don’t see that we have any choice but try te keep it brief,’ agreed Billy.
‘We have been given the task by both paramilitary organisations, namely the Irish Republican army and the Ulster Defence Regiment to seek and destroy the madman commonly referred to as The Preacher.’ Tullen paused for his words to take effect. ‘You have to be kidding,’ said Peter incredulously, this is a wind up isn’t it?’ he chuckled nervously.
‘No Peter we’re not messin around, this is deadly serious,’ said Clements solemnly.
‘Why are you telling me this? What in the Lord’s name has any of this got to do with me?
‘Good question Peter, perhaps nothin. Let me put it another way, it has nothin to do we you directly. But bear with us for a wee while and it will hopefully make sense. ‘Remember earlier in the bar we asked a lot of questions about yer friend Giles? prompted Connor. Peter answered with a nervous nod of the head.
‘We are betting that his death was the work of the Preacher.’
‘No that can’t be, he only kills women and kids, doesn’t he?’ replied the barman hesitantly, as if unsure of his facts.
‘Yeah that’s right but we believe he may have been compromised. Giles’ friend Aster was an operative of the UDA. We know that he followed Giles on the night of his murder. Giles met a man that night. That man was almost certainly the killer. Somehow he found out that Giles was being followed. Perhaps he surmised that Giles had betrayed him. If that was the case then he would have had no option but to dispose of them both.’
‘How would Giles get involved with an animal like that?’ asked Peter tremulously.
‘It is almost a cast iron certainty that Giles was the Preacher’s boyfriend,’ Clements informed him.
‘That’s a lie, Giles would never have anything to do with the murder and mutilation of little kids,’ retorted Peter angrily, resolutely defending the memory of his friend.
‘Hold on a minute there. Ye’ve got the wrong end of the stick Peter. Giles had no idea that the person he had befriended was a killer. He was as much in the dark about yer man’s hobby or identity as you or I.’ ‘Maybe I am missing the point or I’m just thick but I still don’t see how I can help,’ said Peter dubiously. ‘Did Giles ever mention a man to you by the name of Carver?’ enquired Tullen.
‘Carver, Nick Carver?’
‘Aye that’s the one!’ exclaimed Clements, his voice rising by at least two octaves.
‘He is a businessman. He was a regular visitor to the hotel a few months back. Come to think about it, he and Giles were rather chummy. Big fellow English I think, he used to tip very well. But if he and Giles were more than friendly he never said. Giles was a bit touchy, about being strange, you know what I mean. Some of us had our suspicions but no one was really sure. He never spoke about girls or stuff like that but he was equally tight-lipped about men. As I said before, he was very well liked and extremely trustworthy. The girls used to confide in him about their love life and stuff. He was a very popular guy. I don’t think I ever heard him say a bad word about anybody. Why would anybody want to harm somebody like that?’ A tear glistened
as he recalled fond memories of his deceased friend.
‘Sorry Peter this must be a hell of a shock for ye. Do ye want te have a break, have a cuppa or somethin,’ asked Billy sympathetically.
‘No I’m really tired honest. I’d like to get this over with if you don’t mind,’ he answered.
‘Good man. Are you absolutely sure he said nothin about yer man Carver?’ asked Clements, displaying unguarded disappointment.
‘No sorry.’
‘How long have you been employed at the hotel Peter?’ asked Tullen, changing tack.
‘Nearly three years now, yes it will be three years in September.’
‘How well did you get to know Carver?’
‘What are you implying? I’m not gay if that’s what you mean,’ replied the young barman, bristling.
‘Oops sorry Pete, I wasn’t suggestin that ye were. What I meant was did ye ever get into conversation with him, at the bar like?’
‘Oh right, yes I suppose so. He seems like a nice man actually. He was always polite and as I said, he tipped well.’
‘Ye said ye thought he may have been English, what did ye mean by that?’ interjected Clements.
‘I am nearly certain that he is English but he could be Welsh. I have never been a great one for accents. He definitely wasn’t Scottish,’ he added meekly. ‘He comes from London, at least that’s what he told us and he is very la-de-da. I’d say that he went to university.’
‘Good Peter, ye’re doin great. Now do ye remember the first time he came into the bar?’
‘Shit that’s easy,’ he said casually. Clements and Tullen leaned closer, as if tied by an invisible rope. ‘Early last year.’
‘How can ye be so sure?’ prompted Connor excitedly.
‘My birthday is in March. A few of us went skiing and I came back with a tan. On my first day back at work, Carver was in the bar. That was the first time I had ever clapped eyes on him.’ said Peter proudly.’
‘Are ye definite about this Pete, it’s very important,’ said Clements.
‘I can remember it like it was yesterday. June, she’s the head bar person, was chatting to him when I came on duty. I can even remember the very words he said.’
‘Fuck ye must have a hell of a memory,’ said Clements sceptically.
‘Not really,’ continued the barman, ignoring the slight. ‘He said to June, and I quote, who is this handsome young man then?’ She told him that I had been skiing and that I celebrated my twenty first birthday out there. ‘Congratulations,’ he said and insisted on buying me a bottle of champagne,’ concluded Peter smugly.
‘ Now yer cookin on gas, this is great stuff Peter. Are ye sure yer not thirsty?’ asked Tullen.
‘No I’m fine really,’ replied Peter, now noticeably relaxed.
‘Yeah this is great,’ agreed Clements. ‘Did he make any friends?’
‘I’m not sure if I know what you mean by friends, after all I only ever saw the man in the bar.’
‘He became a sort of regular didn’t he?’ said Clements patiently.
‘I suppose so, he popped in every now and then when he was over on business.’
‘Regulars usually become acquainted with one another,’ said Tullen helpfully. ‘He must have spoken to some of them. Did he have anyone that he conversed with more than others?’
‘No not really, he kept very much to himself. Ah wait a minute. I forgot about old Maurice. He did seem to get on well with him, though for the life of me I can’t understand why.’
‘Maurice you say, is there a surname to go with that?’ urged Billy.
‘Of course, he was one of our oldest customers and he was a right old so and so. It was Scott, Maurice Scott.’
‘Excellent Peter,’ enthused Connor. The boy smiled, at last feeling that he was contributing to the investigation. He was pretty certain that they meant him no harm and that his input was actually of some help to them. Having said that, he still thought that they were barking up the wrong tree. Nick Carver was a gentleman and people like him didn’t go around murdering helpless women and children.
‘Where would we be able to find Maurice? Is he still a regular?’ asked Tullen.
‘You’d have a hard job, unless you know a good clairvoyant. The poor old bugger’s dead,’ he informed them.
‘What did he die of,’ enquired Clements, deflated.
‘From what I heard he got drunk and set his house on fire. He burned to death. Apparently he left the gas on or something daft like that.’
‘Jesus, what a way te go. What did he work at?’ asked Clements, his hopes once more perking up.
‘He was in the RUC. a sergeant I believe at Castlereagh. He was in some kind of administrative job, records or something boring like that.’
‘Bingo,’ exclaimed Billy.
‘I don’t follow,’ said Peter, bemused.
‘Ach nothin Pete, ye don’t want te be payin any attention te him. He’s very excitable. I blame it on the lack of a secondary education. And that about wraps it up. Now that wasn’t too painful was it? We’ll have ye home before ye can say Mary Robinson. Oh one last thing, can ye remember how long ago it was when the peeler died?’
‘It must be about a year ago, maybe longer, why do you ask?’
‘Oh no reason, just curious,’ lied Tullen. ‘Right then, sorry about the auld blindfold Pete,’ said Connor, proffering the distasteful rag.
‘I know, it’s a ball ache but I suppose it’s for my own good.’
‘That’s the ticket, now when we drop ye off not a word te anyone about our wee conversation, okay,’ The young barman nodded vigorously, happy to comply. He considered it a miracle that he was going home at all.
Par for the course, it had began to drizzle as they were approaching Belfast. They drove in silence up the Newtownards Road pulling up a few hundred yards from an all night taxi depot. Clements was out of the car in a trice opening the rear door. ‘Here we are again, familiar ground Peter,’ he told him removing the cover from the boy’s eyes. ‘Remember what we told ye, mum’s the word.’ The boy smiled sheepishly. ‘Oh one last thing Peter.’ Clements handed the barman an envelope. ‘That’s recompense for the bit of overtime you put in tonight. Whether ye believe it or not, yer info will go a long way to helpin us get thon bastard. Thanks again for yer help, see ya,’ Seconds later the car disappeared into a side street and was gone. Peter opened the envelope with trembling hands. Convinced that he had escaped death, he peered into the sheath. It contained a small bundle of notes that he tentatively removed. He was confused to find the sum of one hundred and twenty pounds. Confused and a little guilty at having misjudged the two strangers so wrongly. Exuding a sigh, he pocketed the money and headed to the taxi stand. By the time he had reached the rank the drizzle had graduated to a downpour. He was soaked to the skin but smiling from ear to ear as he entered the building. He was smiling at the irony of the situation. He had just spent the most exciting evening of his entire existence but would not be able to relate a word of it.
Elated the two would-be detectives returned to the safe house. The journey was spent in silence, each man engrossed in his own thoughts. Clements mind was focused on the interview with the young barman. Tullen on the other hand had cast all remnants of it from his mind. He was missing Moira. It was weeks since they had last held each other and he ached for the smell of her. He longed to hold her close. What in God’s name is this all about? He was in a turmoil. For as long as he could remember his life had one purpose. Namely to see Ireland united and in charge of her own destiny. An inbred hatred of loyalists was his food and drink. Nothing else mattered, yet here he sits with a man whom, a mere few months ago, he would have blown away without a second’s hesitation. Tullen was under no delusions, he knew that Clements would dispose of him with as much thought that he gave to downing a pint. And Moira, what of her? His life had changed dramatically since her return. If she requested that he forsake his beloved Ireland for greener pastures, he would be packed and ready to leave before she was finished asking. But deep down he realised that there would be no happiness for them until the madman was dealt with. He glanced at Clements who was concentrating on the road, the trace of a smile distorting his lips. How could he ever kill again after befriending this rogue? He would never again look at a Protestant and see a potential enemy. It was after three when they arrived back at the house, Clements having taken a more round about route. ‘Don’t know about you mate but I’m fucked. Sure we can make up copies of the report in the mornin. Let’s call it a day. What do ye think eh?’ said Clements.
‘Ach I’m not too tired Billy. Tell ye what, I’ll stay up for a while longer and make the copies. You can make the breakfast, what do ye say?’ offered Connor
‘Aye that’s alright by me. I’ll wake ye up about ten and we can arrange meetins after we’ve eaten,’ Billy concurred.
‘Breakfast now that sounds civilised. I like my eggs runny and try not te burn the tatey bread,’ his breakfast order was answered by the raised middle finger of Clements’ weary right hand. Sleep was impossible for Tullen, there were too many conflicting images invading his conscience.
With extreme difficulty he pushed all thoughts of Moira to the back of his mind and busied himself with the electronic gadgetry required to duplicate the conversation with the barman.