Read Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2) Online
Authors: Nicholas P Clark
Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2) (18 page)
Hello Sean,” Barry Fagan said, with disdain in his tone. “Or should
that be, hello Jack?”
The last time Jack had set
eyes
on Barry Fagan he was tumbling
over the side of a container ship into the cold Irish Sea. That was over
ten years ago and as far as Jack was concerned, that chapter in his life
was closed. Jack’s recollection was not complete,
or as accurate as he
would have liked to believe.
Ten years ago...
Barry smirked mockingly at
Jack. “What is it mate?” Jack
asked.
think
I
understand
how
you
managed
to
escape,”
Barry
explained. “Coward.”
Jack
hadn’t
noticed
the
sailor
approach
them
until
he
was
standing beside him. The sailor heard what Barry said to Jack.
The
sailor
grinned, sensing a fist fight was about to break out. It
was clear to Jack
that Barry was going to be a problem and so he
used
the
opportunity
granted
to
him
by
the
insult
to
do
something about it. Jack rushed Barry and he pushed him to the
ground. Within seconds Jack was
on top of Barry and planting a few heavy punches to his face.
Barry
groaned
as
he
struggled
against
Jack’s
weight
and
ferocious
onslaught. Barry managed to strike back with a blow to Jack’s left
temple, and it was enough to send Jack spilling backwards onto the
deck of the ship.
Barry regained his composure and he quickly got to his feet. He
pulled
out
the
pistol
that he had
tucked into
the back
of
his
jeans and he walked over to where Jack lay. He pointed the gun at
Jack and as he
did Jack kicked Barry hard on his left knee. As
Barry
responded
to the
kick
Jack
kicked
him
again,
this
time
sending the gun spinning across the deck.
In a life changing moment both men locked eyes briefly.
They
knew that whoever made it to that gun first would live and the
loser would die. They scrambled to their feet and sprinted for the
gun. Jack slid the last few yards ahead of his rival and he scooped
up the
weapon. Spinning from where he lay on the deck Jack
fired the gun twice at Barry, hitting him centre mass. Barry hit
the deck hard and he fell silent.
Jack turned when a strong hand grabbed at the weapon from
behind him. It was the sailor. Jack knew that he couldn’t kill this
man as well so he released the gun. The sailor tucked the gun into
the top of his jeans, at the front, for easy access, should Jack change
his mind about
being cooperative. The sailor then helped Jack to
his feet.
“Remind me never to call you a coward,” said the sailor.
Jack smiled.
The two men walked across the deck towards the bridge. Jack
assumed that he was going to be brought before the Captain who
would decide on his fate.
“I told the Captain that you Irish would be trouble,” said the sailor.
“I’m a Scot,” said Jack.
“And your friend?”
“He’s Irish,” Jack said, as he turned towards Barry’s body.
Jack and the sailor looked at one another with disbelief. Barry’s
body was nowhere to be seen. Jack and the sailor ran across the
deck to where they had left Barry. Jack followed a trail of blood to
the side of
the ship. He looked across the sea behind the ship. There was
nothing to see except for the white froth that was being generated
by the ship’s mighty turbines. Barry was gone.
Present Day...
“How the hell did you survive?” Jack asked.
Barry smirked at him. It was that same dirty, mocking smirk which
of that container ship, just before the fight broke out.
“Christ Jack, it wasn’t that hard to work out. I never left the ship. I
dragged
my
sorry
arse to the
side
before
heading
down
into the
hold. I was in agony for days. There were times when I thought that
I wouldn’t
make it. I
cannot
believe that you
didn’t find it
odd that
my
body was not floating
on the waves.
At times, when I was down
there in agony, getting closer and closer to death, I
even believed that
you might have felt a little bit
of remorse for what you did to me and
the
others. That you let
me escape as some kind
of apology for that
despicable act of betrayal.”
“And is this one of those times?” Jack asked, with a slight grin.
Barry smiled.
“I see that you haven’t lost any
of that cockiness Jack. It is too bad
that we ultimately ended up on opposite sides of this dirty little war. I
think that if things had been just a little bit different then you and I
could have got on like a house on fire. Too bad indeed.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, Barry, the war is all but
over.
Are you
really going to put the entire Northern Ireland peace process in jeopardy just so that you can fulfil some ancient act
of revenge?
Are you
so reckless?”
“No Jack, you
don’t get to play that card with me. What I am doing now is about the past. The future peace will take care of itself no
matter what happens to you. Both sides have some unfinished business that needs to be sorted
out
before a lasting peace can be put in
place.
Both sides
understand that and they are
prepared to turn a
blind eye to it in an effort to secure a lasting peace.”
A look of concern swept across Jack’s face.
“What are you saying Barry? You think that you will be able to kill
me and no one on my side will ask questions? That they will not seek
to bring you to justice?
And you know the kind
of justice they
deal
in.”
Barry smiled.
“I
know
British justice all too well Jack. But in answer to your
questions. Yes I will get away with it. Not because I am full of myself
and of my
own importance, but because I can state that assertion as
a
matter
of fact. Now do you understand? Now
do you see just who
it is that you have been working for all these years? Your life means
about as much to them as the life of some IRA terrorist.
And that my
old friend is your
moment
of
betrayal right there. I
hope it tears at
your guts in the same way your betrayal has torn at my guts for all
these years.”
There was a coldness to Barry’s tone that told of how he believed
what he was saying even if there was no substance to his words. For a
moment the belief in Barry’s voice sent a chill running through Jack.
It wouldn’t be the first time that his masters back in London offered
him up as a peace offering. There had been a few occasions where he
suspected as much since the first hint that someone in London was
not playing fair by him back in the seventies. That warning had been
whispered to him by another spy,
moments before he died.
At the
time it seemed to point to his old boss, Commander Deeley, but with
time, Jack had dismissed it as nonsense. In a round about way Deeley
was still his boss in so much as Jack’s immediate superiors answered
to Deeley. But why would this all come back now? Why would such
a meaningless execution be permitted to proceed? If all old scores had
to be settled from thirty years of conflict in Northern Ireland then it
would take another thirty years before any peace process could begin.
“For Christ’s sake Barry; doyou really believe that crap?” Jack protested. “There is no way you will get away with killing a British agent.
Especially when you have killed two guards and a cop. My god, the
fallout from the South
Africans alone will be enough to throw the
entire peace process into doubt. They will demand an explanation for
the deaths of three of their citizens. When the connection is made between the deaths of four people here, one of which is a British agent,
how do you think the Unionists will react? Ian Paisley and his lot are
already screaming blue bloody murder
over the idea
of the UK government talking to Irish Republicans; this would send the country
spiralling towards civil war. At the very least, the pressure on my government to pull out of the talks would be simply too great for them to
ignore. And the calls to withdraw from the talks would not just come
from the Unionists in Ulster; politicians from all parts of the UK who
had been prepared to give the peace process the benefit of the doubt
would be lining up to demand an end to the talks. If that happens it
could be several generations before enough trust is established to start
the talks up again. So forgive me if I
don’t believe you. If you have
been told that this is okay then you have been lied to. You have been
played. And from what I can remember, that isn’t exactly hard to do.”
Overcome by rage, Barry rushed forward to pistol whip Jack. The
attack was well anticipated by Jack. Jack got in a short, hard, gutpunch which served to completely take the power
out
of Barry’s attack. As Barry tried to go in for another attempt Jack caught him with
an upper cut to the chin. The blow was substantial enough to send
Barry spinning backwards. He almost lost his balance, but he never
lost control over the weapon. Had it been anyone else, the attack by
Jack would have stunned his captor for long enough for Jack to finish
what he started. Barry Fegan was no ordinary captor. He had been
through enough of those kinds of situations to realise that if he didn’t
take control again quickly then he would be a dead man.
Jack rushed towards Barry just as he swung the gun around. The
muzzle was almost lined up with Jack’s legs. It was another
one
of
those split second decisions; the kind that he had faced all too many
times during the course of his life as a spy—duck for cover,
or go for
glory? He had no choice.
Fegan
may
have
only
been there to scare
him,
but he couldn’t take that chance. With all the strength that his
pain ravaged body could muster, Jack swung out his left leg, catching
Fegan’s weapon with his foot as he did so. The gun left Fegan’s hand
without
discharging.
Fegan
didn’t waste time thinking
out
his
next
move as he scrambled across the floor
of the room in the direction of
the gun. Jack moved as quickly as he could in the other direction.
Jack grabbed the pistol he had
originally selected from the weapons locker. It was already
primed to fire—a precaution that he had