Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2) (26 page)

in the end he was right and Jack could not reason his way to making
Barry see things in a different way.

“Well we aren’t
exactly
dressed for the occasion.
And this is your
car. It wouldn’t be very clever to mount any kind of attack in your own
car. Even you aren’t that stupid. I hope to Christ that you aren’t that
stupid.”

There was an awkward pause, during which Jack felt that he may
have gone too far with Barry—after all, there was only so far that he
could push Barry
before something snapped.
Or at least, that’s how
Jack felt at the time; he was later to learn that by pushing Barry’s buttons he actually
helped to win his trust—IRA men were suspicious,
on edge and paranoid by nature, and if someone was being too helpful then there was something they were hiding. Someone who pushed
Barry’s buttons could never be a spy;
or so Barry
believed. A real spy
would
have
been trained to not
lose their
cool, and not to ask too
many questions.

“So Sean,” Barry said. “If you know so bloody
much then you tell
me what we are doing out here on a day like today? Why are we not
sitting outside the pub with a pint
of the black stuff and a pipe full of
baccy?”

There was another tense
pause. Barry was always working an
angle but Jack did not know what that angle was.
“Re-con?” Jack said, simply.
“After a fashion,” Barry replied.
“After a fashion? What the hell
does that
even mean?” Jack said,
mockingly. “We are either on a re-con mission or we are not. Why the
hell do you insist with this childish double talk? We are on the same
side and the organisation will not fall apart if you answer some noncommittal questions.”
Without answering Jack’s question Barry pulled the car off the road
onto a
heather covered verge. Barry
got
out
followed
him. Jack was
never
going to
put
where Barry was behind him somewhere at the back of the car, while
he sat in the front, defenceless. He may not have been armed at that
moment but he still had his hand to hand combat training to fall back
on, which would at least give him a fighting chance, if it came to that.
of the car. Jack quickly
himself in the
position
Barry went to the back
of the car and he opened the boot. In seconds Jack was standing beside him. Jack cautiously peered over Barry’s
shoulder into the boot. He half expected to see at least
one gun in the
boot. There were no weapons. In place of the expected guns lay a pair
of pretty basic looking binoculars.
“Didn’t have you pegged as a bird watcher,” Jack said. “Well, maybe
looking through a bedroom window as the girl next door got changed.
Though I’m sure you will pass that
off as being in the interests of the
IRA and on a need to know basis.”
Barry handed Jack the binoculars.
“The bird that we are going to look for today is a bit more deadly
than some birds of prey, or lesser spotted tits. Or tits next door. In fact
Sean, the bird that you are going to spot today will kill you if you don’t
find him before he finds you. You want to know why we are out
here?
OK. We are out here to play a little game. If you win the game then
we drive back into town and have that pint
of Guinness. If you lose
the game... If you lose the game then I will roll your body
down into
the valley
below. So Sean, now that I have answered your questions,
shall we play? ”
“Really,” Jack said with a smile. “We are out here to play some stupid game? You brought me here to try to frighten me? You really are a
tiny, unimportant little man and I have had enough of your bullshit
for
one day. Take me back into town now
or I will take your car and
leave you to walk back.”
Barry grinned widely and he raised his hand. Almost instantly part
of the road next to the car disappeared with a tiny, silent explosion.
“What the hell,” Jack said. “Are you kidding me?”
Jack moved to the side of the car, away from where the bullet hit
the road.
“Like I said Sean, if you don’t spot this guy he will kill you. It is a
new training regime that we are introducing. Too many
of our volunteers have been taken out
by SAS sharp shooters in the last year and
it is embarrassing. It makes the Brits think that they can win this war.
This game will weed out those who are not skilled enough to spot their
enemy
before he spots them. If they
die during training then no one
will ever know. We certainly won’t be reading all about it in The Sun
or TheTimes.”
“And how am I supposed to stop him? I
don’t have a gun. I
certainly don’t have anything like the weapon this guy is using.”
Barry shook his head and he smiled wickedly once again.
“Jesus Sean, you really have a problem listening to what other people have to say. I
didn’t say that you have to kill him. He is much too
valuable to us. A hell of a lot more valuable to us than you, by the way.
What I said was that you had to spot him. If you spot him you will
live. If you
don’t spot him you will die. That is why we are out here
today.”
As Barry finished speaking another bullet tore into the road. This
time it impacted less than a foot from Jack;
but Jack
didn’t flinch.
He didn’t like feeling so exposed and vulnerable, but at the same time
he genuinely
believed that the entire exercise was nothing more than
some childish game that had been dreamed up by Barry and
one of
his sick friends. The IRA had never cared that much about how they
were portrayed in the English press, and the simple truth was that the
press would spin whatever story the government, and by extension the
security services, wanted them to tell.
“And that’s the
other thing Sean. He will fire a shot
every
sixty
seconds. He will get two inches closer to you each time until he hits
you. That final bullet will be through your head. So by my calculations
I would say you have about five minutes to find him before he ends
this wee game. Good luck, mate.
And don’t stand too close to my car. I
am
on a
promise later and I wouldn’t want to turn up at her house
driving a car like a sieve.”
Jack knew
deep down that there was not really any chance that
Barry and his friend were out to kill him, but that kind of dangerous
game could end up with an accident taking place that he would not
walk away from. When it was over and he was safely back at their base
then he would show Barry in no uncertain terms just what he thought
of the silly
demonstration;
but until that time he was going to play
along.
When the third silent shot
gorged another
piece
of the road
out
like it was
made
of jelly, Jack raised the binoculars to his
eyes and
he began to scout the hillside in front
of them, where he assumed
the sniper was hiding—he wasn’t in the woods behind them, and the
angle made a shot from the valley
quite impossible, so the hillside was
the only logical option. The hill was easily a mile away, possibly more,
and it stretched out for a mile and a half. It was quite bare with fewer
than a dozen obvious places for a sniper to make himself comfortable.
But if this guy was as good as Barry
suggested, then he could find
cover just about anywhere in the mass of purple heather. The rolling
South
Armagh countryside made it hard to judge distance with any
real degree of accuracy—well it did for Jack, though the gunman did
not appear to suffer from that same affliction—the shots were perfectly ranged and bang on target.
“I must warn you Sean, this guy is the best.
And he has something
in common with you. He is also a
blow-in. Only
he came a wee bit
further than you
did. He’s from the good
old U, S
of
A.
Second
or
third generation Irish who is suffering from the same delusion that
many of his countrymen suffer from—that this war is some epic battle
of good against
evil; right verses wrong. He’s here to rescue his
poor
Irish cousins from the clutches
of the big,
bad, British Empire. Normally I would be happy for them to fundraise for us State side, and
leave the fighting to us. But this guy is special. He has brought something new to our team, and that doesn’t happen often.”
Another bullet impacted the ground. The sniper was closing in on
him and Jack was beginning to feel the pressure.
“He is a former Navy
Seal. A sniper
by trade. The gun
he’s using is as long as a man and as light as a feather. The bullets look like
they wouldn’t
be
out
of
place
on a launch
pad at
Cape
Canaveral.
Huge bastards they are.
Armour piercing. He said that they will pass
through the engine block of
my car and into your head if you try to
hide. It would be worth giving up this piece of shit just to see that. But
like I said, I am on a promise later and my curiosity will just have to
wait. The old girl will live to see another day.”
Barry slapped his hand down on the roof of the car as he said those
last few words in an effort to make Jack jump. It worked. Jack flashed
him a look
of anger
before returning to the search through the binoculars.
“This yank has taken out three soldiers so far and he even forced