Bandit Country. Peter Corrigan

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       4

      ‘Well well, John,’ Cordwain said. ‘We meet again.’

      They were not alone in the back of the Landrover. A third man sat there on one of the narrow seats in an SAS-pattern combat smock. He looked young, pink-cheeked, and he stared at Early with obvious fascination.

      Cordwain, as always, was breezy and confident. He helped Early off the floor. Outside there was the sound of people screaming and yelling. Stones rebounded off the armoured sides of the vehicle and it swayed at bodies pushed against it. Cordwain tapped the partition that divided the driver’s section from the back, for all the world like a millionaire signalling to his chauffeur. The engine roared into life and the vehicle began reversing.

      ‘Sounds as though we’ve stirred up a bit of trouble,’ Cordwain said. ‘But that’s all for the best.’

      ‘Who are this lot?’ Early asked. ‘Greenjackets?’

      ‘Yes. They’ve been here for four months, and they’ve lost four men.’

      ‘Well, they’re fucking heavy-handed.’

      ‘They were meant to be. I’m trying to give you a bit of street cred in the Republican community. Also, we need to talk.’

      Early looked at the third occupant of the Landrover. The vehicle was lurching, starting and stopping. The shouting outside continued.

      ‘Who is this, then?’

      ‘Lieutenant Charles Boyd, Ulster Troop,’ the young man said. He had a public-school accent and didn’t look old enough to grow a beard, but his eyes were cold and eager. They reminded Early of Eugene Finn’s. There was no humour in them.

      ‘So you’re my back-up,’ Early said. ‘Hooray.’

      Boyd frowned but Cordwain cut short any riposte.

      ‘Charles here is one of the best young officers we’ve got,’ he said. ‘You may have heard of the incident in Tyrone a few days ago. Textbook stuff. Now you and he are going to do the same thing to the South Armagh Brigade.’

      ‘The Armagh lot is a different kettle of fish. Since that fiasco at Loughgall in ’87 they’re tighter-knit than ever.’

      ‘Oh, we know. But you seem to have started out on the right foot, becoming buddies with the biggest player in the area. My congratulations, John. You’ve been here less than a day and already you’re rubbing shoulders with the head honcho.’

      ‘Let’s cut the crap, James. I can’t sit in here in the middle of a riot all night. Give me the gen.’

      ‘All right. The situation is as follows. I have most of the Group in Bessbrook at the moment, and 14 Company’s people have covert OPs going in tonight. The riot is their cover. We’ll search a few houses, insert the teams in the confusion – the usual thing.’

      ‘How did you know I’d be in the bar?’ Early interrupted.

      ‘Hell, John, you should know better than that. You’ve been tailed ever since you got on the bus in Armagh.’

      Early felt slightly annoyed with himself, for he had not noticed.

      ‘We’ll have the bar, Finn’s house and McLaughlin’s house all covered. Charles’s boys will be looking after you. We’ll use the old dead letterbox system for messages. Out beyond the centre beyond the town. You go out on the Castleblaney road, past the sports ground, and there will be an old milk churn in the ditch on the left-hand side. We site vehicle checkpoints there all the time. Leave your first comms there. We’ll get word to you where the second will be. You should be able to go for a walk now and again – it’s only a ten-minute stroll. In a place this small, we can’t have the stuff that works in Belfast. Do you want a panic button installed? We could get it in your room tonight.’

      Early shook his head. ‘I want you to keep your distance as much as possible. These guys are nervous as cats already.’

      ‘Have it your way, then. We’ve fibre optics, laser microphones, the whole heap, but you’ve got bugger-all but your wits and that peashooter you carry.’

      ‘Suits me. Now I think it’s time I was on my way, don’t you?’

      Cordwain listened to the commotion outside. It showed no signs of abating. ‘Yes. There is one more thing though: we have to make it all look convincing. Nothing personal, John.’

      Early cursed. ‘Get on with it, then.’

      Boyd punched him on the eye once, twice, three times. Early remained still, though the third punch produced a stifled groan from his lips.

      ‘Lie down on the floor,’ Boyd said in СКАЧАТЬ