Peter Robinson - Sleeping in the Ground

Their moules arrived and both sat in silence for a while to enjoy them. ‘What was the general consensus on Vincent?’ Gerry asked.

Jane paused with her fork in mid-air. ‘Mark Vincent was a violent and disturbed young man when he joined up. He had a lot of anger, and we taught him to channel and direct that anger and violence. Which, when you think about it, is hardly unusual in the army. As a rule, we can direct violence against the enemy, but if you’re asking me whether I think he’s the kind of man who could direct it against someone he thought had betrayed or crossed him, then I’d have to say yes. But that’s just an opinion based on an afternoon spent reading files and talking to people about him. And I’m not a psychologist.’

‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to quote you,’ Gerry said. ‘Did he ever train as a sniper?’

Jane hesitated before going on. ‘The army doesn’t like to talk about things like that,’ she said, ‘but yes, he did. He was an excellent shot, and he had no compunction about killing strangers from a distance. It would have been a waste not to train him. And use him.’

‘Did he have mental problems?’

‘Of course he did. Show me a soldier who doesn’t. Sometimes mental problems can be valuable assets in the military. Oh, we have our psychiatrists and so on, but it’s not like you can patch up a psyche in a field hospital the way you can a gunshot wound or an IED injury. And it’s not as if our shrinks have the time it takes to spend on fixing these minds. Years of therapy? No chance. Many of them go undiagnosed. PTSD, for example. There’s been a lot of talk about that recently.’

‘Did Vincent suffer from PTSD?’

‘Hard to answer. I’d reckon that he probably did — at least he suffered some of the symptoms. He was never diagnosed — he never spent long enough with a psychiatrist for that — but in my layperson’s opinion, from what I’ve read, and what people have told me, I’d say he did. According to one report I saw, he suffered from headaches and insomnia, and he had difficulty controlling his emotions and forming relationships with others. There were also issues of substance abuse, again not uncommon in PTSD cases, or in combat, for that matter — just think Apocalypse Now .’

Gerry had never seen Apocalypse Now , but she didn’t want to let on to Jane. ‘Drugs?’ she said.

‘In Mark Vincent’s case, the doctor thought it was mostly alcohol, though other drugs may have been involved. You should remember that pretty much all of this was only discovered towards the end of his military career, shortly before his discharge. He never underwent any serious psychiatric evaluation.’

‘I got the impression, reading between the lines,’ said Gerry, ‘that the discharge was dishonourable.’

‘Well, that’s true to some extent,’ Jane said, ‘but we prefer a mutual parting of the ways, if we can work one out. I’m sure you have the same policy with bent coppers when you can get away with it. Far less headline-grabbing. And Mark Vincent had certainly served long enough to retire gracefully.’

‘He didn’t object?’

‘No. He took the package, as they say in business.’

‘Did his discharge involve anything to do with a civilian massacre?’

‘I know of no such massacre.’

‘Kosovo?’

Aunt Jane remained silent for a while. ‘It takes a long time for these things to come out, for the investigation into allegations to be completed, probably much like your business.’

‘So he was?’

Aunt Jane merely smiled.

‘I also think he made connections there he used later when he was involved in people-trafficking,’ Gerry went on. ‘Especially young girls in the sex trade.’

‘Well,’ said Aunt Jane. ‘I wouldn’t deny that such things happen. Soldiers do sometimes come into contact with criminal elements.’

‘But he was also promoted to sergeant at one point. How on earth did that come about?’

‘How do these things usually come about? Deceptive appearances. Human error. He was good at getting people to do things, and that’s one trait you want in a sergeant. Leadership quality. Unfortunately, as we discovered too late, Vincent was only good at getting people to do things that benefitted himself, not the army as a whole. I never came into contact with him, you understand, so I’m speaking very much as an outside observer here, based on official reports and a couple of off-the-record conversations, but I’m pretty good at reading between the lines, and I’d say Vincent was charming and manipulative when he wanted to be. And he did have a bit of a temper.’

‘How did it manifest?’

‘Bar brawls, that sort of thing. Fighting in general. Again, that’s not so unusual for a soldier. He was quite a decent boxer in the ring, too. Controlled and disciplined.’

They finished their moules just as the main courses arrived. Jane worked her way through the wine as she ate her bloody steak. Gerry had only taken a few sips of her first glass. Mostly because she was driving, but partly because the rich and complex red wine didn’t go very well with moules or halibut. ‘What kind of state was he in after he left the army?’

‘I’ve no idea what became of him. Maybe you can fill me in on that?’

‘Petty crime,’ said Gerry. ‘Assaults, arson, prison, that possible involvement in people-trafficking I mentioned earlier.’

‘Not surprising. It’s what I would have predicted from what I’ve read. At least the army gave him a rudder to steer by and a structure and shape to his life. Without them, he’d have been lost. I’ve seen his type before, far too often. When they first come to us, it’s generally because someone has told them — either you lot or their parents — that it’s either prison or the army. And when they leave us, as often as not it’s prison they drift towards.’

‘I thought the army was supposed to make men out of boys?’

‘You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, Geraldine. You ought to know that in your line of work.’

‘But was there a specific incident? He was in Iraq at the time, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes. Basra.’ Jane finished her steak, pushed the dish away. She had finished her wine, and the alcohol seemed to be having no effect on her. ‘But as I hinted earlier, it was mostly a matter of the Balkans catching up with him. In Iraq it was petty crime, mostly. Black market, that sort of thing.’

‘And in Kosovo?’

‘Other things. Many just rumours. Most not proven.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘That he was rough with women. Certain kinds of women. Rumour has it he beat up a prostitute once. There were several unexplained murders. Nothing we could pin on Mark Vincent, of course, but in retrospect... One way or another, Mark Vincent became a liability. You can argue that it should have happened sooner, but... what can I say? Hindsight makes visionaries of us all.’

‘What was the problem with women?’

‘Same problem as with so many men. Women were all sluts to him. Except his dear dead sister, of course. She was an angel.’

‘How do you know about that?’

‘According to one of the men I talked to, someone who knew Mark Vincent, he used to go on and on about her, showed her photo around. It seems she died when he was quite young. Is this of any use?’

‘Yes. We think this may all be connected with his sister’s death.’

‘How?’

The waiter arrived with the dessert menu. Jane studied it and decided on a cream cheese and vanilla mousse, while Gerry settled on a herbal tea. Jane gave her a pitying look. ‘Oh, Geraldine, Geraldine,’ she said. ‘What are we to do with you?’

When the waiter came by, Jane ordered the mousse and a double Remy. Gerry thought about the bill and swallowed.