James Benn - Evil for evil

"Yes. Jenkins might have been happy to let Brennan go but I bet Simms talked him into saving his money. That way there was no risk that Brennan could place Taggart anywhere near Simms. The sighting at Clough must have been too close for comfort."

"How does this bank figure into everything?" Uncle Dan asked.

"It's the perfect cover for a Catholic extremist," Slaine said. "Create a new identity, have a customer vouch for you, and you've got your money hidden away in a Protestant bank, protected by a Royal Black Knight, no less. Perhaps Simms alluded to the Red Hand, or something equally secretive, so that McBurney would handle everything discreetly."

"So that's where the money is, the money that Taggart embezzled," Uncle Dan said. Clan na Gael money.

"Yes," Carrick said, drumming his fingers on the table, his tea long gone cold. "That seems likely. But at the moment, money is not our main concern. The guns, Taggart, and the German agents are."

"Does it seem likely that on the one hand, Taggart would steal from the IRA," Slaine said, "and on the other hand, work with the Germans on their behalf?"

"The same Germans who killed his family," I said, half to myself. A picture started to form in my mind. A picture of two half brothers, united in death, despair, and disillusionment. "Forget the politics. Taggart and Simms both lost their mother to a gun battle, no telling which side fired the killing shots. Then Taggart serves in the Spanish Civil War and loses his idealism. He returns to Ireland, drinks heavily for a while, and is finally able to start a normal life. He's still working for the cause but he has a regular job, marries, starts a family."

"Then they send him north," Slaine said, picking up on the thread I was weaving. "He brings his family under an assumed identity, thinking they'll be safe. But they're not. German bombs find them, and he's lost everything. Again."

"Maybe he started skimming the sweepstake money before, or maybe that was the trigger," I said. "Either way, I think he got in touch with his half brother, Adrian Simms, and made common cause with him."

"Them against the world," Uncle Dan said. "Against the Brits, the Americans, the Germans, the rest of the Irish, damn all in their eyes."

"Did you notice a change in him, Slaine?" I said it softly, watching her eyes. She didn't look at me. She didn't answer.

"What do you mean?" Carrick said.

"Tell them," I said to her. She raised her face, a small twitch at one corner of her mouth betraying her emotions. Her eyes glistened for a moment but she sat up straight, one hand laid flat on the table as if to steady herself.

"Taggart and Jenkins, they both work for me," she said. "Worked, I should say."

"That's insane," Carrick said. "What could those two do for you?"

"Maintain a balance," I said. "Each of them taking care of the worst of their own lot. Or did they kill each other's rotten apples?"

"They took care of their own," she said. "Jenkins was easy. What he wanted most was protection and to eliminate his rivals. Taggart was more difficult to manage. He wanted money."

"Does MI-5 have money problems?" Uncle Dan said.

"He wanted a good deal of money. I needed to keep it a secret, and the greater the sums, the more likely someone would question it."

"You sanctioned murder? Actually paid them to assassinate their own people? In my jurisdiction?" Carrick sounded astounded at the scope of it.

"It was necessary," she said, making a fist and pounding the table, rattling teacups. "You have no idea how many revenge killings we stopped. The more brutal the attacks, the more necessary it was to eliminate the attacker. Like stopping an infection before it spreads."

"And you kept on meeting with Taggart, even after the theft of the BARs? Even after he killed Sam Burnham?"

"It was all part of the agreement, with both of them. That was separate from everything else. They understood that I might need to investigate them with one hand and pay them with the other."

"You can't separate murder from everything else. You can't deal with men like Jenkins and Taggart and expect them to maintain some sort of code of honor," I said. "Jenkins wound up hanging from a rafter, and you almost got blown up, twice."

"I didn't expect honor. I thought I knew what each of them wanted. With Jenkins, I think I did. He needed to be the top man, to have the respect and fear of all those around him. I insured he'd be untouchable, and he did the rest. I never really understood with Taggart, although he seemed to be satisfied. Pleased with himself actually. He took large sums from MI-5 and still played the IRA rogue."

"And you never questioned him about the weapons theft?" Carrick said.

"No. It was part of the agreement. When we met it was always about the task at hand. It was understood that neither would use the situation for any other purpose. We used a drop, a different one for each of them. Sergeant Lynch would leave a message whenever we needed to meet."

"One of them told you about Brennan, didn't he? How else would you have known about it?"

"Yes. Jenkins did. He said he had nothing to do with it. He was afraid the Americans would think he had killed their soldier, and that I wouldn't be able to protect him."

"Now we know why the same car was used by Taggart and Brennan's killer," Carrick said. "Simms had easy access to the vehicle. It confused us, which was probably the intent. Do you think Jenkins was in on it?"

"Just a guess but I'd say Simms talked him into going along. Which may be why he ended up in that noose," I said.

"Well, it seems to me that Red Jack is a man on the edge," Uncle Dan said. "Playing each side against the other, and planning something big. If he were simply in it for the money, he'd be long gone by now, wouldn't he?"

"Both he and Simms," I said.

"He hasn't legged it. Why is he still here? He's got his sixty grand, plus all the money from the sweepstake, tens of thousands of dollars. He could have the Northern Bank wire it where he wants. He could be in Switzerland or Rio, anywhere. What's keeping him here?"

"He's waiting for the other thing he wants, if you're right." Carrick said. "He has money; all that is left to him is revenge."

"Revenge for his family, for his losses in life," Slaine said. "But revenge visited upon whom exactly?"

"All of us," Carrick said. "God help us, all of us."

Carrick had sent a squad out to round up Simms but he was nowhere to be found. He had set the wheels in motion for a Crown prosecutor to investigate the Armagh bank, McBurney, and the accounts of the mysterious Mr. Lawson but that wasn't going to help us right now. He'd also put in a call to Major Cosgrove, then pointedly asked us to leave his office. Uncle Dan was stuck with Constable Porter, one of the men who had been at Jenkins's warehouse. Carrick had called Porter his "escort," but it was clear he was also a minder, charged with keeping Uncle Dan on a short leash.

Slaine had watched Carrick on the telephone with Cosgrove through the office window, lines of worry furrowing her brow. I wondered if Carrick was considering charges against her, then decided he was actually wondering if he could make them stick. In time of war, MI-5 personnel were not likely to be brought into a courtroom. But it was easy to see that Slaine's schemes went far beyond what Carrick was willing to condone. He was a straight arrow, maybe not a great friend of the Irish Republic but a policeman you could count on to go by the book. And the book didn't countenance assassinations, no matter how carefully balanced between extremist groups. Still, he didn't strike me as naive, and unless he had a couple of aces up his sleeve, he wasn't going to handcuff Slaine O'Brien anytime soon.