Хилари Боннер - No Reason To Die

‘Well, he was suspicious of what had happened. The Irishman thought he was a loose cannon, him, and Alan Connelly. They’d been mates with Foster and did a whole lot of talking. Big talking. Anyway, Gerry arranged for Gates to be posted abroad, to Germany.’

‘And then had him killed over there.’

Nick shrugged. ‘I have no idea. Could have been a genuine freak accident, for all I know. But Connelly didn’t think so. So when Connelly went AWOL, Gerry knew he had to find him.’

‘And kill him?’

‘I’ve no idea about that, either. It was an accident on a filthy night, wasn’t it?’

‘Oh, spare me, Nick. I was there. I saw how frightened that boy was. Out of his mind with terror. And no wonder. It was his CO who walked into that pub, and Connelly already believed that soldiers were being killed. It must have been so damned easy to throw him under a truck, make it look like an accident.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that.’

‘I do. I did from the beginning, somehow. Parker-Brown and his sidekick — who was that, then, the Irishman?’

Nick shrugged.

‘I’ll bet it was.’ Kelly paused, thinking back. The second man hadn’t uttered a word that night in The Wild Dog. If he had done, his Irish accent would have been evident.

Kelly’s head was swimming almost as much as when his son had nearly killed him two days previously, but for an entirely different reason. He knew he was experiencing an acute emotional reaction to all that he had been told.

‘And what about Robert Morgan, the soldier knifed in London, on his way to the Gates’ family home? He knew things, too, didn’t he? And he had probably decided not to stay silent any longer. I’d bet my house on that. Am I right?’

Nick shrugged. ‘I think I’ve said enough.’

‘Did the Irishman kill Morgan as well, then? Take his mobile phone? Make it look like a mugging? Was that the Irishman?’

Nick looked away and said nothing.

‘Does this Irishman have a name?’ asked Kelly.

‘Several. But none that I’m telling you. Anyway, he’s gone with Gerry. He’ll have another name today.’

As Nick spoke, Kelly was suddenly hit by another revelation.

‘Oh, my God,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t the Irishman who killed Robert Morgan, was it? It was you, Nick. That was you, again. You murdered him.’

Nick continued to avoid his father’s gaze. ‘I’ve told you all I am going to...’

‘Fine. It doesn’t matter, really.’ Kelly’s voice was very flat. ‘You’ve told me all I need to know.’

‘I told you you wouldn’t understand, that’s for sure.’

‘Damn right, I don’t understand. You’re a cold-blooded murderer, Nick, aren’t you? You’re prepared to kill a man on request, an innocent man, and to you, it seems, it’s little more than swatting a fly. You... you, you’re the lowest of the low. You’re inhuman, Nick.’ Kelly paused, and he could feel the tears pricking more incessantly at the back of his eyes. He had to fight to stave them off. ‘Damn right, I don’t understand,’ he repeated.

It was then as if something snapped in Nick. He jumped to his feet and strode across the room towards Kelly, jabbing a pointed finger at him, his lips drawn back over his teeth in an unpleasant snarl. But Kelly wasn’t afraid. He was beyond fear.

‘You wouldn’t, would you?’ Nick shouted. ‘The army was the only family I ever had, Dad.’ And the word ‘Dad’ came out heavy with sarcasm. ‘When I was growing up, you were off all over the world, allegedly on stories, actually cheating on your wife — my mother — at every opportunity, fucking everything that moved, drinking yourself into a stupor and ultimately sticking God knows what up your nose.’

Kelly recoiled. It felt as if Nick had hit him again.

‘Gerry Parker-Brown is the finest man I know, and when the army didn’t want me any more, he turned out to be my best friend. He never let me down. I’d do anything for him and for his regiment. As for the Irishman? I couldn’t begin to tell you what he has done for his country, and his country, Dad, is Great Britain, not fucking Ireland. We owe him. All of us. Everything he has done is down to the British army and what we put him through. Gerry was determined to protect him, and that’s why he came to me. Unfortunately the whole thing got a bit out of hand...’

Nick stepped back, more controlled now and no longer behaving threateningly. Kelly, wondering at the understatement, managed a wry smile.

‘It did, didn’t it?’ he said. ‘But Gerry wasn’t really protecting the fucking Irishman, was he? Not in the end. And neither were you. The more out of hand it all got, the more he was trapped into protecting his regiment, and both of you were protecting yourselves. I dread to think what you two lunatics had done in Northern Ireland. But the Irishman knew, didn’t he? If he went down, you two would go down with him, wouldn’t you? That’s why you were prepared to kill for Parker-Brown, Nick, not for any fucking altruistic reason. You both had so much to lose, too, didn’t you? Parker-Brown had his whole fucking glorious career, and you, and you...’ Kelly looked around the luxurious and expensively furnished apartment, with its breathtaking river views. ‘You had your fancy lifestyle to lose, didn’t you? All of this, your flash cars and your holidays in the Caribbean.’

Nick sat down again, apparently quite calm.

‘Think what you like,’ he said.

‘I don’t like my thoughts,’ replied Kelly, forcing himself to focus. There were still aspects of all of this that puzzled him.

‘If life is so cheap among you, Parker-Brown and the rest, why didn’t you take out the Irishman himself, when he started to cause so much trouble?’ he asked.

‘To begin with, it was loyalty to him, whatever you think. Then, after he’d dealt with Slade and Foster, it became too dangerous. If he’d come to sudden harm, the colonel reckoned it would come back on us and blow out the whole Irish operation we had overseen. There could have been mayhem. It seemed easier to let the Irishman do it his way.’

‘And sacrificing those young people was not a problem?’ Kelly found the detached way his son discussed violent death quite chilling.

‘National security was involved, Dad.’

‘Absolute bollocks.’

Nick looked down at the ground.

‘Well, we never expected it to snowball like it did, never expected it to involve so many...’

‘So many murders, Nick? Is murder the word you are seeking?’

Nick shrugged.

Kelly felt ill, really ill. He stood up, concentrating hard. The room seemed to be moving.

‘I’m going to leave now,’ he said. ‘I can’t stay here with you any longer.’

‘I didn’t want you to know, Dad. Not ever.’

‘I don’t suppose you did.’

Kelly moved shakily towards the door. He had to hold on first to the back of the sofa and then to the edge of the table to ensure that he did not fall. Nick did not appear to notice.

‘How did you know?’ he asked. ‘What made you think it was me? I didn’t think you’d ever suspect me.’

Kelly studied his son sorrowfully. ‘I suspected you once before,’ he said. ‘There was that other murder, wasn’t there, more than two years ago now, that I, just for a moment, came to believe you might have committed. But I told myself I was crazy, plumb crazy...’

Kelly let his voice trail away. Nick looked startled, but made no response.

‘And there was something else,’ Kelly continued. ‘Just a coincidence, a very meaningful coincidence. Jennifer saw your car parked in Torquay on the same night that I was attacked. A customised Aston, so distinctive that she spotted it at once. Careless of you, Nick.’