Shaun Clarke - Death on Gibraltar

‘I just don’t like drinkin’,’ Sean replied. ‘What’s the matter with that?’

‘Men who don’t drink can’t be trusted,’ Mad Dan informed him with a twisted, mocking grin. ‘Sure, isn’t that a fact now?’

‘It’s men who drink who can’t be trusted,’ Sean told him. ‘The drink loosens their tongues.’

‘And more,’ Tyrone said, wiping his wet lips with the palm of his hand. ‘It also makes ’em too cocky and careless – too inclined to make mistakes. You stay away from it, laddy.’

The remark offended Mad Dan, making him turn red. ‘Sure, you wouldn’t be accusin’ me of carelessness, would you, Tyrone?’

‘Not you, Dan,’ Tyrone said, though he had his doubts. ‘You can hold your own. I mean in general, that’s all.’

Sean coughed into his clenched fist.

‘He doesn’t smoke either,’ Tyrone explained.

‘Bejasus!’ Mad Dan said sarcastically. ‘Sure, isn’t he a right wee angel? Where’s your gilded wings, boyo?’

Sean didn’t bother replying; he just offered a tight smile. ‘So what’s up?’ he asked Tyrone.

‘Sure I know you like travellin’,’ Tyrone replied, ‘so I’d like to offer you the chance to travel a bit farther than the tourist sites of Northern Ireland.’

‘What’s that mean?’ Sean asked in his quiet, always deadly serious manner.

Tyrone drew on his cigarette, exhaled a cloud of smoke, then leant slightly across the table, closer to Sean.

‘It’s to do with the massacre of our eight comrades by those SAS bastards in Loughgall last May.’

Sean knew all about that massacre and felt rage just recalling it. This was a real war in the Province, with real death and destruction, so Sean normally tried to remain objective and not let hatred motivate him or, worse, distort his judgement. Nevertheless, the shooting of eight of his comrades by a large SAS ambush team placed inside and around the RUC station at Longhgall, with a civilian driver also killed and his brother badly wounded, had filled him with an anger that could not be contained. While Sean had not personally been informed of that particular IRA raid, it was as clear as the nose on his face that the Provisional IRA teams involved had timed it to take place after the police station was closed, which meant they had not intended bodily harm, but only to blow up the empty building. The response from the SAS had therefore been out of all proportion to the size of the event – a bloody overkill that had merely confirmed for Sean and other IRA members that the SAS was an officially sanctioned assassination squad acting on behalf of the British government.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.