Confessional. Jack Higgins

She’s good and mad and you know what that means.’

      ‘She wants results, sir?’

      ‘Only she wants them yesterday, Harry. All hell’s broken loose over there in Ulster. Protestant politicians having a field day. Paisley saying I told you so, as usual. Oh, the West German Chancellor’s been on to Downing Street. To be frank, things couldn’t be worse.’

      ‘I wouldn’t be too sure, sir. According to Army Intelligence at Lisburn the PIRA are more than a little annoyed about this one themselves. They insist they had nothing to do with it.’

      ‘But they claimed responsibility.’

      ‘They run a very tight ship these days, sir, as you know, since the re-organization of their command structure. McGuiness, amongst other things, is still Chief of Northern Command and the word from Dublin is that he categorically denies involvement of any of his people. In fact, he’s as angry as anybody else at the news. It seems he thought a great deal of Baum.’

      ‘Do you think it’s INLA?’

      The Irish National Liberation Front had shown themselves willing to strike in the past more ruthlessly than the Provisionals when they felt the situation warranted it.

      ‘Intelligence says not, sir. They have a good source close to the top where INLA is concerned.’

      Ferguson warmed himself at the fire. ‘Are you suggesting the other side were responsible? The UVF or the Red Hand of Ulster?’

      ‘Again, Lisburn has good sources in both organizations and the word is definitely no. No Protestant organization was involved.’

      ‘Not officially.’

      ‘It doesn’t look as if anyone was involved officially, sir. There are always the cowboys, of course. The madmen who watch too many midnight movies on television and end up willing to kill anybody rather than nobody.’

      Ferguson lit a cheroot and sat behind his desk. ‘Do you really believe that, Harry?’

      ‘No, sir,’ Fox said calmly. ‘I was just throwing out all the obvious questions the media crackpots will come up with.’

      Ferguson sat there staring at him, frowning. ‘You know something, don’t you?’

      ‘Not exactly, sir. There could be an answer to this, a totally preposterous one which you aren’t going to like one little bit.’

      ‘Tell me.’

      ‘All right, sir. The fact that the Belfast Telegraph had a phone call claiming responsibility for the Provisionals is going to make the Provos look very bad indeed.’

      ‘So.’

      ‘Let’s assume that was the purpose of the exercise.’

      ‘Which means a Protestant organization did it with that end in view.’

      ‘Not necessarily, as I think you’ll see if you let me explain. I got the full report on the affair from Lisburn just after you left. The killer is a professional, no doubt about that. Cold, ruthless and highly organized and yet he doesn’t just kill everyone in sight.’

      ‘Yes, that had occurred to me too. He gave the postman, Leary, a capsule. Some sort of knock-out drop.’

      ‘And that stirred my mind, so I put it through the computer.’ Fox had a file tucked under his arm and now he opened it. ‘The first five killings on the list all involved a witness being forced at gunpoint to take that sort of capsule. First time it occurs is nineteen seventy-five in Omagh.’

      Ferguson examined the list and looked up. ‘But on two occasions, the victims were Catholics. I accept your argument that the same killer was involved, but it makes a nonsense of your theory that the purpose in killing Baum was to make the PIRA look bad.’

      ‘Stay with it a little longer, sir, please. Description of the killer in each case is identical. Black balaclava and dark anorak. Always uses a Walther PPK. On three occasions was known to escape by motor cycle from the scene of the crime.’

      ‘So?’

      ‘I fed all those details into the computer separately, sir. Any killings where motor cycles were involved. Cross-referencing with use of a Walther, not necessarily the same gun, of course. Also cross-referencing with the description of the individual.’

      ‘And you got a result?’

      ‘I got a result all right, sir.’ Fox produced not one sheet, but two. ‘At least thirty probable killings since nineteen seventy-five, all linked to the factors I’ve mentioned. There are another ten possibles.’

      Ferguson scanned the lists quickly. ‘Dear God!’ he whispered. ‘Catholic and Protestant alike. I don’t understand.’

      ‘You might if you consider the victims, sir. In all cases where the Provisionals claimed responsibility, the target was counter-productive, leaving them looking very bad indeed.’

      ‘And the same where Protestant extremist organizations were involved?’

      ‘True, sir, although the PIRA are more involved than anyone else. Another thing, if you consider the dates when the killings took place, it’s usually when things were either quiet or getting better or when some political initiative was taking place. One of the possible cases when our man might have been involved goes back as far as July 1972, when, as you know, a delegation from the IRA met William Whitelaw secretly here in London.’

      ‘That’s right,’ Ferguson said. ‘There was a ceasefire. A genuine chance for peace.’

      ‘Broken because someone started shooting on the Lenadoon estate in Belfast and that’s all it took to start the pot boiling again.’

      Ferguson sat there, staring down at the lists, his face expressionless. After a while, he said, ‘So what you’re saying is that somewhere over there is one mad individual dedicated to keeping the whole rotten mess turning over.’

      ‘Exactly, except that I don’t think he’s mad. It seems to me he’s simply following sound Marxist-Leninist principles where urban revolution is concerned. Chaos, disorder, fear. All those factors essential to the breakdown of any kind of orderly government.’

      ‘With the IRA taking the brunt of the smear campaign?’

      ‘Which makes it less and less likely that the Protestants will ever come to a political agreement with them, or our own government, for that matter.’

      ‘And ensures that the struggle continues year after year and a solution always recedes before us.’ Ferguson nodded slowly. ‘An interesting theory, Harry, and you believe it?’

      He looked up enquiringly. Fox shrugged. ‘The facts were all there in the computer. We never asked the right questions, that’s all. If we had, the pattern would have emerged earlier. It’s been there a long time, sir.’

      ‘Yes, I think you could very well be right.’ Ferguson sat brooding for a little while longer.

      Fox said gently, ‘He exists, sir. He is a fact, I’m sure of it. And there’s something else. Something that could go a long way to explaining the whole thing.’

      ‘All right, tell me the worst.’

      Fox took a further sheet from the file. ‘When you were in Washington the other week, Tony Villiers came back from the Oman.’

      ‘Yes, I heard something of his adventures there.’

      ‘In his debriefing, Tony tells an interesting story concerning a Russian Jewish dissident named Viktor Levin whom he brought out with him. A fascinating vignette about a rather unusual KGB training centre in the Ukraine.’

      He moved to the fire and lit a cigarette, waiting for Ferguson to finish reading the file. After a while, Ferguson said, ‘Tony Villiers is in the Falklands now, did you know that?’

      ‘Yes, sir, serving with the SAS behind