A Season in Hell

‘Or perfect for our requirements, Daniel, it depends on your point of view. When he was a year old his parents moved to South Armagh from London, then Belfast. When he was twelve they came back to London because they’d had enough of the situation over there. So, a boy with an Ulster background, a Catholic, for what it’s worth, who even spoke reasonable Irish because his father had taught him. The kind of brain which earned a scholarship to Cambridge. Come on, Daniel, he was pulled out of the crowd within six months of joining the army. And then, he does possess one other very special attribute.’

‘What’s that, sir?’

Villiers walked to the window and peered out into the rain. ‘He’s a killer by instinct, Daniel. No hesitation. I’ve never seen anyone quite like him. As an undercover agent in Ireland he’s assassinated eighteen terrorists to my certain knowledge. IRA, INLA …’

‘His own people, sir?’

‘Just because he’s a Catholic?’ Villiers demanded. ‘Come off it, Daniel. Nairac was a Catholic. He was also an officer in the Grenadier Guards and that’s all that concerned the IRA when they killed him. Anyway, Sean Egan has never played favourites. He’s also taken care of several leading gunmen on the Protestant side. UVF and Red Hand of Ulster.’

Warden looked down at the file. ‘Quite a man. And now you’ve got to tell him he’s finished at twenty-five years of age.’

‘Exactly,’ Villiers said, ‘So let’s have him in and get it over with.’

When Sean Egan entered the room he was in shirtsleeve order, creases razor sharp, the beige beret tilted at the exact regulation angle. He wore shoulderstrap rank slides with sergeant’s chevrons. On his right sleeve were the usual SAS wings. Above his left shirt pocket he also wore the wings of an Army Air Corps pilot. Below them were the ribbons for the Distinguished Conduct Medal, the Military Medal for Bravery in the Field and campaign ribbons for Ireland and the Falklands. He stood rigidly at attention in front of Warden who sat behind his desk. Villiers remained in the window seat smoking a cigarette.

Warden said, ‘At ease, Sergeant. This is completely informal.’ He indicated a chair. ‘Sit down.’

Egan did as he was told. Villiers got up and took a tin of cigarettes from his pocket. ‘Smoke?’

‘Given it up, sir. When I got my packet in the Falklands, one bullet chose the left lung.’

‘Some good in everything, I suppose,’ Villiers said. ‘Filthy habit.’

He was filling time and they all knew it. Warden said awkwardly, ‘Colonel Villiers is your control officer on this one, Egan.’

‘So I understand, sir.’

There was a pause while Warden fiddled with the papers as if uncertain what to say. Villiers broke in. ‘Daniel,’ he said to Warden, ‘I wonder if you’d mind if Sergeant Egan and I had a word in private?’

Warden’s relief was plain. ‘Of course, sir.’

The door closed behind him. Villiers said, ‘It’s been a long time, Sean.’

‘I didn’t think you were still with the regiment, sir.’

‘On and off. A lot of my time’s taken up with Group Four. You did a job for us in Sicily, as I recall. Just before the Falklands.’

‘That’s right, sir. Still part of D15?’

‘On paper only. Anti-terrorism is still the name of the game though. My boss is responsible only to the Prime Minister.’

‘Would that still be Brigadier Ferguson, sir?’

‘That’s it. You’re well informed – as usual.’

‘You used to tell me that’s all that kept you alive in Belfast and Derry, undercover. Being well informed.’

Villiers laughed. ‘A damned Shinner, right to the end, aren’t you, Sean? Just like your dad. Only a dyed-in-the-wool Ulster Catholic would call Londonderry, Derry.’

‘I don’t like the way they use bombs. That doesn’t mean I think they haven’t got a point of view.’

Villiers nodded. ‘Seen your uncle lately?’

‘He visited me in Maudsley Military Hospital a few months ago.’

‘Was it as difficult as usual?’

Egan nodded. ‘He never was much of a patriot. To him the army is just a big waste of time.’ There was another pause and he continued. ‘Look, sir, let’s make this easy for you. I wasn’t up to scratch, was I?’

Villiers turned. ‘You did fine. First time anyone has actually got out of the pit. Very ingenious, that. But the knee, Sean.’ He came round the desk and opened the file. ‘It’s all here in the medical report. I mean, they’ve done a clever job in putting it together again.’

Egan said, ‘Stainless steel and plastic. The original bionic man, only not quite as good as new.’

‘It will never be a hundred per cent. Your own personal evaluation report on the exercise.’ Villiers picked it up. ‘When did you write this? An hour ago? You say here yourself that the knee let you down.’

‘That’s right,’ Egan agreed calmly.

‘Could have been the death of you in action. All right ninety per cent of the time, but it’s the other ten per cent that matters.’

Egan said, ‘So, I’m out?’

‘Of the regiment, yes. However, it’s not as black as it looks. You’re entitled to a discharge and pension, but there’s no need for that. The army still needs you.’

‘No thanks.’ Egan shook his head. ‘If it isn’t SAS, then I’m not interested.’

Villiers said, ‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Absolutely, sir.’

Villiers sat back, watching him, a slight frown on his face. ‘There’s more to this, isn’t there?’

Egan shrugged. ‘Maybe. All those months in hospital gave me time to think. When I joined up seven years ago I had my reasons and you know what they were. I was just a kid and full of all sorts of wild ideas. I wanted to pay them back for my parents.’

‘And?’

‘You don’t pay anyone back. The bill will always be outstanding. Never paid in full. So much Irish time.’ He got up and walked to the window. ‘How many have I knocked off over there and for what? It just goes on and on and it didn’t bring my folks back.’

‘Perhaps you need a rest,’ Villiers suggested.

Sean Egan adjusted his beret. ‘Sir, with the greatest respect to the Colonel, what I need is out.’

Villiers stared at him then stood up.

‘Fine. If that’s what you want, you’ve earned it. There is another alternative, of course.’

‘What’s that, sir?’

‘You could come and work with me for Brigadier Ferguson at Group Four.’