The Dead Yard Read Free Page B

unarmed people in cold blood."
    "You want to tell me my life story or you want to get on with it?" I said, irritated.
    "Don’t get cross. I’m here to help you," she said.
    "You’re here to bust me out of this joint," I sneered.
    "That’s right," she said, crossing her legs and accidentally hitching up her skirt a

notch.
    Really not a bad-looking
chiquita
if you liked that sort of thing and, if truth be

told, I did like that sort of thing. You could tell that underneath the prim, proper, repressed,

King and Country exterior…the rest of the sentence is cliché, but I’d bet money it wasn’t far off

the mark.
    "Michael, first of all, I feel that it’s very important that I’m honest with you. You’re

obviously too smart to fall for a line, so I’ll tell you how it is. Although it looks like we

have all the cards, in fact I have a poor bargaining position. If time were not a factor, you

would need us much more than we would need you. But, alas, time is a factor," she said in that

roundabout diplomat way again.
    "Honey, if time is a factor, you better be a bit less oblique," I said, leaning back on the

cot and noting that from this angle I could see right up to her panties, which were white cotton

and soaked with sweat.
    "I do apologize. Of course you’re right. Let me explain, Michael. Jeremy and I work for MI6,

British Intelligence overseas, which, in case you don’t know, is the equivalent of the CIA and

a—"
    "I know who you are," I interrupted.
    "Good. Well, I am in charge of a section within MI6 called SUU—the Special Ulster Unit. MI5

deals with Irish terrorism in the United Kingdom, but SUU looks at Irish terrorism in Europe and

the Americas. We report directly to the home secretary. We largely bypass the MI6 bureaucracy. We

have had many successes. Well, several successes…"
    "Ok. Where am I supposed to come in?" I asked.
    "For the last six months or so, Her Majesty’s government has been in not-so-secret

negotiations with the IRA to resume their cease-fire agreement. The election of Mr. Blair has

changed little except for speeding things up. The negotiations have been going well. The IRA’s

Army Council is becoming convinced that this is the right thing to do at the right time. The

Clinton administration has been helpful. Things are moving quickly now and the IRA seems to be on

the verge of announcing a complete cessation of hostilities and a resumption of the

cease-fire."
    "I read the papers," I said.
    "Well, yes, it hasn’t exactly been the best-kept secret in the world. And we’re jolly well

hoping that it’s going to come off. The problem is that the IRA’s Army Council is worried about

causing a split in the IRA. IRA splinter groups are not uncommon. The council wants to eliminate

the hard-line elements before they announce a cease-fire. We believe this announcement is going

to come by the end of the month, perhaps even in the next few days. In Northern Ireland and in

the Republic of Ireland, the British and Irish governments will turn a blind eye to a purge of

IRA extremists. This is not the case in America. As you may be aware, the IRA has several

well-organized cells in the United States. Most will abide by the Army Council’s decision.

Disband, disarm, sleep. But one, we know, will not. The IRA would like to wipe out the extremist

SOC, Sons of Cuchulainn. The FBI and the American government will not permit such a purge to take

place. They would rather go the legal route of evidence gathering and prosecution."
    "Cuchulainn, love. It’s pronounced KuckKulann, not Cushcoolain," I said with a smug grin.

Samantha ignored me and soldiered on.
    "It’s a tiny group, almost a cell really, but, we believe, extraordinarily dangerous. And well

off. Neither we nor the FBI have any agents at all with the Sons of Cuchulainn. None. We are

desperately short of manpower. And for reasons I’ll explain in a moment, time is of the