Untitled chapter 1
Target: Berlin!
by
Ian Laurence
Prologue
The street in the Loyalist area of Belfast was deserted. On this dark evening the weather was cold and it was raining hard. The street lighting gave little illumination; a single, weak, orange sodium light, reflecting off the wet cobblestones.
A small black van ghosted out of the gloom and, with its engine cut, coasted onto the sidewalk outside the pub and came to a halt close to the wall. The pub was brightly lit and loud music came through an open window.
Liam Conroy, wearing dark clothing and a balaclava mask, got out of the van in a hurry and ran away into the night.
Seconds later, the bomb in the van exploded.
#
The following evening, in the sitting room of a small house in a Dublin suburb, the mood was sombre, matching the furnishing that hadn’t changed since the Sixties. The room looked dark and depressing, with drab fabrics and minimum lighting.
Liam and his twin sister Sinead, aged 25, sat around a table with two senior members of the Irish Republican Army, Sandy Malone and Marty O’Flynn. Sandy and Marty were both in their 50s, each with a weathered complexion and a dark beard turning grey. Sandy and Marty were father-figures to the twins, whose parents were shot dead four years ago by the Loyalists.
‘They know you did it, Liam.’ Sandy pointed a finger angrily at Liam.
Liam returned the look. ‘But I was wearing a mask.’
Sandy was not to be mollified. ‘You’ve done this before. They know it was you.’
Marty joined in with the same tone of voice. ‘And it was unauthorised. If we had known, we would have stopped you.’
#
Liam’s body language said that he thought otherwise.
‘This new peace process must be allowed to work,’ said Sandy.
#
‘The attitude here in the South has changed,’ added Marty. ‘The Garda aren’t so tolerant now. They’ll be looking for you.’
‘The Garda would never turn me in,’ Liam said dismissively.
‘Indeed to be sure, they would,’ retorted Marty. ‘They would send you back to the North for trial and a long prison sentence.’
Marty paused and then came to a decision. ‘Time, I think, for you to disappear for a while.’
#
‘But there’s more to do,’ protested Liam, still with a look of belligerence. ‘We have to keep up the pressure. I need to stay here.’
Marty looked at him sternly. ‘There’s to be no more activity. You’ll do as we say. You have to go away for a while.’
‘If your father were with us,’ said Sandy, ‘God rest his soul, he would say the same.’
Liam stared back, sniffed, then looked away angrily.
‘And the same goes for you, Sinead,’ said Marty, turning to look at her.
Sinead was surprised and indignant. She had a similar personality and disposition as her brother, being feisty and high-spirited, but physically they were not alike. Both the twins had blue eyes, but whereas Liam had a dark complexion and black curly hair, Sinead was fair, with long, honey-coloured hair tied back in a pony tail.
‘Why me?’ said Sinead. ‘I didn’t place the bomb.’
‘No,’ said Marty, ‘but you’re his twin sister. They’ll want to interrogate you. And you know what that means.’
‘They might try to implicate you,’ said Sandy. ‘As an accessory.’
Sinead looked very unhappy.
‘You can stay with my sister in London,’ said Marty. ‘She’d love to have you.’
#
Liam stood at the rail on the deck of a freighter entering New York Harbor, smoking a cigarette as he watched the Statue of Liberty pass by. As the ship approached the dock, he flicked the butt into the water and went below.
#
On the deck of the ferry crossing to England, Sinead stood at the rail as the ship approached the port of Liverpool. A Union Jack flew prominently on a high building. Sinead looked windswept and cold as she wiped the rain from her forehead. Her hair was now jet black and cut short. Hoping to look inconspicuous, she was wearing an old brown duffel coat and jeans.
