Erasmus was killed first. I think they then realised their error and then chose a less obvious method of execution. The method used was one undoubtedly driven by hate.”
That caused a number of eyes to narrow as imaginations started to work.
He moved to Magic ’s body and took his station on the opposite side of the trestle.
“ In all my days, I have never seen anything like this. Never.”
His five-man audience waited as he rolled the body on its side.
“ When they first arrived, we gave them a cursory examination, nothing more. That's my fault, I’m afraid. Each of them was very obviously dead and the external injuries were in line with those we have seen before... crash trauma, explosive and shot wounds... et cetera.”
Magic ’s corpse showed all the signs associated with a heavy landing and being thrown against something unforgiving.
“ I'll perform a full autopsy but my initial examination of Flight Sergeant Malan would make me feel he was shot at least three times.”
Viljoen took a step forward and sought out the evidence that Holliday had missed.
“ You misunderstand me, Skipper. The wounds are internal.”
Chief Inspector Michael Rafferty was the only one who immediately grasped the significance, his mind dragging back details of two ‘assassinations’ that he had been called to investigate.
“ Jesus, Joseph, and Mary!”
Eyes turned to Rafferty, instinctively knowing that he understood something, as yet unrevealed.
Addressing Holliday, Rafferty spoke very deliberately.
“ In ‘41, there were two executions of IRA members that we’d turned as King’s agents. The bodies were badly beaten... but without external signs of the fatal injury.”
There was no way he could lighten the blow.
“They had been executed with a pistol up the rectum.”
Stunned silence.
Shocked silence.
Disbelieving silence.
The MO spoke first.
“ That's what I have found. I think they killed Erasmus quickly and then realised their error. They then disposed of the others by... that method.”
“ He calls it the Silencer.”
Dalziel broke from his thoughts.
“Who calls it the Silencer?”
The dark shadow on Rafferty’s face was very obvious.
“ Brown... Seamus Michael Brown. IRA executioner and second most wanted man in Ireland. And, interestingly, he’s a Brit.”
“ What?”
“ Conceived and delivered in Liverpool, Admiral. British born and bred.”
DCI Leonard was in police mode immediately.
“Where and when was this, Squadron Leader?”
“ North Coast of Éire, 5th December... Thank you, Doc. Full autopsy on each, reports as quick as possible.”
The Squadron comm unications office was closer than his own sanctuary, so Viljoen led the group into the large room, grabbing at a map and setting it down on the table for all to see.
“ We found her here,” he indicated the precise spot from memory, “But she certainly would have drifted with the current, so didn’t start there.”
The five of them pored over the map.
“My God!”
Rafferty ’s outburst attracted their attention, his face draining of colour in an instant, as his mind raced to work out what he could say and, more importantly, what he couldn’t say.
‘ Oh fuck it!’
He decided to say everything he knew.
“All Anger.”
Leonard had been present during that conversation and immediately understood.
“Oh my eye, yes. All Anger.”
The others did not understand.
“Our friends in the Republic have had the answer all along but just didn’t realise it.”
Leonard took the lead.
“They intercepted a message that spoke of ‘All Anger’, a simple code that they boiled down to a small hamlet in Limerick, one that had appeared suspicious for some time. An easy mistake to make.”
Eyes turned back to Rafferty as he completed the story.
“G2 received intelligence about ‘All Anger’, a simple anagram code, employed when the IRA was less proficient in such matters. Our friends worked out that it meant
That caused a number of eyes to narrow as imaginations started to work.
He moved to Magic ’s body and took his station on the opposite side of the trestle.
“ In all my days, I have never seen anything like this. Never.”
His five-man audience waited as he rolled the body on its side.
“ When they first arrived, we gave them a cursory examination, nothing more. That's my fault, I’m afraid. Each of them was very obviously dead and the external injuries were in line with those we have seen before... crash trauma, explosive and shot wounds... et cetera.”
Magic ’s corpse showed all the signs associated with a heavy landing and being thrown against something unforgiving.
“ I'll perform a full autopsy but my initial examination of Flight Sergeant Malan would make me feel he was shot at least three times.”
Viljoen took a step forward and sought out the evidence that Holliday had missed.
“ You misunderstand me, Skipper. The wounds are internal.”
Chief Inspector Michael Rafferty was the only one who immediately grasped the significance, his mind dragging back details of two ‘assassinations’ that he had been called to investigate.
“ Jesus, Joseph, and Mary!”
Eyes turned to Rafferty, instinctively knowing that he understood something, as yet unrevealed.
Addressing Holliday, Rafferty spoke very deliberately.
“ In ‘41, there were two executions of IRA members that we’d turned as King’s agents. The bodies were badly beaten... but without external signs of the fatal injury.”
There was no way he could lighten the blow.
“They had been executed with a pistol up the rectum.”
Stunned silence.
Shocked silence.
Disbelieving silence.
The MO spoke first.
“ That's what I have found. I think they killed Erasmus quickly and then realised their error. They then disposed of the others by... that method.”
“ He calls it the Silencer.”
Dalziel broke from his thoughts.
“Who calls it the Silencer?”
The dark shadow on Rafferty’s face was very obvious.
“ Brown... Seamus Michael Brown. IRA executioner and second most wanted man in Ireland. And, interestingly, he’s a Brit.”
“ What?”
“ Conceived and delivered in Liverpool, Admiral. British born and bred.”
DCI Leonard was in police mode immediately.
“Where and when was this, Squadron Leader?”
“ North Coast of Éire, 5th December... Thank you, Doc. Full autopsy on each, reports as quick as possible.”
The Squadron comm unications office was closer than his own sanctuary, so Viljoen led the group into the large room, grabbing at a map and setting it down on the table for all to see.
“ We found her here,” he indicated the precise spot from memory, “But she certainly would have drifted with the current, so didn’t start there.”
The five of them pored over the map.
“My God!”
Rafferty ’s outburst attracted their attention, his face draining of colour in an instant, as his mind raced to work out what he could say and, more importantly, what he couldn’t say.
‘ Oh fuck it!’
He decided to say everything he knew.
“All Anger.”
Leonard had been present during that conversation and immediately understood.
“Oh my eye, yes. All Anger.”
The others did not understand.
“Our friends in the Republic have had the answer all along but just didn’t realise it.”
Leonard took the lead.
“They intercepted a message that spoke of ‘All Anger’, a simple code that they boiled down to a small hamlet in Limerick, one that had appeared suspicious for some time. An easy mistake to make.”
Eyes turned back to Rafferty as he completed the story.
“G2 received intelligence about ‘All Anger’, a simple anagram code, employed when the IRA was less proficient in such matters. Our friends worked out that it meant
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