amazing thing, Ashley thought, was that he'd escaped alive at all. But Murphy was wrong on one thing, Ashley didn't know what had finally tipped the Brigade that O'Donnell was outlaw.
“I fail to see why you feel the urge to protect him and his group.” He knew the reason, but why not prod the man when he had the chance?
“And if we turn 'grass,' what becomes of the Organization?” Murphy asked.
“Not my problem, Mr. Murphy, but I do see your point. Still and all, if you want us to believe you --”
“Mr. Ashley, you demonstrate the basis of the entire problem we have, don't you? Had your country ever dealt with Ireland in mutual good faith, surely we would not be here now, would we?”
The intelligence officer reflected on that. It took no more than a couple of seconds, so many times had he examined the historical basis of the Troubles. Some deliberate policy acts, mixed with historical accidents -- who could have known that the onset of the crisis that erupted into World War I would prevent a solution to the issue of “Home [or ”Rome“] Rule,” that the Conservative Party of the time would use this issue as a hammer that would eventually crush the Liberal Party -- and who was there to blame now? They were all dead and forgotten, except by hard-core academics who knew that their studies mattered for nothing. It was far too late for that. Is there a way out of this bloody quagmire? he wondered. Ashley shook his head. That was not his brief. That was something for politicians. The same sort, he reminded himself, who'd built the Troubles, one small brick at a time.
“I'll tell you this much, Mr. Ashley --” The waiter showed up with dinner. It was amazing how quick the service was here. The waiter uncorked the wine with a flourish, allowing Ashley to smell the cork and sample a splash in his glass. The Englishman was surprised at the quality of the restaurant's cellar.
“This much you will tell me . . . ” Ashley said after the waiter left.
“They get very good information. So good, you would not believe it. And their information comes from your side of the Irish Sea, Mr. Ashley. We don't know who, and we don't know how. The lad who found out died, four years ago, you see.” Murphy sampled the broccoli. “There, I told you the vegetables were fresh.”
“Four years?”
Murphy looked up. “You don't know the story, then? That is a surprise, Mr. Ashley. Yes. His name was Mickey Baird. He worked closely with Kevin. He's the lad who -- well, you can guess. He was talking with me over a jar in Derry and said that Kevin had a bloody good new intelligence source. Next day he was dead. The day after, Kevin managed to escape us by an hour. We haven't seen him since. If we find Kevin again, Mr. Ashley, we'll do your work for you, and leave the body for your SAS assassins to collect. Would that be fair enough, now? We cannot exactly tout to the enemy, but he's on our list, too, and if you manage to find the lad, and you don't wish to bring him in yourselves, we'll handle the job for you -- assuming, of course, that you don't interfere with the lads who do the work. Can we agree on that?”
“I'll pass that along,” Ashley said. “If I could approve it myself, I would. Mr. Murphy, I think we can believe you on this.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ashley. That wasn't so painful, was it?” Dinner was excellent.
Jack Ryan 2 - Patriot Games
Chapter 4
Players
Ryan tried to blink away the blue dots that swirled around his eyes as the television crews set up their own lights. Why the newspaper photographers couldn't wait for the powerful TV lights, he didn't know, and didn't bother asking. Everyone was kind enough to ask how he felt -- but nothing short of respiratory arrest would have gotten them out of the room.
It could have been worse, of course. Dr. Scott had told the newspeople rather forcefully that his patient needed rest to recover speedily, and Nurse Kittiwake was there to glower at the intruders. So press
“I fail to see why you feel the urge to protect him and his group.” He knew the reason, but why not prod the man when he had the chance?
“And if we turn 'grass,' what becomes of the Organization?” Murphy asked.
“Not my problem, Mr. Murphy, but I do see your point. Still and all, if you want us to believe you --”
“Mr. Ashley, you demonstrate the basis of the entire problem we have, don't you? Had your country ever dealt with Ireland in mutual good faith, surely we would not be here now, would we?”
The intelligence officer reflected on that. It took no more than a couple of seconds, so many times had he examined the historical basis of the Troubles. Some deliberate policy acts, mixed with historical accidents -- who could have known that the onset of the crisis that erupted into World War I would prevent a solution to the issue of “Home [or ”Rome“] Rule,” that the Conservative Party of the time would use this issue as a hammer that would eventually crush the Liberal Party -- and who was there to blame now? They were all dead and forgotten, except by hard-core academics who knew that their studies mattered for nothing. It was far too late for that. Is there a way out of this bloody quagmire? he wondered. Ashley shook his head. That was not his brief. That was something for politicians. The same sort, he reminded himself, who'd built the Troubles, one small brick at a time.
“I'll tell you this much, Mr. Ashley --” The waiter showed up with dinner. It was amazing how quick the service was here. The waiter uncorked the wine with a flourish, allowing Ashley to smell the cork and sample a splash in his glass. The Englishman was surprised at the quality of the restaurant's cellar.
“This much you will tell me . . . ” Ashley said after the waiter left.
“They get very good information. So good, you would not believe it. And their information comes from your side of the Irish Sea, Mr. Ashley. We don't know who, and we don't know how. The lad who found out died, four years ago, you see.” Murphy sampled the broccoli. “There, I told you the vegetables were fresh.”
“Four years?”
Murphy looked up. “You don't know the story, then? That is a surprise, Mr. Ashley. Yes. His name was Mickey Baird. He worked closely with Kevin. He's the lad who -- well, you can guess. He was talking with me over a jar in Derry and said that Kevin had a bloody good new intelligence source. Next day he was dead. The day after, Kevin managed to escape us by an hour. We haven't seen him since. If we find Kevin again, Mr. Ashley, we'll do your work for you, and leave the body for your SAS assassins to collect. Would that be fair enough, now? We cannot exactly tout to the enemy, but he's on our list, too, and if you manage to find the lad, and you don't wish to bring him in yourselves, we'll handle the job for you -- assuming, of course, that you don't interfere with the lads who do the work. Can we agree on that?”
“I'll pass that along,” Ashley said. “If I could approve it myself, I would. Mr. Murphy, I think we can believe you on this.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ashley. That wasn't so painful, was it?” Dinner was excellent.
Jack Ryan 2 - Patriot Games
Chapter 4
Players
Ryan tried to blink away the blue dots that swirled around his eyes as the television crews set up their own lights. Why the newspaper photographers couldn't wait for the powerful TV lights, he didn't know, and didn't bother asking. Everyone was kind enough to ask how he felt -- but nothing short of respiratory arrest would have gotten them out of the room.
It could have been worse, of course. Dr. Scott had told the newspeople rather forcefully that his patient needed rest to recover speedily, and Nurse Kittiwake was there to glower at the intruders. So press
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