The Judas gate

'To whom?' Dillon said. 'Mr Teague and the disposal team?' Roper ignored him. 'It all takes place quickly. I'd say about a week.'

There was a silence between the three of them, and it was Roper who said, 'You know, I did some checking. Talbot International has a Citation X. In the past couple of days, it's flown from Belfast to Algeria and back again. Landed today, just after noon, in Belfast.'

Holley said, 'A great plane that some say is the fastest commercial jet in the world.'

'And the pity of it all,' said Roper, 'is that I haven't been able to tell Ferguson about it.'

'Why not?' Dillon asked.

'I can't go breaking in on him when he's at a Cabinet Office, can I? Or when he's with the Prime Minister?'

'So what are you saying?' Holley asked.

Roper looked up at the clock. 'Twenty to three. It's half an hour to Farley, and you could make Belfast in one hour. If there happened to be, say, a Mercedes waiting, you could be at Kilmartin at five o'clock.'

'How the hell did you manage to arrange all this?'

'It's better you don't know.' Roper reached into his desk. 'Here's a copy of the warrant authorizing you to take into custody Major Justin Talbot wherever he may be found. You've got your MI5 warrant card, Sean, but here's one for you, Daniel. I took it for granted you wouldn't mind using the plane.'

'I wouldn't miss it for anything.' Holley turned to Dillon. 'Let's get going, then.' They rushed out. Roper put the weather chart for the Irish Sea up on the screen. A nice summer afternoon, nightfall about eight o'clock, possibility of showers later. Ah, well, that was Ireland for you. He wondered how Ferguson was going to take it and discovered that he didn't really care, and he was laughing as he poured another Scotch. At Talbot Place, Justin had spent much of the day dozing. His forehead was damp when Larry Ryan dropped in for the second time that day to see him. It was four-thirty, the sky clouding over, a rumble of thunder in the far distance.

Jean greeted the doctor and accompanied him to her son's bedroom. She stood with Murphy while Ryan examined him, and Justin said, 'Here we are again, Larry, well done thou good and faithful servant.'

'Shut up, Justin,' Jean said.

'Only joking, Mum.'

Ryan said, 'You always did, Justin. I might call in again later.'

He went out, and Jean and Murphy followed him. 'How is he?' she asked.

'Not good, his temperature is a hundred and three and the pulse is racing. The heart's under great strain in my opinion. I really do think he needs not only hospital, but intensive care.'

'But you and Murphy have done so much for him.'

'I'm not certain it's enough, Jean. If that fever really erupts, it will be the death of him'.

'He's determined to tough it out,' she said. 'What can I do?'

'There's not much left but prayer, I suppose. Has Father Cassidy been to see him?'

'Justin refused to speak to him.'

'That's a shame. I saw the old boy myself earlier. He told me he'll be asking people to pray for Justin.'

Jean said, 'I doubt he'll appreciate it.'

Ryan said to Murphy, 'He can't bathe or shower, because I don't think it wise to disturb the dressings. Just give him a body wash and fresh garments of some sort.' He kissed Jean on the cheek. 'Take care, and I want you to know you can rely on me, Jean. I'll call back this evening again around seven.'

She went back in the room and found Justin arguing with Murphy. 'He wants to give me a body wash, as if I were a bloody schoolboy.'

'Shut your mouth and do as you're told.' She reached behind him, untied the ribbons on his bed smock. 'You'll feel better when Murphy's washed you down and dressed you, so don't be stupid.'

'All right, but you'll have to go out. I'm not a little boy any more.'

She went downstairs, found Hannah and Emily the cook and young Jane, dressed in their best and putting their coats on.

'You remembered we were going to six o'clock Mass,' Hannah told her. 'Murphy promised to go with us.'

'He's just giving Justin a wash and change, but he won't be long. Is Jack going?'

'Not if he can help it, if I know him. To be honest with you, he's putting his time into sorting the office out just in case he leaves.'

'He's not thinking of going after all these years?'

'He doesn't need it, Jean, he's got the pub. And I've got to be honest with you, because I love you. He feels betrayed. I doubt it will ever be the same again between him and Justin.'

Jean gave her a kiss, for she was obviously very upset. 'I'm sorry about Justin, Hannah, and the way it's turned out. I don't know what to say. I'll go and send Murphy on his way.'

'We'll hang on.'

Jean went up in the lift and when she entered Justin's bedroom found him wearing a navy blue track suit. He was sitting in the bedside armchair while Murphy fitted a pair of white sneakers on his feet.

'That's great,' Justin said. 'I feel a hundred per cent better. Prop up the pillows on the bed and I'll lie back.' Which Murphy did, assisting him back up on to it.

Jean said, 'Off you go, Murphy, the ladies are waiting to take you to Mass.'

'I'll see you later,' he said, and hurried out.

There was, for her at least, a slight, awkward silence. 'Can I get you anything?'

'I don't think so.'

'Then I think I'll just go to my studio for a while.'

'Still working on my portrait?'

'No, I decided I'd gone about as far as I could get.'

'And are you happy with it?'

'I think it says what you are and it tells the truth. When I was a student at the Slade, my professor said the most important thing was that your subject was so perfectly realized that it was as if the individual was saying not "this is me", but "this is what I am".'

'And does mine do that?'

'Oh, yes, I think so.'

'Then you must put it over the fireplace in the study.'

'No, I couldn't do that.'

'Why not?'

'I'd always be afraid that somebody would put it on a bonfire.'

She went out. He lay there thinking about what she'd said, then reached down for the rucksack and put it on the bed beside him. It hurt like hell, so he rummaged amongst the things inside and took out the half-bottle of brandy and swallowed some. It burned all the way down and he remembered what Murphy had said, but he was past caring, so he swallowed some more. It was almost six when Holley drove through Kilmartin, people going into church and organ music clearly heard. Dillon kept his head down as they passed the pub and moved along the approach road to Talbot Place, which loomed ahead through beech trees, and then they were at the entrance to the drive.

'How do we play this?' Holley asked.

'I'm remembering that Jack Kelly is the estate manager,' Dillon said. 'They must have an office for him. All these great estates do. Just follow your nose.'

Which Holley did, and then they saw the main entrance porch to the house and at the same time noticed a sign board saying 'Estate Manager', an arrow pointing. There was a Shogun and a Mercedes and they parked their own car with them and walked round to the courtyard and found the office, opened the door without knocking, and walked in.

Jack Kelly was arranging files on a shelf and received a severe shock. He moved to his desk fast, got the drawer open and took out his Browning.

'Put it away, Jack,' Dillon told him. 'We haven't come for you, we've come for Justin.' He took out the national security warrant and put it on the desk. 'Read it.'

Kelly did, his face troubled. 'On whose authority?'

'MI Five's.' Dillon showed him his warrant card. 'Daniel's got one, too.'

'Bloody traitors, the both of ye.'

'You're entitled to your opinion,' Holley said. 'But don't tell us he's not here. His plane is at Belfast City Airport, and since his pilot happened to be in the staff canteen, we took the opportunity of interviewing him. He was most revealing.'