LITMIR.BIZ

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so come on,’ growled Gracey.

      He ran forward, gun ready, Macken following.

      They searched a clump of trees, with the ground sloping down to the stream behind.

      ‘There’s no one here,’ said Macken.

      ‘But there was,’ said Gracey, nodding towards a patch of ground swept clear of twigs and stones.

      ‘So where is he? He must have seen us. Christ, Gracey, did you hit him? He may be lying dead.’

      ‘So shut up and keep looking.’

      Macken froze. He’d heard something. There it was again. Faint. More of a whimper.

      He raised a hand to still Gracey, then pointed low under a bush at the base of a tree trunk. Slowly and quietly Macken crouched and then lay flat, pointing his gun ahead of him. It was dark under there. But he detected life.

      Macken nodded for Gracey to slowly circle round behind the tree. But instead the quiet was shattered again by Gracey’s sub-machine gun. Macken hugged the ground as bullets tore into the bush.

      Gracey stopped firing and Macken turned to look up at him in disbelief.

      ‘Better safe than sorry.’

      ‘It could be anybody,’ protested Macken.

      ‘He won’t be telling tales now. Sure no decent person would be creeping round spying on us.’

      Gracey pulled aside a branch. ‘Let’s see who we’ve got.’

      Macken saw him flinch.

      ‘Ah dear,’ Gracey rubbed his chin. ‘That’s a shame.’

      Macken looked. The body lay curled up tightly. A small dog, grey and white with darker wet holes in its side.

      ‘It’s a dog. Just a dog.’

      ‘Aye, Macken,’ said Gracey. ‘Just a dog.’

      The sergeant turned away.

      ‘Take it across the stream and leave it out of sight.’

      Macken went to argue, but he saw the tension in his sergeant’s back. He bent down and swept the little animal up in his arms, cradling it as he crossed the stream. He covered it with debris from the forest floor and stepped back over the border.

      *

      They tramped back to the car. Gracey pursed his lips.

      ‘Nothing ever goes one hundred per cent to plan, I suppose.’

      ‘The dog, you mean?’

      ‘Well, there’s that. But I meant the car.’

      Macken didn’t get it.

      ‘Didn’t I tell you to aim high, you big glipe? Thereby letting us survive the ambush by ducking beneath the windows, safely exiting the vehicle, without having to deal with, thanks to you, that flat tyre. You’ll notice I broke a lot of glass but left the doors and the wheels alone.’

      ‘Sorry, I didn’t think.’

      Gracey sighed. ‘Open the boot and see if the spare is still in one piece.’

      *

      It was a draughty, quiet drive back to Blackwatertown. They rallied as they reached the village. Cedric was elated. They hadn’t told him about the dog. He did not seem to be able to believe his luck. He had faced ridicule, disgrace, probable dismissal and possible prosecution. Now he’d be a hero. Macken couldn’t quite believe he was not dead twice over. But by now, and for now, he did not really care. He was alive – the glass crunching under him and the wind in his face told him that.

      *

      The sight of their smashed-up car silenced all street conversation. It seemed to Macken that Gracey had grown in stature – swelled inside his uniform, chest out, back ramrod straight. He and Cedric fell in behind as the sergeant led them to the duty room.

      Bull looked up and gradually realised that something out of the ordinary was unfolding. It might have been the glass shards glinting on their coats. Or the effort Gracey was making to rearrange his face from glee to stern urgency. He snapped to attention in front of Bull – a sight so unprecedented that Bull leapt up from his chair. The sensation of his own rare physical exertion confused him further, which meant he failed to take in what Gracey was barking at him.

      ‘Do you not hear me, Bull? I’m reporting that we came under attack from subversives. We returned fire and drove them off.’

      ‘What? We’re under attack?’

      ‘Christ almighty! Stand easy, Bull. Just get the inspector.’

      As Bull clattered off, Gracey calmed himself down and regained his air of competence and long-suffering tetchiness. It would be important to seem normal to complete the most risky part of the charade – securing official approval.

      *

      McReady appeared with a look of concern.

      ‘Your report please, Sergeant.’

      ‘Yessir. While on patrol as part of the election security programme, we came under attack from woodland near the border. We were investigating signs of suspicious activity near the Brookemartin estate when gunmen opened fire without warning. We returned fire and drove off a large group of attackers. They fled over the border, at which point I called off our pursuit. If you’d like to step outside, you can observe the damage caused to the vehicle. After you, sir.’

      Gracey stepped back and extended an arm towards the door. As suggestions go, it was more of an instruction, but the inspector followed it without quibble. He gasped.

      ‘Heavens above, Sergeant! You certainly took some fire. It’s a miracle you managed to make it back. You didn’t mention injuries?’

      ‘No injuries, sir. We escaped via the far side of the vehicle. They expected we’d be an easy target. Especially with their superior numbers. But I reckon we gave them an education. I’d like to commend Constable Andrews, and our new arrival, Mr Macken. They rallied well under my direction and behaved in an exemplary fashion.’

      ‘Very good, Sergeant, very good.’

      ‘The IRA will never be a match for RUC discipline. No matter what they throw at Ulster, sir.’

      McReady could see Gracey was working himself up into a self-righteous tirade.

      ‘Indeed so, Sergeant. Indeed so. Well done. I’ll need a full report. We’ll need to mount an immediate response to this threat. Nip it in the bud.’

      ‘I’d like to volunteer to go back on patrol, sir, in case there are more of them around.’

      ‘Yes, thank you Sergeant. Let’s get a full picture of what happened first.’

      Gracey leant closer to speak confidentially.

      ‘In the meantime, sir: Constable Macken. Bit shaken. Long day for him. If I could send him to lie down for half an hour it might stand to him later, sir.’

      McReady’s face betrayed surprise at this display of consideration from Gracey. Perhaps the sergeant was maturing into something more than simply the toughest of the gang. These less-educated lads could sometimes surprise you, he thought.

      The inspector smiled. ‘Good thinking, Sergeant. And good show all round.’

      As McReady walked back inside, Gracey turned to Cedric.

      ‘Take the car over to the yard and don’t come back.’

      ‘But–’

      ‘McReady will

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