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 be here till teatime at this rate and I want you kept away from him. Leave the report to me and keep your mouth shut. And Cedric… Don’t shoot at anything else, alright? I don’t want to hear of any tractors, trailers, livestock or locals with holes that don’t belong.’
‘What about me?’ The first words from Macken since they had arrived back.
‘Keep your mouth shut like you have been doing, and you might come out of this smelling of roses. Stay in bed and out of the way.’
With that, Gracey strode into the barracks. Macken felt drained of both energy and initiative. He needed to just stop and close his eyes.
*
Macken made it to his bed, opened his collar and began to remove his boots. Everything seemed so long ago. The tension, the fear, the adrenalin, the frenzy that had come over him as he shot bullet after bullet into the car. He had been so many people over the past hours – defiant in the face of the cycling bigot, helpless when faced with imminent death, timid in the aftermath. And always the same question in the suspicious looks, and then in a woman’s gentle voice: Who are you really? Macken had no idea who he’d be when he woke up.
*
There was no escape. Every time the darkness claimed him.
He tried to spread his wings. But there was no room to stretch, no room to move.
He was an egg snug in a box, pinned in place, stuffed under straw. But still he struggled feebly against the tiny nook that held him like a coffin.
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