well, saw the war out, told them what to do with their medals and demobbed himself the moment it was over.’
‘What did he do then?’
‘Got up to his old tricks. Five years at Belfast in 1947. They let him off lightly because of his war record. Not that it made any difference. He escaped within a year.’ Vanbrugh grinned wryly. ‘He made a habit of that. Parkhurst in ’56, but never got off the island. Peterhead the following year. Three days on foot across the moor, then the dogs ran him down.’
‘Which explains why he was finally sent here?’
‘That’s it. Maximum security. No possibility of escape.’ Vanbrugh started to fill his pipe again. ‘If you examine the file you’ll find a confidential entry at the back. It refers to an incident the Commissioners prefer to keep quiet about. In July 1960 Sean Rogan was picked up in the early hours of the morning crossing the field at the rear of the officers’ quarters.’
Dwyer frowned. ‘Isn’t that outside the wall?’
Vanbrugh nodded. ‘The principal officer had been playing cards late at another house. He had his Alsatian with him and on the way home, it picked up Rogan’s scent.’
‘But how did he get out?’
‘He wouldn’t say. The Commissioners wanted it kept out of the press so the enquiry was very hush-hush. It was finally decided that he must have hidden himself in a car or truck on its way out.’
‘At that time in the morning?’
‘Don’t worry. No one really accepted that one. They had him on maximum security for a couple of years after that. When the Governor finally made things a little easier for him, Rogan told him that it didn’t matter because he wasn’t going to try again. He said that getting out was easy. It was getting anywhere without help once you were out that was difficult. I think he decided to sweat out his sentence and hope for remission.’
‘Which is what he’s just applied for?’
Vanbrugh nodded. ‘When the I.R.A. called off its border campaign in Ulster recently it just about went into liquidation. Most of its members serving sentences in English gaols have since been released. In fact the Home Office has been under considerable pressure to release them all.’
‘And what’s the answer on Rogan?’
‘They’re still frightened to death of him. Now I’ve got to tell him he’s still got five years to serve.’
‘Why you, sir?’
Vanbrugh shrugged. ‘We worked together during the war. Since then, I’ve arrested him on three separate occasions. You might say I’m the Yard’s Rogan expert.’
He walked to the window and stood looking out into the courtyard. ‘England’s the only country in the civilized world that doesn’t make special provision for political offenders, did you know that, Sergeant?’
‘I hadn’t really given it much thought, sir.’
‘You should do, Sergeant. You should do.’
The door opened and the Governor came in quickly. They’re bringing him up now.’ He sat down behind his desk and grinned tightly. ‘I really don’t have much stomach for this one, Superintendent. I’m glad you’re here.’
The door opened again and the Principal Officer came in. ‘He’s here, sir.’
The Governor nodded. ‘Let’s get it over with, then.’
Outside, Drake stood beside the door waiting, and Rogan leaned against the wall, arms folded as he stared through the window at the end of the corridor.
Life was, on the whole, an act of faith. He’d read that somewhere once, but twenty years of hard living, of violence and the dark places had taught him to look only for the unexpected on the other side of each new hill.
Everyone in the place, including the screws, expected his pardon to go through. To Rogan, that was sufficient reason in itself for something to go wrong. When the door opened and the Principal Officer called him in, he was prepared for the worst.
The presence of Vanbrugh confirmed what was already apparent from the atmosphere in the office, and he stood in front of the desk, hands behind his back and looked out of the window over the Governor’s head. He noticed that the trees on the hill beyond the wall were stripped quite bare of leaves now and the untidy nests of the rookery were clearly exposed to view. He watched a rook flap lazily through the air from one tree to another and became aware that the Governor was speaking to him.
‘We’ve had a communication from the Home Office, Rogan. Chief Superintendent Vanbrugh brought it down with him specially.’
Rogan turned slightly to face Vanbrugh, and the big policeman got to his feet, suddenly awkward. ‘I’m sorry, Sean. Damned sorry.’
‘Then there’s nothing to be said, is there?’
The hard shell with which he had surrounded himself was something they could not penetrate. In the heavy silence, the Governor glanced helplessly at Vanbrugh, then sighed.
‘I think you’d better come in from the quarry for a while, Rogan.’
‘Permanently, sir?’ Rogan said calmly.
The Governor swallowed hard. ‘We’ll see how you go on.’
‘Very well, sir.’
Rogan turned and walked to the door without waiting for the Principal Officer’s order. He stood in the corridor, face expressionless, aware of the murmur of voices as the door closed behind him.
‘You can go now, Drake,’ the Principal Officer said, then turned to Rogan and said briskly, ‘All right, Rogan.’
They went downstairs and crossed the courtyard to one of the blocks. Rogan stood waiting for the door to be unlocked, aware from the expression on the Duty Officer’s face that he knew, which wasn’t particularly surprising. Within another half hour every con, every screw in the place would know.
The prison had been constructed in the reform era of the nineteenth century on a system commonly found in Her Majesty’s prisons. Half a dozen three-tiered cell blocks radiated like the spokes of a wheel from a central hall which lifted a hundred feet into the gloom to an iron framed dome.
For reasons of safety each cell block was separated from the central hall by a curtain of steel mesh. The Principal Officer unlocked the gate into D block and motioned Rogan through.
They mounted an iron staircase to the top landing, boxed in with more steel mesh to prevent anyone who felt like it from taking a dive over the rail. His cell was at the far end of the landing and he paused, waiting for the Principal Officer to unlock the door.
As it opened, Rogan took a step forward and the Principal Officer said, ‘Don’t try anything silly. You’ve everything to lose now.’
Rogan swung round, his iron control snapping for a brief moment so that the man recoiled from the savage anger that blazed in the grey eyes. He slammed the door shut quickly, turning the key in the lock.
Rogan
