Confessional - Jack Higgins [0]
Jack Higgins
Open Road Integrated Media
New York
FOR MY CHILDREN
Sarah, Ruth, Sean and Hannah
CONTENTS
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
A Biography of Jack Higgins
Foreword
A favourite of mine. My most popular character, Liam Devlin from The Eagle Has Landed, makes a come-back. The assassin is a half-Russian Catholic priest, who has been trained by the Soviet military intelligence service. As a young Orange Protestant in Belfast, I was at one stage cared for by a Catholic aunt in a very republican area of South Armagh. This book reflects my interest in Catholicism and the workings of the IRA. When the film was made, it was decided that the Devlin character was too old, and Keith Carradine took the role. Robert Lindsay gave a memorable performance as the priest/assassin, and Sir Anthony Quayle (who was Canaris in The Eagle Has Landed) played the Pope. It was his very last performance, as he died a week after the film was completed.
PROLOGUE
1959
WHEN THE LAND ROVER turned the corner at the end of the street, Kelly was passing the church of the Holy Name. He moved into the porch quickly, opened the heavy door and stepped inside, keeping it partially open so that he could see what was happening.
The Land Rover had been stripped down to the bare essentials so that the driver and the two policemen who crouched in the rear were completely exposed. They wore the distinctive dark green uniforms of the Royal Ulster Constabulary, Sterling submachine guns held ready for instant action. They disappeared down the narrow street towards the centre of Drumore and he stayed there for a moment, in the safety of the half-darkness, conscious of the familiar odour.
'Incense, candles and the holy water,' he said softly and his finger reached to dip in the granite bowl beside the door.
'Is there anything I can do for you, my son?'
The voice was little more than a whisper and, as Kelly turned, a priest moved out of the darkness, an old man, in shabby cassock, his hair very white, gleaming in the candle-light He carried an umbrella in one hand.
'Just sheltering from the rain is all, Father,' Kelly told him.
He stood there, shoulders hunched easily, hands thrust deep in the pockets of the old tan raincoat. He was small, five feet five at the most, not much more than a boy, and yet the white devil's face on him beneath the brim of the old felt hat, the dark brooding eyes that seemed to stare through and beyond, hinted at something more.
All this the old priest saw and understood. He smiled gently, 'You don't live in Drumore, I think?'
'No, Father, just passing through. I arranged to meet a friend of mine here at a pub called Murphy's.'
His voice lacked the distinctive hard accent of the Ulsterman. The priest said, 'You're from the Republic?'
'Dublin, Father. Would you know this Murphy's place? It's important. My friend's promised me a lift into Belfast. I've the chance of work there.'
The priest nodded. 'I'll show you. It's on my way.'
Kelly opened the door, the old man went outside. It was raining heavily now and he put up his umbrella. Kelly fell in beside him and they walked along the pavement. There was the sound of a brass band playing an old hymn, Abide with Me, and voices lifted, melancholy in the rain. The old priest and Kelly paused, looking down on to the town square. There was a granite war memorial, wreaths placed at its foot. A small crowd was ranged around it, the band on one side. A Church of Ireland minister was conducting the service. Four old men held flags proudly in the rain, although the Union Jack was the only one with which Kelly was familiar.
'What is this?' he demanded.
'Armistice Day to commemorate the dead of two World Wars. That's the local branch of the British Legion down there. Our Protestant friends like to hang on tight to what they call their heritage.'