Pray for Us Sinners Read Online Free

was a puckered rictus. “I’m told it’s predominantly orange and green.”
    Smith mentally filed the name. “I thought the army didn’t trust the RUC, sir.”
    â€œQuite right. Neither do I. They’re the only ones who can mingle with the hoi polloi. Lots of chances to pass on information. The bloke you’re after might very well be a copper.”
    â€œBut, Sir Charles, if there could be a leak in the police, why use their people?”
    Sir Charles grimaced. “You’ll need one local contact. It’s like a foreign country over there. Gillespie’s been screened, he’s a closemouthed bugger, and the previous chief constable, Sir Graham Shillington, is an old friend of mine. He vouched for Gillespie. He’s one of their best operatives. Trust him, to a point, but don’t tell him what you’re really after. He may be on our side, but he is still RUC, and he’s a Catholic.”
    Smith heard the distaste in Sir Charles’s voice as he continued: “And so’s the new chief constable—chap called Jamie Flanagan. If he found out through Gillespie that you suspected the coppers—what do our American cousins say?—the shit would hit the fan.”
    â€œWhat do I tell him I’m supposed to be doing, sir?”
    Sir Charles laughed. “You’re just another independent intelligence operative. After PIRA names, ammo dumps, the usual stuff.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œNow get over to NI. They’re expecting you at Lisburn Headquarters. The brigadier’s been told to leave you alone to get on with your job. You’ll have access to all the files.” He opened a drawer and produced two envelopes. “My minister’s written this.” He handed one to Smith. “It instructs the powers that be over there to ‘render all assistance.’”
    John Smith rose and accepted the letter, tucking it unopened into his inside jacket pocket.
    Sir Charles’s blue eyes fixed on Smith. “Take all the time you need over there—within reason. Report directly to me.” He held out the other envelope. “Your commission’s in here, Major.”
    Major Smith accepted the buff envelope. Major Smith. He’d hardly dared hope for so much. He heard Sir Charles say, “Pull this off and you’ll have the deepest gratitude of Her Majesty’s Government. Shouldn’t be surprised if I couldn’t find a half-colonel’s job for you. Of course, if you don’t…”
    Major Smith looked through his window at the razor-wire fence surrounding Thiepval. Pull this off? He was no closer to finding the Provos’ inside man than he had been when he’d arrived here a month ago. How much longer would Sir Charles wait?
    There was a way to try to find the leak. It would be risky and depended on identifying the right man for the job. The major’d considered the possibility for the last two weeks, working with a reluctant Harry Swanson of 14 Intel. Harry had not wrapped up his opinion. Putting a British officer on the street to infiltrate the upper echelons of the PIRA would be hazardous in the extreme. Having registered his protest, Swanson had started running background checks.
    The ringing phone interrupted the major’s train of thought. He lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
    â€œJohn?”
    â€œYes, Harry?”
    â€œCan you come over to Palace Barracks in Holywood the day after tomorrow, the sixth? I think I’ve found the chap you’re looking for.”
    â€œWhat?” Major Smith’s fingers tightened round the receiver. “Who?”

 
    FOUR
    TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 5
    At 8:14 A.M ., as weak sunlight struggled through the lattices of the coal cranes on the banks of the Lagan and glinted from heaps of anthracite piled on the pier, a nondescript-looking man left from a Ford Prefect parked on Queen’s Quay. He carried a small suitcase.
    He dodged through