Pray for Us Sinners Read Online Free Page B

security of the Provo volunteers, as well as to advise on the targets that, when hit, would do the most damage to the British. His old sources were working well but hadn’t been used to plan today’s raid. This morning’s attack had been little more than a diversion. Random violence on a small scale kept the Security Forces on the hop and could not compromise his most precious intelligence asset.
    His eye socket itched, and he poked his finger in to scratch. He might have only one good eye, but his ears were everywhere in Belfast and, after the move out of these cruddy quarters in a couple of weeks, he’d have one more listening device. One that neither Sean nor even the Officer Commanding the Belfast Brigade would be privy to.
    It would need to be tested. It would take a week or two to have the system set up, but once it was working the Belfast Provos could truly inflict major damage on the Brits. And when the PIRA began to go for major targets, ones that would carry serious risks to attack—like the one his prime source had suggested as a real possibility—then they’d see what Sean Conlon was made of.

 
    FIVE
    TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 4
    â€œYou’ll be leaving this evening, Lieutenant Richardson.” The young nurse smoothed the corner of the sheet. “Now take these.” She handed him two painkillers.
    He popped the pills in his mouth and washed them down with a mouthful of water.
    â€œGood.” She took the glass.
    Marcus wished he could hear her more clearly, but the ringing in his ears refused to go away. He felt so bloody useless, stiff and bruised and stuck in hospital. At least no bones were broken. Nothing smashed up inside. But it had been a near thing on Saturday. Too bloody near. It had given him pause for thought. He shuddered but said, “Thank you.”
    She smiled, showing small white teeth. She had great eyes, green and feline. He wondered what she’d look like in civvies—or, better still, out of them. She must have noticed his look. Pink spread from beneath her white starched collar. “Now settle down,” she said, but the smile remained. “The ambulance will be here soon.”
    Her name tag said J. L OUGHRIDGE . She hadn’t been on duty when he’d regained consciousness yesterday. They’d told him he’d been out for twenty-four hours. The blast had been on Saturday, so this must be Tuesday.
    He tried to give her his best smile, but the split in his lower lip stung. “Ouch!” He dabbed at his mouth with the tips of the fingers of his right hand. “What’s the J for?”
    â€œNone of your business.” She turned to leave, then paused and looked at him, the smile returning. “If you must know, it’s Jennifer.”
    He lay watching the play of the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window behind his bed, the rays brightening the sway of the curtains where she had passed. Jennifer. Jennifer Loughridge. An Antrim girl by her accent. He had a vivid image of the way her eyes had shone when they’d reflected the light as she turned. He’d seen the same green fire in an emerald, deep and lustrous.
    He might be able to play the wounded hero with Nurse Loughridge. It had been too long since he’d enjoyed the company of a woman. He really would have to try to get Nurse Loughridge’s phone number.
    He was not given the chance. The door opened, a Royal Army Medical Corps corporal appeared, helped Marcus into a wheelchair, and trundled him to where an RAMC ambulance waited. The inside was spartan and smelled of disinfectant. He heard the engine start, and the vehicle lurched as it was driven away. Marcus settled back on the stretcher, assuming he was being taken back to Thiepval, where his unit was stationed.
    The trip was taking much longer than it should. He sat up, swung his legs to the floor, and, bracing himself against the swaying of the vehicle, peered out the small window