‘So that’s it,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘We saved Hitler’s life. Did we do right?’ He shrugged. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I can imagine why they put a hundred-year hold on that file.’
He opened the door again and looked out. I said, ‘What happened afterwards? To you and Steiner and Asa Vaughan? I know you were a professor at some American college in the years after the war, but what happened in between?’
‘Ah Jesus, son, and haven’t I talked enough? I’ve given you enough for another book. The rest will have to wait until next time. You should be getting back to your hotel. I’ll go a step of the way with you.’
‘Is that safe?’
‘Well, you’re clean enough if we meet an Army patrol and who’s going to worry about a poor old priest like me?’
He wore a hat and a raincoat over his cassock and sheltered us with his umbrella as we walked through the mean streets, passing here and there the devastation of a bombing.
‘Would you look at this place?’ he demanded. ‘Rat’s alley where the dead men left their bones.’
‘Why do you keep on?’ I asked him. ‘The bombings, the killings?’
‘When it started, back in August sixty-nine, it seemed like a good idea. Orange mobs trying to burn Catholics out, the B Special police giving them a hand.’
‘And now?’
‘To be honest with you, son, I’m getting tired and I never did like soft target hits, the indiscriminate bomb that kills passers-by, women, children. That farmhouse above Killala Bay. My old aunt Eileen left it to me, and there’s a job waiting as Professor of English at Trinity College in Dublin whenever I want.’ He stopped on the corner and sniffed the smoky air. ‘Time to get the hell out of this and let those who want it to get on with it.’
‘You mean you’ve finally got tired of the game playing you instead of you playing the game?’
He nodded. ‘That’s what Steiner always says.’
‘Interesting,’ I commented. ‘You said: Steiner says.’
He smiled. ‘Is that a fact?’ The rain increased suddenly. We were on the corner of the Falls Road. In the distance was a foot patrol of the Parachute Regiment and a Saracen armoured car. ‘I think I’ll leave you here, son.’
‘A wise decision.’ I took his hand.
‘You can look me up in Killala any time.’ He turned away and paused. ‘One thing.’
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
‘The Cohen girl, the hit-and-run accident. You were right. Convenient for someone, that. I’d watch my back if I were you.’
I lit a cigarette in cupped hands and watched him go, the cassock-like skirts around his ankles, the umbrella against the rain. I glanced down the Falls Road. The patrol was nearer now but when I turned to take a last look at Liam Devlin, he’d gone, disappeared into the shadows as if he had never been.
About Jack Higgins
Jack Higgins was raised in Belfast, and moved to Leeds with his mother when he was twelve years old. He left school with no qualifications and had a succession of jobs including two years as an NCO in the Royal Horse Guards serving on the East German border during the Cold War. Afterwards, he was accepted as an external student at London University and a degree in Sociology and Social Psychology took him into teaching. Before becoming a full-time author he was engaged in the training of teachers at various colleges in the West Riding and at Leeds University. He was already a leading writer of adventure stories before he wrote The Eagle Has Landed but his marvellously original war novel turned him into an international bestselling author. This has since been followed by a series of major worldwide successes including Touch the Devil, Night of the Fox and, most recently, A Season in Hell and Cold Harbour. A Prayer for the Dying was filmed with Bob Hoskins and Mickey Rourke to enormous controversy. Confessional was filmed as a four part TV series. His work is published in more than thirty languages.
The End