Dead Halt

Epilogue

Eastman knew exactly where Marsh meant when he had said to meet him at the “usual place” at two that afternoon. A clearing in a remote area of woodland near Chadwell Heath which they had used in the past to meet with informers. He also knew exactly why Marsh wanted to see him …

Marsh’s Toyota MR2 sports car was already there when Eastman arrived. Eastman parked his Rover beside it and got out. A cold wind had whipped up since he’d left home and as he zipped up his blouson he glanced up at the sky. Rain was imminent.

“John?” he called out, digging his hands into his pockets.

Marsh emerged from a cluster of beech trees. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a baggy antique-style leather jacket. He smiled coldly at Eastman. “It’s good to see you, Keith. Thanks for coming.”

“As I said to you on the phone, I was going to call you anyway.”

“Let’s walk,” Marsh said, indicating the trees behind him.

“Sure,” Eastman replied, falling into step behind him. “Have you been reinstated yet?”

“Yesterday. But I doubt Palmer will ever fully trust me again. I think you owe me an explanation, Keith.”

“What has Palmer told you about me?” Eastman asked.

“Nothing. He’s playing it close to the chest. The unit was told that you’d been relieved of your command and that you were no longer a member of the force. It’s all been cloak and dagger stuff as far as we’re concerned.”

“You must know what happened otherwise you wouldn’t be here, would you?” Eastman replied, pausing at the edge of the trees and looking out over the river in front of him.

Marsh moved down to the water’s edge then turned back to look at Eastman. “What’s that supposed to mean? All I know is that you were arrested in Dugaill, questioned by UNACO, then kicked off the force. There’s a major cover-up going on and because you put me in the frame I’m now a part of it. The least you can do is tell me what really happened.”

“Why, so that you can report back to your superiors?” Eastman replied disdainfully.

“Obviously my superiors already know what’s going on, otherwise they wouldn’t have initiated the cover-up in the first place, would they?” Marsh replied, picking up a stone and skimming it across the water.

“I wasn’t talking about those superiors. I was talking about your paymasters in the IRA.”

“What?” Marsh replied in disbelief as his hand slipped inside his jacket.

“Don’t even think it, John,” Eastman replied, pulling a Browning from his pocket.

Marsh swallowed nervously and slowly withdrew his hand. “How did you know?”

“Fiona found out,” Eastman replied, then nodded when he saw the surprise on Marsh’s face. “Oh, I know your recruitment was supposed to have been a closely guarded secret known only to the senior members of the Army Council, but Kieran O’Connell made the mistake of telling Farrell about it. And Fiona had Farrell twisted around her little finger. He told her everything. Pillow talk I believe it’s called.”

“How long have you known I was working for the Provos?”

“Since Fiona discovered that it was you who blew Pat Gorman’s cover. You never saw what Brady did to Pat before he finally killed him, did you? It was barbaric. Why did you turn?”

“I was in debt. Real debt. And I couldn’t cover those debts on my police pay. So I turned informer.”

“And how much of your debt did you pay off by blowing Pat’s cover?”

Marsh remained silent.

“I hope it was worth it, Johnny. I really hope it was worth it.”

“If you’ve known about this all along, why didn’t you just let me rot in jail when you had the chance?”

“That was the idea,” Eastman replied. “Fiona had enough on you to put you away for life. And she intended to finger you in court. But without her the case would probably have collapsed. And I wasn’t going to risk it. So I told Whitlock you were the fall guy. That way they would have to release you.”

“So that you could kill me?” Marsh shot back.

“I promised myself that I’d avenge Pat’s death. Brady’s already dead. You’re the last piece in the jigsaw, Johnny.”

“You knew I intended to kill you today, didn’t you?”

“I knew the authorities would never let me walk. I know too much. So what better way of silencing me than by using the Provos to do their dirty work for them? All it needed was an anonymous call to the Army Council to set me up. I presume that is how they found out about me?”

Marsh nodded.

“How much were they told?”

“Enough to put a contract out on you,” Marsh replied.

“But obviously not enough to link me with either Pat or Fiona,” Eastman deduced. “Which means the public will always hold the IRA responsible for Scoby’s murder. Perfect.”

“Killing me won’t solve anything. They’ll just send someone else after you. They won’t stop until they’ve found you. I’m your one chance of getting out of this alive. If I report back to them that I’ve killed you, the contract will be lifted. You need me, Keith, can’t you see that?”

“I had a plan to get Fiona out of the country. Well, now I’m going to use it myself. I’ve got all the contacts in place. All the details have already been finalized. I guarantee you that the IRA will never find me. So, you see, I don’t need you at all.”

Marsh clawed desperately for his holstered Browning. Eastman pumped three bullets into him. Marsh’s body spun grotesquely as he fell backwards into the river. Eastman stared impassively at the lifeless body as it wallowed, facedown, in the water then pushed the Browning into his pocket and hurried back to his car.

He saw the red motorbike parked behind Marsh’s Toyota as he emerged into the clearing. The two figures standing beside the car were dressed in black leathers with helmets obscuring their faces. Both were armed with ArmaLite rifles. He knew then he was going to die. He was still reaching for the Browning in his pocket when they shot him.