Knife Edge

UNIFICATION

Portadown, Northern Ireland

Major John Wetherby dropped the files on to the top of the desk, the thump reverberating around the room.

Wetherby was a tall, powerfully built man with pale, pinched features, his hair greying slightly at the temples. He stood with his back to the other two men in the room, both of whom looked first at the officer then at the files.

The younger of them, Captain Edward Wilton, reached for the top file.

'Read it,' said Wetherby without turning round, and Wilton hesitated for a moment, as if fearing his superior possessed eyes in the back of his head, before he realised the Major must have seen his reflection in the glass of the window. 'Read them all,' Wetherby continued, his tone subdued.

Wilton began flicking through the file.

His colleague merely sat, hands clasped on the top of the table, gazing at his superior's back.

Captain James Armstrong didn't need to read these files. He knew what they contained. What those contents meant and how important they were.

'How many is it now?' Armstrong asked.

'Including Hatcher and the two Sinn Fein men, eleven,' Wetherby informed him, turning back to face his colleagues. 'And Christ knows how many more to come if something isn't done soon.' The Major exhaled wearily. 'Just when it seems there's finally going to be peace, just when it looks as if we're finally going to be able to get out of this bloody place, this happens.' He jabbed a finger towards the files.

'Are we sure who's behind it?' Wilton asked.

'I wish there was some room for doubt but I'm afraid there isn't,' the Major told him.

‘We're just lucky the media hasn't got hold of it,' Armstrong oered.

'As far as the media is concerned, it's a leftover from the conflict,' Wetherby said.

'Two dead Sinn Fein men, both shot,' Wilton began, as if he was reading some kind of bizarre shopping list. 'An Ulster Unionist MP blown to pieces by a car bomb, five known IRA prisoners released from Long Kesh all shot, and three UVF men assassinated, one stabbed, one blown up and the other one shot. No common MO?'

Wetherby shook his head.

'It's only going to be a matter of time before each side starts blaming the other,' Wetherby added. 'This bloody peace is fragile enough as it is; there are those on both sides who don't need much more pushing to start hostilities again.'

'It looks as if someone already started them,' Wilton said, closing the file.

Wetherby sat down, fingertips pressed together.

'These killings will go on unless we do something to stop them,' the Major said. 'As head of Military Intelligence here I feel we must act before it's too late. Before anyone else on either side is killed and, more importantly, before this peace settlement is jeopardised any further.'

'What options do we have?' Wilton asked.

'As far as I see it we don't have a choice,' Wetherby replied. 'There is only one course of action open to us.'

The other two men sat motionless, gazing at their superior.

'In three days' time seven more IRA men are due to be released,' Wetherby continued. 'It's my guess they'll be the next target. They're to be transported from Long Kesh to the border by minibus, escorted obviously. It's a tempting target.'

'Just like the other five were,' murmured Armstrong.

Wetherby nodded slowly. 'I don't see what else we can do,' he said wearily.

'You said there was only one course of action open to us?' Wilton echoed, vaguely.

'These killings must stop before the media make any connections. They'll have a field day with this and, if it gets out, God help us all,' the Major said, crossing to his desk. 'There is no choice.' He flicked a switch on the console. 'Cranley, send in Sean Doyle.'