Read Online A Darker Place by Jack Higgins - Free Book Online

scattered with broken glass, passing bombed-out buildings boarded up. All of a sudden, it had all caught up with him, too many long and weary years, too much killing, too much death.
    He made it to Byron Street without getting stopped once, which was something of a surprise, and ended up back in the bar. It was empty, the corporal behind the counter fussing around, stacking bottles.
    “Just in time, sir, I’m closing in fifteen minutes. What can I get you?”
    “A large scotch, that’ll do it.”
    He sat in the corner, his raincoat open, thinking of the nice girl who’d sold him out and the man he’d killed, and it didn’t worry him as it should have. The corporal had the radio on, some late-night show, and someone was singing a Cole Porter number, “They Can’t Take That Away from Me,” filled with heartbreaking and melancholic nostalgia, and Giles Roper knew that whatever happened, he was through with Belfast beyond any argument. For the moment he had to return the Colt .25 to Sergeant Clark and report the loss of a Browning Hi-Power, but not now, not tonight. He needed sleep. He needed peace, and he said good night to the corporal and went to bed.
     
     
    HE TOOK a pill from his emergency kit, which knocked him out; he slept deeply and came to life again at seven. He lay there for a while, thinking about things, and went and had a hot shower. He had a tea maker in his room, and he made a cup and stood in his robe thinking of the events of the previous night, moving to the window and looking out.
    The rain was worse than ever, absolutely pouring, and the women coming in for the day shift down below crowded through the entrance, many of them with umbrellas. He started to turn away and paused to look down there again, for a brief moment convinced that he’d seen Jean Murray, but he was mistaken, had to be. The last place she’d show her face was Byron Street. On the other hand, it would be a long time before he forgot the sight of her standing under the lamp after he’d killed her brother.
    He had the day shift starting at nine, and he was just about to get dressed in camouflaged overalls when he had a phone call from the orderly room. “Message from Major Sanderson, sir. He wants you to join him as soon as possible at the Grand Hotel. General Marple flew in from London last night. Special ways-and-means conference.”
    “I’ll see to it.”
    He groaned. Marple from London, which meant full uniform. He dressed quickly, taking it from the dry-cleaning bag, grateful it hadn’t been worn. It looked rather good when he checked himself in the mirror, and the ribbons for Ireland and the Military Cross set things off nicely. He adjusted his cap, nodded to himself, took a military trench coat from the wardrobe, and went out.
    He had his own vehicle on allocation, a Ford pickup painted khaki green. It was parked in the officers’ sector in the corner of the old schoolyard. Vehicles there were never locked in case of emergencies, and the gate sentries were deemed security enough. He opened the driver’s seat, tossed his trench coat into the rear, and got behind the wheel.
    He reached the gate and slowed as the sentry stepped out, raising the bar. “You know Jean Murray, don’t you, Fletcher? I thought I saw her earlier.”
    “You did, Captain, but she wasn’t around for long and left again. In fact, I think that’s her over there in the church doorway.”
    Roper was aware of a sudden chill, drove out slowly toward the other side of the road, and saw her standing there, soaked to the skin, hair plastered to her skull. She was like a corpse walking.
    The moment she saw him, she started down the steps. He pulled up at the curb and lowered his window. “What are you doing here, Jean?”
    “I wanted to give you a present.” She produced a black plastic control unit about nine inches long. “The Howler, Captain. Kenny did finish it, but this isn’t your present. That’s under the passenger seat, and remember,