Read Online Allegiance: A Dublin Novella by Heather Domin - Free Book Online Page B

pile on the blotter – his transplanted life, sleepless nights and careful days, an empty box of pencils and a photographic memory. Adequate.
    “Thank you, sir,” he said.
    Christopher picked through the top sheets a bit, looking back at the list of names. His gold pen remained untouched on the desk. The grandfather clock ticked endlessly in the corner, until finally William could bear the silence no longer.
    “They’re not organized, sir. They know nothing of the larger movements, or even the names of the people they aid – they won’t be able to lead you to any major factions. I don’t feel this avenue is productive enough to continue pursuing, if I may say, sir.”
    He ran out of words, and the silence resumed. Christopher showed no sign of having heard a sound. He took a sip from his brandy snifter, slid the stack of papers neatly into their file, and the folder disappeared into the bottom desk drawer with a subtle click.
    “Continue surveillance as ordered and record any events you may witness. That will be all.”
    William blinked twice. “Sir?”
    The Director removed his spectacles and held them up to the light; he blew a bit of dust off one lens and began wiping it carefully with his handkerchief. “Was there some part of that sentence which was unclear to you?”
    William’s confusion overrode his tongue. “Aren’t you
—
I mean, won’t there be a raid, sir?”
    Christopher slid his spectacles into his breast pocket and looked at William for the first time since he entered the office. “No, there will not. I have no intention of raiding that munitions pickup, and I have never had any intention of doing so.” Seeing the expression that flooded William’s face, the Director threaded his fingers together on the desktop and curled his mouth into a sour line.
    “Allow me to explain something to you, agent. This office is an agency of His Majesty’s Empire, not some local village constable. I am not interested in the petty trading of illiterate hatchet men. I want to know who is pulling the strings. I want to know whose devotion belongs to De Valera rather than Collins. These intractable zealots are the reason I am trapped in this godforsaken runt of a nation, and I intend to stamp them out with everything that is in my power. Am I making myself clear to you?”
    William stared at him, aghast.
    “You will go back to these people, and you will stay with them. You will accompany them on their little endeavors. You will aid them, and you will build their confidence. Nothing will be done to hinder you. I have agents in every corner of this city, and I know that something larger is coming. In time, one of you will learn what that something is. You will report it to me. And I will reel every fish into my net, great and small alike, in one pull. I shan’t fill the jails; I shall fill the gallows. And I will be the Director who brought order to Dublin.”
    Christopher shifted in his chair, and some of the bitter light faded from his eyes. “You are a promising agent, Young. You take orders without question, and you know your place despite your education.” He gave William a thin, brittle smile. “I would imagine you harbor dreams of sitting on this side of the desk one day, yes? Detective Chief Inspector Young, making safe the streets of your precious Glasgow?” He reached for his brandy snifter and regarded William over its rim. “I can help you with that.”
    William thought for a moment that he might be sick. He gripped the arms of the chair until the wave of nausea passed. He thought of the “illiterate hatchet men” with whom he had spent the past six weeks – people who were merely means to Christopher’s ambitious ends, tools to be used and discarded when broken. He looked at the Director’s face and, for the first time since he had been given this assignment, William felt afraid. His nightmare flashed into life behind his eyes, and he blinked to clear his mind of that pale waxy face. He