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is making me very uncomfortable.’ He
leaned forward to make his point. ‘I think if you continue to ask me to do
things I didn’t sign up to do, then I have to quit. Natalie is scared, and
actually, so am I.’
    Jack’s face hardened. ‘You told your wife what you’ve been
doing?’ He almost spat the words.
    Harry felt his temper rising. ‘I didn’t need to. Mr
Litchfield’s phone calls asking where the hell I was scared her half to death.
She’s not stupid.’
    Jack stared fixedly at him. When he spoke again the vitriol
had gone. ‘Alright Harry. Calm down, point taken.’ He got up and walked over to
the sink in the corner  and opened the cupboard directly underneath. When he
came back it was with two glasses and a half bottle of Jameson’s. Harry raised
his hand in protest and opened his mouth to refuse, but Jack cut in before he
could say anything.
    ‘I’m about to tell you the facts of life, Harry. I suggest
you might like to keep your options open on the drink.’
    He poured a half measure into both glasses, took a small sip
from his own, and handed the other to Harry.
    ‘As Litchfield isn’t here, I can speak freely. Yes, you were
brought in to do Irish translations, but what you weren’t told – what goes
without saying as far as Litchfield is concerned, is that you will do anything
within reason that we ask you to do.’ He paused to gauge the effect of his
words so far. Harry was looking back at him with a mixture of astonishment and
anger, but he remained silent. Jack continued.
    ‘You don’t quit SIS, Harry. You can walk out of course, and
we can’t stop you doing that. But if at any time we need you again for anything
– be it ten days or ten years from now, we won’t hesitate to let you know. And
I can assure you it will be in your best interests to co-operate.’
    Harry stared in disbelief. He took a drink.
    ‘Fuck you, Hudson.’
    Unperturbed, Jack ploughed on. ‘Speech over. What will
happen in all probability is that you’ll finish up here, go back to where you
came from, and never hear from us again. There are no guarantees though.’
    ‘Jesus,’ breathed Harry. ‘Well let me assure you, that as
long as I’m stuck in this office with you I will refuse to do anything from now
on that doesn’t involve Irish translations. Understood?’
    Jack sighed. ‘Fine. You have holidays coming up, don’t you?’
    Harry was thrown. ‘What? Yes, there’s the Christmas break
coming up, why?’
    Jack gently placed his empty glass on the desk. ‘The boss
and I are just as concerned as you about the way things are going. The way the
arms shipment was handled, and now this shooting of O’Reilly’s sister. It’s all
getting rather messy.’
    Harry drained his own glass. He was glad someone else shared
his anxiety about the situation. His anger abated slightly. ‘So what do you
suggest, and what does that have to do with holidays?’
    ‘We’re closing the office for the festive season, starting
early. As of next week, being second week of December, we’re all on holiday.
Till further notice.’
    Harry felt that sense of unease again. ‘What are you worried
about?’
    ‘Just keen to preserve our anonymity, that’s all.’
    ‘Christ, this is just great. The more I work here the safer
I feel.’
    His sarcasm went unregistered. ‘I suggest you take a trip
out of Dublin,’ said Jack. ‘See a bit of Ireland, it’s lovely.’
    ‘And freezing in December. Especially without a car.’
    ‘We’ve thought of that. You can borrow the Land Rover. All
you need to do is fill it with petrol. What could be better?’
    ‘Alright, I’ll do that. Thanks. I wonder where O’Reilly is
now.’
    Jack pursed his lips. ‘Difficult to say. Away from here I
should think. We don’t actually know what he looks like, but that’s being
rectified. Someone in Belfast is sending us a photograph. Should be here
tomorrow. In the meantime, if you should run into him, let me know.’ Jack
snorted at this