Dancing With Mortality Read Online Free PDF

nights swimming, walking, reading,
making love, and most of all talking. Nat wanted a family but she also wanted a
career, her own intellectual space as she put it. She loved New Zealand, but no
matter how beautiful it was it existed in isolation from everywhere else. On
the southern edge of nowhere. She wasn’t going to settle down until she’d done
some travelling and seen how the other half lived.
    Harry had no problem with that. No point in being a language
student if you didn’t at least visit the countries whose languages you so
assiduously studied. Even live there for a while if you could.
    And so it had unfolded. Perhaps not quite as foreseen, they
had come to Ireland rather than France or Germany, but it had proven
nonetheless interesting. SIS was certainly unforeseen.
    That thought dragged Harry firmly back to the present. His
mind drifted between annoyance with Litchfield and guilt at how his lying had
provoked such a violent response from Natalie. The image of her aggrieved face
was the last thing he was conscious of before drifting into a troubled sleep.
     
    It was late afternoon, and already the light was fading in
an overcast sky. A chilly wind whipped Harry’s face as he walked briskly from
the flat to the office. His intention was to give his report on the previous
evening’s events to Litchfield, and then head home to make peace with Nat. He
was searching his mind for a diplomatic way to convey his displeasure about the
unnecessary phone calls when he realised someone was calling his name. He
looked quickly behind him. It was Jack Hudson.
    ‘Harry, good thing I caught you first. He’s in a foul mood.
He was expecting you hours ago.’
    ‘Didn’t you get my note? I needed some sleep.’
    ‘Yes, we got it. Didn’t cut much ice with the boss though.
What happened last night? No, don’t tell me here. We’ll be there in a minute.’
    They walked on in silence. A few minutes later they entered
the office. Litchfield was sat in his customary place, his face a picture of
absorption as he studied a file laid on the desk. Harry took off his coat and
glanced across the room, gauging Litchfield’s mood. Jack was filling the kettle
at a sink on the far side of the office, his back to both of them.
    ‘Tea, Harry?’
    ‘No thanks, Jack.’
    Litchfield looked up and glared at Harry. Then he glanced
briefly at Jack’s back.
    ‘I’ll have some, Jack.’
    ‘Right you are boss.’
    Litchfield turned his attention back to Harry, gesturing
with an outstretched hand.
    ‘Take a seat, Harry.’
    Harry did as he was told. He sensed the other man’s
irritation and decided to check his own annoyance until Litchfield had vented whatever
he wanted to vent. It wasn’t long in coming.
    ‘It would have been bloody useful if you’d been here earlier
and I’d got your report on what happened last night. I’ve waited most of the
day to get anything out of Hanson, who frankly was reluctant to say a great
deal. I do, however, have this preliminary report now, which tells me that
eight IRA men were shot dead resisting arrest, and not much else. Oh, yes, and
one escaped. Anything you can add? What the hell happened out there?’
    Harry recounted the events as he’d witnessed them.
Litchfield’s eyebrows rose as he mentioned the man on the horse, but otherwise
he showed little reaction.
    ‘I was too far away to know what went on, sir,’ said Harry.
‘All I know is they got all the arms and they shot everyone – except the one.
In my opinion those men weren’t given the chance to resist arrest. It was all
over pretty quickly.’
    Litchfield leaned back in his chair and said nothing. He
took a sip of tea, closed his eyes, and stayed immobile, thinking.
    Harry was about to continue, but Jack raised a warning hand,
and he held his tongue.
    Then Litchfield returned to the room, eyes fixed once more
on the file on his desk. He addressed Harry without looking up.
    ‘They’re still identifying these casualties. If