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dead?”
    â€œYes, he died last month. Before he died he asked to see one of his former comrades, a man called James Maguire. That was strange because the two of them had never got on. Keaney was as much in favour of violence as anyone else in the IRA, but he was willing to talk as well—he took part in the secret discussions with Willie Whitelaw in the seventies. But Maguire always said that even talking with the British was tantamount to treason. Apparently he even suggested that Keaney might have been working for us.”
    Liz raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
    â€œThe answer is no,” said Wetherby. “Keaney didn’t ever work for us.” He paused, and gave a short laugh. “But Maguire did, though he was overtly so hard line no one ever suspected him. Except Keaney. That’s why when Keaney knew he was dying he asked to see Maguire. He wanted to make sure that what he said to him would get back to us. And it has.”
    Wetherby paused again and looked pensive. “In the early nineties the IRA’s Provisional Army Council became paranoid about penetration by British informants. Keaney came up with the idea of turning the tables: he decided to try and infiltrate us. And he told Maguire just before he died that he had succeeded in planting a secret asset in the ranks of the British security services.”
    â€œA secret asset? You mean a mole?”
    â€œYes, that’s just what I mean.”
    â€œWhat did he mean by British security services? Which service was it supposed to be?”
    â€œHe didn’t specify. Whether he knew or not, I don’t know, but if he did, he didn’t tell Maguire. The only fact he told Maguire is that this secret asset went to Oxford and it was there that he—or she—was recruited by an IRA sympathiser. Presumably by a don, though possibly not. The point is, according to Keaney, the mole successfully joined the security services. But more or less at the same time, the peace talks began, and the Good Friday Agreement followed. Keaney decided the mole operation wasn’t worth the risk. So, according to Keaney, his agent was never activated.”
    â€œWhy did Keaney speak up now? It’s been almost fifteen years.”
    Wetherby pursed his lips. “When the IRA were caught bugging Stormont, it almost derailed the peace process. Keaney said he was worried that an exposé of IRA infiltration of British Intelligence would set back the process again, this time possibly for good. All the leaks about
our
informers in the IRA were embarrassing for the IRA, but really just confirmed what they and everyone else had long suspected. But if they had managed to infiltrate us, the news would be explosive.”
    â€œDo you believe that?” asked Liz.
    â€œYou mean Keaney’s reason for talking now? I simply don’t know. I’m afraid where he’s gone, we can’t question him.”
    â€œIs it possible,” Liz asked tentatively, “that Keaney might have made the whole thing up? You know, as a last blow by a lifetime enemy against Her Majesty’s Government.”
    â€œCould be,” said Wetherby. “But even if there’s a chance that what he said might be true, we can’t ignore it. If there really is a member of one of the intelligence services who was happy to spy for the IRA…who apparently joined on that basis…”
    â€œBut was never activated.”
    â€œNo,” said Wetherby. “But the fact he could have been is quite bad enough; someone like that might get up to anything. We’ve got to find out more about this, Liz. We can’t just do nothing.”
    Liz saw at once that he was right. Now that they had Keaney’s confession, it would have to be followed up—she shuddered to think what would happen if it came to the attention of their political masters or the media, that they had taken no action. The prospect of another Burgess and Maclean, or worst of