Field of Blood by Gerald Seymour Read Free Book Online Page A

the aggro bit, the bad bit was the clearing out afterwards.
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    He knew how to use the optical sight on the R.P.G. He'd studied a
    translation of the Soviet manual, provided years back by a Russian language student down in Dublin. He'd used the optical sight on the police landrover. He
    wouldn't use the optical sight that morning. From the edge of the church wall to
    a car manoeuvring left on the roundabout was point blank range, so he'd use the
    iron sights, aim up on the forward leaf on the tube and the rear V above the grip
    stock. The three men talked occasionally in low voices behind him. They ignored
    him, as if he were separate from them.
    The Chief had told why the target had been chosen, why the firing had to be in
    the shadow of the Crown Court House, why it had to be within earshot of the gaol
    that was across the road from the yellow and honeysuckle of the Court's facade.
    The Chief had said it had to be a one‐off because he had only one fucking projectile.
    He stamped his feet. The driven rain was on his face. He badly needed to piss.
    He heard the click of the boot being opened. He spun. He saw one man thrusting
    the earpiece cable for the CB into his anorak pocket. He saw the launcher being
    lifted out of the boot, a crude, heavy shape under a raincoat. He saw the driver
    slip behind the wheel of the car.
    Òn his way ... Two minutes, bozo.'
    David Ferris was in a rare good humour. A patrol from his platoon was accused of
    shoplifting from a Sweets and Fags lock‐up on the Falls. Bravo's Company
    Commander had advised a hard, defensive line. Take it on the chin and give them
    a blunt denial. Ferris was to attend Hastings Street R.U.C. station and there make
    a statement denying all knowledge and gilding the character of his Fusiliers.
    Actually he didn't believe the charge. They were tough little buggers, his Fusiliers, from the workless zones of the north‐east of England. If they had gone
    in for shoplifting they would have stripped the lock‐up bare, and probably lifted
    the knickers off the proprietor's wife for good measure.
    He travelled by landrover. The Battalion's Sunray didn't believe in closed landrovers. Sunray had taken his style from the commandos and the
    paratroopers. Open landrovers offered more visibility to the riflemen. Great way
    to travel when it was raining, marvellous when you were stuck on the traffic lights. Ferris sat beside his driver, his rifle on his thigh, watching the front. There were two Fusiliers behind him covering the side and rear.
    So Ferris was getting wet, but that was a damn sight better than footing it around Turf Lodge.
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    With a bit of luck, if the policeman wasn't too quick with a longhand statement,
    he would spin this into coffee and biscuits time.
    They were out into the traffic. The gates of Springfield Road were
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    **squealing shut behind them. Ferris smiled at the banter around him. Ì hear, Robby, they've got women Old Bill down where we're going.' 'Bollix, it's chaps, you have a grope, see what you find.'
    `Had to be women there, that's why a good‐looking fucker like me's
    on the escort.'
    `What's a woman look like, Nobby?
    'Not like anything you'll see here, fucked if I can remember ...' Èyes peeled, lads, and concentrate,' Ferris said. `You ever seen an actual Provo, Mr Ferris?' the driver asked. `Provos are to me what women are to you, Fusilier Jones,' Ferris
    said. Àll photographs . . .'
    `Good one, Mr Ferris.' Laughter from the back. `That's enough, lads.'
    Ferris's eyes raked the taxi stopped in front of him at the red light, and the van in front of the taxi that had a dark interior because the rear doors were off, and he
    switched his attention to the pavements and the early morning drifting crowds.
    Divas Street in the Falls. All wire‐meshed windows and cement‐blocked
    doorways and daubed slogans of sometime's victory and petrol bomb scars and
    blast scrapes. Famous throughout the Western world for its hatred and its