The Cause

Mick and Ian had been driving for a long time, but it was a pleasant drive. They had started after lunch and now the rolling green hills were fading into darkness. It had been a pleasant day, but the men were unused to sitting quietly for long periods. Ian, who had done most of the driving, chaffed under Mick’s authority. Mick was almost a legend in the Movement, but Ian thought he was becoming too old and soft to completely embrace the violence necessary to achieve their aims. True, Mick was known for the ruthlessness with which he had once placed bombs on the doorsteps of churches and near playgrounds, but now the old man was on The Committee. Mick seldom actively participated in operations anymore. This mission was just another example of the old man’s growing reluctance to use direct action.

Several recent operations had fallen short of expectations. A bomb failed to explode, another only shattered a few windows, and a third was disarmed before it could detonate. The occupying military caught a bomb team before it could even plant the device. Many suspected someone within their organization was responsible for the failures. Suspicion fell on Rafferty, an old bomb maker who lived in a secluded country cottage. Rafferty had been involved in each of the operations, and that was enough to condemn him in the eyes of most of The Committee. Mick was not so sure, and argued further investigation should be made before punishment was meted out.

Ian had only been an active operative for a year, but already he was marked for advancement. This assignment was proof The Committee had their eye on him. The Chairman had taken him aside and asked him to watch how Mick handled the mission. Perhaps Mick himself was on shaky ground. Why not just walk in and shoot Rafferty? Why did Mick insist on wasting time talking when it was clear Rafferty had become a liability to The Cause? Then there was the method of execution Mick wanted to use.

Rolf rode in the back seat of the car. Rolf was Mick’s constant companion, and bodyguard. Rolf was a large, black and well-trained Mastiff. Ian knew Rolf had torn the throats out of men on the command of his master, but to use the dog as a means of fulfilling their present mission struck Ian as just “too cute”.

“How much further?”

Mick frowned, but didn’t say anything. Ian was typical of the young soldiers they were getting these days, impatient. The land was so beautiful at this time of day, and peaceful. Mick hoped it wouldn’t be necessary to terminate Rafferty. They had been boys together, and had been blowing up the English long before Ian was out of his pram. Unfortunately, it seemed certain Rafferty would have to go. There was no room in the movement for anyone not fully committed. Rafferty, his long heroic service not withstanding, wouldn’t be the first to lose their dedication to The Cause. Mick sighed; he idly fingered the silent silver whistle hung around his neck. He would, if necessary, give Rolf the command to kill his old comrade.

“There it is. See that little cottage in the trees off to your right? That’s Rafferty’s. You’ll see the turn-off in just a moment.”

Rafferty was waiting for them as the car ground to a halt in front of his house. He peered into the car, and recognized Mick. Rafferty unobtrusively set the shotgun back next to the door and stepped out to greet his visitors.

“Come in, come on in. Mick, you old warhorse, it’s been too long since we’ve met. What brings you down to my part of the country?”

Mick and Ian stepped out of their car smiling. Mick hugged his old partner, and asked him if it were all right for Rolf to get a little exercise. Without waiting for a response, Mick opened the car door to let Rolf out. Rolf went to Rafferty, sniffed his leg and licked his hand. Rafferty scratched Rolf’s ears and greeted him like the old friend he was. “How’s the lad then? What a fine doggy ye are Rolf. Have ye eaten anything like a Tommy lately? Eh, lad?” Rolf had already lost interest and went off to investigate some animal he spotted in the shrubbery surrounding the house.

“Come on in Mick. Who’s yer driver today?”

“This is Ian. He’s one of the new boys. Remember the bus station operation where we got half a dozen Tommie’s who came to the rescue? That was one of Ian’s bits.”

The men went into the house and sat down by the fireplace. The evening was already getting cool and the warmth of the little fire was welcome. Rafferty brought a cup of tea for each of his visitors from the tiny kitchen. They sat drinking their tea silently. Finally, Rafferty set his teacup aside and asked the purpose of Mick’s visit.

“Do you need a new device, then? That’d be hard for me to do just now.”

Mick shook his head. “Raff, old friend, can you tell me why the Easter device was such a dud? That wasn’t up to your usual standards. For all the trouble we went to planning a grand Easter Egg there wasn’t much more than a pop from it.”

Rafferty nodded his agreement. “Well, you see, it’s the material they sent me. I packed it expecting the full power the material is capable of, but it must have been bad for some reason. Let me pour you another cup.”

Rafferty brought the kettle from the kitchen and poured his visitors another cup of steaming tea.

Mick complimented his old friend on the quality of his tea, and Ian noted it was poured from a new electric kettle. Rafferty took the kettle back into the kitchen.

Once Rafferty was out of the room, Ian looked the question at Mick. Mick nodded and frowned. He took his silver whistle to hand and blew into it. Outside, Rolf pricked up his ears at the silent signal and just as silently began to search for his target.

As Rafferty stepped back into the room the men heard the front door of the cottage close. Startled, Mick and Ian leapt to their feet and Ian reached for his pistol.

Rafferty laughed nervously and said, “Easy, easy, Mick. It’s just me granddaughter down from Belfast. She’ll be going pickin’ flowers for our dinner table, ya see? Did ya notice how good the kettle her ma sent me tastes? She’ll only be here a week, then I can start working on the new device for you.”

In front of the cottage Rolf trotted toward the little girl, and she squealed in delight to find the big dog in her grandfather’s garden. Rolf was perplexed. Where was the man he was sent to bite?

Inside, by the fire, Ian picked up a pillow embroidered with “Home, Sweet Home”. As Rafferty eased himself back into his chair, Ian stepped behind him. The cushion further deadened the sound of the small caliber pistol as Ian fired one shot into the base of Rafferty’s skull. Mick and Ian took but a moment to wipe away all evidence of their visit. Mick wondered at how quiet things were outside the house as he and Ian went to the front door.

Outside they could see the little girl tumbling about on the grass, laughing. The great dog was licking her face with his long tongue, as she playfully tugged at his ears. Mick’s feelings were ambiguous. Disappointed Rolf had failed to tear the throat out of the only person in sight as he had been trained, yet pleased the little girl was spared.

Ian twisted a silencer onto the muzzle of his pistol. “Mick, you know we’ll have to pop the kid.” Mick slowly nodded, “Of course”.

Ian noted the reluctance in Mick’s voice, and promised himself to put MIck's softness into his report.