Chapter 4 #3
O stubbed out his cigarette in the pewter dish with such force that the butt crumpled beneath his fingers.
“You know they can’t win. Not against the might of the British Empire.
Sinn Féin’s funds are low. The republican loan drive was a failure.
My men have just seized a significant amount of capital from their land bank.
And Tudor tells me himself that he thinks we’ve nabbed Collins. It’s all beginning to go bad for them.”
Except that O was prone to lying and exaggerating.
He and the rest of the Castle administration frequently claimed the rebels were almost out of money.
As for Collins, if they weren’t certain the man they’d apprehended was him, then he wasn’t.
I knew this much from their past claims and the fixation the Crown Forces seemed to have on the Big Fellow.
“It’s only going to get worse once the government finally stops placating the appeasers and accepts that half measures won’t crush these rebels,” O continued, leaning back in his chair.
“Like a dog, Irishmen only understand firm treatment.” He tapped the desk as if that was that.
“The Americans just elected Harding their next president, so there won’t be any interference from them.
A Republican not for the republicans,” he jested with a cruel smile.
“Once martial law is declared and the policy of official reprisals is approved, we’ll put an end to their terrorism and assassinations even if we have to burn down every village in Ireland to do it.
Soon enough, they’ll turn on the Shinners and we’ll net them all. ”
But what he and many of the other members of this administration failed to realize was that with every act of violence by Crown Forces, with every unchecked reprisal, they were merely driving the population of Ireland farther into the arms of the republicans.
After all, at least the IRA only targeted the Crown Forces and their informants.
At times, they even remained to defend a town against the enemy’s almost inevitable retaliation.
When weighed against the British Forces’ indiscriminate burning, looting, and killing, many believed siding with the republicans and Sinn Féin was safer.
“Of course, this would all go much faster if you told us what you know.”
I arched my eyebrows, tempted to make a pert remark. In the past, they’d never wanted to hear what I knew. They’d not believed it worthwhile. But I managed to remain silent.
“I know you’re in contact with the rebels.”
I suspected his glare was supposed to be intimidating, but I found it anything but. Not after what I’d faced the previous day. In any case, I doubted he knew any such thing. He was guessing, grasping at straws, and I wasn’t going to give him anything solid to hold on to.
“Perhaps it was even you who tipped them off to the presence of the intelligence officer who lived across the street.”
I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, lest I let it flap.
For O to have accused me of such a thing was both insulting and infuriating.
I, of course, recalled the murder. I also knew that Collins’s men had almost certainly been responsible, and that Alec had been aware of it, if not involved himself.
However, I had not discovered any of this, or even known of the officer’s existence, until after he was killed.
If I’d had prior knowledge, this would have caused me a moral dilemma.
One that I suspected would have ended with me attempting to warn the man, putting me in the rebels’ crosshairs.
As such, O’s allegation was particularly upsetting. As were his next words.
“Did your husband know, too? I know the government frowns on arresting war heroes, but if he’s a traitor, we can’t just look the other way.”
I had so many retorts to this. I could have cited dozens of instances of our government doing just this, even in the past few months. But ultimately, I settled for crossing my arms and affecting a bored pose, trusting O wouldn’t dare to follow through on this threat.
There was a soft rap against the door next to him, which I assumed led into an adjoining office, and he turned to scowl at it before glancing at his watch.
He pushed to his feet, buttoning his tailcoat.
“Tomorrow you will debrief several of my officers, informing them of everything you know. Then we’ll discuss your possibility of release.
” His gaze swept up and down my appearance.
“Mr. Kent has been assured that you’re being shown every consideration and our best accommodations, so there should be no further fuss. ”
I couldn’t withhold a scoff of disgust. Clearly, he didn’t know my husband. And clearly, he didn’t know me if he thought I was going to share anything of value with his officers. His regard for my intellect was evidently still somewhere below a sheep or a swine.
“Now, there’s someone else who would like a moment of your time,” he pronounced, though he didn’t look particularly happy about it.
My curiosity piqued, I waited attentively as he opened the door, admitting the last man in the world I wanted to see, and my greatest adversary.
Lord Ardmore.