Conflict

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"There is a sect that has been growing in Belfast over the last two years. We know that they are working with the real IRA. Obviously, their aim is to gain independence from the United Kingdom - sadly their methods of getting attention have changed drastically from literature through people's letter boxes to petrol bombs destroying families.

The group is known as Phoblacht na hÉireann Tosaigh or the Irish Republican Front - they've been in the news over there for some time since targeting several members of the Irish government and their families. We've had three deaths in the last month so they're building up speed.

Reports have come to us that several key players of the Front are on the mainland and are targeting the House of Commons next month as we have the arrival of the French President for the signing of the Anglo-French Agreement on Cross Country Welfare. If these reports are to be trusted, and we have no reason to not, then the government, and her Majesty are on grave danger.

We need someone to infiltrate their group and although time is against us but we have no other choice. We know that there is a senior member here in London - Oxford educated but without a sensible thought it his head. His name is Aiden Connelly and I believe you know him Robert. You were at Eton together."

Aiden?

God he'd been my best friend through prep school and university, we toured the world together on holidays and had planned to do many of the famous road races together - the love for speed running deep in both our veins. I knew he had been disaffected by his family and life in general... but to take the hatred he felt towards his father, something I could fully relate to, and endanger the lives of many people who were entirely innocent.

"What can I do though? He will know surely what I do for a living, as my father there would happily tell you, I was born into this life. I have never been given any other choice."

My voice I knew was thick with sarcasm and hatred for the man now shuffling uncomfortably in his chair. He and I both knew Ms Richardson was watching us with interest. Sad as it was, I already knew that they would use my hatred for my father and MI5 against me to make me go undercover. There in her eyes was yes, the idea forming. Damn it, I needed a smoke again.

"We will give you the background story - that you have left MI5 due to personal problems, you're disheartened with the country and the system. They will welcome you with open arms as you're able to give them the access they need without causing too much upheaval. Not that they mind causing wide spread panic and horror it seems.

If you think logically Robert you are perfect for this - Aiden may have known you were destined for MI5 but he also knew you hated it. You have the past connection of no doubt complaining about your fathers together.

Whether you like it or not Mr. Trelawny you are doing this. Your government, your monarch and your country need you."

When would the country not need me? When could I have my life to myself. What would be strange in this case though would be that I could more or less be myself - no false identity, just Robert Trelawny the man who hated his father and his family's history. Of course, I had no desire to blow anywhere up - well not for political means, I did I admit find myself enjoying the high from destroying things but that was the little boy inside me. I still loved going the gun range, for me it wasn't a need to be perfect - it was the feel of power and release from aiming the gun and squeezing the trigger.

I found myself nodding in agreement - it's not like I had any choice as Ms Richardson had put it so eloquently. Why was it that the nature of my god forsaken job that made me acquiesce to something I knew I did not want to - something that could if it went wrong endanger Letty and my family. Aiden knew Letty, knew my parents.

By agreeing or rather, not having any alternative, they were in danger. If anything happened to Letty, my father would pay the price for it.

This would be a mission or whatever the Hell you wanted to call it that I would not fail. Could not fail, the price would be too high.

"I need some air. Ten minutes and I'll be back. It's a lot to take on board that someone I grew up with - someone who had a future ahead of them has become a terrorist, a murder..."

No one stopped me walking out the room. In fact the moment I slid the door shut I knew they'd be talking about me... I seem to be the one topic of conversation that never got old. Well let them, it meant nothing to me that they had some sick fascination on why I refused to toe the company line.

Standing once more under the cream arch I searched my pockets for the pack of twenty I needed and lit the cigarette that rested on my lip. Once more I found myself cursing my family name. I found myself shaking in frustration, I knew why I had to do it. To keep the country safe and destroy myself in the process.

Ignoring the vibration of the phone in my pocket I inhaled the cigarette deeply and thought of the woman I would die for gladly. The woman I would be leaving soon to enter the world of a terrorist, a mad man whose deluded mind told him and others, killing people would encourage Britain to return Northern Ireland to a republic, something that the vast majority of citizens didn't want anyway.

Tossing the butt to one side I made my way back to the floor, to the conference room to find out what they wanted me to do.

They were as I expected... talking about me, of course if I had asked them straight out were they, they would have denied it but it was written all over their faces.

"So where do I begin?"

Ms Richardson pointed me to a chair - the visitor to the building acting like she owned the place.

"Where you must always begin Mr Trelawny. The beginning..."

Glaring at her I ground out my reply through gritted teeth...

"Before we continue Ms. Richardson, the man to your left is Mr Trelawny - my name is Robert or Rob. I would prefer it if you called me by my Christian name."

* * * *

Two hours of planning later and I was making my way to a bar in Camden that Aiden was known to frequent. I had refused to wear a wire or ear piece - I knew that Aiden wasn't stupid he would check me out the moment he saw me and would know without a shadow of a doubt if I was there for an ulterior purpose.

Nursing the pint in my hand I waited quietly - my eyes supposedly on the sky news report on the television but were really locked on everyone who was drinking there and also coming in through the door. I'd seen the recent pictures of Aiden and he hadn't really changed since the last time I'd seen him in Jaipur, India. Not that I expected him too really as it had been about five years ago, I knew I had changed though, the nature of my job demanded it really.

I saw him the moment he came into the place - he filled the doorway a man with dark hair and dressed as many were in here, in casual jeans and t-shirt. Looking at the paper at my side I watched him, I didn't want to draw attention to myself so soon, I had no real idea what I could do but wait.

Wait and hope for good fortune to full upon me.

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