A Life for a Life

Miceál had been forcing himself to work at the police headquarters for two weeks now, and he was walking down the street to work with none other than Chris Smyth, who had bumped into him on his way out of the shop. Miceál nearly died to been seen with a police officer, as it was lunchtime and a lot of people were out. However, on the Shankill Road people didn't care much.

As the walked back to the headquarters, a bronze car suddenly shot past them at speed, mounting the kerb a little way ahead of them. The doors flung open and suddenly three men wearing balaclavas jumped out of the car, all three of them arms. Miceál's face lit up briefly, but he quickly hid it.

They had gone straight into the bakery, and Miceál knew exactly who they were coming for.

"What the Hell?" he heard Smyth mutter beside him. Suddenly he took off towards the bakery, and Miceál felt his heart skip a beat as he realised that, as Smyth was a policeman, he would be armed with a gun. He couldn't let any of the IRA men get shot … and so he ran up the street after Smyth.

Just as reached the bakery, there were suddenly gunshots, and to his relief he could see Smyth just outside at the door so he knew that he couldn't have shot any of the Volunteers. He looked in through the window and saw that it was the other policeman on the floor, the one that Miceál had tipped them off about.

"Michael, get the fuck out of here!" Smyth yelled at Miceál, who forced himself to look convincingly horrified, his eyes wide. Nothing could have been more of a lie – inside, Miceál felt elated, absolutely ecstatic that he had helped the IRA set someone up.

As the three Volunteers hurried back towards the door, ignoring the screaming of everyone else in the bakery, the one in the lead looked up and caught Miceál's eye. Miceál flicked his eyes over to Smyth, warning them that he was armed. The Volunteer gave the smallest nod, and Miceál relaxed, knowing that they'd be OK. Sure enough, they had the guns on him before he could even put his hand to his pocket. Miceál wondered if they were going to take him out as well, but he knew it would probably be too risky now attention had been drawn. There would be time for that another day.

Smyth still tried to go for the gun as they went past, and Miceál, turning as though to get out of there, made sure he hit his foot against the side of the building, causing one of them to turn round. There was a gunshot, which hit Smyth in the arm, causing him to drop his gun. As the Volunteer passed by Miceál, he recognised the eyes, and realised that it was Ciaran.

Smyth was on the floor, crouched down clutching his arm and moaning in pain, and he looked up at that moment and both Ciaran and Miceál realised he must have seen the brief glance shared between them. Ciaran quickly acted to make it look less suspicious, and he grabbed Miceál.

"Play along," he hissed into Miceál's ear, and so Miceál put up a convincing struggle as Ciaran attempted to drag him towards the car, and Ciaran was able to make it look as though he'd given Miceál a hefty whack around the head with the butt of his gun. Miceál went convincingly limp and fell to the floor, where he lay with his eyes closed until he heard the car screech away round the corner to safety, heading in the direction of the Falls Road.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then the yelling and the talking started up. Miceál heard Smyth stumble to his feet and he could hear him speaking to the others.

"I'm all right, really, it's not like it's not happened before. What about the boy? Is he all right? He wasn't shot?" Miceál seized that opportunity to stir and sit up, gingerly rubbing his head and wincing as though it hurt.

"I'm fine," he said, trying his best to sound shaken as he brushed everyone off and stood up. "What about your man in there? Is he all right?"

"Not by looking at him, I wouldn't say so." Smyth muttered, looking back into the bakery. Already police from up at the headquarters were arriving, and the crowd of people had grown, including people who had come out from their houses and schoolchildren out of school for lunch.

"Chris! What the heck is going on here?" one of the other policemen had caught up now, looking shocked at the sight of blood running down his comrades arm. Miceál almost smiled, but he composed himself. It was all because of him that all of this chaos was happening to them.

"They got Oliver." Chris said, sadness suddenly prevailing in his voice. The other peeler stopped.

"No,"

"Aye. I tried to stop them but they already knew I was armed. Didn't have a chance. They must have realised who I was."

"How come they didn't go for you as well?"

"Not sure. I think Michael scared them off. He looked right at one of them. They must have thought they'd been recognised. Did you know who he was, Michael?"

"No. How could I? I just seen his eyes, that's all." Miceál mumbled, trying to sound deeply shocked by what had happened.

"They were pretty pissed off. One of them tried to pull Michael in the car. Probably were going to nut him in case he seen what they looked like. Luckily he put up a good enough struggle, didn't you?"

"Aye."

"Go on, kid. Go home for the day. You're probably a wreck after what you've just seen."