The Prime Minister said, “I’m sure everyone tries, but look at this group, January 30. How many have they killed in the last few years, Mr. Carter?”

“Ten that we know of, Prime Minister, but there’s a particular difficulty. Other groups have specific aims and targets. January 30 kill everybody. KGB, a CIA man, IRA both here and in Belfast. Even a notorious East End gangster.”

“All with the same weapon,” Ferguson put in.

“Could that indicate just one individual?”

“It could, but I doubt it,” Carter said. “And the name is no help. January 30 was the date of Bloody Sunday, but they kill, amongst others, members of the IRA.”

“A puzzle,” the Prime Minister said, “which brings me to the Downing Street Declaration.” He spoke about the Government’s discussions with Sinn Fein and the efforts, so far unsuccessful, to achieve a cease-fire.

It was Rupert Lang who said, “I’m afraid we’re going to have as many problems with the Protestant factions from now on, Prime Minister.”

“True,” Carter said. “They’re killing just as many as the IRA.”

“Can we do anything about that?” the Prime Minister queried. He turned to Ferguson. “Brigadier?”

Ferguson shrugged. “Yes, I’m conscious of the Protestant Loyalist problem.”

“Yes, but are your people doing anything about it?” Carter said with some malice.

Ferguson was nettled. “Actually I’ve got Dillon taking care of something rather special in that direction at this precise moment in time.”

Carter said, “So we’re back to that little IRA swine?”

Rupert Lang frowned. “Dillon? Who’s he?”

Ferguson hesitated. “Go on, tell him,” the Prime Minister said. “But this is top secret, Rupert.”

“Of course, Prime Minister.”

“Sean Dillon was born in Belfast and went to school in London when his father came to work here,” Ferguson said. “He had a remarkable talent for acting and a flair for languages. He went to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art for a year and then joined the National Theatre.”