The Wild Heart by David Menon

the local suppliers. Everybody knew where Derek lived but none of his former masters had ever suggested fortifying Derek’s family home. Loyalty only knew one direction as he’d already found out. The front door opened as Derek walked up to it. Freddie Burnside had driven him there and would be at his side throughout the meeting.
         Peter Irvine’s parents had moved over to Northern Ireland from Scotland in the 1920’s when the republic had gained its independence and Protestantism in the six counties needed fortification. Michael Collins and Eamonn D' Valera were the only political figures on the island of Ireland that anybody took any notice of at the time and his parents had wanted to change that. Peter’s parents had both died before the abomination of the Good Friday agreement had been rubbed in the noses of the Unionist people. They’d turn in their graves if they knew that their son had last month taken tea with Catholic priests after listening to a Catholic school choir with a Secretary of State for Northern Ireland who’d once called for British withdrawal from the six counties of Ulster.    
         Peter Irvine tended to dominate every situation he was in. He was in his early fifties, a big man with an absolute faith that the Pope was the anti-Christ. He’d never had any time for those unionists who asserted that there could be no peace without compromise. Appeasers were his natural enemies. There could be no peace until nationalist aspirations had been stamped out once and for all.
         ‘ What do you want from me, Irvine?’ Derek asked. His voice was urgent and uncompromising. ‘ I’m impatient to find out’.
         ‘ Let’s go through and get started’ said Peter, trying not to feel warned by the tone in Derek’s voice. ‘ I’ve to get the afternoon shuttle back down to London. I’ve to be there for a meeting with the Prime Minister first thing in the morning. They’re trying to bully me, Derek, trying to use their strong arm tactics to beat me into submission. But they’ll never succeed’.
         Peter led Derek and Freddie Burnside into the lounge and closed the door behind them. His wife was upstairs and his driver was outside waiting with the car. He hadn’t expected Derek to lunge at him from behind, twist him round and pin him up against the wall. He couldn’t breathe properly because of Derek’s arm pushing against his throat.
         ‘ Derek, what the … ‘
         ‘ …  I’ve wiped the arses of politicians like you all my life but this is where it stops. If you want me to work for you then you’d better not be planning to dump me when I become inconvenient like all your old comrades have’.
         Peter had never been in a fight in his life. Men of his class didn’t do that sort of thing. His hands were being pushed up his back by Derek’s tight grip, causing him to feel the most excruciating pain that was ripping across his shoulders like a sharp knife. But it was the look in Derek’s eyes that was scaring Peter the most. They were right up close and it was like looking into the soul of the devil.
         ‘ I … I’ll not … I’ll not … I’ll not let you down, Derek’ Peter managed to get his words out between gasps for air. 
         ‘ How do I fucking know that? I never thought all the others would one day rather sit down with Sinn Fein than with me. What makes you so different?’
         ‘ I’ve formed … my own party. I’ve … broken away. Why would I do that if … if I didn’t mean what I say. Now … please, Derek. Let go of me’.
         Derek waited a few seconds and then let go of Irvine. He could’ve laughed at the look on Irvine’s face. He looked scared to death as he tried to recover his composure.
         ‘ What was that all about?’ asked Peter as he rubbed his wrists. They were hurting like hell after being in Derek’s vice-like grip.
         ‘ I had to be sure’ Derek