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Jan 11

Jan 11 The Standard

Book excerpt

Chapter One - The Pledge

Captain William Shanahan always thought of himself as the gold standard of the SAS. He considered himself the prototype of what every secret agent in MI6 should be. At six-foot-two, two hundred and ten pounds of surgical steel and sex appeal, he was the ladies’ pet and the men’s regret. He had religiously followed a rigorous training schedule and personal diet over the course of his lifetime that gave him an imposing athletic build featuring a washboard waist and perfect musculature. Whenever he had any concerns or doubts about undertaking a difficult assignment such as this, one look in the mirror quelled his apprehensions.

He had arrived at Craigavon two days early in order to brace himself for the task ahead. Craigavon was one of the most refreshing outdoor venues in County Armagh, a place where one could be forgiven for thinking they were still in the United Kingdom and not merely in Ulster. He spent his first day at the Craigavon Golf and Ski Centre, savoring the perfect spring day as he mentally rehearsed this juncture in the mission ahead. He played eighteen holes and tallied a decent score which he conveniently excused for the preoccupying distraction.

The next day he divided between a morning at Tannaghmore Gardens, where he spent time watching mothers and children at the petting zoo before wandering around the botanical areas. He had been motivated by a lifelong desire to have a family, a wife and children of his own. MI6, the Secret Intelligence Service, had been his universe for nearly two decades. He had worshipped at its altar, been one of its most devoted acolytes, and gave it place over his life. After this job, he would call in his markers and get the desk job. After this he would find a wife, reclaim his life, and live happily ever after.

That afternoon he drove over to the Craigavon Watersports Centre where he rented out a canoe and leisurely coasted around the Craigavon Lake. It had been an idyllic forty-eight hours that recharged his batteries, helped him clear his head and focus on the task ahead. He loved the outdoors, it helped remind him that there was a loving God Who loved mankind and brought His people to peace and goodness beyond the valley of death. It helped remind him that they were the white knights fighting the good fight, although it seemed his hands got dirtier and dirtier as the fight wore on.

He enlisted in the service in order to take part in Operation Desert Shield in 1991, and when it escalated to Desert Storm, he volunteered for the Special Air Service. He served with them for his first tour of duty before being transferred to the Special Boat Service. He spent his second and third tours with the SBS before being dispatched to Afghanistan for a fourth tour. It was during that time he was offered and accepted a position with MI6. It was then that he could look back and say he had sold his soul in the process.

Yet there was that deep, dark recess inside him that would always question who his soul had belonged to in the first place. It was there on his birth certificate, the fact that he had been born a Catholic, to a Catholic father and a Protestant mother. In England and almost anywhere else abroad, it made little or no difference. In Northern Ireland it was like a scarlet letter, a birthmark he could never erase. Despite the fact his father had converted to the Protestant faith, and that his parents lived in East Belfast, the hospital officials had record of his Da’s birth certificate and dutifully traced the lineage onto his son’s record. William Shanahan was forced to deal with it all his life, hiding it as best he could and backing down all who challenged it when it came out.

He was a proud citizen of the realm and enlisted in Her Majesty’s service as soon as he came of age. His service record spoke for itself and he was decorated numerous times for bravery. His parents died while he was overseas, erasing even more of his past as he continued his journey towards self-fulfillment. He had reached a turning point in his career, the juncture where a coveted desk job was now within his reach. He had proven himself as a soldier, as a commando, and as an undercover operative. If he successfully completed this one last mission, his next place of employment could well be on Downing Street in London. He might have finally found his true station in life.