And Blue Skies From Pain (42 page)
Read And Blue Skies From Pain Online
Authors: Stina Leicht
“You think that will matter to the priest, do you? When he finds out you volunteered again? Even if it is to save his neck?”
Liam said, “You call that volunteering? Because it looked a lot like blackmail to me.”
Frankie sighed and then signaled with a sideways nod that Liam should enter the room. “Aye, well. Séamus can be a wee bit unreasonable from time to time.”
“Unreasonable?” Liam stepped inside. “That’s fucking brilliant. What is it he’s got over you, Frankie? Because from what I remember of you he’s not your sort at all.”
“Don’t be talking like that.” Frankie closed the door and locked it. “I don’t like anything about this job. I admit it. But Séamus got me out of some bother—”
“What kind of bother?”
“I owe him,” Frankie said. “I’d still be in the fucking Crum if it weren’t for him. Look—”
Liam held up a hand. “I get it. He can put you right back, aye? You don’t have to say any more.” He took in his new accommodations, trying hard not to remember the sound of the lock clicking into place. If it weren’t for the windows, his skin would be crawling.
Marginally better than the place in Clonard. Cleaner. Roof is sound.
Marginally better than the place in Clonard. Cleaner. Roof is sound.
“This is where you’ll be staying for a wee while,” Frankie said. “Well, you and me. Toilet is over there.” He pointed to a door to the left.
“What day is it?” Liam asked.
“Thursday.”
“No, I meant—”
“It’s the 22
nd
,” Frankie said, pocketing the keys and producing a deck of cards. He set them on the camp table. “Don’t worry. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
nd
,” Frankie said, pocketing the keys and producing a deck of cards. He set them on the camp table. “Don’t worry. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
“Don’t worry? About what?”
“Fucking cold in here.” Frankie went to the space heater plugged into the wall and turned it on. “Séamus. He’ll not hurt you. Nor will he hurt your friend the priest.”
“Aye, he’ll have Davy and Mickey do it.”
“He won’t.”
“Are you so sure about that?” Liam settled onto the mattress. That’s when he noticed the familiar laundry bag resting in the corner.
“Brought your things for you,” Frankie said. “Thought you might have need of them. Collected your shite myself. I didn’t tell the others where you were. I wouldn’t—”
“I know.”
Relax. There’ll be an opportunity to get a message to Father Murray about the Fallen. Let Frankie think you’ve settled in, aye?
Relax. There’ll be an opportunity to get a message to Father Murray about the Fallen. Let Frankie think you’ve settled in, aye?
“I didn’t.”
“I believe you,” Liam said. “So, when is the job?”
Frankie looked away. “I don’t know.”
“All right. Don’t tell me, then.” Liam got up again and dragged the laundry bag to the mattress.
“Want to play cards?”
“If you think Séamus will be all right with it.”
“Oh, sod off. It isn’t like that.” Frankie sat down at the table.
Liam stood up. “The fuck it isn’t.”
“Are you picking a fight with me?” Frankie asked. “Because if you are, I’ll not fall for it. You’ll need your hands whole for the driving soon enough.”
“Well, since I don’t know where I’ll be driving or when, what the fuck does it matter?”
“Come on. Don’t be like that,” Frankie said. “Sit. Play some cards. You’ll feel better after taking a few quid off me.”
“I can’t play poker for shite, and you know it.” Liam paused and then sat down at the table while the conversation slipped into familiar patterns.
“Fine, fine. We’ll play for change, then,” Frankie said.
“I’ll not gamble with you. I’ll only fucking lose.”
Frankie fanned the cards in three different ways in quick succession and then shuffled. The flipping cards made a noise that reminded Liam of a playing card stuck in a child’s bicycle wheel.
“I’ll teach you how,” Frankie said.
“You always say you will, and you never do. And I always end up the shorter for cash,” Liam said. “Sod off.”
“Aw, now. What better way to pass our time together? Old times. Aye?”
“Fuck that. I’d rather bust my knuckles on your jaw. At least I’d have a chance of winning at a fight.”
“Liam, me old china.” Frankie placed a hand over his heart and set his face in an innocent expression that had no doubt charmed the pants off of several nuns—if half the stories were true. “Your fundamental lack of trust wounds me.” He dealt the cards with an unusual ease, speed and grace.
“You’ve been practicing.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but are not the contents of your wallet mine in the first place?” Frankie asked with a wicked smile and a wink. “All right. Matches. We’ll play for matches.”
“Do you have any fucking matches? Because I don’t.”
Frankie shrugged. “Your lighter then.”
“No.”
“Cigs?”
“Two left. And I’m saving those for tomorrow.”
“I’ve a carton. I’ll split it with you.”
“No.”
Frankie stopped dealing and sighed. “You’ve become an old woman.”
“I’ve become too wise for you, so I have.” Liam lit his second to last cigarette and then picked up the cards he’d been dealt. He scanned the hand and blew out smoke. “I decide the game.”
Frankie flashed a five-hundred-volt smile. “Great. What’ll it be, mate? Five card stud?”
“Go Fish.”
Chapter 22
Belfast, County Antrim, Northern Ireland
23 December 1977
23 December 1977
L
iam didn’t sleep well. Although the warehouse was far warmer than the place in Clonard—the building actually served to keep the wind out—the rumbling violence of foul weather meeting corrugated tin brought dreams of Long Kesh. He felt awful for Frankie, not that Frankie would complain. He wouldn’t even speak of the nightmares, let alone ask the cause. The dreams were one of many items from a long list of things that had passed unspoken between them over the years they’d served time together. It was part of what had cemented their friendship, that understanding silence. So it was that Liam prayed the nightmares would leave him for Frankie’s sake. However, Liam knew the only thing that would help was a quick—
fix
—run. He needed it.
Bad.
A run would do him good. It would clear his mind, but the storm, the hour, and the fact that he was essentially a prisoner made the idea impossible. A drink would be more probable.
Surely, the boys have a bit of something?
It was a sure sign of his state that he’d almost make do with the black stuff, if he had to.
Almost.
But the stomach-turning taste of hops combined with being trapped within metal walls would not be anything like a good combination.
iam didn’t sleep well. Although the warehouse was far warmer than the place in Clonard—the building actually served to keep the wind out—the rumbling violence of foul weather meeting corrugated tin brought dreams of Long Kesh. He felt awful for Frankie, not that Frankie would complain. He wouldn’t even speak of the nightmares, let alone ask the cause. The dreams were one of many items from a long list of things that had passed unspoken between them over the years they’d served time together. It was part of what had cemented their friendship, that understanding silence. So it was that Liam prayed the nightmares would leave him for Frankie’s sake. However, Liam knew the only thing that would help was a quick—
fix
—run. He needed it.
Bad.
A run would do him good. It would clear his mind, but the storm, the hour, and the fact that he was essentially a prisoner made the idea impossible. A drink would be more probable.
Surely, the boys have a bit of something?
It was a sure sign of his state that he’d almost make do with the black stuff, if he had to.
Almost.
But the stomach-turning taste of hops combined with being trapped within metal walls would not be anything like a good combination.
It’s the 23rd, so it is. One more day, and it’ll be the 24th.
The thought once again began playing over and over inside his skull. The monster stirred in the shadows of his mind. He’d been blissfully free of its complaints for a time, but now it was back to its muttering and whispering.
The thought once again began playing over and over inside his skull. The monster stirred in the shadows of his mind. He’d been blissfully free of its complaints for a time, but now it was back to its muttering and whispering.
Kill it. Now.
Who? Not Frankie?
Liam thought back, but the creature didn’t answer. “Would it be possible to leave the door open?” Liam asked. “A wee bit is all I need. I can’t breathe.”
You know,
he thought at the monster,
it’d be more helpful if you were more clear with what you fucking wanted. Maybe I could do something about it, aye?
Liam thought back, but the creature didn’t answer. “Would it be possible to leave the door open?” Liam asked. “A wee bit is all I need. I can’t breathe.”
You know,
he thought at the monster,
it’d be more helpful if you were more clear with what you fucking wanted. Maybe I could do something about it, aye?
The creature retreated to its shadows in sullen silence.
“It’ll let all the heat out, so it will.”
Liam paused, briefly unsure of what Frankie meant. Then Liam remembered he’d asked Frankie to open the door. “Doesn’t have to be much. A wee crack, is all.”
After a moment’s pause Frankie got up and pulled the door open so that a mere sliver of the main warehouse showed through. It was enough. Liam could breathe again. He then glanced at his watch in the dark and wasn’t glad of his ability to see for once.
After midnight now. It’s the 23
rd
of December. One more day.
After midnight now. It’s the 23
rd
of December. One more day.
He needed a fix. He needed to be away from his thoughts.
One more day.
Doesn’t mean a fucking thing. Christmas Eve is a day like any other. Nothing more. Doesn’t factor into the current situation at all.
Still, he couldn’t shake the dread.
Please, Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Not this time. Please, God. I’ll do whatever it is you want.
Unfortunately, he was too familiar with the fact that God wasn’t much for cutting deals.
Still, he couldn’t shake the dread.
Please, Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Not this time. Please, God. I’ll do whatever it is you want.
Unfortunately, he was too familiar with the fact that God wasn’t much for cutting deals.
What if Father Murray is alone with one of the Fallen and doesn’t know it?
“Don’t suppose I could look in on my friend?” Liam asked.
“Don’t suppose I could look in on my friend?” Liam asked.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Frankie said. “My ribs hurt. I feel like I been kicked by a horse. He flattened Henry’s nose with a broken arm and the two of us sitting on him. The priest can handle himself.”
“Fair enough.”
“Now, if you don’t shut your gob and go back to sleep I’ll punch you in the head. I swear I will.”
Liam didn’t bother attempting sleep. He spent the rest of the night staring up at the ceiling, remembering and planning.
The next morning, Séamus sent for the pair of them. Liam left the little office space with dread weighing heavy on him. The nutty scent of fresh coffee and fried dough permeated the warehouse. He noticed a few members of their unit were missing. So was the grey Granada. Mickey was alone with Father Murray, but everything looked sound. Father Murray appeared to be sleeping. They’d removed the bag from his head and had replaced it with a blindfold.
“Liam!” Frankie whispered. “He’s fine. Come on.”
Turning back to the main area, the remaining men were gathered around a camp table set up near the cars. One of the boys had brought in coffee and a bag of gravy rings. As Liam reached for the last sprinkle-iced one, Frankie grabbed it and stuffed it in his mouth.
“Sore about last night, are you?” Liam asked, glancing again at the parked cars. A dented and rusty, midnight-blue Ford Escort RS1600 was parked next to the black RS2000. Seeing two cars of similar make and model side by side gave him an idea.
Frankie chewed while pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Sod off, you. I lost ten quid.”
“Beginner’s luck,” Liam said, reaching for a cup.
“You aren’t a beginner,” Frankie said.
“Didn’t say
I
was.” Liam winked.
I
was.” Liam winked.
Frankie punched him on the arm.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Séamus said. “Everything is ready. Henry and the boys are in place. We hit the bank tonight.”
“It’s almost Christmas Eve,” Liam said.
“All the better,” Séamus said. “Most of the staff will be away on holiday. RUC. Army. They’ll be thinking more of Christmas dinner with the family than watching for trouble. And with the shopping there’s sure to be more money in the vault than usual. Perfect.”
“I don’t like it,” Liam said. “The RUC are probably already on to us. You kidnapped a priest. And you weren’t exactly unobtrusive about it, aye?”
With the exception of Mickey, worried looks passed between Frankie and the others, but no one made a sound.
They know something’s wrong, so they do.
Their loyalty had been stretched to the limit. Liam could see it. He could feel it in his gut. If he had more time—if he knew the right thing to say, the others were sure to pull away from Séamus. However, there wasn’t time.
And I sure as hell don’t know the right thing to say.
He never had the right words when he needed them.
They know something’s wrong, so they do.
Their loyalty had been stretched to the limit. Liam could see it. He could feel it in his gut. If he had more time—if he knew the right thing to say, the others were sure to pull away from Séamus. However, there wasn’t time.
And I sure as hell don’t know the right thing to say.
He never had the right words when he needed them.
A flicker of confusion passed over Séamus’s face so fast that Liam wasn’t entirely certain he’d seen it. Séamus glanced at Mickey and the moment was gone. Séamus’s expression changed to quiet rage. “Seeing as you’re the newest member of our wee family,” he said. “What you like doesn’t factor in, son.”
But what HQ thinks of it is another matter, isn’t it? I can’t imagine they’re in favor. Do they even know?
Liam guessed not. He shrugged. “And what of the weather?”
Liam guessed not. He shrugged. “And what of the weather?”
Séamus blinked. “Why should it matter to you?”
“Road conditions,” Liam said. “I don’t think you’d much care for me driving like a mad man on six centimeters of ice on those tires. Sliding sideways into a ditch cuts our chances of escape.”
“Oh,” Séamus said. “Smart.” He nodded in grudging approval. “Snow stopped last night. Don’t know when. The temperature dropped. That’s all I know. I’ll look into the forecast. Is that good enough for you?”
“Aye, it is,” Liam said. “And where is this bank?”
“You’ll drive where I tell you,” Séamus said. “The fewer in the know, the fewer chances of information leaking.”
“Frankie opens the fucking safe,” Liam said. “I’m the wheelman. Davy is the muscle. What the fuck are you?”
Frankie tensed up, and Séamus’s face grew red.
“I’m your fucking OC. That makes me the brains. Not you.”
“And what happens if the brains get blown out?” Liam asked. “Me, Frankie and Davy and the funds are nicked because I don’t know where the fuck I am, or where the fuck I’m headed?”
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