And Blue Skies From Pain (43 page)

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Authors: Stina Leicht

BOOK: And Blue Skies From Pain
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“I’m not telling you shite,” Séamus said. “So, shut up and do what you’re told like a good wee lad.”
Winding the man up will not help things at all. So, stop it, you idiot. Calm yourself. Be smart about this. Father Murray is depending on you. Aye?
Liam did his best to swallow his anger but held Séamus’s gaze without so much as a flinch.
Séamus looked away.
Breathing deep, Liam tightened a fist on his anger until he was confident he could speak in an even voice. “Wanted to consult with you about an idea, sir.” That “sir” had cost him, but it appeared to win some good grace. “Would you mind me telling you what it is?”
Séamus shot a sideways glance at the others. “Go on.”
“Is it possible to get a couple more Ford Escort RS2000s before tonight? RS1600s would be fine. Even one extra would do. They should all be black like that one.” Liam pointed to the parked RS. “Even midnight blue would work in the dark, I’m thinking.”
Séamus blinked. “And why would you need such a thing?”
“If the take is to be as big as all that, and what with you kidnapping the priest—” Liam saw he might have gone a touch too far bringing that up again. So, he rushed through the rest before Séamus could shut him up. “—they’ll be all the more determined to nick us. Decoys would help.” Liam couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “In case we’re spotted. Park a couple of black RSs along the route. We drive past. Get enough ahead to make a quick turn, aye? The decoy gets their attention. Leads the Peelers a merry chase. Better if there’s more than one. In case they get too close. Third one leads them off. The first comes back. Like a shell game. Harder for the bastards to tell which black RS is the right black RS. Could have them chasing their tails all over Belfast.”
One of the boys let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell.”
“Fucking brilliant, that is,” Frankie said.
“Back when I drove for my first unit, I’d place a Captain Beefheart sticker on the rear windscreen. To keep us nice and conspicuous. When I didn’t want their attention any longer, I’d pull in somewhere and remove it. Change the plates, and we were clear. We could sticker the decoys, aye? Doesn’t have to be Captain Beefheart. Anything easy to spot will do.”
“Interesting,” Séamus said. The room grew quiet while he seemed to consider the idea. Liam began to think he’d banjaxed it when Séamus turned to the others. “Davy? See to the details. Let me know as soon as possible.”
Davy nodded and left.
Liam decided to push his luck a bit more. “I wish you’d reconsider letting me take the RS out for a test drive along the route.”
Frowning, Séamus said, “I’ll not have it.”
“Look. I’m good at what I do. That’s why you wanted me, aye? Part of that is I make dry runs. I take time to learn alternate routes. I study the streets. I know exactly where I’m fucking going beginning to end and exactly how long it will take. I know the area better than the fucking RUC and the BAs,” Liam said. “It’s my duty to know. You and the boys, you’re counting on me.”
The scowl on Séamus’s face didn’t budge.
“I’ve never driven that car,” Liam said. “Never even looked at the fucking engine. How do I know what shape she’s in, or what she’ll do in a fix?”
“I’ll not allow it.” Séamus folded his arms across his chest.
“Why bother having me drive at all, then?” Liam asked, losing control. “Why not do it yourself?”
“He’s right, Séamus,” Frankie said. “It’s the smart thing to do. A practice run. You know it is.”
The others nodded and murmured agreements—again, with the exception of Mickey. Liam held his breath.
“All right! Shut it, youse!” Séamus reached into his jacket pocket and gave Frankie the keys. “Don’t you two bollocks this up. You hear?”
Frankie said, “Yes, sir.”
“And Frankie,” Séamus said. “You stay with him. Every minute.”
“I will.”
Liam gulped his coffee, tossed the cup in the bin and grabbed another gravy ring before heading for the car. “Keys.” He held up a hand.
“You’re in a hurry,” Frankie said, handing them over.
Reaching under the edge of the RS’s hood, Liam popped the latch. “Let’s see what you’re hiding under there, love.” He gazed down at the engine and felt his mouth fall open. Someone had gone to the trouble of dropping a 1.6 DOHC BDA engine from an RS1600 into it. While the RS2000 had its advantages in suspension improvements and such, in his opinion the engine hadn’t been one of them. The old BDA was far more powerful than the standard SOHC engine found in the RS2000 model. It was smaller and substantially lighter too. Impressed, he grinned like an idiot.
Frankie stood next to him. “Should be in great shape. Davy’s cousin is a mechanic. Rebuilt her from the ground up, I understand.”
Liam left the hood open, went to the driver’s side window and realised that the engine wasn’t the only modification. There were indications that Davy’s cousin may have also traded out the standard RS2000 transmission. The only reason that Liam could think of for doing such a thing was to replace it with a RS1600 transmission, and the more he considered the situation, the more he realised that it would be required. With the transmission and the engine changed out, the driveshaft had probably followed.
So much beautiful work.
Liam reached out and gently ran a hand along the top of the car, caressing it. He hoped he wouldn’t be ordered to burn it because doing so was going to hurt something fierce. What he was looking at was essentially a RS1600 disguised as a RS2000. The only car that would beat it in a rally was the RS1800. RS1800s were rare. Even if that weren’t the case every single one also left the factory painted white with distinctive blue stripes and as such were as noticeable as the fucking Queen casually standing on a corner in the Falls.
He’d have given anything for Bobby to see the modified RS.
A fucking work of art, so it is.
But Bobby was still in prison. Liam considered asking Oran about Bobby the next time he saw him. “Tools?”
“They’re in the trunk,” Frankie said. “I knew you’d want to make adjustments.”
Liam went to the driver’s side door and climbed in. He hardly tasted the last sugary bite of gravy ring as he wiped the stickiness from his hands on his jeans, inserted the key and then cranked the engine. Its roar bounced off the warehouse walls and then dropped to a throaty purr when he let up on the accelerator. The passenger side door swung wide, and the car moved on its shocks as Frankie hopped in. The door thumped shut.
“Engine sounds fantastic,” Liam said. “Should run her a bit rich. She’ll use more petrol, but we’ll have need of the power.” He muttered to himself about several other adjustments he wanted to make.
Frankie nodded. “If you say so.”
“What?”
“Nothing you’ve said for the past five minutes has made any sense at all,” Frankie said.
“You’re going to tell me you know fuck all about cars?”
“Aye, well,” Frankie said. “You know fuck all about locks and safes.”
“I need to run her, Frankie.”
“I know,” Frankie said. “But you’ll have to wait until I’ve shut the hood and moved the Volkswagen.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at a white sedan.
“Why have you not done it already?”
“Because Séamus has the fucking keys. Now shut the engine off before you fill the fucking place with exhaust. And we all die choking.”
Liam shook his head and turned the key off. “I thought you didn’t know shite about cars?”
Frankie put out a hand. “Keys.”
“Why?”
“I need to be certain you’ll not ram the Volkswagen in your rush to go do your duty. It belongs to the OC.”
Liam handed over the keys in disgust. “You’re still punishing me for the tenner you lost.”
“Every chance I get,” Frankie said.
Liam watched Frankie approach Séamus about moving the Volkswagen sedan. Instead of giving Frankie the keys, Séamus opted to do it himself after handing Frankie a folded slip of paper. It took a few minutes for two men to open the steel roll-up delivery doors and get out of the way.
“She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. How did they know to get an RS1600?” Liam asked, backing into the car park as soon as it was clear.
Frankie smiled. “Asked Níal if you had a type. He said you were into the rally cars.” He laid a hand on the dashboard. “Told Séamus. He found one that’d been wrecked. Davy and his cousin pulled the parts we needed. You’ve everything of that other car—”
“The RS1600.”
“—that you need. Séamus thought it would sweeten the deal.”
“The tires are new. So are the wheels.”
“He told them to get the best they could find,” Frankie said. “Got her set up to rally specifications. Níal said you used to run the rallies. Said you were good. Is that true?”
Liam nodded.
“Why did you quit?”
Shrugging, Liam said, “Had a bad accident.”
“Oh.” Frankie looked uncomfortable.
“Mechanical failure. Happens.”
Relief passed over Frankie’s face. “Oh.”
“Are you ready?”
“I suppose.”
Liam gave Frankie a sideways glance. “Wasn’t asking you.” Grinning, he spun the wheel and slammed the accelerator. The RS leapt forward with a powerful eagerness he’d not felt before. The tires slipped in the slush. They started to spin. Liam made rapid corrections to the accelerator and the steering and regained control.
Cursing, Frankie scrabbled to get his seatbelt sorted.
Liam raced to the car park exit and the street. The RS was twitchy—a little too eager to respond. He’d have to be careful of being heavy-handed, or he’d lose her. “Is something the matter?”
“What the fuck are you doing? You’ll get us killed!”
“Stop your gurning. You’re safe, you great wean,” Liam said and turned onto the street. “Was only testing the tires and the suspension.”
“Oh, aye?”
“Frightening you half to death was only a wee bonus.”
“Fuck you.”
“Know where we’re going?”
Frankie smiled and then waved the folded paper in the air. “I’ve the directions, so I do.”
“Let’s see this bank. Aye?” Liam asked. “Then we’ll go to the drop off and time the distance.” Of course, he had no intention of making the full run that night—not with Séamus in the car. But he did need to see how long it’d take to get back to the warehouse.
A plan. I need a plan. Got to get back and free Father Murray. I’ll work something out. It’ll come to me.
Much as he wanted to believe otherwise, Liam knew better than to count on his father. He wasn’t even certain as to why he’d thought to ask for help.
I’m on my own as I’ve always been.
All things considered, he’d be needing some insurance. Something that Séamus didn’t know and didn’t have a hand in. For the moment he concentrated on timing the drive from the warehouse to the bank. He wished he had another day or two. It was next to useless timing a run at the wrong time of day. The number of cars on the road would be inaccurate, but it’d served to get him out of that warehouse. If the Peelers were on to them, Liam didn’t want to be anywhere near the place.
After the run to the bank was complete, another idea occurred to him. He decided to learn the area and search for that insurance while he was at it. In a short time he and the RS were getting to know one another very well indeed. Of course, Frankie had yet to unlatch his seatbelt.
“Been thinking about what you said about Séamus,” Frankie said, staring hard out the windscreen. His voice had become more serious, reflecting an abrupt change in attitude.
“You have?”
“Aye, I have. Thought about it all night.” Frankie sighed. “Have to admit, you’re fucking right. There’s something off about him. I don’t—He’s not a tout. It’s not that. I don’t think. It’s….”
“Go on.”
Frankie sighed again. “He’s got that look about him sometimes. Like he’s playing a scene in his head. From a film. You know the kind where everyone else gets topped, and a lone man takes a wee holiday in a foreign country with a big bag of money?”
“What do you plan to do about it?”
“Was going to ask you. You’ve always been one for the planning.” Frankie gave him a quick look out of the corner of his eye. “Well, more so than me.”
“That’s not saying much.”
“Fuck you.”
“Told anyone else?”
“Are you off your nut? And get shot?” Frankie shook his head. “It’s proper fucked, we are. Try to report it. HQ starts asking Séamus questions. We’re topped. Don’t report it. He takes the money and runs. Won’t matter if he does for all of us or not. HQ will ask questions. We’ll end up topped. Either way, it won’t be pleasant, mate.”
Liam found what he was looking for in a car park near Queen’s University and pulled in to the space next to the black RS. He turned off the engine and threw open the door.

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