The group of men stepped out into the stuttering rain, O’Kane at the fore. “You’re Davy Campbell?” he asked.
“That’s right.”
O’Kane stepped forward and extended his hand. “I’ve heard about you.”
The fingers were coarse and thick. Campbell fought to keep from wincing at the old man’s grip.
“Aye,” O’Kane said, with a slanted smile. “I know all about you.”
Campbell’s stomach twitched. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. O’Kane.”
“Call me Bull. Now, how’s our guests?” He released Campbell’s hand and walked to the van’s passenger side where Coyle waited. O’Kane ignored him and reached into the cabin. “C’mon out, love. You’re all right.”
Marie slid along the seat, the girl in her arms, and stepped down to the ground. She didn’t pull away when O’Kane took her elbow. McGinty stepped forward and Campbell saw his and Marie’s gazes meet, something cold passing between them.
O’Kane slipped his hands under the child’s arms. “And who are you?”
Marie didn’t let go of her daughter. “Don’t.”
“What’s your name?”
The girl held on to her mother’s sweater, but O’Kane pulled her free.
“Her name’s Ellen.” Marie’s voice cracked as she spoke.
“You’re a pretty wee girl, aren’t you?” O’Kane took Ellen in his arms and pinched her cheek. She reached for her mother, but O’Kane stepped away.
“Do you like doggies?”
Ellen rubbed her eyes and pouted.
O’Kane walked towards the stables, holding her close. “Do you? Do you like doggies?”
Ellen nodded. Scraping and whining came from the stables. Campbell’s mouth dried.
“Wait till you see this nice doggie.” O’Kane unbolted the upper half of a stable door and let it swing open. A low whine came from inside.
Campbell looked to Marie. Her shaking hands covered her mouth. She was fighting hard to hold on to herself, hiding her fear from the child. Something that might have been respect rose in Campbell, and he had an inexplicable and desperate urge to touch her. He shook it away.
The other six men - Coyle, McGinty, the driver, O’Kane’s son, the two Campbell didn’t know - all watched the stable door.
McGinty took a step towards the old man. “Bull,” he said.
O’Kane turned to face them. “It’s all right. Sure, these boys are gentle as lambs with people. I train them right.”
A murky scent drifted out of the stable. Heavy paws appeared above the lower door, followed by a square block of a head, dirt-caked and scarred. The dog’s tongue lolled from its jaw, a viscous line of drool disappearing into the dark. O’Kane reached out with his free hand and scratched the back of the pit bull’s thick neck. It squinted at the sensation of his callused fingers.
“There, see? He’s a nice doggie. Do you want to pet him?”
Ellen shook her head and wiped her damp cheeks.
“Aw, go on. He’s a nice doggie.”
She looked down at the animal, rubbing her nose on her sleeve. She sniffed.
“He’s a good doggie,” O’Kane said. “He won’t bite.”
He lowered Ellen so she could reach its head with her small outstretched hand. Her fingers created ripples on its brow. Marie squeezed her eyes shut when its tongue lapped at the girl’s fingertips. Coyle placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“There, now. I told you he was a nice doggie, didn’t I?” O’Kane hoisted the child up in his arms as she continued to reach out to scratch the dog’s head. He looked at Marie, a fatherly smile on his lips. “You’ll behave yourself, won’t you, love?”
Marie stared back.
“Of course you will.” O’Kane pushed the dog’s head back down with his free hand and swung the upper stable door closed. He bounced Ellen in his arms as he walked back towards Marie. “You and your mummy will be good, won’t you?”
Christ, let it be over
, Campbell thought. The sudden trill of a mobile phone made his heart knock against the inside of his chest.
McGinty reached into his jacket pocket. “Hello?”
Campbell watched his face go slack. The politician walked away from the group, the phone against one ear, a finger in the other.
“Patsy, slow down. What happened?”
From a rickety chair in the corner Campbell watched McGinty and O’Kane pace the room. He chewed his lip as the balance shifted back and forth between them, O’Kane the old warhorse, McGinty the slick politico. Little more than a decade separated them, but they were generations apart.
“This changes everything,” McGinty said.
“It changes nothing,” O’Kane said.
A bare bulb driven by the generator outside picked out the patches where damp had peeled the wallpaper back. Downey leaned against the far wall of the living room, his thin arms folded across his chest. Quigley the driver sat cross-legged on the opposite end of a tattered couch from O’Kane’s son while Coyle slouched against the wall, sparing Campbell the occasional dirty look. Malloy guarded Marie and Ellen in a room upstairs. Lazy waves of rain washed across the old sash windows and the sound of dripping water was everywhere. The smell of mold and mice lingered in Campbell’s nose.
“Do you not understand, Bull?” McGinty stopped pacing and opened his arms. “Once this gets out, I’m fucked. A cop’s dead body in my lawyer’s car. I’ll be forced out of the party. I won’t have a political friend left. Even then, the Unionists will probably walk. They’ll bring Stormont down and look like they’re only doing what’s right. Jesus, think of the party. Think of the pressure they’ll be under. From London, from Dublin, from Washington.”
He’s right
, Campbell thought. The world - especially America - didn’t view terrorists with the same romantic tint these days, even if they called themselves freedom fighters.
O’Kane snorted. “We did all right for years without their help. They can fuck off.”
“Christ, Bull, it’s the twenty-first century. It’s not the Seventies any more. It’s not the Eighties. We need Stormont now.
I
need it.
You
need it. Think of the concessions the party will have to give the Unionists and the Brits just to keep Stormont together. You’re a millstone around their necks as it stands. They’ll cut you off as quick as me.”
“Bollocks,” O’Kane said, swiping the air with his shovel hand. “Nobody pushes us around. The Brits couldn’t break us after thirty years of trying. I’m not rolling over just ’cause you and your mates in the suits are scared of losing those salaries and allowances.”
“It’s not like that.” McGinty put his hands on his hips. Campbell watched the politician’s leg twitch.
“Aye, it is. You’ve gone soft, Paul. It’s easy for you boys in Belfast, all those European funds you can dip your fingers into, all those community grants. Just stick your hand out, and the money lands in it. You’re forgetting us boys out in the sticks. We still have to graft for it.”
McGinty was fighting his temper, Campbell could see it. “We’ve achieved more in ten years of politics than you did in thirty years of war.”
O’Kane nodded his head in mock respect. “Oh, aye. You achieved plenty.” He picked imaginary lint from McGinty’s lapel. “You lined your pockets and got yourself some nice suits. You got yourself a big limousine, a big fuck-off house with a sea view in Donegal. Aye, you did all right.”
McGinty’s face reddened. “So did you. We always kept you right. How many raids did my contacts tip you off on? How much property did the party’s legal team let you buy without your name going near it? And the security posts. We did that for you. We negotiated the dismantling of every British army post in South Armagh so you could run your laundering plants. The party did that. Don’t you forget it.”
Campbell’s hands tightened into fists as tension rippled in the air.
O’Kane stepped up to the politician. “So, you’re the big man now, are you?”
McGinty was tall, but he had to lift his eyes to meet the Bull’s stare. He swallowed and his tongue peeked out to wet his lips. “No. It’s not like that. But Jesus, think, Bull. There’s only one way out of this now.”
“And what’s that, then?”
“We give Fegan to the cops. Patsy Toner can testify he was there. We let the law take care of him. We’ll be seen to cooperate with the police. The Unionists can’t argue with that. They can’t threaten to walk, and we get off the hook.”
“He’ll tell them he did McKenna and Caffola. All your bullshit’s going to come back at you.”
That’s not all he’ll tell them
, Campbell thought.
He’ll tell them about those two UFF boys and how they never posed a threat to McGinty
. His heart quickened.
“It’s too late to stop that now. Besides, the press about the cop will bury that. We let it be known that Anderson was leaking information to us before the ceasefires. All the attention will be on him, not us.”
The Bull stood still, holding his breath, and Campbell counted five seconds before he turned away. “No,” O’Kane said.
McGinty glowered at him. “What do you mean, no?”
“We let Fegan away with this, we look weak.
I
look weak. He’s a traitor, so we treat him like one. We make an example of him, just like we’ve always done.” The Bull’s voice rose to a roar as he stabbed the air with his finger. “He killed my cousin, for fuck’s sake. If I don’t take care of him, every fucker with a grudge will think I’m fair game.”
McGinty crossed the room to O’Kane. “For God’s sake, Bull, think it through. Think what it’ll cost us.”
“No.”
“Listen to me. Think ahead. Say the Unionists walk; say Stormont breaks down. You won’t have a friend in government to grease any wheels for you. You’ll suffer as much as me.”
“I said no, Paul. That’s all.”
McGinty gripped O’Kane’s massive shoulder. “Get your head out of the past, for Christ’s sake. Quit acting like a fucking street thug. We’re past all that now. You’re a dinosaur, Bull. You’re going to cost me—”
McGinty sprawled on the floor, blood spilling from his lip, before Campbell could even wince at the sound of the slap. Coyle stared. Quigley began to get to his feet, but O’Kane pointed a thick finger at him.
“You sit the fuck down.”
The driver did as he was told.
Campbell thought hard and fast. Quigley was too weak. Coyle was too stupid. He was McGinty’s only ally in this shell of a house. But Fegan couldn’t live. Not with what he knew about Francie Delaney and the two UFF boys.
He stood up. “Mr. O’Kane’s right,” he said.
McGinty looked up from the red blotches on his handkerchief. “What?”
“Fegan’s too dangerous. We need to finish him.”
O’Kane slapped Campbell’s shoulder. “Smart lad.”
McGinty got to his feet, his eyes fixed on Campbell. “Whatever you say, Bull. You’re the boss.”
“Good.” O’Kane slapped his hands together and grinned. “Now, get that woman and her kid down here.”
44
Fegan saw Mrs. Taylor’s sharp blue eyes in the window for just a moment before she closed the shutter, sealing out the darkness. His hand was half raised to wave, but she was gone. The dog barked somewhere inside the cottage. There were no lights from the hotel.
He walked from the parked car round to the hotel’s entrance. The door didn’t budge when he pressed it. Locked. Fegan turned in a circle, no idea what he was looking for. The moon was up there somewhere above the clouds, but below was darkness. Orange street lights formed a line along the bay and reflected off the river mouth, but the sea was lost in the black. Only the hard salt tang on the air and the sound of waves gave it away.
Sweat chilled Fegan’s body and his legs quivered. He’d pulled over twice on the way here to let the shakes subside. His tongue rasped against the roof of his mouth as he swallowed.
