Thrown Down (15 page)

THROWN DOWN TEN

By the time Dennis returned home there were still several members of the press on the pavement in their temporary camp outside his house but thanks to the solitary police guard he managed to get his car straight up the driveway to the door. He paused for a moment before going into the house. He breathed in deep. He could hear the members of the press pack shouting out their questions to him. When he’d turned up at his son Shane’s place in central Melbourne, Shane had immediately called his mother Patricia to put her mind at rest. Shane, like his sister Phoebe and his brother Michael had wanted to know what the hell was going on with their parents and Phoebe and Michael had joined Dennis at Shane’s house. Dennis had told them all that he could and though they’d been shocked to the core by the revelations of their mother’s early life, all three of them had agreed that their parents had to sort things out somehow and try to stay together. They realised it was a hard ask of their father in particular and none of them had pulled any punches when they each spoke to their mother about it all. But they had all agreed that it was in the past and that though she should’ve told their father, she didn’t, and they could all understand her reasons for not having done so. But if they were going to stay together then Dennis needed certain things to happen and what he had to talk to Patricia about now could go one of two ways. He didn’t really know if he was prepared for either of the potential turnouts but somehow or other he had to make this effort to get past the current mess they were in.

He placed his key in the door and let himself in. The house felt normal. He could hear the washing machine in the utility room next to the kitchen in full throw at the spinning notch of a cycle. It looked like someone had been over the carpet too. The place smelt fresh and newly done over. Patricia had told him over the phone that their neighbour Molly had gone out and got some supplies in for her. It was almost as if they were besieged. Patricia couldn’t risk a run to the shops. What the hell was all this coming to? The press were coming after the kids now too. It was getting very, very bad. He was contemplating it all when Patricia appeared from their bedroom.

‘I’ve been worried sick about you’ said Patricia. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry when Dennis came back but she couldn’t help the quiver in her voice. ‘I imagined all kinds of things’.

Dennis held out his hand and Patricia came running and into his arms. This was second only to the moment when he asked her to marry him and she said yes.

‘I needed some time and space, Patty’ said Dennis as he held his wife tightly in his arms. ‘I needed to get out and think. I’m sorry I made you worry’.

‘Well I don’t care about any of that stuff now’ said Patricia who’d started to cry. ‘I’m just so relieved and so thankful that you’re back’.

‘We do need to talk though, love’.

‘Yes. Yes we do. I’ll make us some tea and we’ll do just that’.

Dennis wondered if something stronger might be more appropriate considering what he had to say about his wife and her terrorist past. Maybe that will be for later.

Detective Constable Collette Ryan of the Victoria state police didn’t see what else she could do. 

‘Will you please listen to me, sir?’ she asked in a firm enough voice to make every head in the police station’s serious crime unit. They were kept fairly busy out here in the eastern suburbs of the Greater Melbourne area but some of her friends who were based in inner city areas had it much worse and they always reminded her of the fact.

‘You have my absolute undivided attention, Detective Constable Ryan’ said Detective Inspector Ed Burns as he leaned back in his chair and bathed himself in the existence of an audience. He was decidedly old school. He wasn’t particularly keen on female officers rising up through the ranks and whenever he could he cut them down and did everything he could to undermine their confidence. He was on a warning over a bullying charge that had been made against him by another female officer but he didn’t care. He didn’t care who he upset in the line of what he considered to be his duties. He was on a mission to smash all political correctness. He’d always believed that the way to encourage someone was to constantly criticise their actions and pick on them so that it would make them determined to prove him wrong. Never let them think that they had his confidence. That way they’d get slack. But, sadly as far as he was concerned, his superiors didn’t take kindly to the ‘thoroughly old school’ way he treated people, particularly his junior ranks and most especially his female officers to which he was known for showing absolutely no respect at all. They were after him. He knew that. Well it made a change for somebody to be after him. Even his ex-wife and their two grown up kids had given up, citing the fact that they were sick and tired of the way he spoke to them. It made for some pretty lonely weekends, especially when he thought of his little grandson Jack who he was so proud of and would love to spend some time with. But his son hadn’t even invited him to Jack’s first birthday party and that had hurt Burns more than he’d ever admit to anyone. His son was probably a damn sight better father than he ever was. He’d love to be a part of their lives. But as it was his lonely evenings were sorted out in the pub drinking with a bunch of men whose attitudes were also stuck in the last century.

‘Sir, … ‘

‘ … yes, come in, Ryan. Flower my consciousness with your pearls of wisdom’.

Collette breathed in deep to try and quell her mounting anger. ‘Sir, I am trying to speak but you keep on interrupting me’.

‘Well I’m waiting to hear that you’ve been doing your job, Ryan’.

‘And I would be able to tell you a lot quicker if you didn’t keep throwing so much bullshit in my way, sir!’

It was one of those moments when time stood still and everything and everyone in the office suddenly went very quiet and still. But Collette didn’t regret her outburst. Burns had had it coming from someone for a long time. She’d stepped up to the brink. She could hear her heart pounding.

‘Detective Constable Ryan, my office!’

‘With the greatest of pleasure, sir!’

Collette was so determined to have her showdown with Burns that she was almost at his office door before he was. She marched in without giving way to him first. He followed her and told her to sit down.

‘I’d rather stand’ she replied.

‘I said sit down Ryan’.

‘And I said I’d rather stand!’

‘Just you remember who you’re talking you, Ryan’ he warned her.

‘Well isn’t that rich coming from you’.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Well it may have escaped your attention, sir, but I’m actually a human being but you talk to me like I’m a bloody dog!’

‘You show me some respect!

‘You show me some and then I’ll think about it! You have to earn respect, sir. It shouldn’t be an automatic entitlement’.

Collette could see her chest rising up and down. Her breathing was fast. She looked at him. She had no idea what he was going to do now. Had she gone too far? Had she said too much? Her ex-husband said she had too much of a mouth on her at times but damn it, she wasn’t in the wrong here. Burns was in the wrong. He was the one who’d abused the nature of their relationship. He was the one who’d treated her like dirt and no matter the difference in rank she didn’t deserve it and she wasn’t going to put up with it. 

Burns really didn’t know what to say in response so he decided to just press ahead with the business of the day. ‘Okay, Ryan. Tell me your thoughts about Patricia Knight’.

Collette was surprised that he hadn’t come back and tried to wipe the floor with her. The fact that he hadn’t was almost as unnerving as if he had laid into her again. Maybe his spirit had cracked before hers. He looked like he’d totally capitulated.

‘Sir, Patricia Knight has committed no crimes since arriving in Australia in nineteen seventy-six. She and her husband Dennis have had their financial ups and downs and been behind with their taxes on a couple of occasions but none of that adds up to the crime of the century. What came earlier of course is an entirely different matter. Patricia O’Connell was a member of the IRA and therefore implicated in many crimes that we’re completely unaware of down here. But she turned her back on all of that when she came out here and in the absence of any extradition request from the UK on the basis of specific charges then I really don’t see what else there is we can do apart from to provide the basic security around her house and ensure her safety within that’.       

Burns sat back and brought his hands together in front of him, letting his fingertips touch in a church like shape. ‘This is a tricky one, Detective Constable Ryan, I’ll grant you that. And I agree with your assessment. What I’ll do is email the UK authorities and tell them what we’re thinking. It’ll be up to them to respond in whatever way they see fit. In the meantime we’ll keep guard outside the Knight’s house. The press are bound to want to keep on pushing for their pound of flesh. I can’t really blame them though. It is a pretty big story’.

‘Sir’.

‘Well you can go now Ryan’.

‘Thank you, sir’ said Collette who suddenly couldn’t get out of there quick enough. This quiet style of introspection from Burns was really spooking her. She walked out of his office and closed the door wondering what the Hell that had all been about. But then she recalled the other question that was blaring out from this case and went back into the lion’s den to see if the big beast was still resting his roar.

‘Sir?’

Burns looked up surprised and a little exasperated. ‘What is it, Ryan? I thought we were done for the time being’.

‘Sir, there is something else that I think is important’.

‘Well if you think its important then I suppose it must be, Ryan’.

Collette gave out a sigh. His less belligerent attitude towards her had lasted barely more than a few minutes. It had probably all been nothing more than a con from the foul minded bastard.

‘Sir, it’s just that … who are we dealing with back in the UK?’

‘Why do you need to know that?’

‘Does that mean that you’re not going to tell me?’

‘I didn’t say that’.

‘Well then let me ask you the same question in a different way, sir’ Collette went on, holding steadfastly to her self-control. ‘Are we in contact with regular police units in either Manchester or Belfast in the UK, sir? Is that where we’re getting our information from with regard to Patricia Knight?’

Burns sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin. ‘No, Ryan’ he replied. ‘It’s a British special branch unit we’re dealing with’.

‘And are they in touch with their local police units on the ground?’

‘You’d have to ask them that’ said Burns. ‘How would I know?’

‘Well doesn’t it strike you as being a bit odd, sir?’

‘About which aspect of this investigation are you talking about, Ryan? It all seems a bit bloody odd to me but the British have got different sensibilities about it because they had to deal with the whole Northern Ireland problem at first hand. And sometimes they paid a pretty high and a pretty bloody price for it’.

’I understand that, sir, but I’m just wondering if the regular police over there are aware of what we’re doing here’.

Now Burns genuinely was interested. ‘Go on?’

‘Well, I began to wonder early on why someone over there would choose the murder of Patricia Knight’s brother to try and flush her out? If she was so dangerous to the British security services then why didn’t they do something about it before? Why send us a message that her brother is dead which we then have to relay to her after she’s remained under our radar for almost forty years? What do they want from her now? I’ll bet that our colleagues in the Manchester police who are investigating the murder of Padraig O’Connell have no idea about the existence of Patricia Knight. I’ll bet they’re being played by their security services like we’ve often been played by ours. It doesn’t matter about the location, sir. They’re all the same and there’s usually some kind of plan behind it’.  

‘So have you come to some kind of decision?’ asked Patricia after she and Dennis had sat down in the back porch to some tea. ‘Is that why you want to talk?’

‘I need you to do something for me, Patty’ Dennis replied.

‘You pick your moments’.

‘I need you to come clean about what you did’.

Patricia looked down into her tea. She always had to make it different for Dennis than she made it for herself because Dennis liked a strong brew whereas she preferred a weaker one with much more milk than Dennis ever took. It was one of the few things they did differently. Otherwise they were compatible in almost every way.

‘Do I have any choice in hanging myself out to dry?’

‘I’ll leave you if you don’t’.

Patricia almost laughed. ‘Well that’s some choice indeed’.

‘I mean it, Patty’.

‘Oh I know you mean it. You’ve always meant it whenever we’ve talked. I’m the deceiving one round here, remember?’

‘Patricia, I’ll stand by you every step of the way. I’ll be there and I won’t falter no matter how hard it might get’.

‘You mean if they decide to arrest me?’

‘If they were going to do that then they would’ve done it long ago’.

‘Then why is all this coming to light now, Dennis? Why have they started this now?’

‘I can’t answer that’ said Dennis.

‘And you want me to play into their hands by coming clean as you put it’.

Dennis stood up and paced up and down before stopping. ‘Damn it, Patricia! I’m out of my bloody depth here. I get it into my head that it’s best to get it all out in the open and damn the consequences and then you start coming out with all this stuff about shadowy figures playing games with our lives!’

‘I’m sorry, Dennis’.

‘I think we’ve gone a bit past all that where this is concerned’.

‘Well what else do you want me to say?’

‘I don’t know’ said Dennis. He scratched the back of his head and then sat down again. ‘I just don’t know’.

‘You said you’d leave me if I didn’t do as you wanted?’

‘Don’t make it sound like … ‘

‘… what? Sound like what? An ultimatum? Because that’s what it sounded like to me’.   

The truth was that Patricia had made a decision of her own. She hoped it would mean that some of Dennis’s faith in her would be restored but it was a gamble when he was in such an emotional state.

‘I’ll do what you ask, Dennis’.

‘You will?’

‘If it’s a choice between doing that and losing you then I’ll do it’ said Patricia. ‘But you need to do know that I’ve made a decision too’.

‘And what’s that?’

‘I’ve decided to go back to the UK for my brother Padraig’s funeral’ she revealed. ‘I suppose it will be in Manchester where, according to what I’ve read on the internet sites of the local newspaper, the rest of my family are living now. I’m going to try and contact someone and get the arrangements. It’ll be a shock for any of them to hear from me but I think it’s the right thing to do. Anyway, then I’ll book a ticket’. 

‘You’d better book two tickets?’

Patricia almost cried. ‘That’s what I was hoping you’d say’.

‘I can’t let you go all the way over there and do that on your own. It wouldn’t be right’.

‘So are you back to stay, Dennis?’ Please say you are, please’.

‘Yes, I’m here to stay. When we got married it was for better or worse and though it really couldn’t get any worse than what we’re dealing with, you’re still my wife and the mother of my children and I still love you. So let’s get your story out there and we’ll stand together against whatever the world throws at us’.

Detective Constable Collette Ryan checked all the time changes on the internet and made sure she would be calling Manchester, UK at a time when it would be worth her while. She didn’t want to ring when she had no chance of getting through to the officer she really needed to speak to and have to leave bloody messages everywhere. She hated doing that. It was such a waste of time. She’d inherited the inclination from her father along with the inability to stand in a queue without getting frustrated and impatient at the time that was being wasted.

Like many of her fellow white Australians, Collette was only a couple of generations away from her European roots. Ironically enough considering the case she was involved with her family bloodline stretched back to County Cork although she didn’t know of any relatives back there and as far as she knew her great-grandfather had arrived in the lucky country all alone to make a fresh start. Just like Patricia O’Connell had done. Then she became Patricia Knight and forgot about it all. Maybe Collette’s great-grandfather had brought a similar history with him from the other side of the world. She had no idea but she made a mental note to investigate her family history once she had some time. It had never really occurred to her to do it before.

‘Greater Manchester police?’

‘Yes, hello, I’m calling from Victoria state police in Melbourne, Australia? Can you please put me through to …’

Before Collette had been able to finish her sentence the operator, without saying a word in response or asking any questions, had already connected her to somewhere. She could tell by the line going silent and then a man’s voice said ‘Press relations, can I help you?’

‘It isn’t press relations I need actually’ said Collette who was a bit pissed off at having had her time wasted in such a way. Why do telephone operators the world over never fucking listen? Are they grown in a factory where patience isn’t on the list of ingredients? And why would the operator assume that someone calling from a foreign police service would want press bloody relations? It didn’t even make sense. Maybe she was on one of those zero hours contracts she’d read about that were prevalent in the UK. They sounded like one step up from slave labour to Collette. Not even the Abbott government would dare to introduce something like that in Australia.

‘Well that’s a shame’ said the man with the cheerful open sounding voice. ‘Who is it you do want?’

By the time she got through to Detective Superintendent Jeff Barton, Collette had been on the phone for almost five minutes. She had thought it wouldn’t have taken so long and be treated as so apparently complicated but there we are. But when she did get through to DSI Barton she was taken by something in his voice. He sounded like a decent guy. He sounded like someone she’d quite like to meet.

‘I just wanted to see if you knew of certain events that have been going on down here, sir, involving the murder of Padraig O’Connell which, I believe, you’re investigating?’

Jeff was surprised by the call and was intrigued to find out what these certain events were. ‘I’m all ears, Detective Constable Ryan’.  

‘Oh please call me Collette’.

‘Okay, Collette’ Jeff replied in sudden high spirits. She sounded cool and probably had some big burly brute of a rugby playing husband to go home to at night. ‘And you can call me Jeff’.

‘Thanks, Jeff’ said Collette. ‘Well we received information from a British special branch unit telling us about the murder of Padraig O’Connell and that we should inform his sister who lives out here’.

‘I didn’t know he had a sister in Australia?’

‘That’s what me and my boss figured which is why I’m calling you’ said Collette. ‘We didn’t think your special branch team would’ve informed you. It’s the same over here with departmental egos and such. You know what it’s like?’

‘Oh I do, Collette, I do’ said Jeff. His mind was spinning round and round with the truth of what this stranger with the lovely voice from the other side of the world was telling him and it was making him angry. Why hadn’t someone closer to home told him? ‘Please go on’.

‘It seems that Patricia Knight hasn’t had any contact with her family since she left Northern Ireland’ Collette revealed. ‘She erased them all out of her life to begin a new one here. And she’s been very good at it. She married not long after arriving here and she and her husband have a grown up and very law abiding family but I also know that she’s now telling her story to the local press down here. I also understand she’s planning on coming back to Manchester for her brother’s funeral’.

Oh Christ, though Jeff. That’s all he fucking well needed. Former members of the IRA were one thing and he expected them at Padraig O’Connell’s funeral. But former members of the IRA from the same family? That could throw a whole different and more dangerous light on things. What if somebody decided to use the presence of the sister to settle some old scores?