Bad Catholics (24 page)

Jimmy got up and went out to the ward desk.

‘Thank you, nurse. Will you say thank you to everybody?'

‘Of course, Mr Costello, I'm very sorry.'

‘Everything's arranged.'

‘I'm sure it is.'

He noticed a big jar on the desk with coins in it. ‘What's it for?'

‘Play equipment for the children's ward.'

Jimmy took out his wallet. He pulled out a note, folded it, and put it through the slot in the top of the jar.

‘Mr Costello,' said the nurse quickly, ‘that was twenty pounds, are you sure?'

He put away his wallet.

‘Sure, the kids need something when they're in here.'

She was still looking concerned. Bereavement did funny things to people.

Bernadette's Requiem Mass was very full. Jimmy hadn't realised so many people would want to come. They had never moved from Kilburn, but he knew hardly anybody other than as an acquaintance, a face you nodded to. Jimmy had said no flowers, donations to Michael's missionary order. Things had been bad in the Sudan and Michael still hadn't been able to get out.

Worrying about Michael had been something Jimmy and Bernadette had accepted as part of their lives three years ago when he was sent to Sudan. Little Jimmy was still ill, Eileen didn't know what it was, the doctors were trying to find out. It probably wasn't serious but it wouldn't go away and the poor kid had quite a bit of pain. There were two of Bernie's relatives from Ireland and a cousin of his own who kept in occasional touch, but mostly it was neighbours, colleagues, and parishioners.

There had been a wedding on the previous Saturday and Jimmy had asked if the flowers could be left. Bernie liked flowers in church, she would have liked these. Only one wreath was sent. It wasn't big but it was expensive, the card said ‘Bridie'. Jimmy had it put by the box in the porch where donations could be given.

A few people came back to the house from the cemetery. Most didn't stay long. Tommy Flavin and a couple of others from Jimmy's station stayed and drank whiskey together. Flavin didn't drink much but the other two drank steadily.

Jimmy drank, but more for the company, he couldn't develop a taste for Irish whiskey any more than for Scotch. He was on the edge of drunk when Flavin left, taking the other two with him.

‘Take it easy, Jimmy,' he said at the front door, ‘take as much time as you need. Don't come in till you're ready.'

Jimmy stood steadily. ‘Good night, Tommy, thanks for coming.'

‘The least I could do. I'll get these two home now,' he said indicating the swaying figures standing by his car. ‘Try and get to bed. Life goes on. Bernie wouldn't want you giving in.'

‘No, Tommy, Bernie wouldn't want me to give in.' Jimmy closed the door.

He went back into the living room and went to a chest of drawers and took out a small tin box. It had several keys in it. He took one, a safety deposit box key, put it in his trouser pocket, then went upstairs. On the bed was a briefcase. It had documents in it and a passport. Jimmy checked everything, then opened a wardrobe. From it he took a pick-axe handle. He carried it downstairs and picked up his car keys. He knew he was well over the limit but that was not an issue. If he was alive tomorrow morning, he would go to his safety deposit box, take his money, and go. Where he went to would depend on the first available seat out of Gatwick or Luton. Heathrow would be no good. Jimmy carefully put the handle in the boot under a rug and got into his car and drove off.

Three quarters of an hour later he pulled up at a phone box, got out and dialled a number.

‘Duty sergeant.' He waited. ‘There's been a break in at Hampton Flats, number 36. That's right. Occupant's badly injured. I was passing and saw the door open, so I went in … No, the door had been forced, the lock's smashed … I'm a neighbour … Look, the lad needs an ambulance. I'll wait and you can ask me all the questions you like when you get there.'

Jimmy put the phone down, got back into his car, and drove off.

He parked outside The Hind. It was years since he had last been inside, but when he looked around he saw that nothing much had changed. Denny still used the same table.

‘Hello, Jimmy, long time.'

‘Hello, Denny.'

‘Sorry about Bernie. Funeral was today, wasn't it?' Jimmy nodded.

‘You're not working then. So is this a social call or do you want something?'

‘I want something.'

‘OK, Jimmy, sit down. Make room for Jimmy.'

Nat moved around and made a space. The other two men at the table shuffled round.

‘What can I do for you?'

Jimmy didn't take the chair. ‘I need to talk to you.'

‘So talk.'

‘Just you, and not here.'

‘Here or nowhere.'

‘You don't want me to talk here. It's you I'm thinking about, not me.'

Denny thought for a moment. He had known Jimmy a long time.

‘Look him over, Nat.'

Jimmy held his arms out from his sides.

Nat looked him over very thoroughly. Nobody in the pub seemed to notice that a man was being given a body search.

‘Nothing.'

Nat sat down. Denny stood up.

‘OK, Jimmy. We'll take a drive. You've got a car

outside?'

Jimmy nodded.

‘Give Vic the keys.'

Vic stood up and Jimmy tossed him the keys.

‘Check it over, Vic. I know you, Jimmy, but Vic doesn't have my trusting nature.'

Vic left, Jimmy waited. They all sat and waited. Vic returned. ‘OK, Denny. Nothing inside and nothing in the glove box or under the seats and no wires. It'll be just you and Jimmy.'

He tossed the keys back to Jimmy.

They left The Hind and got into the car. They had been driving for a short while when Denny said, ‘Come on, Jimmy, what is it you want to tell me?'

‘I'm pulling out, I'm leaving. It doesn't look like we're going to work together after all.'

Denny thought about it. ‘When?'

‘Tomorrow.'

‘A bit sudden, isn't it?'

‘It needs to be sudden.'

‘People after you?'

Jimmy nodded.

‘Why tell me? I'm not after you.'

‘I wanted you to know because if we've got any unfinished business we need to settle it now.'

Jimmy pulled the car over and parked. It was a quiet street but well lit. ‘Well, Denny, have we got any unfinished business?'

Denny was thinking.

‘Will you get away, Jimmy, that's the question? You know things, not much and nothing serious, but you know things. If it's the Internals that are after you, there's important people who wouldn't want to see you in an interview room.'

‘No, it's not the coppers who want me.'

‘Then who?'

‘Ever heard of Bridie McDonald?'

‘Maybe.'

‘She runs Glasgow.'

‘Go on.'

‘I got some information from a Jock I picked up while he was down here. I thought he was nothing and the info didn't seem much but when I got in touch with a Glasgow nick they were keen to have it so I passed it on and forgot about it.'

‘And?'

‘And it hurt this Bridie McDonald so she sent me a message.'

‘How?'

‘She sent flowers to Bernie's funeral today. The message was on the card. I'm not going home tonight and I'm getting the first seat out of Heathrow tomorrow if I'm still in one piece.'

‘Doesn't sound good. You're not easy to hide and I hear Bridie is good at looking.'

‘I only need to get to my bank in the morning, then I'm off.'

‘You won't get a pension, Jimmy.'

‘Fuck the pension. I'll be OK.'

‘Well, if I can help … You've got somewhere to hole up for tonight?'

Jimmy knew Denny had bitten, he was almost home. Denny was getting ready to set him up as a favour to Bridie.

‘Yeah, somewhere nobody will find me, quiet and out of the way, not even the car will be noticed.'

Denny's tongue was almost hanging out. He was leaning forward and off his guard.

‘Sounds good. Somewhere I know?'

‘Yeah, Denny, actually it's …' and Jimmy turned and hit him hard in the throat.

Denny was hurt but he was strong. He could hardly breathe but even though Jimmy hit him again in the face, he got his gun out. Jimmy parted his fingers and jabbed them hard into Denny's eyes with one hand and pushed the gun down with the other. Denny gasped but got a shot off. The inside of the car exploded with the noise. Jimmy hit him hard on his temple. Denny was choking and blinded but he wouldn't go down. The bullet had gone past Jimmy's leg and through the car floor. Jimmy held Denny's wrist with his left hand and forced the gun towards the floor between the seats and hit Denny hard in the face again. His face was the only clear target Jimmy had to work on, so he worked on it. Denny sagged but he wasn't going out. Jimmy held his gun hand down so Denny tried to hit him with his left hand from the far side of the car or use his head. The punches landed but they were wild and awkward and from too far away and when he tried to head-butt he simply came on to the punch. Then Jimmy suddenly pulled Denny's gun arm up and broke it at the elbow.

Denny grunted with pain and dropped the gun. Jimmy picked it up and sat back.

‘It's over, Denny,' said Jimmy, breathing heavily. ‘I've got the gun. Move and you're fucked.'

Denny sank back. Jimmy's face was bleeding, one eye was closing. Denny was bleeding from the eyes, nose, and mouth.

‘I ought to top you now, and I will if you move a fucking muscle.'

Jimmy started the car and drove with one hand, the gun in the other. He turned round the first corner they came to and drove on to a building site. He got out, pushed the gun into his waistband, and went round to the boot. He took out the pickaxe handle and then went round and pulled Denny's door open. Denny lunged at him but Jimmy stood back and Denny went down as the first sickening blow of the handle shattered his collar bone. The second broke his knee as he lay on the dirt. After that he just lay there as Jimmy broke his other leg and then kicked the shit out of him. Denny never made a sound and he never lost consciousness and his bloodied eyes never left Jimmy's face.

When Jimmy had finished he threw the pick-axe handle down beside Denny and got back into the car and drove to the nearest phone box. Fred was the Desk sergeant.

‘Fred? I've got Denny Morris for you. And Fred, get an ambulance and make it quick if you want him alive.' He gave the location of the building site, then he got into his car and drove off. At home he went upstairs, cleaned himself up, changed the blood-spattered clothes, and picked up the briefcase and holdall. He put Denny's gun in his jacket pocket. He would dispose of it on the way to the airport. Fucking hell, Denny was tough. Anybody else would be dead but he was still conscious even at the end.

Jimmy went downstairs, picked up the car keys, and went to open the front door. Then he stopped, put down the briefcase on the hall table and the holdall on the floor, turned and went into the living room and sat down.

‘What the fucking hell am I doing? Where am I going?' He spoke out loud to the empty room. ‘My son's in a war zone, my wife's dead, my daughter's kid is sick. Where is it I'm supposed to be going?'

And he sat there. He was frightened. He knew it would be worse than he could imagine, but after the pain there would be an end to it all. And he wanted more than anything else for there to be an end to it. Suddenly he knew he could take it, whatever it was. He would take it so long as he knew there would be an end and if there was a God and if that God was merciful, maybe he would, in time, be with Bernadette again. And if there was no God, well, he would settle for whatever had been waiting for Bernie. Jimmy sat back. He had some waiting to do. Without knowing it or meaning it the old words formed on his lips, the first Sorrowful Mystery of the Rosary, The Agony in the Garden. Our Father …

ELEVEN

Paddington, February 1995

It was dark when Jimmy returned to Bart's. He was carrying a bulky, heavy-duty carrier bag. He went to Philomena's office and found her working at her desk.

‘Everything OK?'

‘Yes, it's quiet so I decided to work. Janine's in her room. She's done some cleaning and tidying, there's not much else for her to do. I've decided we can't open if there might be trouble. I haven't mentioned anything to Janine. Should I have? Does she need to know?'

Jimmy shook his head.

‘Did you get everything done that you wanted?'

‘Yes, Sister, I picked up what I needed and then met a bloke I wanted to speak to.'

‘And now you're back, nothing's happened yet –' She was interrupted by the sound of banging on the door.

‘Was that the front door, Jimmy?'

‘Yes.'

‘I'll go and see.'

As she got up there was a loud splintering and a bang as somebody kicked the front door open. They both stood still. Then a voice called loudly from the dining room: ‘Costello.'

Philomena looked at Jimmy.

‘It's OK, it's just someone for me. I was expecting them. Look after this, will you? And go to Janine and both of you stay in her room.'

He put the carrier by her desk and walked away into the dining room. The man waiting was big. He wore an overcoat and had his hands in his pockets.

‘Hello, Vic, I was expecting you. Sammy outside?' Vic nodded.

‘Shall we go, Jimmy?'

‘Will I need anything?'

‘You've got everything you need.'

‘Jimmy.'

Philomena appeared in the dining room doorway. Janine stood behind her.

Jimmy looked round.

‘It's OK, Sister, you and Janine go back upstairs or into your office.'

Vic didn't speak.

‘I'm going out, Sister, don't worry and don't make any phone calls. Don't do anything, understand, nothing, not now, not later,' Jimmy said.