80
Lennon’s phone rang as he pulled up ten yards from Hewitt’s house. He gestured to Fegan to be quiet and answered it.
‘Where are you?’ CI Uprichard asked.
‘Following up on something,’ Lennon said.
‘Lisburn have been on the line,’ Uprichard said. ‘They have an MIT together. Officers are on their way to Carrickfergus now. They’ll be pissed off if you’re not there to meet them after calling them out.’
‘I’ve got other things to do,’ Lennon said. He hung up.
Fegan indicated the big house beyond the security gate. ‘Who is he?’
‘Detective Chief Inspector Dan Hewitt,’ Lennon said. ‘A friend of mine. Used to be, anyway. Special Branch.’
‘Jesus,’ Fegan said.
‘Might as well be,’ Lennon said. ‘You know how it works. They’re untouchable.’
‘He sold you and Marie out,’ Fegan said.
‘That’s right.’
‘Fancy house,’ Fegan said. ‘Old. Four, five bedrooms. How much does a Special Branch cop make?’
‘Not enough to afford a big house in this part of Belfast.’ A movement caught Lennon’s eye. ‘Hang on.’
The electric gates swung open, and an unmarked police car drove out. Lennon got out of his Audi, and Fegan followed. They crossed the distance to the gates by the time the cop car turned onto the Lisburn Road and just made it through before they closed. A security lamp, triggered by the cop car’s exit, bathed the garden and driveway in harsh white light. Beyond the grand bay window’s voile curtains, Hewitt drank from a glass while his wife Juliet stood over him. A large plaster covered the bridge of his nose, and Lennon could just make out the bruising around his reddened eyes.
‘What happened to him?’ Fegan asked.
‘No idea,’ Lennon said. ‘Keep out of sight.’
Fegan lost himself in the shadows beneath the security light’s reach.
Lennon hammered the door with his fist. Juliet came to the window and peeled back the voile. She stared for a second or two before turning her head to say something over her shoulder. Lennon hit the door again. Her hands waved and pointed as she argued with Hewitt before she disappeared. Lennon waited and listened.
When nothing happened Lennon slapped the wood with his palm three times. ‘Open up, Dan,’ he called.
The door opened six inches, and Juliet peered out. ‘Jesus Christ, Jack, what do you think you’re doing?’ She wrapped her dressing gown tight around herself. Her eyes were red and brimming. ‘You’ll wake the kids up again. I’ve had enough tonight without you—’
Lennon pushed the door open and stepped past her.
Juliet grabbed his arm, but he shook her off.
‘Dan!’ she shouted. ‘Dan, call someone. I can’t have this. Not tonight, not on top of everything else.’
She saw Fegan emerge from the darkness. ‘Who are you?’ She turned back to Lennon. ‘Jack, who is that?’
Lennon ignored her and entered the living room. Hewitt sat on the couch, hunched over an empty glass and a bottle of gin. He froze when he saw Fegan enter behind his old friend. His eyes darted from man to man.
Hewitt blinked, coughed, forced a smile that seemed to crack his face in two. ‘Christ, Jack, you’re keeping bad company these days.’
A can of Coke sat alongside the glass on the coffee table. While Lennon and Fegan watched, he poured two fingers of gin and emptied the remainder of the Coke on top of it. The sickly juniper smell cloyed at Lennon’s nose and throat.
‘It’s late to come calling,’ Hewitt said, his voice made hard and nasal by the plaster over his nose. Purple blotches spread out beneath his eyes, which were bloodshot and watery. ‘What do you want?’
‘What did he do with them?’ Lennon asked.
Hewitt winced at the alcohol’s burn. He swallowed, coughed, and put the glass back on the table. ‘What are you talking about, Jack?’
Lennon approached the coffee table. ‘I’m warning you, Dan. Don’t fuck me around. Not this time.’
Hewitt looked up. ‘Don’t threaten me, Jack. Not in my own home, not in front of my wife. I don’t care what cavalry you brought with you.’
Lennon upended the table. Gin and Coca-Cola soaked the thick carpet. The bottle smashed against the hearth, scattering green glass.
Juliet spoke from behind. ‘Dan, I’m calling 999.’
‘Don’t,’ Hewitt said.
‘Dan, I—’
‘I said don’t. Go and see to the kids. Keep them upstairs.’
‘But—’
Hewitt stood. ‘Just fucking do as I tell you.’
Lennon glanced over his shoulder to see the hurt on her face. She closed the door behind her.
Fegan studied them both, his countenance unreadable.
‘I told you to leave it alone,’ Hewitt said. Dried blood stained his shirt front. ‘You wouldn’t listen, would you?’ He waved a finger at Fegan. ‘Now you’ve got this animal involved. Jesus, I didn’t think you could make it any worse, but you’ve proved me wrong.’
‘I know Bull O’Kane has them,’ Lennon said, staring hard at Hewitt. ‘Tell me where.’
Hewitt put his hands on his hips. ‘I’ll tell you this much as a friend, even though you don’t deserve it,’ he said. ‘They’re safe. That’s all I know.’
Lennon stepped forward, grinding glass into the carpet beneath his feet. ‘Where are they? I’ll hurt you if you don’t tell me.’
Hewitt laughed. Lennon felt the alcohol-tainted breath on his face. He slapped Hewitt hard across the cheek. Hewitt fell back onto the couch. He sat there, open-mouthed, then laughed again. This time the laughter had a fluttering edge, like something about to be taken away on the wind.
‘After what I’ve seen tonight, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that if you and your friend here want to scare me.’
Lennon drew his Glock and aimed at Hewitt’s chest.
‘Christ, Jack, just get back in that car you can’t afford, and go home to that flat you can’t afford. The best thing you can do for Marie McKenna and your wee girl is stay out of it. It’s not them he wants. He’s just using them. Once he has the man he wants, he’ll let them go.’
Hewitt tilted his head and said, ‘Isn’t that right, Gerry?’
Lennon looked back over his shoulder. Fegan stood still as a rock, his eyes blazing.
‘I’ve told you too much already,’ Hewitt said. His face hardened. ‘Now go home before you make things any worse.’
Lennon lowered his aim to Hewitt’s thigh. ‘I’ll do it, Dan. Tell me where they are.’
‘You’ll do what?’ Hewitt asked. He laughed again. ‘Don’t act the big man, Jack. It doesn’t suit you. It might fool those sluts you pull in the bars, but it doesn’t work with me. You’re fucking with the wrong people now. I promise you’ll regret it.’
‘What are they paying you?’
Hewitt smiled, creasing the bruises beneath his eyes. ‘Watch your mouth, Jack. Now put the gun away. We both know you won’t shoot a fellow police—’
Silent like a cat, Fegan snatched the Glock from Lennon’s hand, squeezed the trigger, put a neat hole in Hewitt’s thigh. Hewitt screamed and rolled onto his side, clutching his leg. Squeals and crying came from upstairs, followed by quick footsteps.
Lennon stepped back, his heart thundering, his stomach cold.
‘Where are they?’ Fegan asked.
‘Bastard!’ Hewitt roared into the cushions.
Feet on the stairs, hammering as they descended. ‘Dan?’ Juliet called.
Fegan hauled Hewitt from the couch and threw him to the floor. Hewitt screamed again as he rolled on the broken glass.
Fegan took aim again. ‘I’ll put another one in you.’
Hewitt hissed through his teeth. He stared hard at Lennon. ‘You’re finished. So help me God, I’ll put you away myself.’
‘Where are they?’ Fegan asked.
‘Fuck you!’
Juliet tumbled in. ‘Jesus, Dan!’
Fegan spun, aimed at her. ‘Get out.’
She retreated. ‘Don’t. Please don’t hurt him any more.’
Hewitt grabbed Fegan’s ankle, tried to haul himself up. Fegan whipped his leg away and swung it back to slam his foot into Hewitt’s stomach. Hewitt folded in on himself, drawing bloody lines where his thigh brushed along the carpet.
‘Where are they?’ Fegan asked, taking aim again.
Hewitt squirmed. ‘Fuck you.’
Fegan kicked his injured thigh. Hewitt screamed. When he was quiet again, Fegan asked, ‘Where are they?’
Sweat dripped from Hewitt’s forehead to the carpet. ‘Fuck you.’
Fegan went to kick him again, but Lennon said, ‘Wait.’
He stepped past Fegan and hunkered down beside Hewitt. ‘Tell me now or I’ll let Gerry here blow out your kneecap,’ he said, his voice low in his chest. ‘You’ve seen the punishment shootings, same as me. You know what it does. You’ve seen the kids the paramilitaries did this to. They’re lucky if they ever walk again. Is it really worth it to you? Are they really paying you enough to live with what it’ll do to you? Think hard, Dan. I’m only going to ask you once more. Where are they?’
‘Fuck you,’ Hewitt said, his eyes brimming.
Fegan crouched and pressed the Glock’s muzzle against the back of Hewitt’s knee.
Hewitt began to weep. ‘Fuck—’
As Fegan’s finger tightened on the trigger, a small voice said, ‘Drogheda.’
Lennon and Fegan turned to see Juliet cowering against the door frame. ‘Don’t hurt him any more,’ she said.
‘Oh Christ,’ Hewitt said. ‘Christ, Juliet, you’ve killed me. O’Kane will come after me now.’
‘I’ve had enough,’ Juliet said. She spoke to Lennon, her eyes glistening, her voice calm and even. ‘I’ve had enough of it. He’s hardly slept in weeks. When he does, he wakes up with nightmares. When he came home from the hospital, I knew he’d done something terrible. I could see it on his face. Now this. I can’t take it any more, no matter what they pay him.’
Lennon stood upright. ‘Did you kill that boy?’ he asked Hewitt.
‘Fuck you,’ Hewitt said, his eyes pressed into his forearm. Juliet crumpled against the wall, drew her knees up to her chin. Her shoulders jerked as she sobbed.
‘Where in Drogheda?’ Lennon asked. He extended his open hand towards Fegan. Fegan stood and placed the Glock in Lennon’s grip.
‘He’ll kill me,’ Hewitt said.
‘That’s between you and him,’ Lennon said. ‘Where are they?’
‘A convalescent home outside town,’ Hewitt said. ‘His daughter owns it. It’s an old mansion by the river. Torrans House, it’s called. I don’t know how to get there.’
‘I’ll find it,’ Lennon said. He heard a siren in the distance. ‘Careful what you say to them. You’ve more secrets than I do.’
Hewitt rolled to his side and stared up at Lennon, hate and fear in his eyes. ‘Just get out.’
Lennon holstered the pistol and walked to the door, Fegan close behind. Juliet buried her face in her hands.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I never thought …’
They left the room before she could find the words. Lennon stopped in the hall when he saw the two children watching them from between the banisters. The sound of the siren drawing closer got him moving again. He felt their eyes on him even as he drove away, Fegan in the passenger seat, the house disappearing in his rear-view mirror as flashing lights danced across the brickwork.
Dawn came like a forgotten promise as they headed for the motorway.
81
The old servants’ quarters smelled of damp and mice. Cold white fingers of light reached through the dirty window, touching the peeling wallpaper and aged furniture. Marie McKenna lay on the bed, her eyelids fluttering, her breath coming in bubbling wheezes. Ellen clung to her mother’s hand.
Orla O’Kane lowered herself to sit on the bed beside them. She reached out to touch Ellen’s cheek, but the little girl pulled away. Orla folded her hands in her lap.
‘Why don’t you let your mummy sleep a wee while?’ she asked. ‘I’m sure there’s something nice to eat downstairs. Maybe even ice cream. Come on with me and we’ll see what we can find.’
Ellen shook her head and pulled her mother’s arm around her in a puppet embrace.
‘Why not?’ Orla asked.
‘Don’t want to.’
‘All right.’ She studied the girl’s pale skin and blue eyes. ‘You’re a pretty wee thing, aren’t you?’
Ellen buried her face in the crook of her mother’s elbow.
Orla leaned over and whispered, ‘What’s the matter? You going shy on me?’
Ellen peeked out from behind the arm. ‘No.’
‘Then what’s wrong?’
The little girl’s gaze shifted to something over Orla’s shoulder, her eyes darkening like a summer sky swallowed by rain clouds. Orla turned her head and saw nothing but shadows. When she looked back down to Ellen, the blue had drained from her eyes leaving a hollow grey.
‘Gerry’s coming,’ the child said.
Orla sat back. ‘Is that right?’
Ellen nodded.
‘And what’s he coming here for?’
‘To get me and Mummy.’
Orla stood, smoothed her jacket over her stomach and hips. ‘I see,’ she said. ‘You’d better get some sleep, then.’
As Orla walked to the door, Ellen sat up and said, ‘You should run away.’
Orla stopped with her fingers on the door handle. ‘I’m an O’Kane, sweetheart. We run away from nobody.’
Ellen lay down and rested her head on her mother’s breast, turning away from the room and its milky light.
‘Nobody,’ Orla said to the child’s back.
She let herself out of the room, locked the door behind her, and descended the flight of stairs to the first floor. She found the Traveller there, leaning against the railing that overlooked the grand entrance hall. He watched her approach, a sly smirk on his lips. His swollen red eyelid seemed to wink at her as it twitched.
‘What are you looking at?’ she asked.
‘You,’ he said. ‘Were you up visiting with the wee girl?’
‘Just making sure they’re all right.’
‘What do you make of her?’
Orla shrugged. ‘She’s a child. A brave one.’
‘There’s something funny about her, though,’ the Traveller said. ‘Like she’s looking through you. Like she knows things.’
‘You’re talking shite,’ Orla said. She brushed past him, heading for her father’s room.
‘Am I?’ he called after her. You look like you saw a ghost. What did she say to you?’
Orla stopped and turned on her heel. ‘She said Gerry Fegan’s coming.’
‘Well, then,’ the Traveller said. ‘We’d best be ready for him.’