by David Costa
‘Well, I don’t know about the other men in your life, but I’m interested, right now I’m interested.’
‘I’m thinking, what am I doing here and what brought me to this place and time? Then I answer my own questions. I remember when I met you, I didn’t know who you were at first, but I knew I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to get closer to you. Now I’m sitting beside you, driving through Manchester at night and I’m thinking despite everything, I’m exactly where I want to be. What about you? What are you thinking?’
‘To be honest, I’m trying hard to keep my mind on the job at hand but you’re making it very difficult for me.’
‘I don’t mean to.’
‘I mean difficult in a nice way. It’s the kind of difficult I could live with every day.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand. I’m not sure what you mean?’
He pulled the Range Rover into the carpark of a pub just outside Barton.
‘Why are you stopping? I thought we were going to your base?’
‘I need a drink and so do you.’
The bar was surprisingly busy, maybe because it was serving food as well, but they were able to find a table all to themselves. A whisky and soda for him and a glass of pinot grigio for her.
‘The only Irish they have is Jameson’s, my favourite is Bushmills but these English bars never seem to stock it or rarely if ever. Did you know that Bushmills Whiskey comes from Bushmills in County Antrim in Northern Ireland?’
‘Yes, I’m not a whisky drinker but I’ve heard of Bushmills.’
‘Jameson’s will do, but it’s not Bushmills. Jameson’s I would use for making hot whiskies. Bushmills I can drink straight on its own it’s that smooth, did you know Bushmills is the oldest licensed distillery in the world 1608? The word licensed being the operative word. There were many other distilleries in places making the stuff before Bushmill’s, but they weren’t licensed or paying the tax man. I went to the Bushmills distillery once. Do you know what’s written above the door?’
‘No.’
‘Here we turn water into gold.’
‘The way you talk about it you might convert me.’ She laughed.
‘That’s why I thought we should have this drink. Not just to give you a lesson on whiskey but, despite me needing one right now I just wanted some free down time with you on my own. You know nothing about me. We should get to know each other, who we really are.’
‘Are you sure you really want to know the real me? You might not like what you hear?’
‘That goes both ways. I know where you were born, where you were brought up, where you live now. I know your age, where you went to school, and that you were married to Brendan. The you I don’t know is the one that made you who you are… the real you. What’s your favourite book? Your favourite movie? What makes you cry? What are you afraid of? These are all the things that people in a normal relationship know about each other.’
‘What’s a normal relationship? I don’t think I’ve ever had one. I was brought up by a strict Catholic mum and dad. My dad died when I was fourteen. I was at a convent school run by nuns who were even stricter than my parents. When I left school at sixteen, I was vulnerable and easily swayed. Brendan came along; the slightly older man of the world or so I thought. Someone who wanted to take care of me. Then, well, you know that part of the story and how that ended up, and here I am. What about you, what brings you to here and now?’
He was sipping his whisky. It might just be Jameson’s, but he wanted to take his time. He’d listened to her with interest in the way she was opening up beginning to relax. This was what he wanted. The whole thing with Costello would make anyone nervous and he was no exception.
‘Well, believe it or not, I come from a large Catholic family myself. I was born in Larne which was then a predominately Protestant town. My father was a bit like Brendan; a bully when he had a drink in him. My mother who was a lot smaller kicked him out when she found out that not only was he having an affair with another woman, but he’d gotten her pregnant as well. I had a lot of Protestant friends and in those days, religion was never a problem. In the estate where I lived the Catholic Chapel and the Protestant Church were the two buildings at the entrance gates to the local cemetery. On Sunday mornings both opposite congregations would finish their service at the same time and then everyone would stand between the two buildings chatting and laughing. Those were the good times when neighbours were neighbours before they started killing each other.’
‘They’re not all bad, Joseph, I have to believe that, you should too.’
‘I know, you’re right, I still have a few friends from those days but in my working life I’ve seen too much violence, too much hatred to know better. I fell out with the Catholic Church when the Priest at Mass started to spout off in his sermon one Sunday morning about fallen women. After my father had been kicked out, he moved to England with his new woman. My mother had originally been devastated. I was the eldest, only ten at the time and suddenly, I was the man of the house. After a while, my mother met and fell for another man, a Protestant. That day, in the Chapel, the Priest seemed to be looking straight at me, my brother, and sister. He was talking loudly about fallen women, jezebels as he called them. I knew he was speaking about my mother because everyone turned to look at us. I took the hands of my brother and sister and walked out. I told my mother what had happened when I went home. I also told her I would never go inside a Catholic Church again, and what’s more, I would have nothing more to do with that religion.’
‘My God, that was a big thing for a small child to deal with back then. You never went back?’
‘Just once when I attended the funeral of a Catholic police officer who was shot dead by the IRA. I was reluctant to go inside the church. I waited outside thinking I would be able to sit at the back when the church had filled up, but my plan backfired. When I went in the only seats left were at the front beside the flag-draped coffin, and I was ushered to one of those seats. My anger for the Catholic Church was reinforced when the Priest said in his sermon, “If anyone knows anything about this terrible crime, they should tell the police.”
‘I nearly laughed out loud. I wanted to shout, you fucking hypocrite, if the gunman came into your confessional tonight and told you what they’d done, you would absolve them of their sin and give them six Hail Marys and three Our Fathers and let them go on their way to kill more policemen and you would tell no one.’
Mary could feel the anger in his words and feel the pain he was feeling. She decided to change the conversation.
‘Where’s your mother now? Is she still in Larne?’
‘Yes, in a way. She’s buried there.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Joseph.’
‘No reason to be sorry, everyone dies. If you smoked as much as she did then that time comes sooner than it should. She smoked all her life and the cancer sticks caught up with her in the end. It wasn’t until she was gone that I really realised how hard life had been on her, yet she’d raised seven children practically on her own.’
‘Seven? Christ that would be a struggle. Did you ever marry and have kids?’
‘Yes, married twice and lived to regret it or should I say survived. I’ve two grown-up boys from the first marriage, one living in America and the other in the North of England, we don’t talk.’
‘What happened, or don’t you want to talk about it?’
‘Like all marriages the start was OK then come the children, both of us working to bring in the money to keep the roof over our heads. Then comes the drifting apart like passing ships in the night. We didn’t know each other anymore. Then I found out she was having an affair with the husband of one of her friends. I challenged them both, but they denied it to my face. Then came the rows the arguments long into the night. I remembered how as a child I used to lay awake listening to my parents arguing, the loud voices the horrible words. It was then I decided I didn’t want them to go through what I had as a child. One night after anot
her long argument into the early hours I asked her what she’d do if the boys were grown up and left home. She didn’t hesitate. I’d leave you was all she said. I told her I thought the same and there was no sense in keeping the marriage together for the sake of the children if there was no love anymore. We both agreed to see the solicitors the following day and that was it, really. The hardest thing was me leaving the family home leaving the two boys behind. I remember the first rented house I moved to after leaving. The thing I noticed most was the silence without the boys running around. But she was the first-class bitch I’d been arguing with. She got the house. She squeezed me for every penny she could get always using the boys against me, telling them I didn’t love them and trying to dictate when I could see them. It was a constant battle. After two years the divorce came through and guess what?’
‘She took up with the other guy.’
‘Not only that. He left his wife and kids, moved in with my ex, and married her.’
‘How did that make you feel?’
‘Strangely relieved. I’d been vindicated. It wasn’t all my fault after all. She was the cheating bitch I said all along, but now she’d made her bed, she could lie in it. I concentrated on my work and any spare time I had was dedicated to the boys. I would have them three night a week, when work allowed, and during school holidays. But it was never enough and eventually, I guess they held things against me; blamed me for all their problems. As they got older, got married, had children of their own…we just didn’t seem to talk anymore, we just got on with our own lives I suppose. They listened to the poison their mother liked to spout about me. It angered her that I could survive on my own, and when the boys finished school and the money she was bleeding from me stopped, she hated me even more.’
‘Families can hurt you more than enemies sometimes. I’m an only child so I was lucky, and Brendan and I never had children, thank God. Can you just imagine what he would have been like as a father, no, that side of my life worked out OK for me.’
Reece could see a sadness in her eyes as she spoke of something close to her heart. She would have made a good mother, he thought.
‘But what about us, Joseph? Where do we stand?’ She didn’t ask about the second wife and divorce and he was happy with that, another story for another time.
It was the question that had been keeping him awake at night but now it needed an answer, a decision for both.
‘You know I said that while we’re working on this Costello thing I needed to be as professional as possible and afterwards we could talk about our feelings for each other. Yes, Mary, that’s right…I have feelings for you.’
She was quiet, letting him talk, she smiled. This gave him the courage to continue.
‘I think I should be honest. I’ve had feelings for you since the first day I saw you in Newry then followed you to Belfast.’
‘I’m glad you followed me.’
‘This job can get in the way of relationships, you don’t have to tell me, I know. But this time I won’t let it. The Costellos of this world will have to wait. For this hour at least.’
He took her hand. He could feel the warmth of her soft skin as she squeezed his fingers. She watched him expectant but not knowing what. Then still holding her hand he said, ‘Let’s go.’
They left the bar still holding hands walking back to the Range Rover. She didn’t feel awkward, everything with Joseph felt natural, meant to be, and if she was honest with herself, exciting. As they reached the Range Rover, she could see their reflection in its window. The street lights lit up the car park. Then without warning, he stopped and turning to face her she felt his arm around her waist while he held her face gently with his other hand. He pulled her closer towards him, then he kissed her. She felt the warmth of his lips on hers and she responded, kissing him back, and putting her arms around his shoulders. She’d never felt this way. She wanted him here and now. They kissed for what seemed like hours, then he just held her. Standing there with their bodies close enough to feel every curve and muscle without using their hands.
‘I want you, Joseph, I want you.’
He felt a surge of strange energy go through him. This woman had broken through his barriers. There would always be secrets, things he couldn’t tell her, things she didn’t need to know.
‘I want you too, Mary, so much,’ he said through a dry mouth.
‘But, for now we’ll have to wait. Our feelings for each other will have to remain between us. I’m worried about the danger this mission can bring. That’s why I don’t want you exposed any more than you should be.’
‘I’m a big girl, Joseph. I can look after myself.’
‘I know you can, that’s one of the things I love about you.’
‘There’s something else, Joseph. I love you.’
There they were, the three words that change everything. He knew they would come. The feelings he felt were more than just feelings, they were life itself.
‘I love you too, Mary, and that’s why I don’t want you in danger.’
‘Bollocks. You want me all to yourself.’
He started laughing as he felt all the tension and anxiety inside him evaporate as he held her tighter in his arms.
‘This is how I want it to be, Mary, always close together and it will be. First let’s get this job out of the way, nothing to interfere in our lives.’
‘OK, agreed. But I’m waiting no longer than that. I want to be with you, to lie with you, to make love together.’
‘This will all be over Wednesday one way or the other, then we can be together. It might mean you giving up Ireland.’
‘For you, Joseph I’ll give up the world.’
‘That’s always been my nightmares. Either someone is coming to kill me and I can’t get my gun to work or I’m too late getting there to stop someone dying. Sometimes I wonder is the world worth it.’
‘It has to be, Joseph, or we all go down the pit with it.’
Chapter Thirty-eight
When they got back to the hanger Jim Broad had arrived in another Puma and he came bearing gifts. Some good, some not so good.
‘Good to see you, Joseph. How are things?’
‘Well, first we need to dispense with cover names, it will save any confusion as we go on.’
Turning to the woman standing beside him he said,
‘Boss, this is Mary McAuley. It’s thanks to her information we’re all here. I think as names go; I’ll stick to boss for you.’
Broad shook Mary’s hand.
‘Mary, I’m so glad to meet you at last, David has told me so much about you.’
‘It’s good to meet you and nice to know that Joseph is David.’ She smiled. ‘Although I think I prefer Joseph…it suits him better.’
‘I’m sorry about that, Mary, another part of the job I’m afraid,’ said Reece.
‘Well, David, can you take Mary to the canteen and fix her up with a coffee then come back and see me as we need a chat?’
‘No problem, see you in five.’
Reece left Mary in the canteen. She said nothing, other than, with a wicked smile on her face, ‘I’ll see you soon, Joseph.’
When Reece returned to the hanger, Broad and the rest of the SG9 team were watching the large TV screen on the wall. The hotel’s black and white CCTV showed a man with a baseball cap leaving the Hilton with a woman wearing a headscarf and sunglasses. A man wearing a dark hoodie with the hood up was waiting for them in a dark BMW and after putting their bags into the boot, he drove them away towards Deansgate Station. It could have been a private taxi or someone there to pick them up, the fact the driver appeared to be protecting his identity and was identified as a young Asian man, made the deliberate pick up a distinct possibility.
‘We’ve looked at these pictures a number of times. The hotel staff confirmed that this was the man with the New York baseball cap who never seemed to take it off, and this,’ April said as she pointed to the woman on the screen, ‘they confirmed as the woman who paid b
oth their bills. She used a credit card in the name Karen Webb. He was registered as Kevin Jones. The car is a black BMW registered to Hertz Car Hire here in Manchester, paid for by a man who fits the description of the driver but who used a credit card in the name of Kevin Jones. The address and driving licence he gave are fakes. He’s hired the car until next Thursday, the day after the Conference ends.’
‘Do we have any more on the car after it left the Hilton?’ asked Reece.
‘They were picked up heading out of the city near Salford before we lost them. They didn’t use the motorways but disappeared in the side roads.’
‘This is good,’ Broad said. ‘We have them running scared and being scared they’ll make more mistakes. They might even call the whole thing off, but I doubt it. These are dedicated terrorists who will do everything in their power to get the job done, so we can assume they’re still on schedule.
‘We need to make sure Lockwood understands where we are. I’ll bring the Gold Commander up to date and they can continue to keep an eye out with their CCTV coverage and patrols. I’ll be telling him if they are spotted, they’re not to be approached but that intel will be immediately passed to us and to your team, David. The SAS can view the footage we have too and make any preparations they need, but the police and SAS will only move on my say so.’
Reece was pleased that Broad was now taking control as it would leave the SG9 team out on the ground where they would be more effective.
‘As for Mike,’ said Reece ‘We’ve brought her fully on-board now there’s a chance she was spotted so we’re doing away with code names. It’s Mary and David from now on. Boss, if you could arrange for a third vehicle for our use that would be helpful?’
‘No problem, I’ll arrange it when I have my little chat with Mr Lockwood. But now the bad news, people. I was contacted an hour ago by Tom Wilson from the PSNI. As you know, they’ve been working on their own operations against the dissident Republicans in Ireland, especially the ones in the north, and they’ve confirmed it’s him and he’s here. Costello knows we’re here and most likely looking for him. That’s why they were spooked and got out of the Hilton. With the BMW on the radar, we might just get lucky again so keep on your toes. Get out there and get the bastards. Realistically, David, now that Costello knows about Mary, we should keep her out of things; she’s blown. But I’ll leave that up to you.’
