The House by the Liffey

by Niki Phillips

  ‘Ah, so he may have had some sort of medical experience, and that fits in with something else I should have thought of earlier. It could only have been someone with medical knowledge that would have been able to give Bob the medication to keep him lucid for long enough to be of any help. I’ll have the files combed for anyone with a criminal record who has any qualifications of that sort. Anything else?’

  ‘No, that’s about it. I’ll get off now, unless there’s anything else I can do to help?’

  ‘Not for the moment. Thanks for everything, Paddy!’

  ‘See you all tomorrow,’ and he was gone.

  ‘Something maybe vaguely related to that has occurred to me, Sean. Amongst my many worries about Izzy, I’m wondering about her dermatitis. It subsided and hasn’t bothered her now for a couple of years but it’s so stress related it’s bound to have broken out badly and must be making her even more miserable. What’s she going to do without her ointment? If one of them has some sort of medical knowledge do you think he might care even a little – just enough to help her?’ Noola’s voice was husky with anxiety and weariness. She was clearly dangerously close to breaking point.

  ‘Well done, Noola. I’ll have an alert sent out to all chemists to report anything untoward related to requests for the kind of medication we have in mind. We can emphasise that we’re searching for someone who’s practising illegally and to keep it under wraps. They’ll be discreet. We’ve worked with them before, looking for people like that.’

  ‘Do you think we should also try to whittle down the likely places where they might be hiding out, Sean? For instance, if they found someone to drive along and throw in that note, they can’t have gone too far away.’

  ‘Good point, Jack. What are your thoughts?’

  ‘Bertie and I were looking at the possibilities earlier. Our own experiences of similar situations tell us that they’re unlikely to have stayed in the city or in any built-up area. It would be too easy for them to be spotted and it takes only the smallest element of odd behaviour and people do notice. It’s impressive how observant Joe Public can be. Our guess is that they’ll have moved into an area, not too far away, where very few or maybe no others are living and chances of their being detected are virtually non-existent.’

  ‘Ah, of course. The mountains. But that’s going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.’

  ‘Have you any means of finding out if anyone has been seen recently wandering the hills or has shown an interest in an unusually remote property? Somewhere that would make a really good hideaway.’

  ‘It’s a long shot, Jack, and we’re talking about a very wide area but always worth discreet enquiries. We mustn’t arouse suspicions. But tomorrow being Sunday, and forecast to be sunny again, it would be perfectly reasonable to have hikers out for the day. I’ll get a team onto it.’ He paused for a few seconds.

  ‘Actually there’s another thing which would add weight to the idea of somewhere a bit remote; their stipulation that we install radio equipment here. So far we’ve assumed that this was to make it difficult to track their calls – even public phones would tell us at least the area they’re calling from. Maybe we’ve been wrong. It could be because they’re out of reach of any telephones. As we said: up the mountains!’

  ‘How about we join the hikers, Sean? We’re trained to look for the smallest signs of activity in remote places,’ Bertie grinned. ‘At the risk of outraging Mageen, we can change into our scruffy gear again.’

  ‘Yes, and I’ve got a couple of very neat little gizmos in my kitbag, one that will help us to communicate with you, transmit and receive, and one that can track local radio signals.’ He smiled. ‘I won’t tell you what we normally use them for!’

  ‘Good thinking, Jack, thanks.’

  ‘Just one thing, Sean, our deductions may be way off the mark.’

  ‘I know that, but it’s all we’ve got at the moment and well worth following up.’

  Late as it was, Sean got to work, phoning into his headquarters to get the various lines of enquiry going. He wanted to move in equipment, unobtrusively and as soon as possible, to help locate, even vaguely, any radio calls coming into the house. Just an idea as to whether or not the calls were nearby or far off would help to build up a picture. They set up their night-watch roster and settled in for another nerve-shredding wait.

  Chapter 6

  All through the two days following her kidnap, Izzy lay on her truckle bed and whenever she heard anyone coming down the stairs she pulled the blankets over her, curled up, and turned her face to the wall. She ate none of the food that was brought to her, drank only tiny sips of water and refused to speak. She seemed to be crying continuously. Eddie was the only one who had come down to see her and tend to her wants. He had told her about the small pit they had dug in a corner of the tiny cell which she could use as a lavatory, with some earth to throw into it using a small plastic spade. Conscious of the dangers of infection from such a source he had thrown plentiful disinfectant into the pit. He had also insisted that an air vent must be installed and this had been done by means of a simple tube pushed up through the ground above. Much to the entertainment of the others, and with some difficulty in obtaining them without raising questions, he had even managed to provide her with a basic change of underclothes.

  ‘You must eat something, little Izzy, even if only a bit of bread.’

  No answer. This continued into Sunday and he became seriously worried.

  ‘It’s been over two days now and she’s eaten nothing and not said a word. Only taken some water. It’s not good. In fact if it goes on it could be very dangerous.’

  ‘Well you’ll just have to work out a way of force-feeding her if necessary. Damn it, Eddie, you’re a doctor, of sorts, you must be able to think of some way of making her eat. Just deal with it or one of us will have to. Quite a change to find a female who won’t talk. It’s usually the opposite problem.’

  They had no idea that Izzy, from her perch on top of the ladder, could hear quite plainly what they were saying. It was unbelievably comforting to know that it was important to them to keep her alive. On the other hand she certainly didn’t want to be force-fed. She didn’t know how this would be done but it didn’t sound at all comfortable. She worked out a new strategy.

  Not long after that conversation Eddie came down into the cellar again.

  ‘Is there anything at all that you’d eat, girleen?’

  In between the sobs, not entirely contrived, at long last she opened her eyes, uncurled and answered him. She saw, rather to her surprise, a kind face. Intensely blue eyes looked at her anxiously below a mop of very dark hair.

  ‘I can’t eat anything. I feel too sick.’

  He was hugely relieved that she had, at long last, spoken to him.

  ‘There must be something that you could take even on an upset stomach. What do you have at home if you’re feeling sick?’

  ‘Ice cream – often nothing else for days until I’m better. But more than food I need something for my rash.’

  ‘Let me have a look at it.’

  ‘No! Unless you’re a doctor you’re not to touch me!’

  ‘I am a doctor. Now let me have a look.’

  ‘Well you can see it on my neck and arms and it’s all over the rest of me. And it itches like mad. And it’s all your fault – you and your friends. I only get it when I’m upset and it makes me very sick.’

  This last statement wasn’t true but Izzy, noting the kind face, was trying to think of everything possible that might add to this man’s feeling of guilt and sympathy for her.

  ‘All right! Now tell me, girl, if I get some ice cream for you will you promise to eat it?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ll need lots before my stomach settles. My mum says it’s the milk in it that helps.’

  That actually made some sense to Eddie. He went back up the ladder.

  ‘I’ll have to go and find a chemist. The child has a dreadful dermatitis rash and she’s scratche
d so much it’s bleeding in places. If I don’t get something to treat it it’ll become infected.’

  ‘Did nobody know anything about possible medical conditions? I thought the contact was supposed to give us all that sort of detail, Willie.’ Mac sounded annoyed.

  ‘Ah let the spoilt brat suffer. It’ll do her good to have to put up with a bit of discomfort.’

  ‘Shut it, Bob. When we want your opinion we’ll ask for it. Just remember, keep well away from that cellar. And no, Mac, we weren’t told about anything we needed to be prepared for.’

  ‘I’ll go to a chemist, but not too close, and get some ice cream too. Apparently that’s what she lives on for days when she’s ill. I’m not going to even think of force-feeding a little one like that.’

  ‘You’re all soft, the whole lot of you. Just let her rot there. I don’t give a damn.’

  ‘You’ll give a damn if you find yourself back in that place for the duration. And if you touch her that’s what we’ll do – drop you back there. We need her in good health and able to talk to her parents when we make the call. If she can’t talk to them we’ve a big problem: how do we prove she’s still alive?’

  * * * * *

  On Sunday morning Bertie and Jack left Riverside with others of the night-team going off duty, so that nothing untoward was obvious. At headquarters the two men were given an inoffensive-looking, elderly car, in which they could drive off for the day, completely undetected for what they were. They were joined by a pretty comprehensive team of other well-briefed, plain-clothes police who set off at more or less the same time. They had divided into sections the mountain area which they thought most likely to be the location of the hideout and each team covered one of these sections. The idea was to have a wander around and, towards lunchtime, find a pub on the periphery of the built-up area in their section, drop in for a pint and ask would-be innocent questions.

  Nothing useful was forthcoming at lunchtime but on one of the visits to the pubs towards the end of the afternoon a couple of the men struck lucky. Aiden and Brendan had wandered into a down-at-heel pub, most inappropriately called “The Irish Harp”, which was more like an old-time shebeen than anything else. It wouldn’t have surprised them to have been offered a shot of poteen from under the counter. However, there was a cheerful turf fire burning and a warm welcome from the man behind the bar.

  ‘Good evening, gentlemen. Me name’s Mick. What can I get ye?’

  ‘Hello, Mick. Two pints of Guinness would be grand and one for yourself.’

  The drinks were poured and there was casual chit-chat, covering the usual social themes for such a venue and occasion: the weather, the scenery and so forth. The two brought the topic around very carefully to where they wanted it to be.

  ‘Well, it’s such a grand area I wouldn’t mind having a bolt-hole up here, well away from the crowds of the city.’

  ‘But, Brendan, you’d never find a place around here. Shure you’d have to buy a bit of a plot and build on it. I’ll bet there aren’t any for sale anyway.’

  ‘Yeh, I suppose you’re right but I could just afford a small place and the wife and kids would love it. I wish I could find something.’ Then turning to the barman he continued:

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s any hope of finding a little place around about, is there?’

  ‘Well I don’t know of anything off hand, but it’s always worth asking around. I mean there were two fellas here about six or eight months ago and they were looking for something like that. Liam Nolan sold them a real wreck of a place – couldn’t believe his luck. Didn’t think he’d ever get rid of it.’

  ‘Oh, looks as if I missed the boat then. I wonder if the people who bought it would sell it on to me. What do you think?’

  ‘It mightn’t be what you’d want though, Brendan. Where was this place, Mick? Would it be difficult for us to find?’

  ‘Ah shure if t’was meself I wouldn’t try this evening. It’s a bit up the mountain from here but, if ye had a car, then I’d say less than an hour’s drive should do it. I’ve never been there so I can’t give ye exact directions to the door as it were, but I know roughly the area. ’Tis well off the beaten track, but shouldn’t be too hard to find in the daylight. There aren’t that many places up there.’

  ‘Maybe Liam Nolan would give us the exact location.’

  ‘No chance of that, lads. As soon as he got the money he was off to Australia to join his brother.’

  ‘Oh! Well thanks anyway, Mick.’

  Aiden and Brendan were bursting to get more details: Who? How many? Had much work been done on the place? But they didn’t want to arouse suspicion by asking too many questions. They deliberately changed the subject and, as soon as possible, careful not to seem in too much of a hurry to leave, they finished their drinks and left with promises to come back and let Mick know how they got along with their quest. They ran back to where they had concealed their car, got back to the local police station as fast as they could and called Sean on the secure line. His warm response was all the reward they needed.

  ‘Well done, lads! You may have got us a vital lead and we’ll follow up at once.’

  Jack and Bertie were still out in the hills. They had left their car and walked a substantial distance around their designated surveillance area, and their highly trained powers of observation had detected nothing even remotely likely as a hideaway, however well disguised. Sean now contacted them.

  ‘We may have a lead. We could be way off the mark in every respect but it’s worth a try.’ And he gave them all the information that the others had gleaned.

  ‘Thanks, Sean. Sounds promising. Give us a map reference, close as you can, and we’ll get to the area. We’ll drop the car and go in on foot and find out what we can. We’ll report back before we do anything. The light’s going so we won’t be easily spotted.’

  ‘Okay, but…’

  ‘We know, Sean. It’s a child’s life!’

  Dear God, thought Sean, I hope we’re not barking completely up the wrong tree. We’re gambling an awful lot on pure speculation. But we’ve just got to try anything at all likely.

  * * * * *

  It had been another interminable day at Riverside. When the word came through about a possible location, hopes were raised amongst Sean’s inner circle, but they resisted the strong temptation to tell the rest of the family. Then a short time after Sean’s communication with Bertie and Jack, the long awaited, dreaded call came at last and, because it was a radio contact, the others were able to listen in.

  ‘We want one million pounds in used English notes, non-sequential numbers, mixed denominations. You’ve got until midday Tuesday.’

  This was all recorded but the muffled voice would be impossible to identify, not helped by the poor quality of the call.

  ‘That’s too short a time to get so much used sterling together in cash. It’s Sunday evening.’

  ‘You’re lucky it’s not twenty-four hours. If Milo Butler wants her alive then make sure he does it in the time!’

  Desperate to keep him on the line Sean continued.

  ‘How do we know the child’s still alive?’

  ‘We know what you’re trying to do, Sean Flynn: keep us on the line so that you can trace our location. Well you’re wasting your time. Next time we call it’ll be with the instructions for delivery. We’ll have the girl ready to speak to you, but make sure you’ve got the money. Tell Butler that his child is just about all right but not feeling too comfortable.’

  ‘We’ll do our best to get the cash but…’ The connection was broken.

  ‘They’ve gone. Milo, Noola, we’ll talk about getting the money together.’

  Up to then he hadn’t thought either of them could have looked any worse, but he was wrong. They both now looked ready to collapse.

  ‘Well at least we know now that Izzy is still alive and exactly how much they want. And I don’t care what I have to do to get the cash, I’ll get it somehow. I’m going to call our bank manager
now on your secure line, Sean, and put him in the picture. He’s a good friend and he’ll not spread the story around.’

  ‘Okay, Milo. While you’re doing that I’ll make radio contact with Jack and Bertie. They might as well come back in now.’

  He contacted the two undercover agents again and put them in the picture, finishing up:

  ‘Have you had any luck yourselves?’

  ‘No, Sean. We’ve been using our own detection equipment but nothing. We can’t do any more for the moment. They’ll have closed down and anyhow it’s almost dark. So we’ll come in now and listen again to what they said. You’ve recorded it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well maybe we’ll be more help back down there.’

  Chapter 7

  As well as being frightened, miserable and in some distress with her skin problem, Izzy was bored stiff. She had nothing to do, not even anything to read and no one to talk to. So she had ample time to work out ways of arousing the sympathy of the so-called doctor and maybe even some means of escaping from this appalling cellar. She had worked out one particular strategy which she thought would rattle him and maybe the others too. To keep herself occupied she practised some of the ploys that she thought might work.

  Like all the others, the call to the family at Riverside had been made outside the cottage to get the best chance of good signal, so she hadn’t heard it. However, when Willie got back inside and reported a successful contact, Izzy could hear what was said. She was now really adept at listening from the top of the ladder. The nasty “Bob” was clearly highly delighted.

  ‘That’ll give the stuck-up Tom Butler something to think about. A million pounds! I hope it bankrupts him – serve him right. He’ll have to sell Riverside and move into some other little place. It’ll be the biggest comedown imaginable. And I’ll get my share, won’t I?’

  ‘You’re such a big eejit, Bob. A million is probably chicken-feed to the Butlers and for God’s sake stop referring to Tom Butler – he died years ago. You can’t have forgotten that?’ He was making Willie really irritable.