by Robert Edric
‘Not Duggan’s game. Besides, why are you so interested in him all of a sudden?’
‘I’m not. I just don’t like being accused of things I’ve not done.’
‘Who’s accusing you? It’s the gyppos we’ve come to have words with. Duggan’s had plenty of his own dealings with them in the past. He told us to pass on his regards. Said he’d be catching up with them on his own account soon enough, whatever that means.’
Devlin considered the threat and consequences of everything the man had just said. Always Duggan, always there, never gone.
‘… nothing of the small matter of his slashed tyres,’ the man was saying.
Devlin hadn’t been listening.
‘The what? Whose slashed tyres?’
‘Duggan’s. Who else? Put him out of action for a week, at least. Someone stuck a knife into all four of them. Cost him a fortune to get new ones. The old ones weren’t worth patching up. And to add insult to injury, he reckons they even used one of his own fucking knives to do it. Not well pleased, I can tell you, not well pleased at all.’
‘How does he know it was his own knife?’ Devlin said.
‘Take a guess.’
‘So why hasn’t he come looking for them himself, this Duggan?’ Maria said, diverting the man from Devlin. ‘Letting you do his dirty work for him, is he?’
The man smiled at this. ‘Something like that. We said we’d sort out our own business and then let him know how everything went. Said we’d get back to him. He insisted on it. Get back to him and tell him everything we’d found, he told us. He said it was hard to know when a gyppo was lying, came that natural to them, but that they were never as clever as they liked to think they were, that they’d give something away, and that whatever that was it might be worth something to him.’
‘Sounds like a long shot to me,’ Devlin said. ‘And, like I said, with you two doing all the leg work. And in this weather. Pair of mugs, you ask me.’
‘No one did,’ the man with the lip said.
‘But feel free to look around,’ Maria told them.
Patrick and Colm had burned the stencilled sacks within an hour of their return from the Haven.
‘Already have,’ the other man said. ‘Nothing. But then they’re not here, are they? In my book, that makes this unfinished business.’ He pointed at Devlin. ‘And if I ever find out that you were in some way involved …’
The threat hung in the air like a bad smell long after the men had gone.
33
PATRICK AND COLM stayed away for the following three days. They finally returned in the middle of the night and went straight to their own trailer. Maria asleep beside him, Devlin heard the lorry but knew that nothing would be achieved by going out and confronting the brothers.
Later the following morning, he was woken by Maria. She prodded him gently in the chest with a rolled newspaper.
‘He’s been caught,’ she said as he rubbed his eyes. ‘Patrick and Colm are back. They’ve been in Lincoln and Grimsby. Something to do with selling Duggan’s stuff.’
‘What did they say about his tyres?’
‘They just laughed when I told them the fishermen had been here.’ She unrolled the paper and held the front page to him.
RUNAWAY CAPTURED.
It came as no surprise to Devlin. ‘What did he expect?’ he said. ‘It was all high hopes and no notion with that one. Where?’
‘He was on the train. The police were informed and got on at the next stop. He was back in a cell in Norwich less than an hour after you dropped him off, apparently. Some spree that turned out to be.’
The McGuires. They’d sent him to Norwich with the boy and then called the police to tell them to watch the trains.
Maria took the paper from him.
‘Does it say anything about where he was beforehand?’ he asked her.
‘Nothing. Not yet, anyway.’
The police would be questioning him now. They’d had three days. It was a local weekly paper. Perhaps the nationals had carried the news sooner. What was Egan likely to have said in those three days?
‘They’ll probably just end up taking him back to the camp and telling him not to do it again,’ Devlin said, but with little conviction. Others would also now be considering the likely consequences of whatever Egan might reveal.
‘They’re not happy,’ Maria said. ‘Patrick and Colm.’ She sat with her back to him, looking out over the empty compound.
Devlin noticed a note in her voice he hadn’t heard before. She’d spoken to her brothers before coming to him, and he saw by the way she avoided looking at him now that she’d made up her own mind before she’d woken him.
‘They’ve already decided, haven’t they?’ he said to her.
‘They want you to go.’ She turned to face him, but still nothing in her voice spoke in his favour. He’d been there seven weeks and it was beginning to feel like a settled life to Devlin.
‘Egan won’t say much,’ he said. ‘Besides, the police were here – they won’t want it getting out that they didn’t do their job properly, that your brothers got one over on them.’
‘That we got one over on them,’ she said. It was more than enough.
‘Does Patrick—’
‘Patrick thinks they’d be only too happy to come back here and keep looking and looking until they found something, anything.’
It was why the brothers had been away for so long, leaving Devlin and their sister alone to face what might come. Had she, too, understood that much, at least?
‘The boy will just be happy to get back to the camp while he’s still a juvenile,’ he said. Everything now was a failed hope.
‘They’re waiting to see you,’ Maria said eventually, leaving him where he lay and going to stand at the sink.
‘And what about you?’
‘What about me?’ A final rebuttal.
‘If I left …’ He waited, but she said nothing.
‘If you left, what?’ she said eventually.
‘You know what.’
She shook her head. ‘This is my home,’ she said. ‘They’re my only family.’ It was the simple, blunt and unassailable end to everything he might say to her. ‘They told me to tell you to go to them when you woke.’
‘If the boy had said anything over the past few days the police would be here by now.’
‘Or they could just be biding their time.’ Patrick talking.
‘They’re watching their own backs,’ he said. Just like they always did. Just like Egan was now probably doing. ‘Where does that leave me?’
She shrugged and the simple gesture was another blow to him. There was nothing left for him to know or to learn or to understand.
He climbed out of bed and got dressed. Maria gave him a mug of tea. There was no food.
After sitting in silence for several minutes, Devlin left her and went to the brothers.
Colm’s face appeared at the window as he approached and then the door was pushed open for him.
‘She shown you, then?’ Patrick said as soon as Devlin was inside. ‘Bad news all round, you ask me.’ He grinned as he said it.
‘You tipped the police off,’ Devlin said simply.
‘What?’ Colm said, looking from Devlin to his brother.
‘You got no proof of that,’ Patrick said. ‘Besides, why would I do that? You know where I stand with the coppers.’
‘Save your breath,’ Devlin said. ‘You just say what suits you and what you want people to hear.’
‘So?’ Patrick said.
Colm stood between Devlin and his brother.
‘The police would have been here already if they were coming,’ Devlin said uncertainly.
Patrick pushed him aside, causing him to collide with the wall and then stumble in the tight space. ‘Of course the police are coming. The kid will lead them back here one way or another. And if not the kid, then the blokes from Lynn. And if not them, then don’t forget that Duggan himself still has a few scores to set
tle.’
‘All of which—’ Devlin began to say.
‘All of which,’ Patrick shouted at him, ‘are pointed at us on account of you being here.’
It was beyond Devlin to argue the point. Nothing he said now would convince the brothers of anything except what they already believed.
‘We’ve been doing bits and pieces with Ray Duggan for ten years,’ Patrick said. ‘If he wasn’t pissed off at us, then the Lynn men would never have found their way to us. And that little bastard from the borstal probably only came here because he knew you from the drainage work. It all adds up, see? It all adds up and it all points in one single fucking direction – towards you. Let’s face it, we’ve had nothing but trouble since the day you showed up. As far as I’m concerned, Duggan sending the Lynn blokes was the last straw.’
‘You were the ones who stole the sacks,’ Devlin shouted at Patrick. All wasted breath.
‘Prove it,’ Patrick said. ‘All I know is that you turned up and showed us where everything was ready for the taking. You’d been nicking the things for years. All you needed from us was a bit of muscle. You’d worked on the boats years ago and so you knew the score.’ He smiled again as he said this. Perhaps he was only just working all this out and was surprised by his own cleverness.
‘And the guard from the camp,’ Colm said. ‘Why was he here?’
‘That was nothing to do with the boy,’ Devlin said.
‘Not how it’ll look to the police,’ Patrick said. ‘Perhaps you and him were all part of the kid’s plan.’
‘How?’
‘I’m just saying, that’s all. All the police will see is a connection. Let them start to work it all out. They’re good at putting two and two together and coming up with whatever suits them best.’
‘You ought to just go,’ Colm said.
‘That’s exactly what he is going to do,’ Patrick said. ‘Because sooner or later somebody’s going to come back here looking and—’
‘And you’ll point them at me to save your own skins,’ Devlin said.
‘Do I look worried to you?’ Patrick said. ‘And, like I already told you, we’ve had a handy little arrangement with Duggan for years now. Honestly, who do you think he’s going to want to listen to, to believe?’ He paused, still pleased with himself. ‘You know your trouble – you don’t listen to people, you don’t work things out before you jump in with both feet. You think you’re clever, but you’re not. Not really. Not clever clever.’
‘Duggan knows exactly what you are,’ Devlin said.
‘Of course he does. Just as we know exactly what he is. That’s what I’m trying to tell you, but you’re still not listening. Besides, last time we saw Duggan he could hardly see beyond those slashed tyres of his.’
‘Why did you do that?’ Devlin said.
Patrick shrugged. ‘Because it was the least the bastard deserved.’
‘And because Duggan would think it was me.’
Another shrug. ‘He certainly knew you’d got his knife. Look on the bright side – at least he got that back. Probably wondering right now where to stick it next.’
‘He’ll soon enough—’
‘What – work things out for himself? So what? He might work it out, know it was us, and then still consider it more worth his while to go on blaming you. You still stole all his stuff, remember? You think we’re scared of an old man like Ray Duggan? Men like Duggan, their time’s been and gone.’ He paused again. ‘A bit like yours, really. You should seriously consider making tracks if you don’t want to be caught here when any of this turns up back on your doorstep. All I’m doing here is looking out for my brother and sister. All you’re doing is making things ten times worse for any of us, yourself included. Tell you what, I’ll do you a favour – if Duggan does come here I’ll tell him you’re long gone, been gone for days. I’ll tell him you’ve gone to London. He’ll go looking in a lot of places, Duggan, but I doubt he’ll go there. And I’ll tell the coppers that you and the boy planned to meet up down there, having gone your separate ways to get there.’
It was all starting to sound too plausible to Devlin. He saw what a trap Patrick had laid for him and how easily and blindly he had wandered into it.
He looked around him. The caravan was in disarray as usual; it seemed hardly to have changed since his first visit there.
‘You owe me,’ he said to Patrick. ‘Duggan’s stuff. The boatyard.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Patrick said. ‘Besides, as far as I’m concerned, you only told us about Duggan’s stuff to get your feet under the table here.’
‘Leave Maria out of it,’ Devlin said.
Patrick held up his palms. ‘Glad to. But I can see by your face that you’re even starting to have your doubts in that direction now. Perhaps all we ever wanted of her was to keep you happy until everything started to work out in our favour.’
‘You’re lying,’ Devlin said.
‘Perhaps, but you’ll never know for certain, not now that you’re going.’ He thought of something. ‘A bit like that kid you’re supposed to have had and the doting father bringing it up as his own. Chickens coming home to roost, I’d call it.’
Devlin went closer to him, his fists clenched.
Patrick saw this. ‘I’d think again, if I were you. Perhaps I got a knife even bigger than Duggan’s stuck down my belt. And here’s something else you probably never even thought of – perhaps the police were watching Norwich station. Perhaps they saw who dropped the boy off there.’
It was unlikely; the police would have been back long before now if they’d seen Devlin. But it was something else to add to the growing weight of his own lost argument.
Patrick held up his watch. ‘Clock’s ticking,’ he said. ‘Perhaps the police have already been tipped off about where you are right now. And perhaps it would suit me and Colm down to the ground to be able to help them make their arrest and then to let everyone know how surprised we are that you’re involved in any of this. Especially when all we’d ever done was to extend the hand of friendship to you after Duggan kicked you out and you were down on your luck. If only we’d known what trouble you were bringing to our door.’
It was the last option remaining to Devlin.
‘I’ll go,’ he said. ‘But you still owe me.’
‘Owe you?’ Patrick shouted, a spray of spittle covering Devlin’s face. ‘What you’re owed is Duggan getting tipped off and finding you all alone one cold dark night, that’s what you’re owed.’
‘That works both ways,’ Devlin said.
Patrick laughed at the empty threat. ‘What, you think the stuff’s still in the boathouse? It’s not been there for weeks. It was there for a few days and then it went somewhere else. First you and Duggan knew where it was, then you and we knew where it was, and now only we know. Like I said, you’re not anywhere near as clever as you like to think you are.’
Meaning Patrick would tell Duggan that they had no idea where everything had been taken, that only Devlin knew. There was a trap laid out in every direction he turned.
Patrick tapped the face of his watch again. ‘I can see you’re struggling to come to terms with all this bad news and that you’re probably trying to work out what to do next. Trouble is, you need time for that. Time, and for all these other men to be as far behind you as possible. Keep Duggan and the police guessing – that would be my plan. Get as far away from here as you can and then keep your mouth tight shut. See that little bastard from the borstal – how far was he ever going to get shouting his mouth off to everybody who’d listen? The best thing that was ever going to happen to him was that he’d get to London, have his few minutes in the limelight and then lose the lot – and I mean everything – because it was what somebody somewhere decided was best. The sorry little bastard didn’t have the first idea what he was letting himself in for.’
Just like me, Devlin thought.
Outside, a car came towards the compound entrance, but then drove on without stopping.
Devlin took several paces towards the door. He exchanged a glance with Colm, who bowed his head slightly and then looked back up at him. ‘He’s right,’ he said, and then pushed the door open.
Devlin went outside, pulled the door shut behind him, and looked across to where Maria was watching him from the window of their own caravan. A bag lay on the step. She waited a moment and then let the curtain fall slowly between them.
34
HE STOOD BEHIND Skelton’s house overlooking the drain and the embankment beyond. He’d been there since dawn, watching and waiting. A small herd of cattle came to the wire of a neighbouring paddock and gathered close to where he stood, made inquisitive and nervous by his presence, steam clouding the air above their mud-caked bodies.
At seven Skelton came out carrying a coal scuttle, went to the outhouse and then returned to the house. Smoke rose from the chimney and lights came on. Devlin heard the woman’s voice, a radio, singing. He wore two pairs of gloves and his fingers were still cold, deep in his pockets.
He’d spent the fortnight since leaving the compound in an empty prefab on the outskirts of Kirton. There were eight of the buildings, all empty since the war. The power and water were long gone, but the simple structure was mostly dry and mostly windproof. There was a table, a chair, a bed, and cracked linoleum on most of the floor.
The smell of cooking came to him on the still air.
Thirty minutes later both Skelton and his wife came out and the woman waited, her arms wrapped around herself, while her husband struggled to start his lorry. After ten minutes the engine was finally running and Skelton drove off. His wife watched him go, waving until he was out of sight.
