by Zoe Sharp
Outside, the wind whipped through my shirt and made me wish I’d put my jacket back on, despite the gorgeous weather. Jamie was still clinging miserably to the railing and there, alongside him, was Sean.
Sean turned to meet me as I approached. He smiled, and I wanted to run and throw myself into his arms. Aware of the audience from inside the lounge – not to mention Jamie – I contented myself with an answering smile.
“Surprise, surprise,” I said with admirable cool. I nodded to the leathers. “I didn’t know you still had a bike.”
“I don’t, but one of the guys who works for me does and as a) he’s out of the country at the moment, and b) I’m his boss,” he said, counting the points off on his fingers, “he’s generously agreed to lend me his Super Blackbird for the weekend.”
“Wow,” I said. “He must really like his job.”
Sean grinned. “Yeah, he does.”
Jamie chose that moment to start to heave and Sean and I both instinctively stepped back. “Unless you really want to watch the kid trying to turn his stomach inside out, I would suggest we take a walk,” Sean murmured. “Where are the others?”
“First Class lounge,” I said nodding to the windows as we moved round the corner, more towards the side of the boat. “William wangled it or I’d invite you in.”
“Madeleine sorted my ticket,” Sean said, smiling. “I’m already in.”
I waited a beat. “What are you doing here, Sean?”
“Watching your back,” he said. His eyes flipped down to my thin shirt. “Although, in this breeze, your front looks pretty good, too.”
I folded my arms across my chest, defensive. “Be serious.”
His face sobered. “I am being serious – about your back, I mean,” he said quietly.
He glanced across but Jamie was out of sight and undoubtedly too preoccupied to be even thinking about listening in. And besides, the wind was whipping our words away over the stern as soon as they were spoken.
“We think we might have made some headway but that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Sean said. “Madeleine’s being doing some searches on our friend Eamonn and it turns out he moves in some very nasty circles.”
Eamonn’s words when he’d first laid eyes on Sean came back to me in a cold rush. Now that wouldn’t be a bastard squaddie I can smell, would it? Seen plenty of your type . . .
“He’s connected to the IRA?” I said, tense.
Sean ducked his head in a ‘maybe, maybe not’ gesture. “More likely the other side of the sectarian divide,” he said. “Our intelligence suggests good old Eamonn Garroway is just an old-fashioned thug, but you can’t operate in Northern Ireland without the knowledge and tacit approval of the paramilitaries – regardless of your politics. The bad news is, he’s heavily into the drugs trade.”
“Shit,” I murmured, my eyes straying to Jamie again. “We were afraid of something like that.”
“Quite,” Sean said, letting his voice drawl. “You see now why I thought you might be glad of some back-up on this one?”
“Yeah,” I said, giving him a wry smile. “But I’m glad to see you anyway, Sean – not just for that reason.”
He raised an eyebrow, momentarily lost for words, then he laughed softly, shaken. “Well, that’s progress, I think,” he said.
Impulsively, I moved in closer so I could take some shelter from his body. He only hesitated a fraction then put his arm round my shoulders and pulled me in closer still. I tilted my head against his chest and we stood like that for a long time without the need to say anything further, watching the foaming white line of wake stretching out behind us from the ferry’s twin hulls.
I could feel the heat of him seeping into my bones but it wasn’t just a physical warmth. It felt good just to be near him, whatever my father’s doom-ridden predictions.
Nevertheless, the memory of those words chilled me. I broke away, turned to face Sean a little. I’d forgotten how good he looked in leathers, dark and dangerous, with the wind tousling his hair. I swallowed, forced myself to concentrate.
“Did Madeleine manage to dig out anything on Isobel?” I asked, peering round the corner of the superstructure to check on Jamie. He was still where we’d left him, slumped onto the rail now, eyes shut, but at least he had more colour. Being his bodyguard, I reasoned, just meant ensuring he didn’t fall over the side. It didn’t mean I had to go and mop up after him.
“Some,” Sean said easily. “She’s not averse to walking a thin line when it comes to the law.”
“So maybe that receiving charge against Jacob was more down to his wife at the time,” I said.
Sean nodded. “I think you could be right,” he admitted. “She’s been living with Eamonn – or off him, actually – for the past two years.”
I frowned. “I always got the impression that she was the one with the money.”
“On paper, yes,” Sean agreed. “It’s a case of being asset rich but cash poor. She’s got plenty of property but it’s tied in to long-term leases. She’s also got a portfolio of stuff that’s up for redevelopment and will be worth something in the future but is worth bugger all now. Less than that, in fact, because she bought high and prices have temporarily fallen back. If this divorce from Jacob goes ahead and she has to pay him off any time soon, she’s going to be financially crippled.”
“Surely they won’t still have to divide everything up now, will they – not after all this time?” I said.
Sean shrugged. “Makes no difference how long they’ve been apart,” he said. “Assets are divided at the time of divorce, not separation.”
I recalled my last conversation with Clare at the hospital. “Do you think that might be the reason Jamie got himself in deep enough water that he had to go to Clare for money?” I asked. “If his mother’s in debt, he might have thought that getting tangled up with Eamonn’s business would somehow help get her out of it?”
“But instead he’s got himself into a bigger mess,” Sean finished for me.
“Mm. Clare said he’d got himself in over his head and I assumed – or rather, she let me assume – that she was talking about the Devil’s Bridge Club. But she also said it wasn’t those lads who were the problem, but whoever was after them.”
“I wonder what she meant by that,” Sean murmured, almost to himself. “Why would Eamonn be after them? What have they done?”
“Maybe nothing yet,” I said. “Maybe it’s what they’re planning on doing on this trip. Could it be a territorial thing, do you think?”
“Could be,” Sean said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Everything we’ve dug up on Eamonn suggests he’s highly territorial.” He shrugged. “Has to be, I suppose.”
“Is that really enough of a reason to kill Slick, badly injure Clare and then Sam, and have a go at me as well?” I said. “Bit drastic, isn’t it?”
Sean fixed me with a look. “This is Eamonn we’re talking about.”
I remembered the venom and the easy violence the Irishman had displayed that day at Jacob and Clare’s. “Good point,” I said. “And well made.”
“Hmm, I thought so,” he said, giving me a lazy smile that died away as his own memories of the same incident surfaced. His face grew hard and just as ruthless as Eamonn’s, in its own way. “Just goes to show,” he said with a smile that did nothing to warm up his words, “you should have let me finish him while I had the chance.”
***
When Jamie had recovered enough to prise himself away from the railing, the three of us went back inside together. As we moved into the main cabin I got that same watched feeling down my spine and paused, scanning the crowd again.
“What is it?” Sean asked.
“I just can’t help getting the feeling somebody’s keeping an eye on us,” I muttered. “It’s probably just me being paranoid.”
“I don’t think so,” Sean said. “You go ahead. I think I’ll do a quick recce.”
When Jamie and I walked back into First Class, the others
turned and looked at us.
“Can’t leave him alone, eh, Charlie?” William said. “We saw you out there.”
“Who’s the guy?” Daz asked quietly. He’d gone very still, the way some people do when they’re very angry. He was staring intently at me.
“That’s Sean,” I said carefully. “I work for him. I didn’t know he was coming and I didn’t invite him.” But I’m bloody glad he’s here.
“You work for him?” Tess said with scorn in her voice. “Looking at the two of you I bet I can guess what form the interview took.”
“I bet you can’t,” I bit back.
I still had the two spent 9mm rounds I’d put myself in the path of to save Sean’s life. Two slightly flattened copper mushrooms. I had them with me now, in fact. They were in the top pocket of my leather jacket like some kind of good luck charm, but I wasn’t about to show them to her.
“What’s he riding?” Daz wanted to know.
“A mate’s lent him a Blackie,” I said.
William raised his eyebrows. “I say, steady on old girl,” he drawled, exaggerating his educated accent. “Don’t want to offend the coloured chappies, what?”
“OK – it’s a Honda CBR1100XX Super Blackbird,” I said and he grinned at me.
“Well, the bike should be quick enough, but what about the rider?” Daz said.
“Hang on a minute. That’s not the point,” Paxo snapped. “The rest of us had to earn our place on this trip.” He let his gaze skate over Tess with hardly a flicker. “We can’t just let someone muscle in on—”
“But that is just the point,” Daz cut in. “He looks like muscle and maybe we could do with some of that, hmm? It doesn’t mean he has to be part of anything, does it?”
“Part of what?” I said.
I almost think they’d forgotten I was there. They fell into silence that went on long enough that I was just about to growl in frustration when Jamie piped up.
“You said Sean was your boss,” he said suddenly, as though he’d only just caught up with that part of the conversation. “Does that mean he’s in close protection, too?”
I nodded, glancing round at the others, but only Tess looked surprised at this bit of news. He’d obviously told the rest of them something of the conversation we’d had outside the hospital, when I’d first broken the news to Jamie that Clare wanted me to bodyguard him. Daz’s face took on a shrewd air of calculation.
“There you go,” he said, as if that settled things. “Like I said – this boy could be useful.”
Any further discussion on the subject was cut short by the arrival of Sean himself. He picked up on the atmosphere as soon as he came into the room but didn’t comment on it. On the surface he seemed friendly and relaxed. I was probably the only one who spotted the tell-tale minute shift in stance, the slight narrowing of those coal-black eyes. And then only because I was expecting to see the almost negligible controlled reaction.
Daz sat back in his chair and studied Sean as he approached, head on one side. “So you’re Sean Meyer,” he said, his voice rippling with undercurrents. “We’ve been hearing a lot about you.”
“Really?” Sean said easily. “Well, same applies.”
Daz looked momentarily discomfited, then he smiled slightly. “I understand you’re in the same line of work as Charlie here.”
“That’s right.”
“So, you’ve been to Ireland before? Only, I expect we could do with someone who knows his way around, so to speak.”
Jamie, silent until this point, started to protest, as well he might. Daz’s words were an insult to his own local knowledge – if you took them purely at face value. But Daz had been talking between the lines and he silenced Jamie with a single barbed glance.
“I’ve spent a little time over the other side of the water, yes,” Sean said then, softly. “I reckon I know my way around fairly well.”
Daz nodded, as if that was the answer he’d been expecting, more or less.
“OK,” he said, giving Sean a sudden dazzling smile. “You’re in.”
Paxo made a sound of disgust at this apparent capitulation, which was echoed by Jamie. William just sat, his broad face impassive, as though he had no opinion on the subject one way or another.
“You can’t do that, Daz,” Tess said, sounding furious. “You can’t just—”
“I think you’ll find I can do anything I like,” Daz said. “Everybody needs everybody else, here.”
Tess gave a noisy sigh, shot to her feet and stormed out. Her flouncy exit was somewhat spoiled by a sudden lurch from the ship, which gave her a drunken stagger halfway to the door.
Ignoring the reactions, Daz leaned across the table and nonchalantly offered Sean his hand to shake. After only a fractional hesitation, Sean took it. Their eyes met and something seemed to pass between them, some unspoken message I didn’t fully catch or follow. But when Sean turned away he was frowning.
The boys had obviously ordered food while we’d been outside and the first of it was brought out at that point. Jamie lost some of his newly-acquired colour but managed to stay in his seat while they tucked in.
The conversation turned general while they ate. Daz gave Paxo grief for stuffing his face with chips and a non-diet soft drink. “Have you any idea how much sugar there is in one can of that stuff, mate?”
Paxo broke into a smile for once. “Good job I’ve got a metabolism that can burn it off quick then,” he said, undeterred.
“Yeah, won’t stop you becoming diabetic, though, will it?” Daz said. “Just wait until someone has to jab a needle full of insulin into your arse every morning and see how you like that.”
“Mate, I tell you, that’s about the only thing I would let anyone jab into my arse!”
They all laughed. Sean sat with his forearms resting on the table and his fingers linked together, watching them interact without joining in. It was as though he was conducting some kind of silent assessment. He used to do that with his trainees when he was an instructor. Without a hint of it showing on his features, he’d always been able to convey the impression that we were all somehow falling short of his expectations.
He was doing the same thing now and I could see they were all aware of it. A couple of times Daz met Sean’s gaze in direct challenge, but he was the only one of them who did.
“I suppose I’d better go try and placate Tess,” Daz said with a show of reluctance when they’d all finished. He got up and strolled out.
“Have you been to Ireland before, Charlie?” Jamie asked when he’d gone. It was the first time he’d addressed me directly since we’d set off and I turned to him trying to hide my surprise.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I was booked to come once, but the trip was cancelled.”
It was supposed to have been my first posting when I came out of Special Forces training. Straight into the thick of it in Shankhill. The army were conducting surveillance operations throughout the six counties and, much as they hated to admit it, women were more effective, more unobtrusive, than some big hairy squaddie who, especially in the favoured civvy garb of jeans and tan Cat boots and a bomber jacket, stood out a mile for what he was.
So although I’d never set foot there I knew a lot about Northern Ireland, but the wrong things. I knew about the soldiers killed at Warrenpoint, about the skirmishes in Newry and the running battles on the Bogside. If I dredged my memory I could probably still tell you which parts of Belfast were safe and which were no go areas. Not quite what the Tourist Board had in mind.
And, now I came to think about it, I couldn’t help a prickle of unease about going there as a civilian.
***
If there was one thing the Devil’s Bridge Club didn’t do on the ferry crossing, it was sit still in one place for any length of time. Paxo announced he was going to try his luck on the slot machines he’d noticed in the bar and Jamie went with him. Sean went out shortly afterwards and although he didn’t say anything I knew he was still hoping to spot who
ever was keeping an eye on us. Daz still hadn’t returned with Tess, so that left me and William. And I wasn’t quick enough.
“I think I’ll just go and see if I can find myself a good paperback in the shop,” he said. “You don’t mind staying and keeping an eye on our gear, do you, Charlie?”
Resigned, I shook my head and found myself alone in a sea of lids and backpacks.
The First Class lounge had a selection of newspapers and I grabbed one of those, scanning the headlines without too much interest. The next time I glanced outside, Daz and Sean were standing talking by the aft rail.
Actually, ‘talking’ was too mild a way of putting it. Sean was standing with his arms folded and his head on one side, listening intently, and Daz seemed to be pleading with him about something. There was no way I could hear what they were saying but I stared intently, knowing the dark tint on the cabin windows would mean they couldn’t see in.
