Winterland

by Alan Glynn

  ‘Listen,’ Vaughan says, ‘I don’t know if you’re free, but … would you care to join us?’

  She seems to consider this for a moment. But given the circumstances there’s nothing really to consider.

  ‘Yes, Mr Vaughan. I would. Thank you.’

  ‘Mr? Oh come now, Gina,’ the old man says, tilting his head in Norton’s direction. ‘If he’s Paddy then I’m Jimmy. I insist.’

  ‘OK. Jimmy.’

  ‘Wonderful.’ He smiles again. ‘So, let’s go. There’s a car waiting outside.’

  He extends an arm, which Gina takes.

  ‘Now, young lady,’ he says, ‘you must tell me all about yourself.’

  ‘Oh sure. Well, where to begin? I ran the State Department under FDR …’

  Vaughan laughs at this, and as they start to move towards the exit, Gina glances over at Norton.

  ‘What’s the matter, Paddy? You’re not listening to me.’

  ‘I am, Ray, but come on, let’s go.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Sullivan says. ‘In a minute. Now take it easy, will you?’

  Norton watches as Vaughan whispers something to his minder and then disappears with Gina through the revolving doors.

  The minder walks over, informs Sullivan that Mr Vaughan will meet them at Richmond Dock in twenty minutes.

  ‘OK, Phil,’ Sullivan says, ‘thanks.’

  The minder turns and leaves.

  ‘Yeah, so, er … it’s two per cent, or two and a half, three tops, but the point is it’s doable.’

  ‘Whatever, Ray. Can we go now?’

  ‘Take it easy. We’re going.’

  Outside, as they climb into the back of a silver Merc, Sullivan asks about the girl.

  ‘She’s just … the sister of a … a colleague,’ Norton says. He doesn’t want to get into it.

  Though he is going to have to do something here.

  Sullivan laughs, and Norton looks at him. ‘What?’

  ‘Jimmy. He’s fucking incorrigible. Chasing skirt at his age? He can’t resist a pretty face. The man’s had four wives, and who knows how many affairs.’

  They’re on Nassau Street.

  Norton stares out the window. The other car can’t be too far ahead.

  What could they possibly be talking about?

  As the Merc glides onto College Green, Norton begins to feel a thumping in his chest and stomach. He’s used to feelings of anxiety, but this is a level – almost of panic – that he’s unfamiliar with.

  ‘Look, Ray,’ he says, staring straight ahead, unsure what he’s about to say next – and surprised when he hears the words coming out of his mouth – ‘I think she might be dangerous.’

  ‘Oh, that’s the kind he likes. He comes over all old-school, but believe me, deep down he’s really –’

  ‘No, no, I mean dangerous, a threat, security-wise. I’m not sure that she’s quite … stable.’ Once he starts he can’t stop. ‘She has a history. She … she’s been sort of, well, more or less stalking me, and making claims, outrageous stuff.’

  ‘What? Jesus Christ,’ Sullivan says. He pulls out his mobile phone. ‘Is she a psycho? Who the fuck is she?’

  Norton explains. He mentions about Noel, and adds that she’s possibly delusional, paranoid, deranged with grief. This is the best he can manage by way of a pre-emptive strike.

  Sullivan has the phone up to his ear. ‘Phil? Yeah. Woman you’ve got there in the car with you? Keep an eye on her. When you arrive, don’t let them out of your sight. Stick close by the old man. We’ll be there a few minutes after you.’

  He closes the phone.

  ‘Jesus,Paddy,’ he says. ‘If this bitch pulls anything, I swear I’ll …’ He sighs. ‘Christ. How did you let this happen?’

  ‘You took me aside,’ Norton says. ‘You distracted me. And anyway, I’m the one she has the problem with, and I don’t think …’

  But Sullivan isn’t listening. ‘Hey, driver,’ he’s saying, ‘step on it there, would you?’

  They turn onto Custom House Quay.

  Norton wonders if this Phil in the car up ahead is armed.

  ‘… so we’re in this hotel suite, at the Plaza I think, and I’m left standing there waiting. Bobby’s in front of me, shirtsleeves rolled up, on the phone. He’s pacing back and forth. Behind him, at a table, five or six aides are sorting through campaign leaflets. One of them is working a telex machine. TV’s on in the corner.’

  Gina nods along, finding this more than a little bizarre. In 1960, her parents had just moved to Dolanstown, part of the city’s new suburban frontier. Noel was still a baby, with no sisters. She herself – his fourth sister – wouldn’t be born for another fifteen years.

  ‘On the far side of the room,’ Vaughan continues, ‘there’s a closed door. It opens, just slightly, and Jack appears. He lingers in the doorway and straightens his tie. He looks as if he’s still talking to someone in the room he’s just come out of. Then Bobby goes over to him, holding the receiver to his chest, and as they’re speaking the door opens a little further, and who do I catch a glimpse of? Sitting at a vanity table? Looking into the mirror, applying lipstick?’ Vaughan laughs. ‘My goddamned wife is who.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘My first wife, that is,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘Though not for long, of course.’

  Gina stares at Vaughan, intrigued, but also wondering if she’s going to get a word in edgeways, and what it will be if she does.

  ‘Anyway, the penny soon drops and all of a sudden Bobby starts waving his arms about. Then in seconds flat the door is slammed shut and I’m being scuttled out of the room.’ He laughs again. ‘Six months later I’m at the Treasury.’

  ‘Incredible.’

  ‘Yeah, I laugh about it now, but at the time … boy.’

  Her opportunity comes a couple of moments later when the building looms into view.

  ‘So,’ she says, pointing ahead, ‘how big a stake?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘You said you have a stake in Richmond Plaza. How big is it?’

  Vaughan stiffens. She can see that he’s a little taken aback by the directness of this. He turns to look at her, and hesitates, holding her gaze, as though trying to calculate something.

  Gina is nervous now, and acutely aware of the two men up front.

  But it seems to be OK.

  ‘Fifteen per cent,’ Vaughan says eventually, still holding her gaze. ‘Of course, we have Amcan, too, as the anchor tenant.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘It’s going to be their European headquarters.’ He pauses. ‘Ray Sullivan? Tall guy back at the hotel? He’s their CEO. Good man.’

  ‘I see,’ she says again, nodding her head.

  ‘And I don’t know if you know it,’ Vaughan continues, almost in a whisper now, as though telling her something intimate, ‘but we’re changing the name as well.’

  ‘Oh?’ she says, matching his whisper. ‘I didn’t know. What to?’

  He whisks a hand through the air in front of her, conjures it up. ‘The Amcan Building.’

  ‘Of course,’ Gina says. ‘The Amcan Building, what else?’

  She is suddenly irritated, and unable to hide it.

  Vaughan stiffens again. ‘Well, it was a strategic decision –’

  ‘Oh, I’ve no doubt,’ she interrupts him. ‘None at all. But the thing is, Jimmy, what’s happening now? I mean, you’re here, and this Ray Sullivan is here.’

  ‘So?’

  She shrugs. ‘The big guns are in town.’

  It’s as if she’s thinking out loud.

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that, Gina. I wouldn’t exactly –’

  ‘And everyone’s on their best behaviour. Or supposed to be.’

  Vaughan furrows his brow. He’s irritated now, too – she can see it. He’s confused by her tone, and at the same time put out that their flirty little exchange has gone flat.

  She needs to be more careful.

  What’s to stop Vaughan from havi
ng her thrown out of the car before they hook up again with Paddy Norton?

  ‘I’m just sorry,’ she then says, turning to him, ‘that my brother can’t be here.’

  She feels her face going red.

  ‘Of course, of course.’

  It’s funny, Gina thinks, how you can be lying to someone and telling them the truth at the same time.

  The car pulls up at Richmond Plaza.

  Before the second car – the silver Merc – has come to a complete stop alongside the kerb, Ray Sullivan is reaching over to get the door open.

  He climbs out.

  Norton waits. From where he is, he can see Gina Rafferty and Jimmy Vaughan standing in the middle of the concourse at the foot of the building. Phil is a few feet behind them. Vaughan is pointing upwards and Gina is nodding. They seem to be having a reasonable, normal sort of conversation. It’s just not obvious what they are saying exactly, what she is saying.

  Norton slides across the seat to the open door of the car. He gets out. The driver closes the door behind him.

  It’s cold today and quite breezy, but not unpleasantly so. As he stands on the pavement, Norton watches Ray Sullivan hurry over to join the little grouping in the middle of the concourse.

  Waiting on the far side of it, at the entranceway to Richmond Plaza, there is a second little grouping – two men and a woman. This is the reception committee he has organised for the visit. It consists of the project manager, Norton’s own director of development and his senior operations manager. They are all wearing yellow hard hats and protective jackets. Over to the left, in front of the wooden hoarding, a few construction workers are standing around watching the scene unfold.

  The one incongruous element in all of this, however, the one thing that makes Norton feel like he’s in the middle of an anxiety dream – the middle of a nightmare – is the presence of Gina Rafferty.

  He walks to the centre of the concourse, a little unsteadily, almost as though he’s drunk. He doesn’t feel as frantic as he did earlier, which is good. But maybe that’s because he surreptitiously popped another three Nalprox tablets in the car as they were approaching Richmond Dock, and as Sullivan was occupied with his BlackBerry.

  ‘Ah, Paddy,’ Vaughan says, holding an arm out in a gesture of welcome to Norton. ‘Come along, come along. I was just saying to Gina here … when I was a kid, do you know who my heroes were?’

  Norton shakes his head.

  ‘Not Batman, not Superman, not Buck Rogers, no, no, the labourers who built the Empire State, that’s who, the “sky boys” they were called.’ He waves a hand in mid-air. ‘Those young fellas in overalls, you know, the ones who stood on bare girders a thousand feet above the sidewalks of Manhattan.’

  ‘That so?’

  ‘Oh yeah. Man, those guys were incredible.’

  Norton nods his head, thinking, How does this old fucker do it? If I had half his energy …

  He glances around.

  Standing very close to Vaughan now, right next to him, is Ray Sullivan. Phil has moved in a little closer, too.

  Gina is standing there, slightly apart from the others, in her leather jacket – exposed, vulnerable.

  He tries to catch her attention, but she won’t look him in the eye.

  What is she thinking?

  ‘You see a part of the problem,’ Vaughan is saying, ‘I think, is that people don’t get the romance of it anymore, the romance of the skyscraper.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Not in the States anyway, because we’re jaded, we’ve done it already.’

  ‘Done what?’ Gina says, her tone hard to gauge.

  ‘Look,’ Vaughan says, ‘you’ve got the Woolworth Building, the Wrigley Building.’ He checks them off on the fingers of an outstretched hand. ‘Tribune Tower, the Chrysler, the Empire State, on and on, the World Trade, Sears, whatever the next one’s going to be. No one cares anymore. But what’s happening now in Dublin, with this,’ he throws an arm upwards, in a voilà flourish, ‘well,it makes the whole thing exciting again. It’s like a return to those earlier days, it’s like … what is it Fitzgerald calls it? A fresh, green breast of the new world?’

  ‘Though of course,’ Gina says, ‘in reverse.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Well, it is like the frontier, I suppose, except that this time you’re heading east, back across the ocean.’ She pauses. ‘I just hope for your sake, Jimmy, that you’re not in for too much of a shock.’

  Vaughan gives a little shake of his head. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask our friend Paddy here?’

  Norton’s insides turn.

  ‘Ask him what? I don’t …’

  He stops.

  There is a long tense silence, broken only by the hum of passing traffic, the sound of a distant pneumatic drill, the intermittent whistling of the wind blowing in now from the Irish Sea.

  ‘Please, Gina,’ Norton says eventually, ‘for God’s sake, you shouldn’t be out like this –’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You’re not well, we know that, and –’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your doctor, he’s advised –’

  She leans forward. ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ Ray Sullivan says, stepping forward, arm outstretched, ‘enough already. Come on, miss, whoever the hell you are.’

  Gina recoils. ‘Get away from me.’

  Sullivan stops. ‘Phil?’ he says, quietly, over his shoulder.

  ‘What’s this?’ Vaughan asks. ‘What’s going on?’

  Phil steps forward. Sullivan turns and stands in front of Vaughan, blocking his view.

  ‘It’s nothing, Jimmy,’ he says. ‘Let me handle it.’

  Norton stares at Gina. ‘Don’t make a scene,’ he says. ‘It’s not worth it.’

  Phil approaches her. ‘Come on, lady,’ he says, holding out an arm. ‘Let’s go to the car.’

  She pulls away again. ‘Don’t you touch me.’

  Norton swallows. Sullivan looks around. They’re very exposed here, but –

  All very quickly, it happens. Phil lunges for Gina. It’s like a rugby tackle. He goes for her waist. He tries to restrain her by binding her arms together inside his own and then lowering her to the ground. But she manages to get one arm free and to wallop him on the side of the head a couple of times. The extra leverage this gives her causes Phil to lose his balance. Locked together in a wrestle, they turn and fall.

  Norton looks on in horror.

  Still trying to block Vaughan’s view, Sullivan catches a glimpse, over his shoulder, of what is happening.

  ‘Paddy,’ he says, ‘Jesus, do something.’

  But Norton is paralysed. He watches Phil and Gina struggle on the ground, hears grunting, heavy breathing, is aware, too, on the edge of his vision, of an alarmed stirring – one or two of the construction workers rushing forward, the reception committee in sudden disarray.

  Then there is a sharp, loud crack. It is followed by a single, brief yelp of pain. The construction workers pull back, as though reacting to the force of an explosion. The two bodies on the ground prise apart. Phil rolls sideways, remaining on the ground, and clutches the lower part of his left leg. Gina rolls the other way, but faster, with more purpose, and rises to her feet. She takes a few steps backwards, both arms held out.

  In her right hand she is holding a gun.

  Sullivan is saying, ‘Oh Christ, oh Christ.’ Vaughan is pale and looks confused.

  Norton takes a couple of tentative steps over to where Phil is and bends down as though checking to see if the man is all right. ‘Have you got a gun?’ he whispers.

  Phil nods, his face contorted with pain.

  ‘Then shoot her.’

  Gina is looking around, and behind her. It’s clear to Norton that she has no idea what she is doing.

  ‘In the head,’ he says to Phil, ‘and quick.’

  He withdraws.

  ‘Tell me,’ Vaughan is saying to Sullivan, �
�tell me … what’s going on?’

  ‘I don’t know, Jimmy, I don’t know. Let’s just get you back to the car.’

  Slowly, Sullivan starts manoeuvring Vaughan around.

  ‘Don’t move,’ Gina shouts.

  They stop.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Norton sees Phil struggling to get something out of his pocket, then turning and raising his arm.

  But in that same moment, Gina rushes over and flicks her leg up. She manages to kick the gun out of Phil’s hand and send it flying across the concourse.

  Phil yelps in pain once more and collapses back onto the ground.

  Gina then grabs Vaughan by the arm and sticks the gun into his side. Ray Sullivan steps backwards, arms up.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘For Christ’s sake.’

  Norton steps away as well. He can’t believe what’s happening. He’s right there, watching it, but feels detached from it.

  The two construction workers in the distance remain frozen – undecided, terrified, useless.

  Gina moves, taking Vaughan with her.

  ‘You, too,’ she says to Paddy. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Come on.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Inside.’

  Norton follows.

  They walk across the concourse towards the building. Vaughan is an old man, so progress is slow and tense. As they approach the arched glass entranceway, the reception committee disperses, left and right. Norton is aware of the others behind him, following at a discreet distance. He glances over and sees one of the construction workers talking on his mobile.

  They go through automatic doors, along the entranceway and into the vast atrium.

  Still pale and a little shaky, Vaughan nevertheless seems to be OK. He stares ahead, very intently, and remains silent. Gina has a drawn, anxious look to her, as if she knows that this act of stupidity and desperation can only end badly for her.

  Which, of course, it will.

  Because soon enough the Special Branch and Emergency Response Units will be here, and they’ll all be armed, and seeing as how she’s already shot someone and taken two hostages, one a frail old man – what kind of a chance does she stand?