by Tony Kent
‘Sounds like a hard life,’ Anne laughed.
‘Of course it’s not,’ Sarah replied. ‘I’m honestly not complaining. There’s a whole lot of upsides to being rich. But it came with a hell of a downside, too. My dad had expectations. He expected me to work for him until I met the right guy. Not the right guy for me. The right guy for him. Someone with a bright enough future or from a powerful enough family to interest Dad. Then I’d be expected to be married off like a good little princess.’
‘And you had a different idea for your future?’
‘Damn right I did! I wanted to be a reporter. Wanted it for years. Even when I was a kid, playing with my brothers and sisters. They’d be Superman or Batman or Wonder Woman. All I wanted to be was Lois Lane. It made me a disaster at fancy dress parties, but that’s what I wanted. That’s what I decided to become. Eventually I got up the nerve to tell Daddy.’
‘And that was something he didn’t take well, I’m guessing?’
‘Not well at all. At first he tried to talk me out of it. Then he shouted and screamed about how “Trumans don’t report the news, Trumans make the news”. And then he stopped the shouting and the hollering and instead resorted to cutting me off and stifling my career. No news stations would take me on because he got to them first. I ran out of cash, couldn’t pay the rent, could hardly afford to eat. Ended up living on coffee and cigarettes. All because he wanted to break me.
‘Then I saw an advertisement for the CNN job in England and I realised it was the way forward. Daddy had no sway there, so I didn’t have to worry about him spiking my editors. So that settled it. I moved to England, got partnered up with the best cameraman in the business and the rest is history.’
‘That’s pretty incredible.’ Anne seemed genuinely impressed. ‘I don’t think I could give up so much to chase a dream. You’re a brave girl.’
‘Hardly! I’ve been terrified since this whole thing started, and now here I am, fretting over a man I just met. You’re cool as a cucumber.’
‘That comes with time, love. I’ve been with Liam for over twenty years and he’s put me through a hell of a lot. But I love him and I wouldn’t change him for the world. The downside is that I care about what happens to him. Just like you care about Mikey. Only I’m used to dealing with it.’
‘Oh come on, Anne, it’s not the same. You’ve got a lifetime with Liam. Michael and I just met. It’s not the same thing at all.’
‘Maybe not yet, but it could be. I’ve seen the way you look at him. And I’ve seen him looking at you.’
Sarah did not know what to say. Her feelings were mixed. Surprise and embarrassment that her attraction to Michael had been so obvious. And a nervous excitement that Anne – a woman who had known the real Michael Devlin so well – was suggesting he might feel the same way.
It was the embarrassment that ultimately won out. Sarah opted to change the subject.
‘So you knew them both as boys?’
‘I did.’
If Anne had spotted the subject change – and Sarah was confident that she had – she did not show it. Sarah was grateful for the courtesy.
‘And what boys they were, Sarah! Funny, wild and smart. They did everything together. Most of it completely mad. They ran free, back when Belfast was a dangerous bloody place to be. Everyone knew them. Liam and Mikey Casey. The terrible twins!’
‘Twins?’
‘Just an expression. The Irish never let a fact get in the way of catchy alliteration! But they were like twins. Where you found one you found the other. Doing whatever they wanted out of their dad’s sight, and whatever he told them otherwise. They were great fun. So much life.’
‘But they seem so different from each other?’
‘Why? Because one’s a lawyer and one’s a villain? That could have been very different, believe me.’
Sarah looked puzzled. Anne continued.
‘Don’t get me wrong, Liam was always ending up where he is. This life’s running through his veins. Mikey, though, that’s a different story. Mikey was always smart, but he still could have been exactly where Liam is. Or worse.’
Sarah listened intently. She wanted to know all she could about Michael. Good and bad.
‘What do you mean? What happened?’
‘One day it just all got too serious.’ Anne’s tone had completely changed. It was flat. Joyless. ‘One day it stopped being a bit of fun.’
‘How? Did someone get hurt?’
‘Worse than that. Someone got killed.’
Anne’s words were followed by silence. It made the emptiness of the bar more pronounced.
Sarah found herself looking around. Making sure they were still alone. Happy that they were, she turned back to Anne.
‘Who died?’ Sarah was now almost whispering. ‘I mean, what happened?’
‘Do you really want to know?’
‘Anne, I think I need to know.’
Sarah’s meaning was clear and Anne nodded her understanding. She took a large sip of wine before continuing.
‘It was a fight in a bar. Not far from here.’
There was a distance in Anne’s voice. As if she were there now, at that point in the past.
‘Mikey and Liam were rough, Sarah. They were well able to take care of themselves, just like their da. Mikey was seventeen when it happened. Liam was twenty. Still kids, really, but formidable. And the ironic thing? It was Mikey who was the more dangerous of the two. The one who was bright enough to have a future was the one with the temper that could take it away. That night it nearly did.
‘We were in a bar owned by one of their da’s competition. God knows why the boys made us go there. Probably bravado, but there was no way Sean Casey’s boys could drink in a Dave Finnegan bar without something happening. And they knew that, the pair of them. Anyway, the night went on and the atmosphere got more and more charged. All it needed was a trigger to set the whole thing off. And Mikey was happy to provide it.’
‘What did he do?’
‘Well, Liam was coming back to our table from the bar and one of the regulars barged into him. Tried to make it look like an accident, but we all knew it wasn’t. Anyway, Liam let it go. It was a one-off and, believe it or not, Liam’s never been that unreasonable. Always gives people a bit of a chance.
‘So next it’s Paddy O’Neil’s round, but Mikey steps up and says he’ll get the drinks. And before anyone could stop him he’s off to the bar, right next to the lad who’d barged Liam. Long story short, Mikey says something, the guy takes a swing and before you know it the guy and a mate of his are on their backs. Then the whole place erupted.
‘I couldn’t see much; the first thing Liam did was put me out of the way, under a table with Mikey’s date. But I did see Liam back to back with Mikey, the two of them fighting everyone who came near, while the other lads we were with were fighting all around the bar. But there were too many of them and the boys were taking a hiding. I mean, they were holding their own for the numbers, but it couldn’t last.
‘They must have realised that themselves because they all met in the middle of the floor, all five of them back to back, and once they were protecting each other they started to edge towards us. When they got close Liam called for me and Mikey’s date to get in behind them. Then they started fighting their way to the door, using whatever they could lay their hands on as weapons. Which was when it happened.’
Sarah was morbidly fascinated. What Anne described sounded like a Wild West saloon brawl. Told after the fact, it was almost entertaining. But not for Anne. Her tone told Sarah that, for her, it was still very real.
‘It happened so quickly. So fast. But in my mind it’s slow-motion. I saw everything he did. We were next to the door. Two more steps and we’d have been gone. Then out of nowhere a guy comes running at Liam, a knife in his hand. Not big. A butter knife, really, but bad enough.
‘So he comes running at Liam and Liam doesn’t see him. But Mikey does. I shouted for Liam to look out but he didn’t he
ar me. For a split second I thought he’d be stabbed. And he would have been, except Mikey was so quick. He broke a bottle and threw himself across Liam, sticking it straight into the guy’s neck.’
Both women sat in silence. They considered the image. Sarah’s version was imagined. Anne’s very real. Neither spoke for what seemed like minutes. But Sarah needed to know the rest.
‘And the man died?’ she finally asked.
‘He did. Right there, on the floor of the bar.’
Anne was clearly finding her story increasingly difficult. She lit another cigarette, seemingly forgetting the one still smoking in the ashtray. Anything to calm her fraying nerves.
Her voice was breaking as she continued.
‘It was the most horrible thing I ever saw. The whole room just stopped and stared at the guy on the floor, his legs kicking and blood spurting out of his neck, like someone was pumping it. I threw up. I think most of us did. But not Mikey.’
‘What did he do?’
‘He stayed calm. Like it didn’t affect him at all. He was the only one thinking straight, clear enough for us all. He got us out of there. Safe and home. No nerves. No panic. Mikey was cold that night, Sarah. Heartless. And that was the biggest shock of all.’
Sarah was confused. Anne cared deeply about Michael, that much was obvious. And yet here she could have been describing a monster.
‘It was Mikey’s reaction. It just didn’t seem, well, it didn’t seem normal. We’d all seen Mikey lose it before. Seen him fight. So we always thought he was a little, you know, psycho. He always went that bit too far. But this time? This time he killed a man and yet he acted like it was just some little thing that needed to be excused. He justified it, Sarah. Said the guy came at Liam with a knife and so he killed him. Simple as that. He meant to do it, he did it and he wasn’t about to pretend otherwise.’
Sarah said nothing. She had seen this side of Michael less than twenty-four hours ago. Had heard him make reference to the life he had left behind. So Anne’s story did not surprise her. Michael Devlin was a man who would do what he had to do, to protect himself and those close to him. That much was clear. That much had kept Sarah alive.
‘The boys were arrested within the hour,’ Anne continued. ‘They were too well known to just walk away. They only had a little time to talk about it before the police showed up, and no chance to speak to their da. Then they were gone. Dragged out of the flat in cuffs, given a beating along the way. Once the police had them no one could get to them. Not even Sean Casey. We were all here, just waiting for news. And then out of nowhere Mikey walked back through the door of the bar, his face as white as a ghost, saying he’d been released without charge.’
‘I don’t understand.’ This made no sense to Sarah. ‘He was arrested for murder and released? How could that happen? They had witnesses.’
‘They did. Witnesses who blamed a Casey boy for starting the whole thing. And that the same Casey boy stabbed the dead lad in the neck. But they didn’t say which Casey boy.’
‘You mean the police thought that it was Liam? Why?’
‘Because Liam told them it was him.’
Sarah was speechless.
‘Mikey was inconsolable. Not because of what he’d done, but because of what Liam had done for him. We had to wait for Liam’s lawyer to explain everything. Which he did. He told us that Liam had admitted manslaughter. That he said he’d started the fight and that he’d killed the guy by mistake as it went on. Then he explained that Liam had done it to keep Mikey out of prison.’
Sarah still had no words. She could barely believe the sacrifice that Liam had made for his brother.
Anne’s voice grew lower as she neared the end of her story.
‘It nearly destroyed the family. Mikey visited Liam in prison and begged him to take it back. To let him confess. But Liam wouldn’t do it. He said that Mikey was the one with the future. That Mikey had the brains to get away from the life. And so Liam was the one who took the blame. All so his kid brother could make a better life for himself, away from the streets. Away from Belfast. It was a chance that Liam would never have had anyway, as he didn’t have Mikey’s brains. And that’s why Mikey is what he is today, Sarah. That’s why he isn’t Liam.’
Sarah remained silent. But her mind was racing.
Everything she had seen and heard in the last twenty-four hours now made sense. Liam had sacrificed his youth and his freedom for his brother’s future, and Michael had spent two decades trying to live up to that sacrifice. To make a life – a man – deserving of what Liam had done for him.
The price Michael had paid for this was separation from the family he loved, a family whose existence – if known – would have cost him the life that Liam’s actions had bought him. In its own way it was as high a price as Liam had paid and it revealed to Sarah just how alike the two men really were.
FIFTY-EIGHT
It was 9 p.m. as Joe Dempsey pulled his BMW M6 Gran Coupé hire car into a parking space in University Square. Late, but the place was buzzing.
He stepped out of the car and into the crowd. Young men and women of varied nationalities streamed back and forth. The academic world continued, unhindered by the international drama that had its roots in these very grounds.
The majority of the activity centred on a single building. A classic, imposing red-brick structure. Dempsey watched a swarm of maintenance men come and go through its main entrance. It was the right place.
Dempsey remained in place. Watching. Taking in the impressive view of the six-floor building. His gut told him that this could be where the trail would warm back up. The past twenty-four hours had taught him a lot, but without evidence what he knew – what he thought he knew – was next to worthless. He needed something tangible and he hoped he would find it in the life of Eamon McGale.
Motionless for a few more moments, Dempsey’s mind was racing nonetheless. Finally his legs caught up, coming to life as he strode towards the building’s entrance. Taking the short staircase to the raised main door two steps at a time, he just avoided a collision with two workmen carrying a shattered office door.
Dempsey ignored their mumbled annoyance. He made his way through the reception, towards the building plan that sat on the far wall. He ran his finger down it and found McGale’s name and room number.
The caged elevator was in use on a different floor, so Dempsey made for the ornate staircase. The presence of the workmen had already intrigued him and his curiosity only increased as he climbed the stairs. His suspicion that the men were working on the sixth floor was gradually confirmed.
The sight as he reached the top of the staircase was unexpected. Dempsey had anticipated seeing the workmen gutting McGale’s now-empty office. No doubt the university would want it erased from its history. It was why he had been in such a hurry to get to the office before more potential evidence was lost. But as he reached the final step Dempsey found far more than a single whitewashed room.
Serious damage had been done to all but the first two offices on the sixth-floor corridor. Of those rooms that had been hit, not a single door was left standing. Some had been removed by the workmen. Others lay open, badly smashed and almost all free from their hinges. It was a familiar enough sight, but not one he expected to find in these halls.
Dempsey walked into the closest office: room 6.6.
He flashed his DDS credentials as he spoke. It guaranteed an answer.
‘What the hell happened here?’
‘Bloody vandals by the look of it. Brainless little shites!’
The room’s only occupant was in his early sixties. Small. He spoke as he swept up broken glass.
‘Probably came to see Professor McGale’s office and then got overexcited. Little ghouls!’
‘Maybe.’ Dempsey was unconvinced. ‘Did you know Professor McGale?’
‘A little, yeah.’
‘What did you think of him?’
The small man stopped sweeping. He stood upright. His body language
told Dempsey that he was not used to his opinion being sought. Not here, at least. When he spoke his voice was hesitant, which sent much the same message.
‘What I think is that it’s a tragedy. You couldn’t hope to meet a nicer man than Professor McGale.’
‘So it was a surprise, then? What he did in London?’
‘God, yes. To us all. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t doubt what he did but I’ll tell you this: Professor McGale must have had his reasons.’
‘How so?’
‘Well, you’ll have never met a brighter man in your life. So clever, and yet a lovely man with it. Time for everyone, he had. Whether you had letters after your name or a broom in your hand. And all he wanted to do was help. Whether it was just helping one of us, one of the staff, even with the smallest thing. Or all the way up to helping Ulster itself with his work. Professor McGale was a peaceful man. So if he tried to kill someone, it was because there was no other way.’
Dempsey nodded. The opinion matched what he already knew. But perhaps more importantly, it was at odds with what Dempsey had seen McGale do in Trafalgar Square.
‘What about after his family were killed? Was he the same man after that?’
‘With all due respect, sir, of course he bloody wasn’t! He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t chatty. He was darker. But can you blame him? What else did he have left?’
‘Did his attitudes change?’
‘From the little we spoke after that, yeah, they did. The optimism was gone. He seemed like he no longer thought the Troubles could be stopped by talking. And I remember something else, something I didn’t really understand when he said it. He said that they were different this time. The Troubles. Different to before. Like I said, I didn’t really understand it.’
Dempsey thought for a few moments, considering what had been said. Then, with thanks, he walked out of the office. He took a few minutes to look from room to room. Noted the similarities and differences between them. They told him much. Room 6.11 had been ransacked. This was unsurprising; it was McGale’s office, after all. Most of the others had seen forced entry, but little else besides. And then there was room 6.3. This one looked very different. Like the scene of a pitched battle, with the remnants of a large bloodstain in the centre of its carpet.
