Collusion

by Stuart Neville

  ‘I know,’ Fegan said, strength draining from his body into the cold ground. He closed his eyes. ‘I know.’

  The muzzle lifted from his cheek, and the other man’s weight left his chest. He opened his eyes. The cop stood over him, the Glock still aimed at his forehead.

  ‘How did you find me?’ Lennon asked.

  ‘I talked to the man who has them,’ Fegan said. ‘On Marie’s phone. He said he was in Carrickfergus. I drove around till I saw a cop car. I knew that was it. Then I followed you.’

  Lennon stood back and waved the pistol at the empty street. ‘Get out of here. Go on, disappear, or I’ll turn you in.’

  Fegan sat up. ‘I can’t. Not till they’re safe.’

  ‘They’ll never be safe while you’re around,’ Lennon said. ‘Can’t you see that? Christ, there’s no time for this.’

  The cop stepped over Fegan’s legs and headed for the Audi.

  ‘Where are they?’ Fegan got to his feet. ‘What did you find out in there?’

  ‘Nothing that concerns you,’ Lennon said as he opened the Audi’s door. ‘Just go and don’t come back.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Fegan said, fighting the anger that swelled in his chest.

  Lennon raised the pistol again. His hand shook. ‘Get out of here or so help me I’ll shoot you dead.’

  Fegan went for the pub’s door.

  ‘Don’t,’ Lennon called after him.

  Fegan turned to face him. ‘Then tell me.’

  ‘He doesn’t know where they went,’ Lennon said, his shoulders sagging. ‘But he told me someone who might. The one who sold them out.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘An old friend,’ Lennon said. A cop.’

  Fegan stepped closer. ‘Take me to him.’

  ‘No,’ Lennon said. ‘Christ, no. Are you crazy? What am I talking about, of course you’re crazy.’

  The cop holstered his weapon and lowered himself into the car. Fegan ran to it and grabbed the door before Lennon could pull it closed.

  Lennon glowered up at him from the driver’s seat. ‘Let go.’

  ‘Will he tell you where they are?’ Fegan asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lennon said. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. Let go of the door.’

  Fegan leaned into the car, smelled the cop’s sweat and fear. ‘Take me to him.’ ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he’ll tell me.’

  ‘If he won’t tell me, why in God’s name would he tell you?’ Fegan said, ‘Because I’ll ask harder.’

  79

  The Traveller drove the Volkswagen up to the gate of the convalescent home Bull O’Kane had taken over. A man emerged from the shadows and shone a torch into the car, picking out the woman and child.

  The man tapped the window. The Traveller lowered it.

  ‘Who the fuck are they?’ the man asked.

  The Traveller could just make out a dark jacket and jeans. Something bulged in the man’s pocket. ‘They’re old friends of your boss,’ he said. ‘Now open up.’

  The man scratched his stubbly chin for a few seconds before waving the torch at someone. The gate opened, the keeper unseen, and the Traveller drove through.

  The old house stood black against the deep blue of the coming morning. It grew as the car approached. Headlights reflected on sash windows. Gravel crunched beneath the tyres. The Traveller’s head throbbed with fatigue. He prayed the Bull would allow him an hour or two’s sleep once he got the woman and child off his hands.

  The handbrake creaked as he stopped at the front door. It stood open, Orla O’Kane’s wide body silhouetted by the light inside. The Traveller got out of the car.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘Just paying a visit,’ he said.

  She stepped out onto the gravel. ‘Is that …?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Orla moved close to the Traveller. ‘What in the name of Christ did you bring them here for?’

  ‘Your auld fella wanted Fegan drawn out, didn’t he? I reckon these are the girls for the job, so I brought them for a visit.’

  Orla shook her head. ‘No. Not like this. Not here. He won’t have it. He made that mistake before.’

  ‘That’s his lookout, isn’t it?’

  She poked his chest with a thick finger. ‘Well, I’m making it yours. You better—’

  The Traveller swiped her finger away. ‘Look, I did my bit, and I got the shite knocked out of me for my troubles. Do you see the state of me? You can do whatever the fuck you want with these two, just make sure I get my money.’

  Orla stared at him while the machine behind her eyes worked, lives lost or spared with each option she considered. Finally, she nodded and said, ‘All right.’ She looked back to the car. ‘Are they intact?’

  ‘The kid is. The woman’s hurt.’

  Orla approached the rear of the car and peered in. ‘How bad?’

  ‘Bad enough,’ he said. ‘Any nurses here?’

  ‘No. They go home at night. Aren’t due back on shift for an hour or so yet. Just me and a couple of boys to keep watch.’

  ‘Pity,’ he said. ‘She needs looking at. I don’t give her much time otherwise.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Orla said. She opened the door and hunkered down at eye level with the child. The hardness of her face eased as she reached for her. ‘Hello, darling. What’s your name?’

  The Traveller sat Marie McKenna down on a chair outside the Bull’s room. Orla kept the child in her arms, whispering to her, rocking her.

  Marie reached up. Sweat beaded on her skin at the effort. ‘Please,’ she said, her voice thin like paper.

  Orla hesitated, then lowered Ellen into her mother’s lap. Marie’s chest rattled as she wrapped her arms loose around the child. She watched the Traveller with dark eyes set in an ash-grey face. She coughed, spraying red droplets in the little girl’s hair.

  Orla knocked the door to the Bull’s room. A grunt came from inside.

  ‘Da?’ she called.

  ‘Wait,’ the voice from inside said.

  ‘Da? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Don’t come—’

  She pushed the door open. Bull O’Kane lay sprawled on the floor between his chair and his bed, sweating and breathing hard. He stared up at the Traveller.

  ‘Da, what happened?’

  The Bull’s wild eyes flicked back to Orla. ‘Come in and shut that fucking door.’

  She rushed in and slammed the door in the Traveller’s face.

  ‘Fuck me,’ the Traveller said.

  The Bull had looked like a discarded shell lying there, so weak he couldn’t even keep his feet. Groans and hisses came from inside the room, the sounds of a strong woman hoisting up a frail old man. Fucking pathetic, the Traveller thought.

  He listened as the voices volleyed back and forth on the other side of the door, firm at first, then climbing in anger. Several minutes passed before the door opened again. Orla stepped past him, her face flushed, her lips thin. She indicated with a tilt of her head that he should enter.

  ‘If you’ve any brains left,’ Bull O’Kane said from his chair, ‘you won’t take me for weak.’

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ the Traveller said. He gave the Bull his most serious countenance.

  O’Kane watched him for a moment, breathing hard. He wiped his sleeve across his forehead. ‘You don’t look so good yourself.’

  ‘I’ve been better,’ the Traveller said. He flexed his shoulders, working the stiffness out of them. The skin itched beneath the strapping on his left wrist.

  ‘Maybe that’s what’s making you so fucking stupid.’

  The Traveller winked. ‘There’s no stupid people in this room.’

  ‘Don’t smart-arse me,’ the Bull said, leaning forward. His hands trembled on the armrests. ‘You’re lucky I haven’t had you shot. You know what’s going to happen now?’

  ‘Yeah, I do.’ The Traveller stepped forward. ‘You do whatever you want with the woman and the kid. I get paid and be on my way
.’

  ‘No.’ The Bull sagged back into his chair. ‘What happens now is he comes after them.’

  ‘Gerry Fegan?’

  The Bull nodded slow, his gaze locked on the Traveller’s.

  ‘He doesn’t know where they are,’ the Traveller said.

  ‘He’ll find out. Then he’ll come.’

  The Traveller smiled. ‘Then you can watch me break his neck. How’s that?’

  The Bull sat still, lost in thought. Eventually, he asked, ‘You sure you can take him?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘If you’re wrong, he’ll kill us all.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ the Traveller said.

  The Bull inhaled, held it, released it, made his decision. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Bring ’em in now, there’s a good fella.’

  80

  Lennon’s phone rang as he pulled up ten yards from Hewitt’s house. He gestured to Fegan to be quiet and answered it.

  ‘Where are you?’ CI Uprichard asked.

  ‘Following up on something,’ Lennon said.

  ‘Lisburn have been on the line,’ Uprichard said. ‘They have an MIT together. Officers are on their way to Carrickfergus now. They’ll be pissed off if you’re not there to meet them after calling them out.’

  ‘I’ve got other things to do,’ Lennon said. He hung up.

  Fegan indicated the big house beyond the security gate. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘Detective Chief Inspector Dan Hewitt,’ Lennon said. ‘A friend of mine. Used to be, anyway. Special Branch.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Fegan said.

  ‘Might as well be,’ Lennon said. ‘You know how it works. They’re untouchable.’

  ‘He sold you and Marie out,’ Fegan said.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Fancy house,’ Fegan said. ‘Old. Four, five bedrooms. How much does a Special Branch cop make?’

  ‘Not enough to afford a big house in this part of Belfast.’ A movement caught Lennon’s eye. ‘Hang on.’

  The electric gates swung open, and an unmarked police car drove out. Lennon got out of his Audi, and Fegan followed. They crossed the distance to the gates by the time the cop car turned onto the Lisburn Road and just made it through before they closed. A security lamp, triggered by the cop car’s exit, bathed the garden and driveway in harsh white light. Beyond the grand bay window’s voile curtains, Hewitt drank from a glass while his wife Juliet stood over him. A large plaster covered the bridge of his nose, and Lennon could just make out the bruising around his reddened eyes.

  ‘What happened to him?’ Fegan asked.

  ‘No idea,’ Lennon said. ‘Keep out of sight.’

  Fegan lost himself in the shadows beneath the security light’s reach.

  Lennon hammered the door with his fist. Juliet came to the window and peeled back the voile. She stared for a second or two before turning her head to say something over her shoulder. Lennon hit the door again. Her hands waved and pointed as she argued with Hewitt before she disappeared. Lennon waited and listened.

  When nothing happened Lennon slapped the wood with his palm three times. ‘Open up, Dan,’ he called.

  The door opened six inches, and Juliet peered out. ‘Jesus Christ, Jack, what do you think you’re doing?’ She wrapped her dressing gown tight around herself. Her eyes were red and brimming. ‘You’ll wake the kids up again. I’ve had enough tonight without you—’

  Lennon pushed the door open and stepped past her.

  Juliet grabbed his arm, but he shook her off.

  ‘Dan!’ she shouted. ‘Dan, call someone. I can’t have this. Not tonight, not on top of everything else.’

  She saw Fegan emerge from the darkness. ‘Who are you?’ She turned back to Lennon. ‘Jack, who is that?’

  Lennon ignored her and entered the living room. Hewitt sat on the couch, hunched over an empty glass and a bottle of gin. He froze when he saw Fegan enter behind his old friend. His eyes darted from man to man.

  Hewitt blinked, coughed, forced a smile that seemed to crack his face in two. ‘Christ, Jack, you’re keeping bad company these days.’

  A can of Coke sat alongside the glass on the coffee table. While Lennon and Fegan watched, he poured two fingers of gin and emptied the remainder of the Coke on top of it. The sickly juniper smell cloyed at Lennon’s nose and throat.

  ‘It’s late to come calling,’ Hewitt said, his voice made hard and nasal by the plaster over his nose. Purple blotches spread out beneath his eyes, which were bloodshot and watery. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘What did he do with them?’ Lennon asked.

  Hewitt winced at the alcohol’s burn. He swallowed, coughed, and put the glass back on the table. ‘What are you talking about, Jack?’

  Lennon approached the coffee table. ‘I’m warning you, Dan. Don’t fuck me around. Not this time.’

  Hewitt looked up. ‘Don’t threaten me, Jack. Not in my own home, not in front of my wife. I don’t care what cavalry you brought with you.’

  Lennon upended the table. Gin and Coca-Cola soaked the thick carpet. The bottle smashed against the hearth, scattering green glass.

  Juliet spoke from behind. ‘Dan, I’m calling 999.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Hewitt said.

  ‘Dan, I—’

  ‘I said don’t. Go and see to the kids. Keep them upstairs.’

  ‘But—’

  Hewitt stood. ‘Just fucking do as I tell you.’

  Lennon glanced over his shoulder to see the hurt on her face. She closed the door behind her.

  Fegan studied them both, his countenance unreadable.

  ‘I told you to leave it alone,’ Hewitt said. Dried blood stained his shirt front. ‘You wouldn’t listen, would you?’ He waved a finger at Fegan. ‘Now you’ve got this animal involved. Jesus, I didn’t think you could make it any worse, but you’ve proved me wrong.’

  ‘I know Bull O’Kane has them,’ Lennon said, staring hard at Hewitt. ‘Tell me where.’

  Hewitt put his hands on his hips. ‘I’ll tell you this much as a friend, even though you don’t deserve it,’ he said. ‘They’re safe. That’s all I know.’

  Lennon stepped forward, grinding glass into the carpet beneath his feet. ‘Where are they? I’ll hurt you if you don’t tell me.’

  Hewitt laughed. Lennon felt the alcohol-tainted breath on his face. He slapped Hewitt hard across the cheek. Hewitt fell back onto the couch. He sat there, open-mouthed, then laughed again. This time the laughter had a fluttering edge, like something about to be taken away on the wind.

  ‘After what I’ve seen tonight, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that if you and your friend here want to scare me.’

  Lennon drew his Glock and aimed at Hewitt’s chest.

  ‘Christ, Jack, just get back in that car you can’t afford, and go home to that flat you can’t afford. The best thing you can do for Marie McKenna and your wee girl is stay out of it. It’s not them he wants. He’s just using them. Once he has the man he wants, he’ll let them go.’

  Hewitt tilted his head and said, ‘Isn’t that right, Gerry?’

  Lennon looked back over his shoulder. Fegan stood still as a rock, his eyes blazing.

  ‘I’ve told you too much already,’ Hewitt said. His face hardened. ‘Now go home before you make things any worse.’

  Lennon lowered his aim to Hewitt’s thigh. ‘I’ll do it, Dan. Tell me where they are.’

  ‘You’ll do what?’ Hewitt asked. He laughed again. ‘Don’t act the big man, Jack. It doesn’t suit you. It might fool those sluts you pull in the bars, but it doesn’t work with me. You’re fucking with the wrong people now. I promise you’ll regret it.’

  ‘What are they paying you?’

  Hewitt smiled, creasing the bruises beneath his eyes. ‘Watch your mouth, Jack. Now put the gun away. We both know you won’t shoot a fellow police—’

  Silent like a cat, Fegan snatched the Glock from Lennon’s hand, squeezed the trigger, put a neat hole in Hewitt’s thigh. Hewitt scr
eamed and rolled onto his side, clutching his leg. Squeals and crying came from upstairs, followed by quick footsteps.

  Lennon stepped back, his heart thundering, his stomach cold.

  ‘Where are they?’ Fegan asked.

  ‘Bastard!’ Hewitt roared into the cushions.

  Feet on the stairs, hammering as they descended. ‘Dan?’ Juliet called.

  Fegan hauled Hewitt from the couch and threw him to the floor. Hewitt screamed again as he rolled on the broken glass.

  Fegan took aim again. ‘I’ll put another one in you.’

  Hewitt hissed through his teeth. He stared hard at Lennon. ‘You’re finished. So help me God, I’ll put you away myself.’

  ‘Where are they?’ Fegan asked.

  ‘Fuck you!’

  Juliet tumbled in. ‘Jesus, Dan!’

  Fegan spun, aimed at her. ‘Get out.’

  She retreated. ‘Don’t. Please don’t hurt him any more.’

  Hewitt grabbed Fegan’s ankle, tried to haul himself up. Fegan whipped his leg away and swung it back to slam his foot into Hewitt’s stomach. Hewitt folded in on himself, drawing bloody lines where his thigh brushed along the carpet.

  ‘Where are they?’ Fegan asked, taking aim again.

  Hewitt squirmed. ‘Fuck you.’

  Fegan kicked his injured thigh. Hewitt screamed. When he was quiet again, Fegan asked, ‘Where are they?’

  Sweat dripped from Hewitt’s forehead to the carpet. ‘Fuck you.’

  Fegan went to kick him again, but Lennon said, ‘Wait.’

  He stepped past Fegan and hunkered down beside Hewitt. ‘Tell me now or I’ll let Gerry here blow out your kneecap,’ he said, his voice low in his chest. ‘You’ve seen the punishment shootings, same as me. You know what it does. You’ve seen the kids the paramilitaries did this to. They’re lucky if they ever walk again. Is it really worth it to you? Are they really paying you enough to live with what it’ll do to you? Think hard, Dan. I’m only going to ask you once more. Where are they?’

  ‘Fuck you,’ Hewitt said, his eyes brimming.

  Fegan crouched and pressed the Glock’s muzzle against the back of Hewitt’s knee.

  Hewitt began to weep. ‘Fuck—’

  As Fegan’s finger tightened on the trigger, a small voice said, ‘Drogheda.’