‘So now you’re going to shoot me?’ Mullan said, laughing. ‘First it was Tony, then Karen, now me? I hope you’ve enough bullets in there.’
‘I’ve plenty,’ Duggan said, swinging the gun between the three of them. Only Barr stood, silent, cautious, off to the side. ‘You’re not going to spread lies about me.’
‘You protecting your legacy, Hugh?’ Mullan laughed. ‘You don’t have a legacy. Everyone knows you for what you are.’
‘They lied,’ Duggan said, the gun turning on Tony again. ‘They set up Martin.’
‘Do you know why Doherty came across that time? We were sure you were the tout. He was coming across to finish you off. It was a surprise to all of us when this one said she saw Kelly going into that house and not you.’
‘Liar!’ Duggan said, raising the gun and striking Mullan with it on the forehead, the butt tearing the skin.
Mullan staggered a little, then straightened, blood already tracing a line down his face. He smiled. ‘Come on, Hugh. Do it. Protect your legacy before that cancer inside you eats you up completely.’
Tony stepped towards Karen, wary of Mullan, wondering why he was goading Duggan.
‘The truth is, Hugh,’ Mullan spat. ‘I don’t think you’ve the balls for it.’
Duggan looked from one face to the other, his eyes wild, his mind racing. Finally, the gun settled on Tony. His expression hardened, as his finger tightened.
He pulled the trigger and fired.
Chapter Fifty-Three
The gunshot scattered clouds of crows into the night sky, their screaming in contrast with the soft grunt that Kelly made as he fell sideways.
Tony watched in horror as he dropped against the side of the grave and lay there, his mouth hanging ajar, his eyes open wide, but unseeing. He glanced across to Karen who was standing with her back turned, her hands over her face, not looking at what had unfurled.
‘Fuck,’ Duggan muttered and walked the circumference of the grave until he reached the spot nearest Kelly. With the toe of his shoe, he pushed the body sideways, causing it to slide fully into the grave itself. He stood, gun held steady, and fired off three shots in quick succession, each one thudding into the body.
‘Get the stones on top of him,’ Duggan said. ‘There shouldn’t be anyone about, but the shots could be heard for miles; we need to hurry.’
Tony stared at the body, the blood pooling round the hollows of each rib, then trickling down the side. Kelly’s face lay against the soil, his mouth open and pressed against the earth.
‘Hurry up,’ Duggan said. ‘And you, girl, snap out of it. Get those clothes burned, then cover over the scorch marks. We’ll all need to get rid of what we’re wearing soon as we get home. A hot wash – everything, even your pants and shoes. Hot as you can get it.’
Tony stared at him, at the easy manner in which he had shifted into practicalities. He looked across at Karen, watched as she turned to look at Martin first, then at him. He saw something in her expression change, her features grow impassive, her eyes lose focus a little. She took the bag in one hand and lifted the petrol can with the other, then set off through the trees.
‘Get moving,’ Duggan said.
Tony followed him, lifting the stones Duggan had gathered earlier and dropping them down onto the body. He struggled with one of the more awkwardly shaped ones and dropped it into the grave only for it to strike Kelly’s leg and fall onto the grave floor.
‘Get that fixed up,’ Duggan said.
Tony tried reaching down with his foot to move it, but the depth of the hole and the weight of the stone made it impossible. Reluctantly, he dropped down into the grave and lifting the stone, laid it across Kelly’s legs. He inadvertently touched one limb and was surprised to find the flesh warm, mobile. He laid his hand on the dead man’s muscles and felt he should say something, a prayer, some Last Rites. He muttered a Glory Be as he traced the sign of the cross with his thumb. Then he climbed out, as Duggan began piling the earth on top of Kelly.
It took them almost twenty minutes to fill the hole. The work became easier once the whiteness of Kelly’s skin had vanished beneath the first layers of dirt and Tony no longer had to face directly the consequences of his actions.
Across to one side, the flickering light illuminated Karen’s face as she went about the business of burning his clothes, the enterprise soundtracked by the crackling of branches, the hiss of spruce needles. Even at this distance, Tony could feel heat emanating from the flames, could smell the mix of petrol and fibres and sap, thick and acrid in his mouth and nose.
When they had finished, there was still a small mound of spoil left to one side. Duggan and Tony spread it as best they could, dragging the dirt in all directions with the edge of their shovels.
‘Gather handfuls of leaves now and scatter them about,’ Duggan instructed. By now, Karen had returned and the three of them moved in different directions, scooping up armfuls of rotting ground cover which they then scattered across the area where the grave lay.
When they had finished, Tony stood in silence and looked at the area where they had buried Martin. He could hear Karen and Duggan already trudging their way back towards the car. Duggan had claimed he knew the way; this was not his first time having to do this, he said.
Tony stared at the spot before him, struggling to know what to say. An apology was too little, that he knew. But he also felt relief: that he had survived, that Alice had survived and that with Kelly’s death, this was all over.
In the end, he said nothing, simply bowing his head with the weight of his guilt and moving away, following the bobbing light that wove its way through the trees ahead, leaving the grave to its silence.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Silence.
Tony stared at Duggan, then looked down, his hands already searching his trunk, looking for the wound that must surely have been there. But there was nothing. Just silence.
Duggan himself seemed confused, aiming a second time and pulling the trigger again. A click. Then silence once more.
‘What’s wrong, Hugh?’ Mullan asked. ‘I thought you had enough bullets.’
Duggan gripped the gun in fury, opening the barrel, then yelled, an animalistic roar. ‘Fucker!’ he snarled, moving on Mullan, but Barr stepped in, grabbing his arm and shoving him back, twisting his wrist enough to dislodge the gun, which dropped solidly to the earth. The youth bent and picked up the weapon, then stepped back, away from Duggan.
‘Where are they?’ Duggan asked, looking at Mullan, who simply nodded back at his nephew.
Barr put his hands in his pocket and pulled out a handful of bullets. Tony noticed that, at some stage, Barr had put on a pair of clear latex gloves.
‘Let me help you with your bag, Mr Duggan,’ Barr said, smiling. The deferential attitude, the carrying of the bag to the boot of the car, had all been a ruse, the last double-crossing of an old comrade, Tony realized.
‘Did you think I was stupid, Hugh?’ Mullan said. ‘Did you think I’d not have seen what you were at? Looking to settle some scores before you bow out. Going in a blaze of glory.’
‘That’s not true,’ Duggan said, sullenly, backing up from where Barr stood.
‘That is, Hugh, and you know it. Richard here checked your bag in the car. Nothing in it but that gun and your flag and gloves. You weren’t planning on ever leaving here, were you?’
Duggan stared at him, his mouth moving wordlessly, his lips dry, save for a speck of white spittle balled at one corner. ‘Martin was my friend,’ he said. ‘And you made me kill him. Not you or Doherty. Me.’
Mullan nodded. ‘Like I said, we thought you were the tout. Even after she said she saw Kelly, we thought maybe you were still pulling the strings. I wanted to see if we could trust you. If you would shoot your own friend.’
‘I did it.’
Mullan nodded. ‘You did indeed.’
Barr coughed lightly, to get Mullan’s attention, tapped the face of his watch lightly. The exchange brough
t Duggan to his senses.
‘How will I be remembered?’ he asked, his head bowed a little, looking up at Mullan.
‘As a good comrade who never got over the loss of his friend.’
‘What are you doing?’ Tony asked.
Duggan looked at him, then back to Mullan. ‘I’m not ready.’
Mullan nodded. ‘You wanted answers, Hugh. That’s why you came here. You got them. We made a mistake. The boy here wasn’t selling us out, he was protecting a kid and she was protecting him. Martin was a mistake. Our mistake. But it’s done now.’
Tony moved over to Mullan. ‘What are you doing?’
‘We’re leaving the past behind,’ Mullan said. ‘It’s a new beginning. We have to go, Hugh.’
Duggan nodded.
Mullan walked past him, laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Safe travels, Hugh. Let’s go, you two.’
Duggan stared at him blankly, watching him leave, but made no attempt to follow.
Barr loaded two bullets in the gun, slowly, carefully. He caught Tony’s eye, indicated with a nod of his head that they should leave.
Karen walked across and stopped next to Duggan, her face flushed. She pressed her cheek against his, whispered something that only Duggan could hear. He nodded, but did not speak.
Tony approached him, trying to find something to say, something to adequately express thirty years of conflicting feelings. ‘Are you… I don’t…’
Duggan looked through him, nodded, his mind elsewhere, his lips still moving soundlessly.
‘Do you want us to stay with you?’
‘I’m trying to remember something,’ the man muttered.
‘What is it? Tony asked. ‘Is it about Martin?’
Duggan looked at him, clearly now. He raised his chin a little. ‘J.B. Books. That was his name.’
‘Let’s go, Tony,’ Barr said.
Tony felt he should do something for Duggan, embrace him, pray with him, shake his hand, but the man’s mind was elsewhere once more and he simply repeated over and over a mantra of ‘J.B. Books.’
The ground ahead splintered into tears as Tony moved away from Duggan, past the ancient oak to join Karen and Mullan, who were waiting. Behind him, he could hear Barr moving, his progress marked by the rustling of the leaves coating the ground beneath the oak.
They moved through the trees in silence, waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
The shot echoed through the woods this time, rolling down the incline towards them. Tony glanced around, briefly, to see Duggan slump to the ground, Barr standing to his left, his gun hand still raised. The youth knelt lightly beside Duggan, lifting his dead hand and, placing the gun in it, fired off the second shot, into the air, ensuring Duggan would have gunshot residue on his skin. He realized he had misjudged the youth, the eagerness and efficiency with which he had killed Hugh Duggan, the skill with which he had made himself appear innocuous all through their journey.
‘Jesus,’ Karen said, beginning to weep. Tony moved across to her and put his arms around her, felt the wracking of her sobs, joining with his own quieter tears.
‘Well, that’s Hugh, God rest him,’ Mullan said, turning to Karen and Tony. ‘Now, what do we do with you two?’
Chapter Fifty-Five
‘You two are going to need to keep your mouths shut,’ Duggan said.
He was sitting behind them, leaning forward so his arms rested on the backs of their seats. Tony suspected he had chosen the seat so that he could keep an eye on them both.
‘We’re not going to say anything,’ Tony said.
‘We’re all in this together,’ Duggan said. ‘You know that. If they find Martin, we’ll all be implicated.’
‘We’re not going to say anything,’ Karen repeated, flatly.
As the drive went on and the woods retreated further and further away from then, Duggan seemed to resign himself to what they had done. ‘At least we know who we can trust, eh?’
His question elicited no enthusiasm from either Tony or Karen.
‘For our next target,’ he explained.
‘Our next target?’ Tony asked, incredulous that Duggan could be thinking of such a thing after what they had just done.
‘There’s always a next target,’ Duggan said. ‘And we’re a team.’
‘What about what they did to us? In the bar?’ Karen asked. ‘That hardly felt like being part of the team.’
Duggan shrugged. ‘These things happen. We all have to make sacrifices. And what we did tonight will make a difference.’
He sat, his chin resting on his arms, waiting for a response, but got none. After a moment he straightened and laid a hand on each of their shoulders in front of him.
‘Look, I know that was hard. Martin was one of us. If you want my advice, you do what I’m going to do when I get home: don’t sit and mope about it, don’t think it over to see what we could have done differently. Go to the offie and buy a bottle of something strong and forget about the whole thing. He’s in his grave now and that’s where he’ll stay. We’re soldiers and soldiers do as they’re told. We followed orders and did our duty. We did the right thing.’
‘I didn’t,’ Tony muttered.
They reached the station where Duggan asked to be dropped, so he could take the late train home.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said as he left them. ‘Go home and forget about the whole bloody business.’
They watched him shuffle his way into the station, sticking a hand in his pocket and pawing out a few coins to pass to the young fella squatted at the station entrance, a paper coffee cup his begging bowl.
Tony watched him go, watched him turn the corner and vanish from sight. He silently prayed it would be the last time he would ever see Hugh Duggan. If he was in touch, Tony knew he would not answer, could not conceive of himself being involved in anything like this again.
He looked at Karen to see if she was likewise watching Duggan go, but her head was bowed, her gaze fixed on her hands, nested in her lap. She looked up at him, as if aware of his watching her, but she did not say a word.
Chapter Fifty-Six
‘We’re not going to say a word,’ Karen said.
‘I know that,’ Mullan said. ‘After all, I saved your lives. If Richard here hadn’t taken the bullets out of Hugh’s gun, you’d both be dead.’
‘As would you,’ Tony pointed out.
‘Ah!’ Mullan swatted the claim away with a wave of his hand, as if it were of no consequence. ‘You get cautious in my position. We did need to get Kelly’s body back, but I suspected Hugh might try something if he had the chance; Kelly was always a sore point for him. And with his illness, he was a dog gone rabid. And there’s only one thing you can do with a mad dog, and that’s put him to sleep.’
He moved across to Barr and patted his arm. ‘Good job, son.’
Barr took the compliment, with just a hint of a smile.
Tony dropped heavily to the ground, sat with his arms resting on his knees, exhausted from the constant buzz of adrenaline he’d fed himself all day.
‘Why did we have to be here? To see this?’
Mullan inclined his head. ‘He’d never have come without you. We wanted Kelly back; Hugh wanted to get answers on what happened back then. He couldn’t get those unless all of you were here.’
‘You used us?’ Tony said. ‘Again.’
‘You’re never out,’ Mullan joked, mirthlessly.
‘So, what now?’ Karen asked, daubing her eyes with her sleeve. ‘What happens to us?’
Mullan considered the question. Behind him, his hands clasped before him, stood Barr, waiting, like a well-trained dog.
‘What about you?’
‘I have kids. A husband. What we did happened thirty years ago, no one got hurt.’
‘Martin Kelly would disagree,’ Mullan said. ‘As would his family.’
‘Martin Kelly sold drugs to children,’ Karen said. ‘He sold stuff that caused a kid to overdose. He gave me a date-rape drug as a joke. Martin wasn’t
innocent. What we did was wrong, and we’ve all had to deal with that in our own ways, but, Jesus, we were only kids ourselves, Sean.’
She looked wildly round at Tony, who still sat on the woodland floor, pleading with him to say something. But he was too tired to argue for himself.
‘Karen did nothing wrong,’ he managed. ‘If someone needs to be held accountable, it should be me. I went to the cop, Hamilton. I warned him what was planned. I took cold feet. And I should have spoken when Martin was brought here. I was a coward, from first to last. Karen just did what she thought was the right thing, for me. But ultimately, I did this. I was wrong.’
He sat for a second, lost in thought, picked up a stone that lay beside him and tossed it into the undergrowth. ‘My father warned me why I shouldn’t have looked for revenge for Danny. He told me it would spiral, a perpetual reciprocity of grief. He was right.’
He struggled to his feet, using the tree behind him for support. ‘I’ve no family, no one left to cry for me. So if someone needs to pay for what happened, it should be me. There would be no more grief.’
He looked at Karen and, for a moment, was pained to see tears rise in her eyes for him. But she had a husband, kids, a life to go back to that did not, and would not, include him.
Mullan nodded. ‘Someone needed to pay for the cop, Hamilton, getting away. Martin Kelly did that. Someone needed to pay for Martin Kelly; Hugh has done that. The way I see it, the sheet looks balanced. It’s all about optics, right?’
The Last Crossing Page 25
