by Neal Martin
"No. I tried though. Got arrested."
"Fuck. Are you in the police station?"
"I was released. I take it you had nothing to do with that?"
"No, Harry. I didn't even know you'd been arrested. You're saying they released you? What were the charges?"
"Breaking and entering, holding a gun to the Lord Mayor's head…"
"Jesus, Harry. And they released you? I can't believe that."
"Neither can I. Either someone's looking out for me, which I doubt, or someone wants me out for other reasons."
"You think it was the bastard who took Kaitlin?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I'm going to call him now."
"Watch your back, Harry. Who knows who else is involved in this thing."
Edger ended the call and stared out the window for a minute, thinking about what Rankin said. Was it possible there were others involved in Kaitlin's kidnapping?
He picked up the burner phone from the front seat and dialled the kidnappers number.
"Job done?" the kidnapper asked when he answered. "I never got a photo showing proof of death."
"No," Edger answered. "Things went wrong at McGinty's house. I got arrested."
There was silence on the line for a moment. "Where are you calling from? I hope not the police station."
"No. They let me go. Was that you?"
"Your release had nothing to do with me."
"Then who? The cops had me by the balls. I was going to jail."
Another silence, this one longer. "You have ninety minutes to complete your mission, Harry."
Edger shook his head in disbelief. "I need more time. The cops will be all over McGinty's house now. I'll not get anywhere near him."
"That's unfortunate, but not my problem."
Edger's teeth clenched. "What the fuck do you mean it's not your problem? I can't kill someone if I can't get near them. Just give me more time. I'll get it done."
Silence again, then, "You have eighty-nine minutes to complete your mission, or I start hurting your daughter."
The line went dead.
Edger dropped the phone in his lap and battered the steering wheel with both hands. "Fuck-fuck-fuck!"
A sense of deep desperation was beginning to take hold of him, the kind of desperation he hadn't felt since one of his last jobs in Iraq, when his convoy was ambushed by insurgents and he was nearly killed. He feared for his life that day, just like he was fearing for his daughter's life now. As he leaned his head on the steering wheel, he wished he had never come back to Belfast, never contacted Gemma or Kaitlin. If he had stayed away, none of this would be happening.
But it is happening, a voice inside him told him. It was a voice he recognised, a voice that emerged for the first time during his Legion training when he had to endure a hellish week at The Farm, a place that molded him into a soldier like nothing had before, a place so tortuously bad he felt like packing in his training every single day. The only thing that kept him going was the voice he was hearing now, the voice that demanded he keep going no matter what.
A Legionnaire always gets the job done no matter what.
"No matter what," he reiterated as he started the engine, pulled out, and then barrelled down the Lisburn Road towards Andersonstown.
It took Edger twenty minutes to reach the Glen Road and then the street where Brian McGinty lived. He parked the silver Skoda at the top of the street, got out, and began to walk down the opposite side of the street. He stopped when he noticed the police cruiser about one hundred yards away, sitting right outside McGinty's house. From this distance, it was hard for him to tell how many cops were inside the cruiser, but he suspected there would just be two. It didn't matter anyway. His plan was to avoid the cops altogether by going into the house three doors up from McGinty's. From there, he planned to move through the back gardens until he reached McGinty's house. That way, he would hopefully avoid the cops seeing him.
Zipping his jacket up against the wind, Edger crossed the street and kept tight to the garden hedges as he walked, which afforded him some shadow and kept him out of the glare of the street lamps. When he reached the third house up from McGinty's, he vaulted over the front gate and moved at a quick pace up the side of the house to the back garden, hoping he didn't come across any dogs. He didn't need the noise. Any commotion would arouse the cops, who were probably on high alert now that they knew he had been released from custody.
A simple wooden fence about six feet high separated the garden he was in from the next one, which he easily climbed over, landing silently in the damp grass of the next garden. The kitchen light was on in the house, but a blind was pulled down over the window. Nonetheless, Edger crept along under the window sill in case anyone was in the kitchen, staying low as he passed the back door and stopping when he came to a high hedgerow. The hedgerow was a few inches taller than he was and almost impossible to climb over without a ladder or something to stand on. He thought about dragging one of the wheelie bins next to the back door over and using it to stand on, but then decided against it when he thought it would make too much noise. Instead he crept along the hedge to the bottom of the long garden, along the back of which was a wooden fence that would be easier to climb. Quickly, he climbed the fence, stood on top of it and then jumped over the hedge, landing with a thump in the McGinty's back garden. He stayed crouched after he landed, waiting to see if his movements had aroused any interest. There was a chance the cops out the front were doing regular patrols around the perimeter of the house, so he had to be careful. The last thing he wanted was an altercation with an armed cop, or worse, getting himself arrested again. Whoever had arranged his release, he doubted they would do it a second time.
There didn't seem to be any lights on in McGinty's house, but that didn't mean they weren't up. He doubted either of them would be able sleep much after the ordeal he had put them through earlier.
Edger moved silently along the hedge, and then around the greenhouse, continuing on until he got to the back door. He tried the handle. Locked. No surprise.
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and found the lock pick set, surprised that the tools were even still in there. The cops must have missed them when they took his jacket off him at the station. Lucky for him.
In less than a minute, he had the back door open, pushing it behind him as he stepped into the dark kitchen. He moved along the work tops until he found what he was looking for. A block of knifes. Edger took out the big one in the middle of the block and then made his way towards the hallway, stopping for a second to listen. The study door just ahead of him was open a crack and a sliver of light spilled through into the dark hallway. Even though he couldn't hear any noise from the room, Edger hoped McGinty was in there, for it would mean he wouldn't have to go upstairs and look for the master bedroom, nor would he have to deal with McGinty's wife.
Edger looked at his watch. 3:20 a.m. Enough time to do what he had to do.
The knife held by his side, Edger crept down the hallway until he reached the door of the study. He took a few seconds to steady his breathing, and then pushed the door open.
When he stepped into the room he saw McGinty sitting at his desk.
McGinty had a gun in his hand. Edger recognised it immediately as a Walther PPK. "I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to come back here," McGinty said, his nose swollen, his eyes puffy with dark bruising underneath them. "Drop that knife."
As Edger lowered the knife onto the wooden floor, he kept his eyes on McGinty, wondering if the broken nosed Mayor had the balls to use the gun he held.
Despite the gun, McGinty still looked fearful and his hand was shaking slightly as he held the Walther out in front of him. Edger also noticed the half empty bottle of Powers on the desk. McGinty was drunk. The gun he held had probably never been fired before either, at least not by McGinty. Still, it was at close range. All McGinty had to do was pull the trigger. He couldn't miss, not a target of Edger's size.
"You're a dead man,
Edger," McGinty said, his eyes full of false confidence thanks to the gun.
"Are you going to kill me, McGinty?" Edger asked him. "You don't look like a killer to me."
"You know nothing about me, what I'm capable of."
Edger remembered the vile material on the laptop. "I think I have a good idea."
"You think you do, but you don't."
"Why don't you tell me?" Edger took a step forward.
"Don't move!" McGinty motioned with the gun for Edger to stay back.
"You going to kill me with two cops outside?"
"Fuck the cops," McGinty spat. "The cops have no power over me."
"Who does then? The people who got me released from the police station?"
McGinty gave a humourless laugh. "You've no idea the hornets nest you've stirred up. They only got you released so they could fucking kill you."
"Who? Who are they? Part of your little paedophile ring?"
"It doesn't matter. When I pull this trigger, you're dead anyway."
Edger watched McGinty closely. The man didn't seem too comfortable holding the gun, which told Edger he had little if any experience. Certainly, McGinty had never shot anyone. He was holding the gun low and close to himself. From that position he could easily squeeze the trigger and hit Edger, but Edger doubted he would do that. McGinty would probably have to reposition the gun before he took his shot, and as it happened, that's exactly what he did.
McGinty raised his arm and outstretched the gun towards Edger at the same time. His facial features tightened, like he was steeling himself for the recoil when he pulled the trigger. His movements were slowed by the whiskey in him, and also clumsy with inexperience.
Edger waited until the gun was pointed at a rough forty-five degree angle, and then dove down low towards McGinty just as the gun went off, the sound deafening in the confines of the small room. Edger skidded on his knees as he flung himself forward, threw all of his considerable bulk into McGinty as he crashed into him, crushing the Mayor against his desk, causing McGinty to cry out and drop the gun to the floor. Almost on top of him, Edger was face to face with McGinty, and he took the opportunity to head butt the older man on his already broken nose. McGinty squealed in pain as his nose was decimated by Edger's hard forehead. Edger then got to his feet and picked the gun up off the floor and pointed it at the politician.
Just then there was a loud banging noise at the front door as the cops from outside demanded to be let in. Edger ignored them and pointed the Walther at McGinty's head. He really wanted to ask the politician who the people were that released him from jail, but he hadn't time. He needed to kill McGinty and then be gone.
His finger wrapped around the trigger as McGinty cowered in his chair and closed his eyes tight, awaiting the bullet that would end his life.
"Drop the gun!"
One of the cops was in the hallway. Probably went through the back door Edger had left open.
Edger cursed and dropped the gun to the floor, raised his hands and turned around slowly to see a young female cop standing there, her Glock 17 pointing at him. "Take it easy," he said.
"Shoot him, he tried to kill me!" McGinty screamed from behind him.
McGinty's screaming distracted the cop for just a second, and she took her eyes of Edger to look past him into the room at the politician.
That was all the time Edger needed.
He rushed forward and grabbed the cop's gun by the barrel, rotating it quickly back towards her. Her finger was stuck in the trigger guard, and she screamed as the delicate digit twisted and broke. The pain forced her to drop down almost to her knees just as Edger pulled the gun from her grip. He shot his knee out and caught the cop in the face, sending her flying back into the wall.
He was about to turn around in order to finish McGinty when there was a crashing sound down the hallway. The other cop had kicked the front door in and he had his gun pointed at Edger. The cop fired a shot, and Edger felt a searing pain as the bullet grazed his shoulder and sent him spinning back into the wall. Another shot flew past his face, carrying on to shatter the glass in the back door. Edger ducked down and ran into the kitchen as more shots were fired, exploding the plaster in the walls by the back door. He ran through the door and out to the back garden, where he sprinted up the grass, past the greenhouse to the back fence. The cop's Glock still in his hand, he climbed the fence and dropped down into the next garden, then he ran across the grass and scaled the fence into the next garden before running up the side of the house and out to the pavement, where he looked down towards McGinty's house. No sign of the cop who was shooting at him. Edger sprinted up the street to where his car was parked. When he got in, he saw the cop running up the street towards him.
"Fuck!" he said as he started the engine. He swung the car out to the road and pressed hard on the accelerator, speeding in the direction of the cop, keeping his head low as he struggled to hold the steering. A bullet went through the front windscreen and embedded itself into the front passenger seat. Then one of the side windows shattered as another bullet was fired, followed by two more bullets puncturing the back window, one bullet hitting the back of the front passenger seat, the other hitting the dashboard just above the glove compartment.
Breathing hard, Edger sat up in the driver's seat as he neared the bend in the road, pulling hard on the steering wheel as the car careened around the corner, hitting the kerb, almost slamming into another car before he finally got control of it. He shot out on to the main Glen Road, narrowly missing a car that flew past him.
A loud roar of anger and frustration erupted left his mouth as he sped down the Glen Road.
A moment later, he frantically pulled the burner phone out of his jacket pocket and called the kidnapper's number.
The call went straight to voicemail.
"Fuck!"
He tried again.
Voicemail.
Third time. Voicemail.
"No!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Kaitlin McGuire's kidnapper sat on the damp floorboards of the living room in the old farmhouse. His scarred body was naked from the waste up as he sat cross legged in the centre of the room, surrounded by lit candles. Even though cold drafts gusted around the room, he didn't feel the cold. His mangled flesh and dead nerve endings meant he felt nothing. He was staring at a mobile phone that sat on the floor in front of him. The digital clock on the face of the phone said 3.59 a.m. He glanced over at the wall with all the photographs on it, his gaze falling on the blood smeared photo of Brian McGinty. When he looked back at the phone, the clock said 4.00 a.m.
Blutwolf closed his eyes for a moment. After taking a deep breath, which he exhaled slowly, he stood up and went to a large canvas bag in the corner of the room. He knelt down and began to rummage through the bag, moving aside various guns, boxes of bullets, a large hunting knife, nylon fishing line, a ski mask, duct tape, stun grenades and a number of other items before he found what he was looking for.
He took out a weighty canvas roll and placed it on the floor, untying the string securing it, before rolling it open to reveal a wallet containing an assortment of knives and other bladed instruments. He ran his fingers along each of the blades, back and forth, finally stopping on a knife with a seven inch blade and a black quartz handle. He took the knife out and held it up to his face, turning it slowly, marvelling at the finely honed edge. Then he put the knife back in the wallet and ran his fingers over the tools again, this time stopping on a set of stainless steel secateurs. He slid the twin bladed implement out of the wallet and held them, opening and closing them for a moment, turning them so they reflected the light from the flickering candles in the room.
These will do.
He put the secateurs on the floor and hoked through the canvas bag again, taking out a roll of bandages and a bottle of iodine.
Then he picked up the secateurs and left the room, going into the narrow hallway before turning and heading up the creaking stairs towards the attic room.
> Lying on her side on the mattress in the dark attic room, Kaitlin McGuire shivered, despite the blankets she had over her. The room was cold and draughty, but she also knew she felt the cold more because she had barely eaten anything in over twelve hours. The water and the chocolate bars provided by her kidnapper still lay on the floor, but she hadn't touched them. She was too afraid they were poisoned, even though she knew she was probably being paranoid. If her kidnapper wanted her dead, he would have killed her already. Or at least, that's what she thought. Since waking up in the attic room, Kaitlin had been thinking about why she had been kidnapped in the first place, and more pressingly, what her kidnapper was going to do to her eventually. Would he let her go when he got what he wanted, whatever that was? She really hoped so. For the thought of never seeing her mother again was unbearable. Or Harry, for that matter.
Even though she had only known Harry properly for about six months, he was still her father. More than that, she really liked him. Loved him even. He was kind and generous with her, despite the fact that her mother obviously still had a problem with him. But that was their grown up stuff. Nothing to do with her. All that mattered to Kaitlin was that she finally had a father figure in her life, after years of hearing all her friends talk about how great their dads were, and everything their dads did for them. That kind of talk used to make her feel so sad, like there was something wrong with her because she didn't have a father. Or worse, that she had a father, but for some reason he would rather be off fighting as a soldier somewhere rather than be with her.
It would have been so easy for her to be resentful and spiteful towards Harry when he eventually showed up saying he wanted to be a part of her life. A lot of Kaitlin's friends said she was stupid just letting Harry walk into her life like that. If it was them, they would punish him and make him buy her stuff just to make up for his long absence. But Kaitlin wasn't like that. She didn't enjoy being angry or spiteful towards other people. It just made her feel bad.
