box. The undertakers had made a good job of concealing the injury to the deceased’s temple.
Fegan thought of Marie and how she had lingered over McKenna’s coffin. He whispered to himself, “You had it coming.”
A hush settled on the room, and Fegan looked up from the body, knowing who he’d see.
“Hello, Gerry,” McGinty said.
Fegan nodded.
McGinty addressed the others in the room. “Can I get a few minutes with my friend?”
The room emptied quickly, leaving only Fegan, McGinty, the pale cadaver and the deepening shadows. Fegan kept his eyes on the politician, the coffin between them.
“We have a wee problem,” McGinty said, smiling.
Fegan didn’t answer. The chill pulsed at his center. Despite himself, he put a hand on his own heart in case the politician would see its cold glow.
“You didn’t do what I asked you,” McGinty said. “Why not?”
“She’s no threat to you. There’s no reason to put her out,” Fegan said, fighting to keep the anger from his voice.
McGinty stepped closer and rested his hands on the edge of the box. “If I let her stay I look weak. I can’t afford to look weak, Gerry. Not now. I’ve too much at stake. I’ve already been more generous than that girl deserved. She would’ve been in the ground long ago if I hadn’t indulged Michael. There’s a limit to how generous I can be.” He looked down at the corpse. “I’ve already allowed too many things to slide. I owe you a lot, Gerry, but my patience is wearing thin.”
Fegan moved around the coffin, heading for the door. McGinty blocked his path.
“I mean it, Gerry. Don’t test me. You don’t want to tell her, all right, but don’t interfere.”
Fegan stepped to the side, but McGinty gripped his arm, and the two looked hard into each other’s eyes. The politician’s thin lips broke into a soft smile. He cupped Fegan’s face in his hands, leaned in, and placed a dry kiss on his cheek.
“We’ve always been such good friends,” McGinty said. “Ever since you were a kid. Don’t fuck it up over a woman. Not a whore like Marie McKenna.”
Fegan’s cheek burned. He pulled away and finally reached the door. The people on the landing made way for him, and he hurried down the stairs. He stopped dead when he reached the bottom.
Davy Campbell nodded. Fegan nodded back, ignoring the crackling in his temples and the shadows moving in from the edge of his vision. Campbell had changed since Fegan saw him last. Thinner. Darker round the eyes. Death clings to men who’ve wielded it, like the stench of the abattoir. Fegan imagined they could smell it on each other, as a dog knows friend from enemy by scent alone. He opened the front door and left Campbell staring after him.
23
Campbell watched Fegan disappear around the corner. As he went back into the house the mixture of fear, hate and anger in Fegan’s eyes lingered with him. He looked like a killer, the purest kind, the kind who killed more out of want than need. Campbell sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He made his way upstairs, struggling to squeeze through the mourners who had parted so easily for Fegan. He entered the bedroom where Caffola’s body lay. McGinty had his back to the door.
“I want that cunt sorted, Davy,” McGinty said without looking round.
“When?” Campbell asked.
“The day after tomorrow. I don’t want the press getting distracted from my speech at the funeral, but no later than that.”
“Whatever you say.” Campbell walked around the coffin to face McGinty. “What about the woman?”
“Eddie Coyle can sort it out,” McGinty said. “I made a kind gesture, letting Father Coulter speak to her, and she threw it back in my face. Well, no more. Eddie won’t be so polite about it.”
“What if he fucks it up? He’s not the brightest.”
“What’s to fuck up? All he’s got to do is put a brick through her window. Still, you’ve got a point. Maybe you should go with him.”
“He won’t like that,” Campbell said.
“I don’t care what he likes,” McGinty said. “He’ll do what he’s told. And, Davy, listen to me.”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever happens, don’t hurt Marie or the wee girl, all right? Frighten them if you have to, but don’t hurt them.”
Something moved behind McGinty’s eyes. Campbell only caught a glimpse of it.
“They won’t get hurt. I’ll make sure of it.” Campbell looked down at Vincie Caffola’s peaceful face. “Why’d Fegan do it?”
“Christ knows. He’s off his head, so maybe he didn’t need a reason. Anyway, if he hadn’t done it, I would have, eventually. Caffola had a big mouth. It’s no great loss.”
“Then why go after Fegan now?” Campbell asked.
“Because if he thinks he can get away with it, where’s he going to stop? Besides, the old man has spoken. Bull O’Kane won’t have any unauthorised actions, even if they’re against pieces of shit like this.”
