“McGinty sent you,” Fegan said.
“Of course.”
“So, he’s going to do me.”
“That was the idea,” Campbell said.
“Why?”
Campbell laughed and shook his head. “Jesus, why do you think?”
“He knows what I did. He didn’t come right out and say it at Michael’s funeral, but he knows.”
Campbell nodded. “That’s right. And the priest confirmed it this morning.”
The chill at Fegan’s center intensified. “What?”
“Father Coulter. That old bastard couldn’t hold his own piss. That was a stupid move, telling him.”
The shadows pressed against Fegan’s consciousness. “I never thought he’d . . .” He pushed them back and swallowed. “I never thought he’d do that.”
“Now you know different.”
“Yeah, I do.” Fegan nodded, letting the betrayal sink to the bottom of his stomach. It settled there, joining the rest of the slithering aches in his gut. “What about Marie?” he asked.
“McGinty said she’d been taken care of,” Campbell said.
Fegan stepped closer and lowered the gun to rest on the Scot’s forehead. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Campbell said.
Fegan snapped the Walther against Campbell’s cheek. “What does it mean?”
Campbell slumped sideways to rest against the wall. “Fuck,” he said.
“Sit up straight,” Fegan said. “Get your hands back under you. What does it mean?”
Campbell did as he was told. “That’s all he said. She’d been taken care of, that’s all. I don’t know what it means.”
Fegan raised the pistol again and Campbell screwed his eyes shut. He lowered the muzzle and pressed it against Campbell’s temple. He wanted to pull the trigger. He wanted to hear the roar in this small tiled room, then the whistling in his ears, feel the warm, gritty spots on his face, taste the copper on his lips. He wanted all that and for the two UFF boys to be gone. Christ, they wanted it too. He could feel them, watching, waiting, longing for it. Fegan so wanted to do it, to pull the trigger, but there were things he needed to know. He thought of Marie and the fine lines around her eyes, and of Ellen. The image of them in fear and pain tightened his finger on the trigger. He inhaled, the air cold at the back of his nose, clearing his head.
“Did he hurt her?” he asked, taking the Walther away from Campbell’s temple.
A little of the calm returned to Campbell’s face, along with a shadow of anger. “I told you I don’t know. Now, either take my word for it or shoot me, for fuck’s sake.”
Fegan swung the Walther at Campbell’s cheek again and the impact sent a jolt up to his shoulder. The Scot slumped against the wall, his eyes glassy, blood seeping from the growing welt below his left eye. Fegan took a glass tumbler from above the washbasin, filled it with water, and threw its contents at Campbell’s face. Two more glassfuls and Campbell was upright again, sitting on his hands.
“Who’s the cop?” Fegan asked.
Campbell’s mouth curled in a smile. “The one who did you over? I don’t know him.” He hunched down, his head between his shoulders, when Fegan raised the gun again. “I don’t know, for Christ’s sake! He’s Patsy Toner’s contact. He knows him. I only heard of him today.”
“I need to know who he is,” Fegan said. “I need to know why the RUC man wants him.”
“What?” Campbell raised his head from between his shoulders, a knot in his brow.
“If I’m going to finish this, I need to know why him. What did he do to deserve it?”
Campbell shook his head. “What are you talking about, Gerry?”
Fegan sighed and shrugged. “Christ knows.” He put the Walther back to Campbell’s forehead. “Well, that’s that, then.”
“Wait!” Campbell said. “For fuck’s sake, wait.”
“What for?” Fegan said.
“There’s a way out of this. A way to stick it to McGinty.”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
“No, no, listen to me. There’s a way, I swear.”
Fegan sighed and lifted the pistol slightly. “Go on.”
Campbell’s quick eyes revealed the working of his mind as the words spilled out of him. “McGinty’s milking Caffola’s killing for everything he can get, saying the cops did it. And Eddie Coyle, too. He’s saying the cops beat the shit out of him. If you give yourself up, go to the law, tell them the truth, everyone will know McGinty’s a liar. He’ll be disgraced. Tell the press, tell the TV people. They’re McGinty’s lifeblood.”
Campbell was smarter than Fegan had thought. “No, that won’t be good enough,” he said.
“Come on, Gerry, you know you can’t get to him.” Campbell’s voice belied his wide, easy smile. “He’ll get you first. This way, at least you’ll live. You’ll see him destroyed and you’ll live.”
