Campbell returned the phone to his pocket. “We’ve got a long drive ahead. I’m going for a piss and to get my head clear. Watch them.”
Campbell turned and limped into the trees, into the shadows of the forest, pushing deeper among the branches. When he was sure Coyle couldn’t hear him, he took the phone back out of his pocket. He hesitated for a moment before dialling the handler’s number.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” Campbell said.
“What are you doing calling from that phone?”
Campbell turned in circles, peering through the trees, making sure Coyle hadn’t followed him. “I’ve no choice. I need to talk to you now.”
“What’s happening?”
“We’ve got the woman and her kid. She says Fegan’s in Belfast somewhere. She doesn’t know where.”
“So, what, you’re holding her hostage?”
“McGinty’s idea.”
Campbell told his handler the politician’s plan.
“Christ,” the handler said. “All you can do is play along. So long as Fegan’s taken care of, so long as they clear up their mess. Just don’t let it get any worse.”
“But the woman and the kid. McGinty isn’t going to let them go when it’s over. I know it. He has something against her, something other than her fucking a cop.”
“They aren’t our concern. Like I said, so long as McGinty clears up his own mess.”
Campbell closed his eyes and breathed the damp air. “There’s another option,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Think about it. We’ll have Paul McGinty and Bull O’Kane in one place, together, holding hostages. You time it right, raid the place just after Fegan’s taken care of, you’ll have them at the scene of a murder. Even if McGinty gets off the charge, he’ll be destroyed. Think of all the people who’ve wanted to see him fucked, but he’s always been too slippery, too sly. We can do it. We can have him.”
The handler sighed. “Jesus, you really don’t understand what’s going on, do you?”
“What?”
“All right, say we give McGinty enough rope to hang himself and that old bastard O’Kane. What then? No matter how hard the leadership try to distance themselves from it, the Unionists will walk. Jesus, even the moderates will run a mile. Stormont will grind to a halt. We can’t afford another two years of negotiations just to get back to where we are now. All the politics, all the money, all the work - all wasted. No. That’s the word from on high, son. Stormont keeps running, whatever the cost. Yes, I and many others in my profession would dearly love to see McGinty swing, but it isn’t going to happen. Now, do what you need to do, there’s a good lad.”
Campbell leaned his forehead against a tree trunk, feeling the bark scratch his skin.
“All right,” he said and hung up.
He started limping back towards the clearing, his mind churning. He’d done worse things in his life. He could do this. The red paintwork of the van was just visible through the branches when he heard Eddie Coyle’s thin cry.
“Davy! Davy!”
Campbell started a limping run, ignoring the fire in his side. He broke through to the clearing to find Coyle on the ground, clutching at his bruised face, and the van’s passenger door open.
“The bitch clouted me,” Coyle said as he scrambled to his feet.
Campbell scanned the trees, looking for a glimpse of ash-blonde hair. There, up ahead. She hadn’t got far carrying the child. He pulled the pistol McGinty had given him from his waistband and dived into the trees after her. Coyle came panting and groaning behind.
Even with the stiff pain in his leg and the agony of breathing, Campbell was gaining on Marie. He could hear the panicked rasp of her breath. He aimed the pistol five feet above her head and pulled the trigger. She threw herself to the ground as the shot echoed through the forest.
Campbell slowed as he neared the woman. He cried out, his side screaming at the effort. He leaned against a tree, one hand clasped to his ribs, the other aiming the pistol at the woman’s head. She lay on the ground, curled around her child. Her desperate eyes stared up at him.
“Please let Ellen go,” Marie said. “Take me if you want, just let her go.”
Campbell pushed himself off the tree and grimaced as he hunkered down beside them. Through the pain, he felt a cold leaden weight in his stomach. “Try that again and I’ll kill her in front of you.”
“Please—”
“Do you understand?” He placed the gun’s muzzle against the girl’s yellow hair. “I’ll make you watch her die.”
The child seemed to climb inside her mother, away from the pistol, into her arms.
Marie’s voice was barely audible above the whispering of the trees, but her eyes screamed with hate. “Don’t you touch her.”
“Just get back in the van.” Campbell looked up at Coyle’s wide eyes. “Come on,” he said.
