“I understand,” Fegan said.
O’Kane smiled. “Good. It’s been a long time, Gerry.”
“Twenty-seven years.”
“Jesus, is it?” O’Kane laughed. “I wish I could say it was good to see you. But you’ve let me down. Me and Paul. Ah, well. Come on inside, now.”
“Where’s Marie?”
“Don’t worry, you’ll see her soon enough. Come on.”
O’Kane turned and walked towards the house. Fegan felt a shove at the small of his back. McGinty stared at him hard as he walked to the door, but said nothing.
A damp chill filled the derelict farmhouse. Fegan let it soak into him as he followed O’Kane through the kitchen. Downey came behind, the shotgun pressed between Fegan’s shoulder blades, followed by McGinty and Coyle.
They entered the next room where Campbell’s unconscious body lay on an ancient couch. A sweet chemical odor pushed aside the smell of damp and mildew.
A younger man, as tall as O’Kane, but heavier, placed a wooden chair at the center of the room. Fegan guessed him to be Padraig, the Bull’s son.
“Sit down,” O’Kane said.
Fegan obeyed as McGinty and Downey made their way into the room. McGinty’s face was impassive as he lit a cigarette. The others waited in the kitchen.
“I want to see Marie and Ellen,” Fegan said. His hands didn’t shake, but his mouth was dry.
“All right,” O’Kane said. He looked at Padraig and tilted his head towards another doorway. His son disappeared through it without a word.
O’Kane stared at Fegan for what seemed like hours before he spoke again. “So, what happens now, Gerry?”
“You let Marie and Ellen go,” Fegan said. “Then you kill me.”
O’Kane smiled. “Not so fast. There’s something I want to get straight first.”
“What?”
“I want to know why, Gerry.”
Fegan looked to the doorway as Marie entered, cradling Ellen, escorted by Quigley. Padraig followed and closed the door behind him. He guided Marie to the corner. Ellen wriggled in her mother’s arms.
“It’s Gerry,” she said.
“I know,” Marie said, her voice calm and even. “Be still, sweetheart.”
Ellen kept squirming until she slipped from her mother’s grip and dropped lightly to the floor. She ran to Fegan. “Have you come for us?” she asked as she climbed into his lap. She weighed nothing at all.
“Yeah,” Fegan said.
“Mummy’s scared.”
“I know. But she shouldn’t be. Neither should you. It’s going to be all right. I promise.”
“When can we go home?”
Fegan cupped her face in his hands. “Soon. Go back to your Mummy.”
Ellen dismounted from Fegan’s knee and went to her mother. Marie crouched down and wrapped her arms around her daughter. Fegan smiled at her and she nodded in return before lowering her eyes.
O’Kane moved between them, blocking Fegan’s view. “You didn’t answer me, Gerry. I want to know why you did all this. Tell me.”
Fegan looked up at his red face. “Because I had to.”
“You had to. What does that mean?”
“I had to do it. It was the only way.”
“The only way to what?”
“To get them to leave me alone.”
“Who?”
Fegan looked to the floor.
“To get who to leave you alone?” O’Kane crouched down and placed his finger under Fegan’s chin. He turned his head so their eyes met. “Who made you do it, Gerry? The Brits? Someone else? Maybe someone we know? It’s all right. It’s all over now. You can tell me.”
“No,” Fegan said as the chill reached his center. The shadows drew in from the periphery of his vision, and moved between McGinty and Campbell. Their shapes came into focus, solidified. Fegan tried to push them back, but he couldn’t. Their eyes burned into him.
“Tell me,” O’Kane said. He gripped Fegan’s face in one massive hand. “Tell me.”
“Them.” Fegan pointed to the woman, her baby, and the butcher as they executed McGinty over and over. He pointed to the UFF boys standing over Campbell. “And them.”
