Campbell blinked hard and shook his head. He brought the pistol to Coyle’s temple. “I’ll kill him, I swear.”
O’Kane cocked the shotgun. “You think I give a shite?”
The boom filled the barn like a thunderclap, and time stood still for Fegan. He saw Coyle’s chest explode, throwing him and Campbell backwards against the low pit wall. The muzzle of Campbell’s pistol flashed as he and Coyle fell onto the lip of the pit, and something sliced the air beside Fegan.
He saw Downey reach inside his jacket. He heard Campbell’s pistol fire once more as Coyle’s body rolled away from him. O’Kane took a step back before letting the shotgun’s second barrel go with another booming discharge. Fegan flinched as a red sun burst from Campbell’s stomach. He dropped to the plastic-covered earth as Campbell writhed, pulling the trigger over and over.
Fegan covered his head with his hands and listened as the pistol’s angry barks turned to dry clicks. He felt two bodies hit the ground, one heavier than the other.
Breathing and crying. Then a tattered howl that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside the earth. That howl was answered by the dogs across the yard. He heard their panicked yelps cut through the dawn, their frantic scratching at the stable doors. Fegan let his eyes rise up from the plastic, over its sleek surface, until they found Downey’s twitching body, a revolver by his quivering hand. A pool of deep red spread from beneath him.
Fegan turned his head to the right. O’Kane lay on his side, alive, breathing hard. His face was burning pink and shining with sweat. A bloody hole had been torn just above his kneecap, and another in his belly, above his groin. His eyes found Fegan.
“Jesus, Gerry, he got me.”
Fegan pushed up with his hands and got his shaking legs under him. He coughed as acrid smoke scratched at his throat, and went to Downey’s body. He took the revolver from his side.
O’Kane’s laugh had a shrill edge. “The fucker got me.”
Fegan looked to Campbell. The Scot’s chest hitched with tiny gasps. His belly had been torn open and Fegan tried not to see the mash of blood and flesh. The UFF boys lingered over him, savage grins on their faces.
“You got him too,” Fegan said.
He walked over to O’Kane. The old man craned his neck to meet Fegan’s eyes. His breath came in hissing stabs through gritted teeth. He looked at the gun in Fegan’s hand.
“I’ll give you anything you want,” O’Kane said. “Anything. Any price. Just tell me.”
“No,” Fegan said.
“Get me out of here. Get me to a hospital. A million. I’ll give you a million.” He reached out and gripped Fegan’s ankle. “You can take the woman and the child and go anywhere. Two million. I’ll give you two million. Think of it, Gerry. Two million pounds.”
“I don’t want your money,” Fegan said, pulling his leg away from O’Kane’s grasp. He aimed the revolver at O’Kane’s forehead.
Tears sprang from O’Kane’s eyes and dropped to the plastic. “Then what? Just tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you.”
Fegan hunkered down. He could smell O’Kane’s sweat. “I won’t kill you. If you can get out of here, I won’t come after you. But you have to promise me something.”
“Oh, Jesus, anything.”
“When it’s over, you won’t come after me. Or Marie. You leave us alone. I’m going to kill Campbell now, and when I’ve done that, I’m going to the house to kill McGinty. Then I’m gone and you won’t ever hear of me again. You won’t look for me; you won’t put a price on me. Promise me that, and you’ll live.”
“Padraig ...”
“It’s too late for him. Swear you’ll leave me and Marie alone.”
O’Kane nodded. “I promise. I swear to God.”
“Swear on your children’s souls.”
“I swear.”
“All right,” Fegan said.
He stood upright and crossed the pit to where Campbell sprawled on its edge, clinging to the last threads of life. His eyes were focused on something above and his lips moved silently. The UFF boys stood back, their faces glowing with animal pleasure.
54
“Davy.”
Campbell searched for his name among the bloodied faces. All these people reaching for him, clutching at him, pulling him down with them.
Who had spoken his name? Those men with the shaven heads and tattoos? No, they were dead years ago, broken into pieces in a cold concrete room. What did they want with him now? Their faces blazed in ecstasy.
What do you want? His lips moved, he felt them, but no sound came.
Something nudged his foot.
“Here, Davy.”
Campbell tried to raise himself, but his body split in two. His core spilled out from him as he moved. Oh yes, the shotgun. It had torn him open. Cool air seeped into the place where his stomach had been.
