fatigue. He prayed the Bull would allow him an hour or two’s sleep once he got the woman and child off his hands.
The handbrake creaked as he stopped at the front door. It stood open, Orla O’Kane’s wide body silhouetted by the light inside. The Traveller got out of the car.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.
‘Just paying a visit,’ he said.
She stepped out onto the gravel. ‘Is that …?’
‘Yeah.’
Orla moved close to the Traveller. ‘What in the name of Christ did you bring them here for?’
‘Your auld fella wanted Fegan drawn out, didn’t he? I reckon these are the girls for the job, so I brought them for a visit.’
Orla shook her head. ‘No. Not like this. Not here. He won’t have it. He made that mistake before.’
‘That’s his lookout, isn’t it?’
She poked his chest with a thick finger. ‘Well, I’m making it yours. You better—’
The Traveller swiped her finger away. ‘Look, I did my bit, and I got the shite knocked out of me for my troubles. Do you see the state of me? You can do whatever the fuck you want with these two, just make sure I get my money.’
Orla stared at him while the machine behind her eyes worked, lives lost or spared with each option she considered. Finally, she nodded and said, ‘All right.’ She looked back to the car. ‘Are they intact?’
‘The kid is. The woman’s hurt.’
Orla approached the rear of the car and peered in. ‘How bad?’
‘Bad enough,’ he said. ‘Any nurses here?’
‘No. They go home at night. Aren’t due back on shift for an hour or so yet. Just me and a couple of boys to keep watch.’
‘Pity,’ he said. ‘She needs looking at. I don’t give her much time otherwise.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Orla said. She opened the door and hunkered down at eye level with the child. The hardness of her face eased as she reached for her. ‘Hello, darling. What’s your name?’
The Traveller sat Marie McKenna down on a chair outside the Bull’s room. Orla kept the child in her arms, whispering to her, rocking her.
Marie reached up. Sweat beaded on her skin at the effort. ‘Please,’ she said, her voice thin like paper.
Orla hesitated, then lowered Ellen into her mother’s lap. Marie’s chest rattled as she wrapped her arms loose around the child. She watched the Traveller with dark eyes set in an ash-grey face. She coughed, spraying red droplets in the little girl’s hair.
Orla knocked the door to the Bull’s room. A grunt came from inside.
‘Da?’ she called.
‘Wait,’ the voice from inside said.
‘Da? What’s wrong?’
‘Don’t come—’
She pushed the door open. Bull O’Kane lay sprawled on the floor between his chair and his bed, sweating and breathing hard. He stared up at the Traveller.
‘Da, what happened?’
The Bull’s wild eyes flicked back to Orla. ‘Come in and shut that fucking door.’
She rushed in and slammed the door in the Traveller’s face.
‘Fuck me,’ the Traveller said.
The Bull had looked like a discarded shell lying there, so weak he couldn’t even keep his feet. Groans and hisses came from inside the room, the sounds of a strong woman hoisting up a frail old man. Fucking pathetic, the Traveller thought.
He listened as the voices volleyed back and forth on the other side of the door, firm at first, then climbing in anger. Several minutes passed before the door opened again. Orla stepped past him, her face flushed, her lips thin. She indicated with a tilt of her head that he should enter.
‘If you’ve any brains left,’ Bull O’Kane said from his chair, ‘you won’t take me for weak.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ the Traveller said. He gave the Bull his most serious countenance.
O’Kane watched him for a moment, breathing hard. He wiped his sleeve across his forehead. ‘You don’t look so good yourself.’
‘I’ve been better,’ the Traveller said. He flexed his shoulders, working the stiffness out of them. The skin itched beneath the strapping on his left wrist.
‘Maybe that’s what’s making you so fucking stupid.’
The Traveller winked. ‘There’s no stupid people in this room.’
‘Don’t smart-arse me,’ the Bull said, leaning forward. His hands trembled on the armrests. ‘You’re lucky I haven’t had you shot. You know what’s going to happen now?’
‘Yeah, I do.’ The Traveller stepped forward. ‘You do whatever you want with the woman and the kid. I get paid and be on my way.’
‘No.’ The Bull sagged back into his chair. ‘What happens now is he comes after them.’
‘Gerry Fegan?’
The Bull nodded slow, his gaze locked on the Traveller’s.
‘He doesn’t know where they are,’ the Traveller said.
‘He’ll find out. Then he’ll come.’
The Traveller smiled. ‘Then you can watch me break his neck. How’s that?’
The Bull sat still, lost in thought. Eventually, he asked, ‘You sure you can take him?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘If you’re wrong, he’ll kill us all.’
‘I’m sure,’ the Traveller said.
The Bull inhaled, held it, released it, made his decision. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Bring ’em in now, there’s a good fella.’
80
Lennon’s phone rang as he pulled up ten yards from Hewitt’s house. He gestured to Fegan to be quiet and answered it.
‘Where are you?’ CI Uprichard asked.
‘Following up on something,’ Lennon said.
‘Lisburn have been on the line,’ Uprichard said. ‘They have an MIT together. Officers are on their way to Carrickfergus now. They’ll be pissed off if you’re not there to meet them after calling them out.’
‘I’ve got other things to do,’ Lennon said. He hung up.
Fegan indicated the big house beyond the security gate. ‘Who is he?’
‘Detective Chief Inspector Dan Hewitt,’ Lennon said. ‘A friend of mine. Used to be, anyway. Special Branch.’
‘Jesus,’ Fegan said.
‘Might as well be,’ Lennon said. ‘You know how it works. They’re untouchable.’
‘He sold you and Marie out,’ Fegan said.
‘That’s right.’
‘Fancy house,’ Fegan said. ‘Old. Four, five bedrooms. How much does a Special Branch cop make?’
‘Not enough to afford a big house in this part of Belfast.’ A movement caught Lennon’s eye. ‘Hang on.’
The electric gates swung open, and an unmarked police car drove out. Lennon got out of his Audi, and Fegan followed. They crossed the distance to the gates by the time the cop car turned onto the Lisburn Road and just made it through before they closed. A security lamp, triggered by the cop car’s exit, bathed the garden and driveway in harsh white light. Beyond the grand bay window’s voile curtains, Hewitt drank from a glass while his wife Juliet stood over him. A large plaster covered the bridge of his nose, and Lennon could just make out the bruising around his reddened eyes.
