Road Kill

listening in. And besides, the wind was whipping our words away over the stern as soon as they were spoken.

“We think we might have made some headway but that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Sean said. “Madeleine’s being doing some searches on our friend Eamonn and it turns out he moves in some very nasty circles.”

Eamonn’s words when he’d first laid eyes on Sean came back to me in a cold rush. Now that wouldn’t be a bastard squaddie I can smell, would it? Seen plenty of your type . . .

“He’s connected to the IRA?” I said, tense.

Sean ducked his head in a ‘maybe, maybe not’ gesture. “More likely the other side of the sectarian divide,” he said. “Our intelligence suggests good old Eamonn Garroway is just an old-fashioned thug, but you can’t operate in Northern Ireland without the knowledge and tacit approval of the paramilitaries – regardless of your politics. The bad news is, he’s heavily into the drugs trade.”

“Shit,” I murmured, my eyes straying to Jamie again. “We were afraid of something like that.”

“Quite,” Sean said, letting his voice drawl. “You see now why I thought you might be glad of some back-up on this one?”

“Yeah,” I said, giving him a wry smile. “But I’m glad to see you anyway, Sean – not just for that reason.”

He raised an eyebrow, momentarily lost for words, then he laughed softly, shaken. “Well, that’s progress, I think,” he said.

Impulsively, I moved in closer so I could take some shelter from his body. He only hesitated a fraction then put his arm round my shoulders and pulled me in closer still. I tilted my head against his chest and we stood like that for a long time without the need to say anything further, watching the foaming white line of wake stretching out behind us from the ferry’s twin hulls.

I could feel the heat of him seeping into my bones but it wasn’t just a physical warmth. It felt good just to be near him, whatever my father’s doom-ridden predictions.

Nevertheless, the memory of those words chilled me. I broke away, turned to face Sean a little. I’d forgotten how good he looked in leathers, dark and dangerous, with the wind tousling his hair. I swallowed, forced myself to concentrate.

“Did Madeleine manage to dig out anything on Isobel?” I asked, peering round the corner of the superstructure to check on Jamie. He was still where we’d left him, slumped onto the rail now, eyes shut, but at least he had more colour. Being his bodyguard, I reasoned, just meant ensuring he didn’t fall over the side. It didn’t mean I had to go and mop up after him.

“Some,” Sean said easily. “She’s not averse to walking a thin line when it comes to the law.”

“So maybe that receiving charge against Jacob was more down to his wife at the time,” I said.

Sean nodded. “I think you could be right,” he admitted. “She’s been living with Eamonn – or off him, actually – for the past two years.”

I frowned. “I always got the impression that she was the one with the money.”

“On paper, yes,” Sean agreed. “It’s a case of being asset rich but cash poor. She’s got plenty of property but it’s tied in to long-term leases. She’s also got a portfolio of stuff that’s up for redevelopment and will be worth something in the future but is worth bugger all now. Less than that, in fact, because she bought high and prices have temporarily fallen back. If this divorce from Jacob goes ahead and she has to pay him off any time soon, she’s going to be financially crippled.”

“Surely they won’t still have to divide everything up now, will they – not after all this time?” I said.

Sean shrugged. “Makes no difference how long they’ve been apart,” he said. “Assets are divided at the time of divorce, not separation.”

I recalled my last conversation with Clare at the hospital. “Do you think that might be the reason Jamie got himself in deep enough water that he had to go to Clare for money?” I asked. “If his mother’s in debt, he might have thought that getting tangled up with Eamonn’s business would somehow help get her out of it?”

“But instead he’s got himself into a bigger mess,” Sean finished for me.

“Mm. Clare said he’d got himself in over his head and I assumed – or rather, she let me assume – that she was talking about the Devil’s Bridge Club. But she also said it wasn’t those lads who were the problem, but whoever was after them.”

“I wonder what she meant by that,” Sean murmured, almost to himself. “Why would Eamonn be after them? What have they done?”

“Maybe nothing yet,” I said. “Maybe it’s what they’re planning on doing on this trip. Could it be a territorial thing, do you think?”

“Could be,” Sean said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Everything we’ve dug up on Eamonn suggests he’s highly territorial.” He shrugged. “Has to be, I suppose.”

“Is that really enough of a reason to kill Slick, badly injure Clare and then Sam, and have a go at me as well?” I said. “Bit drastic, isn’t it?”

Sean fixed me with a look. “This is Eamonn we’re talking about.”

I remembered the venom and the easy violence the Irishman had displayed that day at Jacob and Clare’s. “Good point,” I said. “And well made.”

“Hmm, I thought so,” he said, giving me a lazy smile that died away as his own memories of the same incident surfaced. His face grew hard and just as ruthless as Eamonn’s, in its own way. “Just goes to show,” he said with a smile that did nothing to warm up his words, “you should have let me finish him while I had the chance.”

***

When Jamie had recovered enough to prise himself away from the railing, the three of us went back inside