Avedissian was trying desperately to appear calm for he found Kell's anger almost tangible in the confines of the cell. He would never have believed that anyone could unnerve him so much.
'Where is it?' rasped Kell.
'It's in a bank,’ said Avedissian.
‘Then we must get it out of the bank,’ said Kell with a wide-eyed stare.
'Like I said, you let us go and I'll give you the money,’ said Avedissian.
Kell shook his head slowly and said, 'You just don't understand, do you? There is no bargain to be made. You will transfer the money unconditionally.'
'Do you think I'm mad, Kell?' snorted Avedissian.
'No, I think you're dead,’ replied Kell with a chilling finality. 'You are all dead,’ he added. 'The only question to be decided is how much pain you go through before I permit you to die.'
'Then I've got nothing to lose by refusing to transfer the money,’ said Avedissian with cold sweat running down his back.
'Tell me that when Nelligan is cutting bits off the O'Neill bitch and feeding them to the dogs,’ said Kell.
'All right, Kell, you win,’ whispered Avedissian.
'Of course I do, Doctor,’ said Kell, the smile returning. 'In the end, I always do. But there's no hurry. Enjoy my hospitality until Nelligan and I get back from proving that fact to Bryant.’
'What do you mean?' asked O'Neill.
Kell adopted a patronising sneer and said softly, 'C'mon, Martin, you with your university education an' all.’ He turned to Kathleen and said, 'And you too, school-teacher. Knowing what Bryant had set up for us, what would you say would be the last thing on earth that he would expect us to be planning in the circumstances?… No?…All that education and no ideas?' The smile faded and Kell hissed, ‘I’ll show that bastard who's boss. I'll make him rue the day he ever crossed the path of Finbarr Kell.' He turned to Nelligan and said, 'We have work to do. It's going to be quite like old times, eh?'
Nelligan agreed, basking in the recognition of his master like a Labrador dog. He wheeled Kell out of the room and the door was clanged shut. Those left in the room listened in silence until the squeaking of the pram wheels had faded away then Kathleen said, 'So we are all going to die.'
'We're not dead yet,’ said Avedissian, but failed to convince even himself that they had a future. 'I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen him for myself,’ he added.
O'Neill knew what he was thinking and said, 'From what Kathleen tells me, Bryant isn't much better.'
'What did he mean by saying it was going to be like old times?' Avedissian asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ admitted O'Neill. 'But Kell and Nelligan used to work together in the old days before Kell was crippled.’
Kathleen was holding herself in pain and Avedissian suffered the agony of knowing that there was little he could do to help in the circumstances but try to comfort her verbally, something he could do with little conviction.
They were left alone with their thoughts and fears until their guard, a particularly sullen and uncommunicative individual, brought in some brown bread and a jug of water. He refused all requests for a first-aid kit or any kind of medication for Kathleen's burns. 'You get what I'm told to give you,’ he snarled. 'Nothing else.’
Toilet arrangements in their cell comprised a single rusty can which, when combined with a total lack of ventilation in the cellar, ensured that their world stank by early evening when the guard changed. Avedissian feared that Kathleen's burns must soon become infected in the squalor.
Their new guard brought in tea and bread rolls. O'Neill knew the man: he was Liam Drummond, the driver who had taken him to and from Cladeen after the amputation of his arm, the man who had complained bitterly about Kell's earlier behaviour. O'Neill said, 'So you were right about Kell.'
The man's face filled with fear and he whispered hoarsely, ‘For God's sake, Mr O'Neill, keep your voice down! I'm doing my job. I don't want no trouble.'
O'Neill could see how scared the man really was. He would have to proceed with great care if Drummond were to be of any use to them at all and it might be that he was their only chance. But Drummond still called him 'Mr'. How much influence did he have left with the man? 'My sister is hurt bad,’ said O'Neill. 'Kell burned her. She needs medication. Can you get her some?'
'Be reasonable, Mr O'Neill,' pleaded Drummond. 'It's more than my life is worth to cross Kell. You know that.'
'Kathleen will die if the burns become infected,’ said O'Neill. 'She's in terrible pain.'
The plain truth, Mr O'Neill, is that you are all going to die when the Bairn gets back,’ replied Drummond.
'Back from where?' asked O'Neill.
'England. He's gone operational.'
O'Neill looked incredulous but he could see that Drummond was serious and fought an immediate urge to ridicule the notion. 'On what operation?' he asked.
'I don't know, Mr O'Neill, honest to God I don't, but it's something big, something very big.'
'And Kell is doing it himself?'
'That's what they say. He and Nelligan are going to do it, just like they used to,’ said Drummond.
'You said, 'when Kell gets back'. Does that mean he has already gone?'
'An hour ago.'
'Then you can get us some first-aid stuff and Kell will never know.'
Drummond looked uncertain.
O'Neill pushed a little harder. 'Go on, bring the boxes from the sick room.'
'I'll see what I can do.'
'And for Christ's sake, change this can, will you?' added O'Neill, nodding to their toilet.
Avedissian admired the way that O'Neill had handled the situation. The man obviously understood people and how to manage them; that implied a degree of sensitivity that he was relieved to find in O'Neill for he had had qualms about meeting the brother that Kathleen cared so much about. In view of O'Neill's past record he had feared that any kind of liking for O'Neill might be completely out of the question. Now he was not so sure and the strange thing was that there seemed to be something familiar about him, something he could not put his finger on.
Kathleen was now in too much pain to pretend otherwise and sat huddled in the corner holding herself, rocking backwards and forwards as if subconsciously trying to induce a trance to escape her agony. Avedissian and O'Neill had stopped trying to comfort her for their efforts seemed to be doing more harm than good and only upset her more, O'Neill came over to Avedissian by the door and whispered, 'If God would grant me one wish before I died it would be to take that evil little bastard's life.'
'You and me both,’ said Avedissian.
O'Neill said quietly, 'I asked Drummond to bring the boxes from the sick room. They're not just first-aid boxes. They have all the stuff the doctor needs for when our boys get injured. Take whatever you think might be useful, pills and the like, in case the going should get too tough.'
Avedissian said that he would but did not want to dwell too long on the prospects of group suicide.
Drummond returned with the medicine boxes and he was sweating with fear. 'God, if Kell ever finds out,’ he muttered.
'He won't,’ O'Neill reassured him. 'Relax, man.'
Avedissian got to work sifting through the contents of the boxes and was aware of O'Neill getting to work on Drummond again; he was asking probing questions but disguising them effectively as concern.
'So who do you have to worry about with Kell gone? Who's left in the Long House anyway?'
'Just the Feeley brothers and me.’
'Just the four of you? Well, there you are then. Kell will never ever know. Where have all the rest gone anyway?'
'England. All other operations have stopped for this one.’
Avedissian gave Kathleen a pain-killing injection before cleaning her burns and applying antiseptic dressings. The injection took almost immediate effect and a slight overdose made her euphoric. She looked up at Drummond and said with what sounded like a drunken giggle, 'Enjoying the view?'
