ways of the world out there. We go through the Drug Squad when we need to. Check that out and you'll find how good our liaison is with the Gardai.'
Minogue wasn't listening. He was thinking of the way Loftus was saying 'we.'
'A person of lesser sophistication might call this sweeping things under the table, Captain,' Minogue offered.
'The college doesn't employ such persons, Sergeant,' replied Loftus.
Minogue realised all of a sudden that a few years ago he might have gotten on his own high horse with this sparrowfart.
'Uh,' Minogue said, trying to appear thoughtful.
'So whether I believe this rubbish or not has little to do with the matter at hand for me. Of course I cannot stop you believing what you will. We're all responsible for the good name of the college in here. It's not so much security as reputation. That is a commodity, once traded, impossible to buy back. This is the college of Edmund Burke and Oliver Goldsmith. Samuel Beckett too, if that's your fancy. Our graduates and our students as well as our staff are our stock of good will.'
Minogue was tiring of this speech. He wondered if Loftus had practised this one orfcad used it before. Minogue also wondered if he should be standing here barefoot and illiterate as his ancestors had been, while this haven of scholarship buttered up the gentry whose daddies had sent the bailiff to batter down peasant houses. Careful, Minogue, your inferiority complexes are showing.
'We see this current fetish with drugs as part of history, you might say,' Loftus was saying. 'It's a small part of our first four hundred years and we'll ride it out.'
A picture of Mary Brosnahan, the cleaning-woman who had tripped across the body, came into Minogue's mind. Her statement read like an apology for nearly having dirtied the college with her discovery. Why this loyalty, and she paid little enough, and her knees probably gone these years? And Walsh, trusting in reasonable propositions, boyscout's honour. Loyalty to those notions on this island?
'I take your point, Captain. I'll be dispensing with pleasantries as such while I effect economical answers to present concerns. Doubtless you'll see to the reputation of the place in your own good time. Now: why did you remove the locker in its entirety only on Friday? When did you get this note? Before answering, be assured that this is a very serious matter and I'm well able to step on toes.'
Loftus' answer immediately gave Minogue the impression that Loftus had prepared for this eventuality.
'I take it you've not been in the army, Sergeant. I'd know it if you had been. You don't need to look beyond a man's bearing and general attitude to know one of our own. Finbar Walsh, the boy's father, and I had the privilege of serving together. It was for a short time only and it was quite a number of years ago. Mr Walsh was a senior officer to me and the army lost a valuable man when Mr Walsh left. I was happy for him that he managed to be so successful in business. I don't give a god's curse basically if there's one iota of truth in this note or not. If indeed there is some substance to it, you can be certain that my loyalties are to the college and this man's reputation. Particularly so because the boy is now deceased. Don't mistake me. I want to see the culprit caught too.'
Great speech, thought Minogue. He nodded resignedly.
'And something else too. I hope you don't mistake my concerns for obstruction. I suspect that you haven't been adequately briefed by your superiors on this matter. As for myself, I'm not a desk jockey with no backing,' Loftus said with a tight smile.
'There are things that matter more than incidents,' he added with a tone of finality.
Minogue was sure now that he loathed this twit. Loftus had stopped little short of a criminal offence. The thing was that there was no point in throwing the book at the likes of Loftus. He'd probably been given the lead from someone else anyway.
Loftus wouldn't have said what he did without some umbrella, some nod from a handler. Probably your man with the tweed brain, Griffiths. All sweet eminent reason, of course. What was more, the note might well be rubbish, a bad joke, and nothing would come of tests on the bloody locker anyway. Notebooks and a bag. Far too like James Bond.
Minogue looked at the sliver of sunlight which the late afternoon had carried into the office. It held playing motes of dust and it showed up the grain on the edges of the desk. History rolls on like the afternoon. Time and tide. Jarlath Walsh would be buried tomorrow. The parents would be in no condition to talk tomorrow. Connors would draw a big duck egg there too. Well, Minogue decided, with a finality quite alien to the dreamy light around him, might as well leave this twit hanging.
'Be so kind as to give me that note and an envelope to hold it. It will be returned to you when we have gone over it. Good day to you, Captain Loftus. We'll be meeting again perhaps. You have a way to get in touch with me?'
Loftus nodded once.
Minogue smelled wax and confidence in this building as he walked down the stairs. Immovable, assured.
Minogue awoke to the sounds of rain. It had been raining for some time because the heavy, slow pat-pat of the drops oozing from under the gutter was a steady pattern of sound. Minogue swore silently. He could see the rain washing away the traces of a murder. He saw the water swirling toward a drain, a face grinning. It was Loftus' face.
The dawn light came into the bedroom like smoke. Minogue crept out of the bed and went downstairs. He made tea and turned on the radio low. Then he switched on a bar of the electric heater and leaned closer to the radio. He craved a smoke. Not even the stay in hospital had given him the urge as strongly as this.
It was too early for Radio Eireann. Minogue turned to the BBC just in time to catch the tail end of a sentence.
'… at his front door in Limavady about seven o'clock last night. A spokesman for the RUC confirmed that Mr Elgie had received death threats in the past. Mr Elgie was active in the Peace Now movement in Northern Ireland. He is the forty seventh civilian to die of violence in Northern Ireland this year. Security forces are reportedly stepping up searches and surveillance in the area in the wake of several shootings in this area within the last fortnight. A spokesman for the Army did not deny that all the shootings appear to be part of a pattern as similar weapons have been used in recent incidents. Concern was voiced during question period in the House of Commons that more weapons appear to be entering Northern Ireland. Rocket-propelled grenades and heavy calibre machine- guns have been used in ambushes in South Armagh. Police believe that Mr Elgie was killed with a Russian-made semi-automatic rifle. So far, no organisation has claimed responsibility for the murder. Conservative MP Mr Stanley Robinson accused the government of the Irish Republic of being lax in border security. Mr Robinson said that the IRA is indiscriminate in its use of weapons and sources of supply and this indicates how bankrupt their politics are. The Prime Minister today visited…'
Minogue felt awake enough to want to go back to bed. Words like'terrorist' and 'security forces' rolled off the announcer's tongue just like that. Indiscriminate, lax. It was all loaded of course, we can expect no less, Minogue thought. His wakening mind rambled on to an image of Allen and the work he was doing. Seemed so calm, so rational, even confident. Did he really believe that his lectures could change people?
In many ways, Allen was a man to be admired. He didn't hide in the academic cloister. Instead, he went out and gave ideas their acid test, to see if they could make change happen. A composed man, a bit cautious, but with assurance. He didn't miss much.
Imagine an Englishman knowing so much about Ireland. Well it just went to prove that the Irish and the English were not inevitable enemies due to some chemistry or geography.
Agnes McGuire had composure and pride too. She seemed to be able to take it all in and to transcend it, but a sadness lingered. It actually shone out of her. Maybe Allen, as her tutor, had been able to help her make sense of things. But hadn't Allen said that she didn't need him to sort things out for herself? She had begun to soften and shape poor Walsh even, the son of parents and a country who didn't want to know about the North but wanted to be left alone with their lawns and their holidays.
Minogue abruptly realised that he hadn't touched on the relationship between her and Jarlath. Reserve, politeness? A cloud of doubt passed over the prospect of the day's work ahead. He could spin it out in the college for another day or two and that would be that, unless Connors had something from the parents or prints showed on the note.
Kathleen shouldered the door open gently.
'Matt. You're up.'
