hard to get a ball and chain.”
“Only sometimes.”
“Oh, yes, run with the hare and chase with the hound. And I’m supposed to buy you a sandwich?”
“I’m expecting a call.”
Kilmartin raised an eyebrow.
“ ‘Expecting,’ Matt?”
Minogue gave him a cool look. Kilmartin tried not to smile. Minogue locked the folders in his desk and walked out into the yard. Kilmartin wasn’t long joining him.
“Do you know what I’m going to tell you, Matty boy?”
Kilmartin stopped by Minogue and looked up at the cloud also.
“By God, now, there’s something. Do you think?”
“What were you going to tell me.”
“Oh. Keane and his scouts in Serious Crimes would never have tried to pull a stunt like that in the past, let me tell you. Treating us like the country cousins. You know what it is? All this joint-op crap has become a fecking religion. Committees. Consultants. Civilians with Social Science degrees wandering the halls asking stupid questions. Paperwork. It’s all a sham, man! All this ‘co-operation’ stuff makes me puke. Thicks and incompetents hide in committees. The real job’s done well away from committees and bloody consultants and-”
“Yes, Jim. Okay.”
The edges of the cloud were pink.
“Well, Keane and Co. in Serious Crimes know damn well I can’t throw it back in their face like they deserve. And you know why, don’t you? It’s your butty Tynan is the witch-doctor now. He’s the one issuing edicts. ‘Policing the Modern European State.’ Did you read that? My Jases! I was halfway through the second page before I realized he meant Ireland!”
“He didn’t write it. He commissioned it.”
“Hah! Proves my point exactly!”
Minogue took a parting look at the massive cloud. Where had it come from so quickly?
He drove the Kawasaki up onto the footpath and kicked out the stand. He listened to it idle before switching it off. Then he took off his helmet and laid it on the tank. He looked across the canal. It was almost dark now. There had been no long sunset tonight. He unlocked the chain and put it through the front of his helmet before locking it to the back wheel. Leonardo must have been stoned, he’d decided. He’d take him for a few pints. Calm him down, loosen him up. No, someone might see them and remember them. He rapped the petrol tank with his knuckles hard enough to hurt.
He looked across at the canal. Lights shimmered on the water. He spotted the silhouette of a couple who had stopped to neck. They stayed at it for a few seconds and walked on. He stepped down off the road onto the bank and looked up at the wall by the bridge. Leonardo had ideas which were too big for his brain. Watching too many videos. Pills. He stared into the shadows by the bridge. No, no one. He let his eyes wander up and down the canal bank. A man carrying a bag was strolling along the far bank. He turned slowly, taking in the shadows and the parked cars, the office windows and the occasional figure walking by. What game was Leonardo up to?
He moved further down the path. He stepped into the corner where the bridge met the wall and turned around. The noises of the city around him seemed to be coming down a pipe, mixed in with the splash of the waters falling from the lock at the far side of the bridge. The water flowing fast from under the bridge lost its force not far into the canal. He kicked at a beer can, landing it in the weeds, stepped down the bank and peered into the darkness under the bridge. Leonardo might even be watching him now, to make sure he was on his own. Leonardo Hickey, mastermind. Doper. He looked down at the dark waters. Out of his depth, the Great Leonardo. Where the hell was he?
A figure stepped down the bank, stopped and stood facing him. A guy. Leonardo? Tight haircut, a bit heavyset. That wasn’t Leonardo. He took a few steps back up along the wall but the face stayed in shadow. His heart began to beat faster. Leonardo playing games.
“Leonardo?”
The head moved from side to side. He stared into the shadows.
“Hey, Jammy!”
Something detonated in his chest and ran down his veins. Who was it? Had Leonardo sent him?
“Jammy! Come on out here. I know you’re in there. Come on out and have a chat.”
“Who is it?”
The answer came in a tired drawl.
“Santy Claus.”
He’d heard the voice before but he couldn’t put a face with it.
“Step out so’s I can see you.”
“Well, who are-”
“Don’t be such a gobshite! Bobby sent me. Says howdo. Okay?”
“Well…”
“I’m coming in after you, Jammy, if you don’t come out.”
He took a few steps toward the figure. His hands began to tingle. He pushed his shoulders back and stepped on the balls of his feet. One guy, okay, but were there others?
“I don’t know anything about this, man. Why did Bobby send someone-”
“Yeah, yeah, Jammy. Sure, sure-right over here, man. Don’t be shy.”
The fear tightened around his ribs now.
“Hey, look, I don’t know anything about this, you know. I don’t-”
“That’s okay, man. It’s okay. Come on out. Over here. Come on.”
Stocky more than broad. It sure wasn’t Lolly. Was this guy standing with his back to the streetlight on purpose? He stopped a dozen feet back from him. Still no others.
“What do you want, like? Bobby, I mean. What does he want from me?”
Was that a laugh? The man rubbed his nose and chuckled.
“‘What does Bobby want?’ Ah, come on up here. What does Bobby ever want? Who did you think you could piss on, Jammy?”
“I’m not trying to piss on anyone, man. I don’t even know who I’m talking to.”
The guy held out his arms and shrugged. Whoever he was, he enjoyed scaring the shit out of people. Was Leonardo watching all this? Like a knife sliding in between his ribs, it came to him that Hickey had fed something to the Egans, some story that’d get him a rep. The big prize for a moron like Leonardo, the price of an in with the Egans. Had they believed him?
“You know me, man. No? Ah, come on. When you used to go to the Club? No, you were never in the ring with me. Just as well for you too, ha ha. Come on, make a guess.”
“Haven’t a clue. There’s a lot of fellas go to the Club-”
“Ah, come on! I’m a few years on, okay. Yeah, I’ve been sort of out of commission. Go on, make a guess- here, I’ll even give you a clue. The Twins: okay, now you’ll get it.”
“Terry? Terry Malone?”
“Attaboy. Gone, but not forgotten, huh? You remember my ring name, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“But you don’t know whether you should use it? ‘Cause you’re wondering to yourself, ‘Jesus, Terry’s a header and all. If I say anything he doesn’t like, he’ll go bananas.’ Isn’t that it?”
“Well…”
“You can say it. Go on, go ahead. Honest!”
“Terry the Bull.”
Malone rubbed his hands together and chortled.
“Make my day, yeah! I like it! Say it again.”
“Terry the Bull”
“Oh, yeah! How many times d’you see it?”
“Which, em ”
