him. He couldn’t even see the water. He stumbled over something with give in it, stopped and felt around with his foot. The grass had been beaten down in a line. A few steps away he found the other track. A car had driven in here. A van? If he followed this track… Mad. They were all mad. Terry Malone was mad. He was mad to be here. He should turn back. Let everyone else sort out their own fucking problems. Problems they caused themselves, with their own stupidity and greed and… He should just turn back.
The first flash had nearly caused him to drive right off the road. He’d braked hard and stopped right in the middle of the road, barely keeping the bike upright. It had taken him a few seconds to realize that it had been lightning. There had been no thunder yet, only flashes like lights being turned on and off somewhere up in the sky. He had seen the massed clouds, blue and brown, lit up by the flashes. It’s all a dream, was his first thought, the flashes and the strange smells all around him. If it turned to real lightning, he thought, he could get fried out here near the trees. He started walking again. This time the flash had him on his hunkers in a second. It had been his own voice he had heard too as he had dropped down, he realized.
He stayed low and kept staring into the woods. They were even darker now that the lightning had robbed him of his night vision. Another flash, but shorter, and this time he was sure. It was the back of a van. He stood upright again and walked toward it. The sound of his own beating heart filled his head. He tried to get control of his breathing. It had to rain any minute, he thought. What if there was a screw-up and he had to take off in a hurry? Would he lose his way running back to the bike? He’d tried again to make plans as he had turned into the Park but his brain couldn’t seem to stay with an idea. Fragments of his plans flew through his mind: drive with the lights off, park a long way off, sneak up on the place… The trees had come nearer to him now, the grass was not as high. He stopped. Was that straight line part of the van in there? If it started to lash rain now, maybe he could just take off. Blame it on the weather: it was too dangerous to drive, Terry, you know? Too dangerous. He held out his hand. Nothing yet.
His feet carried him forward in under the branches. Something light draped itself across his face. He turned and snatched it away. Cobwebs-Christ! He stumbled on a protruding root. A bird chattered overhead and fell silent. He laid his hand against a trunk. Old trees, twisted and huge, surrounded him. It seemed to grow even darker. He glanced up into the foliage. He could barely hear the traffic now. Where was the van? Blue light flared all around him. He froze, facing the van, and waited for his eyes to adjust again. The van had looked like it was floating in mid-air with the pond like silver behind it. His heart kept racing. Did he plan to ditch Hickey in the pond or something? The next thunder came as a murmur. He kept staring at the line which made up the roof of the van. It had been only fifty yards away.
“Hey!”
He spun around, already in a crouch.
“Terry? Terry? Is that you, man? I can’t see a thing.”
“Who’re you expecting, Jammy?”
The voice was so close. He must be behind a tree or something. It felt like his eyes were sticking out of their sockets.
“Where are you, Terry?”
A black form passed in front of a tree trunk not fifty feet from him.
“Terry?”
“You don’t sound too good there, Jammy. Lost in the woods, are you?”
“Terry? I thought you meant out there, out near the road.”
He watched Malone’s silhouette approach. Malone laughed.
“You’re shivering, Jammy. What’s the matter? It’s boiling in here.”
He saw the liquid glint of lights from the traffic in Malone’s eyes. Definitely out of it.
“Well, it wouldn’t have been the place I’d have picked, Terry, you know?”
“Oh. Well, who fucking asked you? Here-where’s that fancy bike of yours?”
“Back out there.”
“Why didn’t you drive in like I done?”
“Well, I didn’t know how the ground was and stuff, and-”
“Are you going to moan about the weather now or something? Here: if you’re that worried about a bit of fucking rain, drive home in the van. Yeah. Try it, why don’t you?”
He heard the liquid swill before he could make out the bottle which Malone put to his lips. Even Terry the Bull needed the booze to get by tonight.
“You want a little swig there, Jammy? Seeing as we’re partners and all?”
“No. No, thanks, Terry.”
Malone sniggered.
“You’re not in the mood to celebrate? Christ, Jammy, you’re no fun. Hey!”
He waited for Malone to down another gulp.
“You’ve had time to do a little thinking, haven’t you, Jammy?”
“How do you mean?”
The hand was so quick that he felt the slap before he could move his head. Christ, how did he keep those reflexes while he was pissed?
“Speak fucking English, Jammy? Don’t ask me what I mean! You saying I can’t talk or something? I’m talking about you and your plans!”
He smelled the whiskey now, heard Malone’s breath.
“You think I’m a gobshite too, Jammy? Don’t tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind that you might want to feed me to the Egans too. Like you could play it back on me the same as I could on you? Huh?”
“No, Terry! No way, man. I would never do a thing like that.”
“That’s right, you wouldn’t! And you know why, don’t you? ’Cause I’d fucking do for you, so I would!”
Malone took another swig from the bottle.
“So let’s go. Partner.”
Malone stumbled twice on the way to the van. Following, Tierney caught odd words from him as he walked.
“So don’t even think about it, Jammy, you hear?”
The engine’s oily smell mixed with the faint scent of heated rubber hung in the air around the van. Terry Malone turned.
“So gimme what you got, Jammy. Then it’s a last look and bye-bye.”
“Are you going to, you know, leave everything here, Terry?”
“You got a better idea? I spent ten minutes wiping the fucking seats and the wheel and God knows what’s in there. I’m gone, man. You want to hang around, go ahead-but I was never here.”
“Okay. I was just wondering and all-”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Gimme.”
He took the envelope from the inside pocket of his denim jacket.
“What is it, Jammy? Powder, pills? Cash? What did he do her for?”
“Who-oh, Leonardo?”
“Who do you fucking think I’m talking about?”
“Cash.”
Malone yanked at the side of the envelope.
“How much?”
“A thousand, Terry. Just short of a thousand.”
“What if I find it was more and you kept stuff back?”
“That’s all of it, Terry. I swear to God.”
“Less the money Leonardo was talking about, huh? Some pal, man. Some pal. You wouldn’t believe it, man. Some fucking pal.”
“I don’t get it, Terry. I know he wasn’t straight-up about it all.”
Malone stuffed the money into his pocket.
“Straight-up? Oh, Christ, what a gobshite you are! Right up to the end, man. There he was trying to sell you down the river, spinning some cock-and-bull about you-and you’re the guy he stashes his take with! The only guy he could trust! Human nature, I’m telling you!”
