out.
Regardless of my annoyance at Anderson, I knew he was right about Frank. I resolved to take my gun home with me that night. I had decided when Penny was just a baby that I would not keep a gun in the house, and so it stayed in a special locker in the station. Guns are quite often a final option for Gardai; generally we do not carry them, as it seems to contravene the very name of An Garda Siochana – the Guardians of the Peace.
I went into the back lock-up, behind Costello's room, where the station safe was located. Above it was a strong box with a padlock.
I opened it and removed my. 38 revolver and a box of bullets, wrapped both in the oilcloth that had been around the gun, and tucked the parcel into my inside coat-pocket.
I phoned Strabane station and left a message for Hendry to call me. The desk sergeant assured me that Hendry would get back to me when he could. While I was on the phone, Williams came into the office and flopped onto the chair, a thick manila folder in her lap.
'Ratsy Donaghey, this is your life,' she said. She placed the file on the table between us and we both read through it carefully.
Donaghey had first appeared on police files at the age of eleven, when he was caught stealing from a local shop whose owner wanted the matter dealt with seriously. He was arrested with some regularity from then on in, for drinking or vandalism or stealing. At fourteen he was sent to a borstal for nine months for beating up an elderly neighbour for the contents of her purse, which amounted to about thirteen euros nowadays. He was quiet for the duration of his stay there, but his name surfaced again afterwards.
His first adult arrest was for aggravated assault and GBH, when he beat the ex-boyfriend of a girl he was dating with a broken beer bottle and a brick until he was unconscious. The case went as far as court but, somehow, Ratsy got off with a suspended sentence despite his earlier record. I made a note of the date, deducing that the court records for it would be found in a newspaper from the period.
Forty minutes later my faith in librarians was repaid once more as we read the court report for the case. According to the papers from the time, Donaghey was shown leniency because of his important position in something called 'IID' and his role as an ambassador for the area. The chairman of IID, Joseph Cauley, interceded on Ratsy's behalf, describing the attack as a single regrettable blemish on an otherwise impressive character. The magistrate at the time was Gordon Fullerton, who had since spent three years in jail himself, having being found guilty of taking bribes in a case over land ownership. As neither of us knew what IID was, we set off again to a building a little closer to home.
In the centre of Lifford, almost opposite the Garda station, is the Seat of Power, a museum dedicated to Lifford's history as the administrative centre of Donegal. The museum also houses the original courthouse and cells from the old jail and mental asylum. More importantly, however, the building houses a number of individuals who know more about Lifford and Donegal than is perhaps healthy. One such person is Mary Deeney. Mary is a woman in her late thirties with straight copper-tinted hair, which occasionally reveals glimpses of grey. She was able to give us the rundown on IID in fifteen minutes.
'Invest in Donegal,' she explained, pushing her pink-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose, only for them to slide back down almost immediately. 'One of these things set up in the '70s to try to bring bigger companies into Donegal. It actually had a few big successes in the late '70s, early '80s with a textile company and an IT firm. Offered incentives, tax breaks, grants and so on; performed feasibility studies; handled contracts for building. Folded up in 1984 – no, 1985 – when Cauley died. Possibly just as well, actually; rumour had it that the Fraud Squad was taking an interest in it by that stage.'
'Do you remember a man by the name of Tony Donaghey being involved?' Williams asked. 'I think he was quite important to it.'
Mary thought about it as she absentmindedly twirled a few loose strands of her hair around her fingers. 'No, the name doesn't mean anything. Of course, I'm the wrong person to be taking to. Tommy Powell's the man you'd really want to see.'
'Why Powell?' I asked.
'Well he started it. IID was his brainchild. He raised millions through the Dail for it.'
'We thought Cauley ran IID' Williams said, and I nodded agreement.
'Cauley ran it alright,' Mary said, as if explaining something to very slow children, 'but Powell owned it. Cauley was just a manager.'
Williams and I stood outside the museum while I had a smoke. Across the street we could see Costello moving around in his office, his blinds pulled back to let in the December sun. At one point he walked over to the window and stared across at us, then moved into the shadows of his room again.
'So, what now?' I said.
'Try to track the kids, I suppose.' Williams said. 'And Coyle. What about Powell? Are you going to speak to him?'
'Maybe,' I said. 'But not quite yet. Costello said this morning about bringing the Investigation Bureau in on this.'
'Are you going to?' Williams asked, looking a little surprised.
'No. But I think they can help us with one thing.'
As well as the local Garda stations around the country, An Garda has a centralised Criminal Investigation Bureau which helps in serious-crime cases. It is just one, however, of a number of support systems. We had already called on the Water Unit. I decided that perhaps it was time to contact the Research Unit as well. The Research Unit does exactly what its name suggests. Over years it has collated information passed on from all the other strands of the Garda system and filed it for future reference. No other section of An Garda could access information on companies or national initiatives as quickly. Or so I hoped.
I returned to our office and phoned through to the Command and Control Centre in Harcourt Street in Dublin and asked to be transferred to Research. I was put through to an Officer Armstrong, and asked him to find whatever he could on Ratsy Donaghey in connection with IID. I decided not to mention Tommy Powell just yet, assuming that the name would turn up anyway once IID was researched. I also mentioned the rumour about the fraud investigation and the chairman, Joseph Cauley. Armstrong told me it might take a few days.
I then tried contacting Hendry again about Yvonne Coyle, but he was still not available. I sat in the storeroom, watching Williams scan phone directories and electoral registers for Derry in an attempt to locate Joanne Duffy, Mary Knox's friend. Then I sat beside Williams and helped her. After a number of false leads, three coffees and a shared tuna sandwich, we found her.
Chapter Fourteen
Monday, 30th December
Duffy had moved from Strabane to Derry in 1983, marrying a man called Edgar van Roost, a Belgian political analyst who was lecturing in Peace and Conflict Studies at a local university. They met at a political rally at which van Roost spoke, comparing the conflict in Northern Ireland with the conflict in the Middle East, while Duffy sold copies of Socialist Worker to an indifferent crowd.
They now lived in an area of Derry known as Foyle Springs, in a modest semi-detached house which required painting. However, inside, the house was far from what we had expected from a socialist. The plush-carpeted hallway, despite being quite narrow, was dominated by a huge chandelier which hung so low I had to walk around rather than under it.
Duffy had clearly aged gracefully, though, perhaps aided by a little surgery, for her eyes were unnaturally free of wrinkles or laughter lines and her lips were full and perfectly pink. Her cheeks were accentuated with blusher and her hair was a steely blonde, set high in a bun.
She smoked a long, slim, brown cigarette, drawing lightly on it and releasing the smoke in a single puff, as if unaccustomed to smoking.
'I can't inhale,' she explained, noting my curiosity, and gesturing vaguely with the cigarette, 'because of my asthma. I shouldn't smoke at all, but I can't help it.'
Williams nodded with understanding. 'Ms Duffy, as I explained to you on the phone, we're trying to trace the
