top barely capable of containing her large breasts, crossed to the bar and ordered some drinks.
Normally Leary might have paid them more attention but tonight his mind was elsewhere.
He got up and moved towards the dartboard, sitting down at an empty seat, watching the two men engrossed in their game. When one scored a bullseye, Leary clapped and raised his glass in salute.
The man looked at him and managed a smile. ‘Do I know you?’ he said.
Leary shook his head. I was just admiring a good shot,’ he commented, his voice slightly slurred.
Part of the deception.
‘Here’s to a good shot,’ he said and raised his glass. ‘As good as the ones that killed those five Fenian bastards the other day.’
The two players looked at each other then continued their game.
Leary watched the darts thudding into the board.
‘Bang, bang, bang,’ he chuckled. ‘As easy as shooting Catholics, eh?’
‘What the hell are you going on about?’ said the first man, retrieving his darts.
‘It’s a pity there isn’t a fucking Catholic standing in front of that board.
That’d be one more out of the way.’ He raised his glass again.
The two men carried on playing.
‘Can I buy you a drink?’ Leary persisted. To celebrate what happened to those fuckers the other day.’
‘Just leave it, will you?’ the second man said, taking a sip of his beer.
‘What’s the matter?’ Leary wanted to know. ‘Five IRA men were shot. If that isn’t cause for celebration, I don’t know what is.’
‘You’re drunk,’ said the first man, throwing his darts once more.
That I am. But then do you blame me? Five more of those bastards wiped out is worth getting drunk for, don’t you think?’
‘I think you’ve had one too many,’ said the second man.
‘Fuck it,’ Leary burbled. He got to his feet and raised his glass.
‘God save the Queen and God save the UVF,’ he called loudly.
The two players looked at each other. A number of other heads turned in Leary’s direction.
‘Will anyone else join me in a toast?’ Leary shouted. ‘I’ll buy anyone in here a drink if they’ll celebrate the shooting of those fucking Fenian bastards with me.’
There were murmurs from all corners of the bar.
Leary lurched towards the two women who both giggled as he approached.
‘What about you two young ladies,’ he slurred.‘You’ll have a drink with me to toast the UVF, won’t you?’ He thrust himself close to the one in the white dress.
‘Lay off, will you?’ said the barman, his face set in hard lines.
Leary raised his glass but stumbled against a nearby bar stool and spilled some of the contents on the girl with the large breasts.
‘Fuck off,’ she spat.
‘Sorry,’ said Leary, trying to wipe the water off, squeezing the girl’s breast as he did so.
‘I said fuck off,’ snarled the girl, stepping backwards.
‘Right, get out now,’ said the barman.
Leary looked at him.
Do it
‘Ah,fuck you then,’ he grunted and stumbled towards the door. When he reached it he paused and looked at the sea of faces gazing at him. ‘God bless the UVF,’ he shouted.
He crashed out into the street, sucking in a deep breath.
Shit No takers.
He set off down the street, glancing behind him.
No one emerged from the pub.
Leary walked on. Past boarded-up shops. Past a cat that was clawing at a bulging, black rubbish bag, pulling the rubbish out and scattering it across the pavement.
Past a giant mural on the side of a house with the caption beneath that read: William III crossing the
BOYNE.
Orange bastard.
There was more graffiti: no surrender. It was faded. As though someone had tried to wash it off.
Leary wondered how far it was to the next pub. He was still wondering when the car pulled up beside him. He slid one hand into his jacket pocket, his fingers closing around the flick knife.
There was one man in the car. He leaned over and pushed the passenger door open, gesturing to Leary. ‘Get in,’ he said.
“Why?” Leary wanted to know.
‘I heard what you were saying back there. I hear you’ve been saying the same thing all over Belfast. Word gets around. I want to talk to you.’
‘About what?’
‘Just get in,’ the driver insisted.
‘Fuck off.’
Leary saw the gun pointing at him.
‘I won’t say it again,’ rasped Ivor Best.
Leary looked at the gaping barrel of the .38 for a second longer then took a step towards the car. Thoughts tumbled through his mind.
Who was this bastard?
Had his rant inside the last pub brought this newcomer to him?
‘Listen,’ Leary said, his voice more even.‘What I said back there—’
‘Get in the fucking car,’ Ivor Best snapped, waving the revolver towards the passenger seat.
What if he’s one of your own? There’d be an irony, wouldn’t there? Looking for Proddies to kill and ending up shot by one of your own.
Leary moved closer to the car.
He’s not going to shoot you in the street is he?
Leary touched the flick knife once more then slid into the passenger seat and shut the door behind him.
Best slid the gun into his pocket and guided the car away from the kerb.
Leary relaxed slightly and looked at the older man.
‘Keep your eyes ahead,’ Best told him as he drove. ‘Just listen to me.’
The car smelt of fast food. Leary saw a McDonald’s wrapper on the floor.
‘What you were saying back there in the pub about those IRA men being killed, did you mean it?’ Best asked.
Careful.
‘A man’s entitled to an opinion, isn’t he?’ Leary said.
‘He is that. But some opinions are best kept to yourself.’
They drove in silence for a moment.
Leary had no idea where he was or where he was being taken.
Just be ready when he stops the car. You can use the knife before he reaches the gun if you have to.
‘What’s your name?’ Best asked.
The lie was ready. ‘Keith Levine,’ Leary told him. ‘What about you?’
‘My name’s not important now. I want to know if you meant what you said back there in the pub. About the UVF. Being happy that they killed five of the IRA.’
‘I meant it. As far as I’m concerned there’s still a war going on.’
Best smiled. ‘A man after me own heart,’ he said, glancing at Leary.
The younger man studied his companion’s features.
You’re a fucking Proddie all right.
