‘Married?’
‘No. What about you?’
Doyle shook his head. ‘It’s not for me,’ he said.
‘I’d like to get married and have kids one day. Run my own business, like Cartwright does.’
‘He seems a decent enough guy.’
‘He is. It’s a good firm to work for. You were lucky he took you on.’
‘I didn’t feel very lucky this morning. That fucking kid …’ He allowed the sentence to trail off.
‘He’s testing you. He did it to me when we first started working for the Sheikh. Little bastard took off a five- grand Rolex, dropped it in a dustbin and said I could have it if I fished it out of the rubbish.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I told him I already had a watch.’
Doyle smiled.
‘He knows he’s got the power and he likes to use it,’ Hendry continued. He looked at his watch. ‘We’d better make a move,’ he said.
‘Fuck it, let’s have another coffee.’
‘Didn’t Mel tell you? We’ve got another job this morning. The Sheikh’s wife wants to go shopping at Harrods. If we’re lucky we get to carry her bags.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Doyle sighed.
‘Come on, it could be worse,’ said Hendry getting to his feet.
‘How could it be worse?’ Doyle called after him.
The driver was already outside.
BELFAST:
Declan Leary took a final drag on his cigarette and looked again at the building before him.
Number 134 Tennent Street was one of the three RUC stations in the city that housed members of the law enforcement agency’s ‘D’ Division. The divisional headquarters was in the Antrim Road. Another sub-divisional station, like this one in Tennent Street, was located in Antrim itself, close to the banks of Lough Neagh.
A, B and E Divisions were served by divisional headquarters in Musgrave Street, Grosvenor Road and Strandtown. Each of those also had at least two sub-divisional headquarters buildings.
Like anyone fucking cares.
Leary ground out the cigarette beneath his foot and walked up the ramp that led into the main reception area of the building.
He had mixed feelings. Part of him felt uneasy. He knew he was taking a risk (albeit a necessary one) but he also felt a pleasurable frisson from the knowledge that he was in the very jaws of his enemies and, as far as he knew, none of the uniformed men moving officiously around the building were aware of who he was.
Were they?
He moved towards the counter and nodded affably at the duty sergeant busily scribbling on a sheet of paper.
‘Morning,’ said Leary.
‘Good morning, sir,’ replied the sergeant. ‘If you can just give me a minute, I’ll be with you.’
Leary nodded and continued glancing around him.
‘Right,’ said the sergeant finally. ‘What can I do for you, sir?’
‘I want to report a stolen car,’ Leary lied.
The sergeant sighed and rummaged around for the necessary forms. One of which he handed to Leary.
‘If you could fill that out please, sir.’
‘Is that it? Fill a form in and hope for the best?’
‘Sir, there were over three hundred instances of car theft reported at this police station alone last year. If you multiply that by the number of other stations in the city, you’re looking at over five thousand vehicles a year.’
‘So you’re telling me I’m not going to get my car back?’
‘I’d be lying if I said it was likely, sir.’
‘Could you not run it through your computer or something? It was only taken last night.’
‘Sir—’
‘If I give you the details, can’t you just have a look? There were needles and insulin and Christ knows what else in there. You know, for medical use.’
He looked hopefully at the sergeant.
‘Well, that does make it a slightly different matter, sir. Could I have the make and registration number of the car, please.’
Leary gave them to him. Even down to the colour.
The sergeant’s fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard. He hit the return key and glanced at the screen.
‘And your name, sir?’
‘Dermot Mallen,’ Leary lied.
The sergeant frowned. ‘The car you’ve described is registered to a Mr Ivor Best. Not Dermot Mallen.‘The uniformed man regarded him with narrowed eyes.
‘I know,’ Leary said unfazed.‘He’s my brother-in-law. That’s why I need to get the car back as quickly as possible. He leant me the bloody thing. He’ll be after going crazy when he finds out it’s been stolen.’
‘Who’s the diabetic? Yourself or your brother-in-law?’
‘What difference does it make?’
‘You said the car was full of syringes. They could be taken and used for drugs and—’
Leary cut him short.‘Oh, right, sure. It’s my brother-in-law. He keeps them in the glove compartment. In case of emergency.’
‘You’ll have to fill out the form, sir,’ the sergeant said, preparing to press the delete key.
‘Have you got a pen there?’ Leary asked.
The sergeant nodded and ducked down.
As he did, Leary looked at the screen. There was no address listed beneath the name.
Shit.
The sergeant re-emerged from beneath the counter and handed Leary a Bic.
‘Actually, I’ll take this form home and fill it in,’ Leary said as the details disappeared from the screen. Thanks all the same.’
The sergeant nodded.
Leary turned and headed towards the exit. When he got out on to the street he balled up the form and threw it to the ground. He reached for his cigarettes and lit one.
‘Ivor Best,’ he said under his breath. ‘Time you and I had a chat.’
He turned and headed off down the street.
Declan Leary looked at his watch and ducked back into the phone box.
Five minutes to eight.
The light inside the box was broken, making it difficult to see the features of anyone inside. That suited Leary.
He’d been there for the last ten minutes, the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder so as not to look suspicious to anyone walking past.
Leary watched the corner of the street, waiting for the arrival of the car he was sure would come.
After leaving the police station earlier that day, he’d spent some time in the library scouring the Belfast phone book for Ivor Best. He hadn’t been surprised to find that there were over three hundred entries under that name.
Leary had eventually given it up as a bad job. If Best wanted to talk to him then he’d turn up on the street corner as promised.
Why hunt your prey when it was willing to come to you?
If, indeed, Best was one of the men he sought. Whatever happened, he intended to find out.
