Melanie turned slowly and stared at him. “I’m nervous about the big game you idiot. My feelings for you weren’t ever going to change. Now how about that shower? I think I’ll join you.”
The Chief had been out down the pub for a few drinks. It had been a difficult three months but he’d come through it and at last he felt under less pressure. The mess in London had been cleared up and though he’d lost Jones as a source, things were slowly getting back to normal.
The backlash from the capture of his Operations man hadn’t been as bad as anticipated. Maybe he had been selective in what he chose to tell the Cops. The fact he was talking had been enough reason for them to change everything about how they did business. It was a pain but necessary. Anything that could potentially be revealed and put them at risk was amended. Income had dropped sharply for a month but was now getting back to normal.
The talk about his leadership had gone from outright criticism to barely a whisper. Nobody was willing to put their head above the parapet and openly challenge him. So he’d decided to go for a few drinks with the boys to celebrate. It had been a good evening. A band had been playing a good mix of pop and then played some traditional songs before finishing with Dunlavin Green, which was one of his favourite ballads. It reminded him the fight had been going on for over two hundred years. They had all joined in and it had been a grand atmosphere. He’d decided to call it a day at two in the morning, although the pub would be open most of the night. He was getting too old for all night sessions. And anyway the younger boys could let their hair down better when he wasn’t around.
He was enjoying the fresh air as he staggered the half a mile back home. He was a bit uncertain on his feet but the pavement was well lit by street lamps and it was a cool rather than cold night. In truth he’d had a good few pints and was feeling a bit the worse for wear. He was thinking about getting a sandwich when he reached home. He was feeling peckish and a ham sandwich with an ample covering of mustard would be just what he needed before going to bed. He‘d have to be careful though not to wake the wife. She had a terrible temper on her when he disturbed her sleep. He smiled at the thought that maybe he would disturb her sleep properly after his sandwich. It had been a while since they last did it.
He walked under the bridge that he had known since his childhood. It was dark and something in the shadows caught his attention. There was a blur of movement out the corner of his eye. He started to turn but he was slow to react and the blow to his head knocked him to the ground before he knew what had hit him. He lay stunned on the ground. He tried to shake his head to clear his senses. He put his hand up to where he’d been hit and felt blood running down the side of his head, mixing with his hair, confirming someone had delivered him a huge blow.
The alcohol had clouded his normal sharp sense for danger. Had they been buying him drinks with the intention of getting him drunk, just so he wouldn’t be in a fit state on his walk home? Were they still back in the pub raising a glass to his misfortune? A figure emerged from the shadows.
“Do you know who I fucking am?” The Chief asked angrily.
The man who had hit him was dressed in dark clothes and The Chief couldn’t distinguish his facial features. Then he realized it was because he was wearing a balaclava covering his face. The Chief saw him raise a large club like weapon and it came crashing down on his leg before he could move out the way, breaking his shin bone. He let out an enormous wail like a wounded animal. He tried to pull himself back from his assailant. He was sweating and in terrible pain.
The man spoke for the first time and through his pain, The Chief recognized the voice.
“You murdering bastard. Did you think I was just going to let you get away with killing my children?” Pat Murphy spat the words out with a terrible anger.
The Chief was scared but also saw a glimmer of hope. This wasn’t just some random assault by a Loyalist stranger intent on revenge. He’d known Pat Murphy all his life. Surely he could reason with him. “But Pat I told you it was nothing to do with me. It was those Real bastards he joined.”
“I’m not fucking stupid. I know Connor was over there. I know how you think. I know how he operates.”
“Pat, we can sort this out.”
Murphy seemed not to hear The Chief. “And even if they killed my son why would they kill Samantha? She was my baby girl. I loved her more than anything. More than any fucking cause.”
The Chief was looking around. Why hadn’t anyone come to his aid? They must have heard him scream. The pain was intolerable. He knew what was coming when he saw Murphy raise the club again and immediately started to scream. The blow struck his other shin and the Chief heard the sound of smashing bone at the same moment he felt the unbelievable pain.
“She was a beautiful lass,” Murphy continued. He seemed oblivious to The Chief’s pain and screams. “And my son was a good boy. Wouldn’t ever do anything that would knowingly hurt your fucking cause!”
The Chief was lying on the ground, his body was broken and shaking but his mind was working. He reasoned if he could keep Murphy
