“Chris… What are you doing here?”
“D… Please, I need to speak to ye.”
Chapter Thirty-Two:
“So, tell me a bit about this Boyle character.”
McNally had heard bits and pieces about him whilst trying to stay up to date with news and politics back home whilst he was still living in England, but being from Portrush himself, he found it hard to keep up with everything that went on in the majority of Northern Ireland as a whole. They’re just crossing the Foyle Bridge, or the new bridge as some of the locals call it, and are indicating left to pull onto the Culmore Road, off of which, Boyle lives. Ferguson shuffles in the driver’s seat, making McNally observe him suspiciously.
“What would you like to know?”
“Well, as much as you can disclose before we get there.”
Ferguson laughs.
“Well… He graduated from Queen’s University in Belfast with a degree in politics before moving home and beginning his political journey by being elected to Derry City Council. He was unsuccessful in his run for Mayor of Derry in the 2000s, something he’s very touchy about so don’t bring it up. He then went on to climb the ranks in Ardóimid, before finally becoming leader, including health minister for a little while.
“As well as this, although he strongly refuses his participation, he is rumoured to be the big boss in the underground organisation, as you well know. We haven’t been able to get anything in stone against him, although a few… Touts, for a lack of a better term, have given us insights over the years. Strangely enough though, days later they all seem to end up in tragic accidents. Whether that’s being blasted in the knees or being found dead at the bottom of their stairs.”
“Yes, very strange,” McNally nods as they pull up outside a grand house overlooking the main road.
The prestigious three story boasts high ceilings and long clear windows looking into luxurious rooms filled with fluffy rugs and expensive paintings.
“We even gave a guy police protection after he stated that Boyle was behind the shooting of a local known drug dealer, but we still found him in the safe house with his throat slit. Aye, he still pleads his innocence. States he’s only got the city’s best interests at heart and doesn’t agree with violence, says the city has seen enough already.”
“At least we can agree on that,” McNally sighs.
As the two detectives step out of the car and climb the drive, McNally takes a quick glance at Ferguson, who seems fidgety.
“Everything alright, Ferguson?”
“He’s just a pompous prick, sir. Hate having to speak with him.”
“Had a few run-ins with him before?”
“Aye, and he always tries to get the better of you. Despite knowing you’re right, he still has the ability to make you walk away feeling this small,” he says, sticking his thumb and pointing finger out and barely letting them touch, “he’s just a nasty piece of work.”
“Dangerous?”
Ferguson blows a raspberry.
“He wouldn’t touch you himself.”
“Well then, looks like we have nothing to worry about, do we?”
And with that, McNally knocks on the impressive red oak door and stands back.
****
Going an arse about face way of getting there, but determined not to be seen, I follow the Glenshane Road right up until I see Altnagelvin Hospital on my right. Indicating at the lights, I swerve the two mini roundabouts and continue up Belt Road. Heart in my throat. Steering wheel soaking with my clammy hands. I can’t help it. I can’t be stopped. I can’t be seen. Turning into Trench Road, I pull up at the bus stop and flick my lights. I’m shaking, but it needs to be done. It needs to be moved.
Out of instinct, I reach for my phone, before thinking better of it. It’s switched off anyway. If shit hits the fan, there’ll be no trace of me here. I’ll make sure of it. Stepping out and giving the road a good look up and down, I close the door carefully, making sure it doesn’t echo, before trotting back down the way I came. Turning into the cul-de-sac, I hope I’m going to the right place. I’d heard they’d moved a good while back, but not 100% sure where. Gossip that I hope has a touch of truth in it. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I actually get there, still to devise a plan. Until then, I’m just standing in the dark… Literally.
Drawing close with the house I think it is, I start to slow. There’s a light on in a neighbouring house. I can see an older man sitting with his back to me watching an episode of Dad’s Army through his living room window. Fuck sake, it’s the middle of the night. I’m sure the repeats are on most of the time. Why tonight? Crossing the road to the other side, I sneak past, but he’s too engrossed in his programme. I slide through undetected. Looking up at the house they’re rumoured to be in, I can see why they’ve moved. New place. New memories. And a bloody nice house. Luckily, every window facing out onto the street, and I count five, have all got their blinds shut.
Crossing the garden, I stick to as close to the wall as I can. That is, before the shrubbery gets in the way. Hopefully its shadow will hide me from the
