The two men who had chased the other gunman out through the hotel reappeared behind the barman. Both were armed.
‘No, you’re not,’ one of them said. ‘We’ll call an ambulance. Put your phone away.’
‘What the fuck’s going on?’ the barman asked in a panicky voice.
‘You’re closed for the day. As of now, no one leaves. Keep everyone out of this back room and don’t let anyone in the beer garden. Come on, we’ll close up together. And in regard to what’s happened in here, you saw nothing and you say nothing. Is that clear?’
Silenced, the barman was led away back to the bar. The second man had been speaking on the phone. He hung up and turned to Harrigan.
‘Ambulance is on its way. Outside now.’
‘What about Eddie?’
‘You can’t do anything for him. Out.’
Harrigan walked out. A third unknown man was holding a gun over Mick Brasi who was lying face down in the beer garden. Blood was pouring out onto the cement and he was gasping in pain.
‘We couldn’t shoot to stop the other one,’ said the man accompanying Harrigan. ‘Too many people in the bar. He got away.’
‘You were a bit late getting here, boys,’ Harrigan said. ‘Have you got any ID?’
‘Have you?’ the man with the gun asked.
‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,’ Harrigan replied dryly, one eye on Mick Brasi on the concrete. He was caught by the cold-bloodedness of this conversation while the man lay there in agony.
‘We don’t have to show ID.’
‘You’re from Orion,’ Harrigan said. ‘My partner’s got a standard-issue firearm just like that one.’
‘Did you shoot this man?’
‘I did. It was self-defence. If Eddie Grippo ever wakes up, he’ll tell you that.’
‘Was he going to kill you?’
‘My belief at the time was that he was,’ Harrigan replied. ‘They have motive and I can’t think of any other reason why they’d go to all this trouble.’
‘You’d better take a seat,’ the third man said, the one pointing the gun. ‘We’ve got someone who wants to talk to you.’
Two ambulances arrived seconds ahead of the authorities. Harrigan watched Brasi being stretchered out under police guard, followed by Eddie. It wasn’t just the police who arrived. In the phalanx of plain-clothes and uniformed officers that swarmed over the Royal Exchange, Harrigan saw Clive coming towards him.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked Harrigan.
‘Maybe I should ask you the same thing.’
‘Were you able to get any information from Eddie Grippo before he was shot?’
‘Yes, quite a lot. I was going to pass it on to the police.’
‘We’ll do that jointly.’
Harrigan glanced around. ‘Where’s my wife?’
‘Your partner’s working,’ Clive replied. ‘Let’s hear what you’ve got to say.’
They sat in the hotel’s dirty kitchen. It took time, giving his statement, working through all the information Eddie had given him. He knew one of the two police officers interviewing him. He started by calling him boss but quickly went to Mr Harrigan. The meeting was strangely subdued. Both Clive and the third gunman were present. From time to time, the police officers glanced in their direction. Making sure they were doing what they were supposed to do.
‘Eddie set me up,’ Harrigan said.
‘If they were coming after you, why shoot him?’
‘I guess he’d proved he was unreliable. Probably it was two birds with one stone.’
‘Why were you meeting Eddie Grippo in the first place?’ Clive asked.
‘He’s an informant. I’d asked him to keep his ear to the ground for me. I wanted to know if any of the Ponticellis were coming after me or my family. He rang to say he had some information and we set up a meet.’
‘Did they really want to kill you?’ one of the police officers asked. ‘Why not shoot straightaway, the way they did Eddie?’
‘It happened pretty quickly,’ Harrigan said. ‘It’s true they didn’t fire at me immediately. But I wasn’t where they were expecting me to be and I had my gun out. Maybe this was a snatch, I don’t know. I certainly think they’d planned on killing me in the long run.’
‘Why did you have your gun out?’
‘Eddie lost his nerve. I knew something was going down. I’d only just taken it out.’
The two police officers glanced at each other, then Clive, and kept on. Harrigan knew that they needed to act on this intelligence as soon as possible. The gunman who’d got away would already have told the Ponticellis that the hit had failed. Eddie had been sent to keep him talking until the boys turned up. They already knew Eddie was unreliable and good at playing both sides against each other. If there was any chance he’d spilled his guts to Harrigan, they wouldn’t wait around. They’d go undercover as soon as possible. Yet there was nothing in this police interview that suggested any kind of urgency. The opposite: there was frustration in the officers’ expressions; suppressed anger and tension between them and Orion. Harrigan decided it was time to talk about Griffin some more.
‘He’s a player, an important one. You need to investigate him at depth.’
There was no response, just a nod, a quick glance between the interviewing officers, then onto another subject.
‘I think we should talk about him some more,’ Harrigan persisted.
‘Later,’ Clive said from the sidelines.
‘No, he’s important.’
‘No one will say another word about Joel Griffin as of now,’ Clive ordered.
Stymied, all three of them. The hands-off order Clive had slapped on him was in play for the police as well. In the past, Harrigan had encountered these directives himself. There was nothing you could do but wait until they were lifted.
At least the police thanked him for what he had to tell them. Once they’d finished, Clive cleared the room of everyone except himself and the third man who still hadn’t told Harrigan his name.
‘What were you doing here today?’ Clive asked.
‘You just heard me tell those two officers. Why were you here?’
‘Our operatives were following Mick Brasi. They weren’t expecting to find you here. I’ve already told you, I don’t want a wild card involving himself in a very delicately balanced operation.’
‘Why would I have any reason to believe that my meeting with Eddie Grippo could have anything to do with your operation?’ Harrigan asked.
‘I thought I’d given you the message loud and clear. Whatever private investigations you’re involved in, you are to stop immediately.’
‘I asked you before. Where’s my wife?’
‘I’ve told you. Working. What has she told you about this?’
‘Nothing,’ Harrigan said, and, on seeing the unguarded satisfaction on Clive’s face, successfully hid the intense anger he felt. Years of practice came to his aid.
‘I’m asking you to go home and wait until she comes home this evening. If you don’t do that, I’ll arrest you.’
‘For what?’
‘Obstructing an Orion operation. If pursued, it carries a maximum sentence of seven years.’
‘You could tell me what’s going on so I know Grace is safe,’ Harrigan said. ‘What about doing that? Wouldn’t that solve a lot of problems? It would take a lot of pressure off her.’
‘You’re not in a position to be told classified information.’
‘I’ve got a top-secret security clearance. You gave it to me. If I, my wife or my daughter or my son are in any danger, then don’t we have a right to information that could assist us in protecting ourselves?’
‘
