Crossfire (34 page)

We paid off the cab in O'Connell Street; it was the
main drag and there were plenty of shops to get
lost in. The Seat was still behind us. It had
followed us all the way in. At least the boys in the
bomber jackets had learnt not to pass us when
we stopped, so we didn't get any more eye-to-eye.

We walked down a little lane and straight into
a coffee shop. I checked left as Mr Green jumped
out and Mr Black drove off to try to find a parking
space. Sundance and Trainers had been brain
surgeons compared to these two.

I sent Dom to buy some more cappuccinos and
went straight upstairs to grab some seats with a
view of the street. It wasn't long before the two of
them connected on the pavement below me. Mr
Green got on his mobile, eyes darting left, right
and centre. He wasn't wearing his happy face; he
must have been trying to explain how they'd lost
us yet again. Then there was lots of nodding; I
guessed they were being told to go back to the
house. Dom and I had gone in with bags and
come out without. Chances were, we'd go back at
some point.

They disappeared as Dom arrived with a tray.

I told him about Connor's pinkie, and about
the Yes Man and why I knew him. I told him I'd
worked for the Firm and been fucked over so
many times by the man that I felt like a relation,
which was why I knew what he was planning. I
wasn't too certain whether it reassured him or
not. But, fuck it, he'd wanted to know.

It only took another forty or so minutes before
my mobile kicked off. The voice was from
the Falls Road again, but this time without the
evening classes. 'I hear you want to pick something
up . . .'

'Yeah.'

There was a slight hesitation: he'd pinged –
and didn't like – the accent. 'Sheriff Street Estate.
Wait outside the Mace mini-market. Someone
will pick you up.'

'There's two of us.'

Dom hated being out of the loop. He was
straining to listen in, but music was playing,
people were gobbing off.

'No fucking way, son. You come alone.' The
voice was clipped and abrasive.

'It's two of us or nothing. You know what I'm
doing for you cunts. We're both in black jackets
and jeans. How far is that from O'Connell?'

'Twenty minutes.'

There was no way we were going to split up
now. We had to keep together, and in the open. It
was the only way to stay safe.

'Sheriff Street Estate – you know it?'

Dom nodded unenthusiastically. 'Everybody
knows it. It's north. I can already smell the burning
tyres.'

'Time for another cab, then.'

Five minutes later we were following the route
out of town. It was rather nice and clean to start
with, but slowly and surely we were getting to
the parts the EU subsidies hadn't reached.

The taxi dropped us off at the mini-market and
the driver took off like a shot the moment he had
his money.

The area was a morass of grimy brown blocks
of flats, probably thrown up immediately after
the war. They must have seemed like paradise
when they were built, but now it was like the
Tabard in Bermondsey, a drug-ridden dumping
ground.

The Mace store had filthy windows and peeling
paint. It was protected by mesh panels and
secured with rusty padlocks. According to the
poster behind one of the panels, there'd been a
drug-related shooting of a schoolgirl there last
week and the police were desperate for
information.

The burnt-out remains of a Ford Escort stood
at the kerb.

Scabby dogs ran along the pavement with
scabby kids. Some of them kicked a ball, some
just screamed at each other.

Teenagers hung around in threes and fours.
They were probably dealing. They looked us up
and down like they wanted to know what the
fuck we were doing on their turf.

Dom leant against the mesh and tried to make
light of it. 'I don't think this'll get much of a look-in
on
Dublin Let's Go
, do you?'

'
Dublin Let's Get Fucked
, maybe.'

Two women came out of the shop, gobbing
away at a million miles an hour. They stopped
and stared. Either they didn't know our faces or
they didn't like what they saw. They stood there
for several seconds, then walked on without a
word, their paper bags full of frozen shit in a tray
for their tea.

I felt quite at home there. Maybe that was why
I'd always got picked to fuck about in places like
the Bogside, running round trying to find ASUs
and their weapons.

It wasn't long before two older men rounded a
corner and came up the road towards us. They
wore black leather coats, gold chains round their
necks and cupped cigarettes in their hands. They
brought them up in unison to take a drag. If
synchronized smoking were on the Olympic
roster, those boys would have been going for
gold.

The closer they got, the harder they looked.
They'd lived fucking grim lives and their
expressions said they'd be more than happy to
share.

The shorter of the two went straight up to
Dom. 'You the one looking for something?' It was
the voice on the mobile. He sucked at his
cigarette, displaying grimy nails and fingers
stained yellow.

'No, it's me.' I took a step forward.

'What the fock do you want them for?'

'What do you think?'

The taller one moved in closer, smoke leaking
from his nostrils. His hair was greased back and
thinning. 'Don't push your luck, son. You focking
Brits don't run this place any more, or hadn't you
heard?'

I said nothing. I just wanted the weapons.

Little took another drag and looked up at
Dom. Then he turned and we followed.

We went past the burnt-out Escort and down
an alleyway between two blocks of flats. It was
littered with rubbish and graffiti and it looked
like we were hemmed in. There were three other
guys waiting, younger guys in hoodies and jeans.

Little turned sharply and shoved me against
the wall. Dom got the same treatment from
Large. The other three waded in and manhandled
us through a search.

An old woman snapped her kitchen curtains.
She'd have seen this stuff too many times before.
I could hear kids screaming and shouting, and
the rhythmic kicking of a ball against a wall.

They carried on pushing us along the walkway.
Little still led the way; Dom was a step or
two behind me, and everybody else followed
him.

He was getting a bit chattier. 'I hear this Brit's
with British Intelligence and he's got the UDA
working for him . . .'

I nodded. 'You got what I asked for?'

Dom appeared at my side, catapulted forward
by one of the hoodies. Little stopped, turned, and
jabbed me in the chest. He pushed me up against
the wall, eyes burning. 'I'll tell you what else I
hear . . . I hear you're focking SAS.' That was
good for another hard poke. 'Friends of mine
were murdered by the SAS. Maybe you pulled
the trigger . . .'

It was pointless denying anything. Either way,
the guy would do precisely what he wanted.

'Maybe.' I shrugged. 'But right now I'm going
to solve a problem for you. It's not like the old
days, is it? Gerry says we're one big happy
family, these days, and he should know.'

He stopped poking. His skin creased and a
smile played across his cheeks. 'You go down to
the end of the alley here, and you'll come to some
bins. One of them contains what you want.
They're wrapped up in black plastic.'

I turned, making sure Dom was with me. Little
pulled me back. 'Those weapons have killed
twelve focking Brit soldiers between them.
Young lads, they were, in their prime. Well, the
four I killed were, anyway.'

He kept hold of me a little bit longer, to let me
share his enjoyment of the memory.

When we got to the bins, Dom looked back
over my shoulder. 'You never said you were
SAS.'

'You just asked how I knew the Yes Man. How
the fuck do you think I got to work for the Firm
in the first place? Now, get stuck into that bin and
have a scavenge.'

Herbert Park
Wednesday, 14 March
0128 hrs

I sat well back from the window. The curtains
were open but the house was in darkness, and
had been since eleven. There had been virtually
no traffic for the last half-hour; most of the neighbourhood
was tucked up in bed.

They would come for us soon.

Dom sat at the top of the kitchen stairs, gripping
the pole of his taser. It was plugged in, but
not yet switched on.

Mine leant against the sofa, also ready to go.
We both had twenty metres of play.

'Don't forget, mate.' I kept my voice low. 'Just
a two-second burst.'

The third taser was on the landing above us, in
case there was a total fuck-up down here and we
had to stand our ground upstairs. The two AKs
were in Dom and Siobhan's bedroom.

They were our last resort. The Yes Man's guys
wouldn't come in guns blazing, and no way did
I want to use them inside the house unless the
whole thing turned into a gangfuck. We'd wake
up the whole street; the police would have the
area sealed off within minutes. And that
wouldn't get us any closer to Finbar. We wanted
to know what was in their heads, but without
spraying it all over the walls.

A shiny BMW 5 Series crawled past the house.
The couple inside were dressed up for a night
out. I wondered what they'd had for dinner. I
was on my sixth brew and third packet of
Hobnobs since we'd supposedly gone to bed.

They would definitely come tonight. The Yes
Man wouldn't risk any more activity from us,
any more phone calls or visits – especially since
he didn't know exactly what we were up to. He
would have to cut it here and now.

There would still have to be some finesse about
the lift. I didn't know whether Mr Green and Mr
Black could handle that, but I knew the way he'd
want it. No gunshots. No noise. Just lift and go.

And I knew the way I wanted it. Whoever
came to give us the good news was going to get
zapped, then zapped again and again until one of
them came up with the goods.

The BMW finally found a parking place and
the couple got out. Her body language wasn't
encouraging. She wasn't amused with the driver,
not one bit. She stormed off towards a house
further along the street while the old boy did the
business with his key fob. The lights flashed once
and he followed subserviently.

I thought about the weapons upstairs, and
what they might have done over the years. They
were so ancient the wood furniture had been
rubbed bare. They were more than old enough to
have killed those lads, and now they were going
to be killing some UDA, and hopefully even a
Brit. About time too. He needed culling.

Vehicle lights splashed across the road. The
Seat cruised past from right to left. Both faces
peered into the house.

I let them go and kept perfectly still. 'Stand by,
mate, they're here.'

'How many?'

'Just the two of them. But they'll be carrying.
They're not going to come in empty-handed.
Don't fuck about – give them the good news as
soon as I shout, OK?'

I stood up and flicked on the socket switch.

They wouldn't just smash their way in, run
upstairs and hope to grab us before we knew
what was happening. That left only the doors or
windows, at the front or back – and even if they
had only two brain cells between them, they'd
work out that the back was the better option.

The locks on the downstairs toilet window
were still undone – I'd made sure of that – and
I'd slid open the catch to make it even easier for
them. I wanted them to come in together. We
needed to zap them both at the same time.
Letting either of them do a runner to fuck up the
whole plan was not an option.

Another five minutes crawled by. Mr Black
walked past the house from left to right, checking
everything out. He had a small day sack on his
back. Fuck me, was there a third method of
entry? Was he going to blow his way in?

He disappeared down the road. Mr Green
would surely be working his way round the
back, checking the walls to make sure the one
they jumped over really was at the back of the
correct house.

Mr Black came back the other way, towards the
Seat. I waited for him to get out of sight.

'Won't be long now, mate.'

We moved into the kitchen. Dom flicked on the
power to his taser.

I grabbed the stick with my free hand and put
my mouth to his ear. 'With me, with me . . .' We
moved slowly back to the island and lowered
ourselves behind it.

There was a scraping noise at the window
below us.

'When I move, you move. Straight in there
before he knows what's happening. And once
he's down, give him one for luck.'

Low murmurs drifted up from the garden. The
toilet window was given a short, sharp push.
They knew it was open now. They'd take their
time, ease it up slowly.

I gripped the taser pole in my right hand. The
forks would be clearly visible above the island,
but by the time they'd spotted it, it would
already be too late.

I heard feet touching the floor and the toilet-door
hinge squeak. There was a rustle of nylon. I
put my hand on Dom's shoulder to stop him
jumping the gun.

I heard a low whisper, then the first creak on
the stair.

I leant round the side of the island. Light
glowed dimly in the stairwell.

Mr Green's head appeared above floor level.
He paused and started climbing again, very
slowly. Mr Black was right behind him.

I kept a hand on Dom until Mr Green had
reached the top step and Mr Black was in view
from the waist up.

'
Go! Go! Go!
' I yelled at the top of my voice,
and lunged the four paces to the banister. I was
aiming for Mr Black, to make sure their escape
route was blocked. Dom had to take his chances
with Mr Green.

Both tried their best to react, but Mr Black was
too slow. I jabbed the taser forks into his shoulder
like I was spear-fishing. He didn't even gasp, just
fell forward on to the stairs.

Dom and Mr Green were getting up close and
personal. There were a lot of grunts and shouts,
and the stools beside the island toppled and fell.

I plunged the forks at the end of my broomstick
into my target's back and left them there.

Dom's taser was on the floor, inches away from
where they grappled. Dom was on top. I grabbed
the broom handle as Mr Green arched his back
and tried to head-butt him.

I kicked out at Dom. 'Get off him! Get the fuck
off!' But Dom was in his own world. He threw a
punch at the guy's head. He was well fired up.
This guy was about to pay big-time for what
Sundance and Trainers had done to Pete.

Fuck it. I touched Dom's back with the forks
and he jolted sideways. I pulled him away with
one hand and gave the boy on the ground a two-second
burst with the other.

'Close the curtains, mate, get the lights on. Go
on, go! Go!'

Dom stumbled to his feet.

Mr Green gave an agonized groan. This place
smelt like someone had burnt the Sunday roast.

'And turn the power off on mine. I'll use yours
to deal with this fucker. Just pull out the plug
before we have any more drama, but leave the
taser where it is.'

I stood over the guy in the green bomber, ready
to give him an extra zap.

Dom tried to orient himself, but he was
staggering like a drunk.

'Cancel that, mate – just grab the torch and
search this fucker.'

He finally got the message and did as he was
told.

I watched as he turned out Mr Green's pockets.
He had a mobile phone and a .38 snub-nosed
revolver. There was no need to worry about Mr
Black suddenly pulling a weapon. He was toast.

Another minute or so and we had the curtains
closed, the lights back on. I gave Mr Green a kick
in the ribs. 'Sit up!'

He didn't budge. I didn't blame him. In his
position, I wouldn't have cooperated either.

I brushed his leg with the forks. His whole
body jolted. He dragged himself on to his arse
with his hands behind him. He was bowed, but
not beaten. He could smell Mr Black; we all
could. 'Fuck it. Get on with it then, boy – fry me.'

I looked at Dom. 'Ask him. Ask him what you
need to know.'

'Where is Finbar?' He stooped to Mr Green's
level. 'Where is my stepson?'

'Fuck you.'

I touched the forks to his shoulder. He saw
them coming and tried to duck, but he went
down hard. I gave him a good three seconds and
he screamed.

He rolled on to his hands and knees and
crawled towards the living room. Dom and I
followed him across the floor. 'Fucking switch
on, mate. We can do what we want with you
here, so what are you holding out for? You'll
fucking die – you really going to leave the Brit
sitting pretty while you take the punishment?
Where is Finbar? And where's the Brit?'

I brushed the back of his calf with the forks
and he swivelled like a break-dancer. 'Come on,
we can do this all night. Dom here's paid his
electric bill. It ain't going to be cut off.'

I sparked up his mobile, a cheap old red and
grey thing. He had no call history, no address
book. Whoever he needed to call, or whoever
was going to call him, they knew each other's
numbers.

I gave his arse a jab this time. His body hit the
floor like it was trying to melt into it. His breaths
came fast and short.

'OK, here's the deal. You tell me who you were
going to call once you'd lifted us, and I'll go
easy with the cutlery. Let's start from there,
yeah?'

His right cheek was pressed to the floor. I
brought the forks down level with his left eye.

'What about a jab to the frontal lobe? A couple
of seconds of
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
treatment. You'd end up barking at the moon
every Tuesday. Come on, you're not fucking
helping yourself. Where is the boy?'

He closed his eye. 'They'd fucking kill me.'

I touched the forks quickly to his skull and he
half gurgled, half screamed. I gave him a
Timberland in the ribs for good measure. 'Shut
the fuck up. That's not what I want to hear.'

Dom grabbed my arm. 'Nick . . .'

If he was suddenly trying to play the good guy,
fuck him. This was the only way we'd get results
this side of lunch-time.

'No, mate. If he doesn't tell us, he's going to
die.'

Mr Green opened his eye again to see the forks
just inches away. 'All right, then, just tell us who
you were going to phone. Who were you going to
contact to say you'd got us?'

Snot dribbled from his nose and formed a
small puddle of slime on the floor. He sniffed
hard. 'The Brit . . . I was going to call the Brit . . .'

'And what was the Brit going to do?'

'He was waiting.'

He couldn't control his breathing. The
electricity churning through his heart had interfered
with the comms system linking his brain
and lungs.

'If you don't come up with some answers, the
next zap's going to kill you.'

I got down on my knees and leant forward
until our faces were level. I wanted to make sure
I was close enough to hear if he started to have a
heart attack. 'I bet you never thought this would
happen when you signed up, eh? Now where's
the boy?'

'Dun . . . Dundalk.' It was scarcely more than a
whisper.

'Dundalk?'

He nodded like a drunk on a pavement.

'And that's where you were going to take us?'

He nodded again.

'What was going to happen there?'

He didn't need to draw pictures. We both
knew. He was probably the one who would have
done it.

I stood up.

I wanted him to get his breath back. He still
had work to do.

I undid his day sack. 'Right, Dom,' I said. 'Let's
have a look at this boy's party bag.'