The Chinaman (41 page)

Morrison followed him down the stairs where Hennessy was waiting for them. He took them into the lounge and showed them where he wanted them to stand, just behind the door. The lights were switched on because he'd drawn the curtains so that no one could look in from the courtyard.

‘I'll lead him in, you close the door behind him,' Hennessy said. ‘He doesn't normally carry a gun, but I want you to frisk him, and don't be gentle with him. I want him off balance, disorientated, OK?'

The two men nodded.

‘If I say hit him, hit him. If I say shoot him in the knee, you do it. No hesitation, no argument. He must know that I am totally serious and that if he doesn't co-operate he will be killed.'

‘And will he?' Morrison asked.

‘Oh yes, Sean. Quite definitely. But we both know that anybody can be made to talk eventually, don't we? Every man has his breaking point. And McGrath is used to giving pain, not receiving it. I think that the mere threat of violence will be enough, but if it isn't he must have no doubt that I mean what I say.'

They heard the Volvo drive into the courtyard. ‘Right, I'll bring him in,' said Hennessy and left them. The two men avoided looking at each other and Morrison wondered if Murphy had already been told what Hennessy had planned for him, and if those plans included a bullet in the back of the neck. He shrugged off the morbid thoughts, knowing that there was no point in dwelling on them. Whatever his fate, there was nowhere he could run, Hennessy would have the full backing of the IRA High Command. Morrison was just one man. That thought brought The Chinaman to mind, one man who was taking on the organisation, and who had so far come out on top. He wondered how Kerry was getting on. There were voices in the corridor and then McGrath entered the room, closely followed by Hennessy.

‘This is hellish short notice, Liam. When will the rest be getting here?' McGrath said as Hennessy closed the door.

Morrison stepped up behind McGrath and pressed his gun against the man's neck.

‘Don't make a sound, Hugh. Don't say a word,' said Hennessy.

Morrison moved round in front of McGrath, keeping his gun against his throat, pushing hard so that his head was forced back. Murphy went behind McGrath and kicked his legs apart and then roughly searched him, going through all his pockets and then slapping down his legs and his arms.

‘He's clean,' said Murphy.

‘Now listen to me, Hugh, and listen good. We're going to walk through into the kitchen and we'll stand at the back door. You're going to tell your men that you'll be staying the night and that you'll be going up to Belfast with me tomorrow. Then you and I are going to come back here and have a wee chat. If you try to warn them, they'll be shot. If you try to run we'll shoot you in the legs and then we'll bring you back here and we'll still have a chat, except this time you'll be in a lot of pain. Whatever you do, it's going to end the same way. Do you get my drift?'

‘Have you lost your mind?' hissed McGrath.

‘No,' said Hennessy levelly. ‘I've lost my wife.'

‘Is that what this is about? Mary? I don't fucking believe it. I don't know what you're playing at but there'll be all hell to pay when Dublin finds out about this.'

Morrison pushed the gun hard into McGrath's throat and made him wince.

‘Once your men have gone you can call Dublin and you can speak to whoever you want. But it should be obvious to you that I wouldn't be doing this without their approval. And I'd better warn you, Hugh, they've given me
carte blanche
. Now, are you ready to speak to your men?'

McGrath glared at Hennessy as if about to refuse but suddenly the fight seemed to go out of him and he agreed.

Morrison slid his gun into the pocket of his bomber jacket, making sure that McGrath saw what he was doing. Hennessy opened the door and led the way. Morrison pushed McGrath ahead of him and Murphy fell in behind, his gun held behind his back. They went through the kitchen in single file and Hennessy unlatched the door. McGrath's driver and two bodyguards were in the car, laughing at something. Beyond the car, McGrath saw two of Hennessy's men carrying broken shotguns.

He and Hennessy walked over to the car while Morrison and Murphy remained in the doorway. The window wound down and McGrath put his hand on the roof of the car and dipped his head.

‘I'm going to stay over with Liam, and we'll be going up to Belfast tomorrow. You lads can go back to the farm, I'll call you when I get back.' His voice sounded to Hennessy as if it was about to break up but his men didn't appear to notice that there was anything amiss. They asked him if he was sure, McGrath insisted, and they started up the car and drove out of the courtyard. Morrison stepped out of the kitchen and around McGrath, shepherding him back inside. Murphy took off McGrath's glasses and threw them on the ground. He stamped on them, grinding the pieces into the ground with his boots, then followed him down the hallway, pushing him roughly in the back.

McGrath tried to talk to Hennessy as the group moved back into the lounge but he was ignored. Morrison recognised the technique of sapping the man's confidence to make him more susceptible to questioning. He took a wooden chair from the kitchen and placed it in front of the fire, facing Hennessy's favourite easy chair. Morrison and Murphy shoved McGrath on to the chair and then stood behind him. He began to turn round but before he did Murphy clipped him a glancing blow with the barrel of his gun. McGrath yelped involuntarily and put his hand to the side of his head. It came away bloody.

‘Liam, what the fuck do you want?' He squinted over at Hennessy, trying to focus. The tinted glasses weren't just for show, McGrath was also quite short-sighted.

Hennessy ignored him and went over to the window. He untied two thick cords which were used for holding back the curtains, and he threw them over to Morrison. ‘Tie his hands behind him, and tie his legs to the chair,' he said. Morrison did as he was told while Murphy held his gun against the back of McGrath's head. Hennessy sat down in his armchair.

‘Is this about Mary?' asked McGrath. ‘Is that what that line about losing your wife was about? You're not losing her, Liam. She'll never leave you, she made that clear right from the start.'

Anger flared inside Morrison and he stepped forward and smashed his gun across McGrath's face. It cut deep into his cheek and blood spattered across the carpet as Morrison raised his gun again.

‘No!' shouted Hennessy. ‘Leave him be.'

Morrison let the gun hang by his side. He was breathing heavily, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

‘We know what you're fucking angry at, don't we, Morrison?' taunted McGrath. Morrison whirled around and slapped him across the face so hard that McGrath keeled over, taking the chair with him and slamming into the floor.

‘Sean!' said Hennessy. ‘You do that again and there'll be hell to pay. Get him up.'

Morrison pulled McGrath and the chair back upright. McGrath was dazed and he spat blood on to the floor, groaning and shaking his head.

Hennessy waited until McGrath seemed to regain his senses before speaking again. ‘This is not about Mary, Hugh. Or at least not in the way you mean. It's about the bombings. The London bombings.'

‘I don't know what you mean,' said McGrath.

‘Hit him,' Hennessy said to Murphy, and Murphy smacked his gun across McGrath's head.

‘This is me asking you nicely,' said Hennessy. ‘In a while I'm going to stop asking you nicely and Sean here is going to blow one of your kneecaps off. He's good at that, is Sean. He's done quite a bit of kneecapping in the past, though sometimes I think he's forgotten where his roots lie. But kneecapping is a bit like riding a bike, once you've got the hang of it you never lose it. And I think we both know that Sean might have personal reasons for enjoying putting a bullet or two in you. In fact, I might have trouble persuading him to keep his aim low. You get my drift, Hugh?'

‘Yes, Liam. I get your drift,' mumbled McGrath. He seemed to have difficulty moving his lips, and there was blood trickling down his chin. Morrison realised then what a devious, cunning bastard Hennessy was. McGrath was frightened, not just because of the threat of torture, but because he was being put in the hands of the man he'd betrayed most in all the world, the one man who really wanted to kill him with his bare hands, to tear him apart and to eat his raw flesh. McGrath could see the bloodlust in Morrison's eyes and it was infinitely more terrifying than Hennessy's threats. Morrison was being used by Hennessy almost as cynically as he'd been used by Mary. He knew that, but at the same time he didn't care. He just wanted to see McGrath in pain, and he hoped with all his heart that he'd refuse to answer Hennessy's questions.

‘What is it you want to know?' McGrath asked quietly.

‘You are behind the bombings?'

‘Yes.'

‘Why?'

‘Because I think it's the only way to defeat the British.'

‘There's more to it than that. There must be.'

McGrath shook his head.

‘Where did you get the people from?'

‘A couple from Scotland, two from Southern Ireland. I got to them before they joined the organisation, told them there was more they could do for the Cause by working directly for me. I sent them to Libya for training, then sent them to London to establish cover stories, to blend into the community.'

‘Where did the money come from? You couldn't touch IRA funds without it being noticed.'

‘I used my own money.'

‘Very noble of you. Hit him, Christy.' The gun smashed into the back of McGrath's head again and he moaned and sagged in the chair. Murphy seized him by the hair and pulled his head back. ‘Where did the money come from, Hugh?' said Hennessy. ‘I'm about to stop asking nicely.'

‘Some of it from Libya,' said McGrath. ‘But most of it came from the Iraqis. They channelled the money through Libya.'

‘You took money from the fucking Iraqis?'

‘It's not where the money comes from that counts, it's what we do with it. You know that.'

‘How much did they pay you?' asked Hennessy.

‘I don't know, it was . . .'

‘Shoot him, Sean,' said Hennessy quietly.

‘No!' screamed McGrath. ‘For the love of God, no. Two million. That's what they paid. Two million pounds.' Morrison squatted down and pressed the barrel of his gun behind McGrath's left kneecap. ‘Get him away, for God's sake get him away.' He was screaming and crying and straining against the cords.

‘Where's the money?'

‘A Swiss bank account. It's yours, Liam, I promise. You can have the fucking lot. Just get him away from me, get him the fuck away from me!'

Hennessy waved Morrison away and he reluctantly took his gun away from McGrath's leg. Hennessy picked up a notepad and a pen. ‘I want the number of the account, and I want the names and addresses of the bombers.'

‘What then?' asked McGrath. ‘I give you the names and then what?'

‘I won't kill you,' said Hennessy. ‘You give me the names and I'll take you down to Dublin and you can plead your case to the High Command. That's the only deal you're going to get from me. Now do I get the names?'

McGrath swallowed and coughed, and spat out more bloody saliva. ‘You get the names,' he said.

Despite the sun being almost directly overhead, Kerry began to find the going easier, helped by the fact that The Chinaman appeared to be heading due east, albeit sticking to the hedgerows wherever possible. It would have been harder to follow him if he'd cut across the fields where the grass was thick and springy. As it was she found several good examples of his footprints in muddy places formed where rainwater ran off into the ditches.

It was just after 12.15 p.m. when she came across the B180 and Tollymore Forest Park beyond. She pulled a twig from the hedge and stuck it into the ground like a miniature bonsai as she'd done every hundred yards or so as a signpost for Sean. She took a plastic bottle of water from her rucksack and drank as she planned her next move. He'd obviously crossed the road but it would take some time to find out where. The better bet would be to cross the road straightaway and check the trees where she was more likely to spot evidence of his passing on the forest floor.

‘Sean Morrison, where the hell are you?' she said to herself. She wanted to go into the trees immediately, knowing that he'd be certain to be hiding somewhere in there. She felt the same as she did when she got within shooting distance of a deer that she'd stalked for hours, the adrenalin flowed and the desire to get in close was so strong that she could almost taste it. Only one thing held her back, once in the woods she wouldn't be able to see the flare and she'd have to keep the radio off at all times because she'd have no way of knowing if The Chinaman was within listening distance. She could sit down and wait, but she didn't want to. She took out the walkie-talkie and switched it on and pressed the talk button.

‘Can you hear me?' she asked, remembering Sean's instructions not to use any names over the air. There was no answer, just static. ‘Is there anybody there?' she asked. When no one replied to her third attempt she took that as a sign that she was on her own and that Sean Morrison had no one to blame but himself if he couldn't find her. She put the walkie-talkie and the bottle of water back into the rucksack, waited until the road was clear and then dashed across, into the cool, enveloping greenness of the woods.

Hennessy left Morrison and Murphy in the lounge as he went to use the phone. He took the notebook because the four names McGrath had given him were new to him. He dialled the number and it was answered by Bromley himself.