Eight Ball Boogie Part 25

"He called himself Carroll."

"What'd he look like?"

"Small guy, thin, well-dressed. Looked like a "

"Galway. He's a detective, Branch. Was Brady with him?"

"Who's Brady?"

"His sidekick. Big bloke, look on his face like he wants to kick a hole in the side of his head."

"Never seen him."

I nodded.

"When?"

"Couple of days back. Said he'd "

"I don't need to know, Dutch. I presume he threatened the kids, Mich.e.l.le, whatever. Anyway, it's done. It's history, write it up whatever way you want. You did what you had to do. All I need to know now is if you're onside."

"Harry "

"I need to trust someone, Dutch, and I don't have time to make new friends. All things considered, you're still the best option I have."

The dig hurt but he took it square on the chin.

"Anything. Just say the word."

I told him about my visit to Conway, leaving out nothing, not even the lipstick on the secretary's teeth.

"You tapped him for two grand? Thinking he'd just had Gonz killed?" He whistled. "You've got b.a.l.l.s, Harry. You think with them maybe, but you've got b.a.l.l.s."

"I didn't tap him for anything. All I was looking for was some kind of reaction, something that linked Conway to the pros. I didn't get any. Conway's good but he's not that good. Conway had nothing to do with last night. That was Sheridan's call."

"Sheridan?"

"Our esteemed TD. I put the spook up Big Frank and Sheridan came crawling out of the woodwork."

"So maybe Sheridan is using the East Belfast boys."

Dutchie didn't want to let the East Belfast boys go.

"No one uses the East Belfast boys, Dutch. Those lads aren't taking orders from anyone, least of all some Free State f.u.c.ker."

"Might do, if the money was good enough."

"Maybe. Not that it matters either way. Thing that's bugging me is, where does Conway come into it if Sheridan already has his hook-up?"

"Maybe he was threatening to rat Sheridan out to the big boys, start a war." He shrugged. "You got the message? About Conway?"

"Yeah. How'd he go?"

"Not sure. Everyone's keeping their heads down, saying f.u.c.k all. It's getting out that it's a drug thing. Everyone's hiding bongs, flushing stashes."

"Last time I saw Conway was about eleven. He was with Tony Sheridan."

"You're saying Sheridan had Conway offed?"

"Who knows? A desperate man does desperate things. Because whatever's going on, it's going on fast. Maybe Conway f.u.c.ked up once too often."

He didn't buy it.

"Jesus, Harry. It's a bit much."

"Tell it to Big Frank. The way I see it, it makes perfect sense. Gonzo first, then me, then Conway."

"How's that?"

"Gonz did time for Conway a couple of years back. That's why he was back in town, putting the squeeze on. Conway came to me, trying to work out if I was hooked up with Gonzo. Next thing Sheridan knows, I'm running around with pictures that prove he's connected to Conway. What does he do? Step one, take Gonzo out of the picture by feeding him Flatliners. Two, me, because I have the shots. Three, Conway gets his for being the p.r.i.c.k that could've brought the house of cards down."

"So where's Helen Conway come into it all?"

"f.u.c.k knows. Maybe she is s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g Tony Sheridan. Or maybe she's running the whole show, I doubt if Helen Conway ever took a back seat to anyone in her life. Right now I'm more worried about Katie."

He frowned.

"The journo?"

"Have to go, Dutch. Do me a favour?"

"What about Katie?"

"Check the street outside. See if the Dibble are still out there, watching the office."

I was pretty sure Brady wouldn't be there. I was pretty sure Galway wouldn't be there either, but I didn't want to take any more chances than I had to. I told him about the call from Katie.

"If the Dibble are out in the street watching the office, they can't be with the pros. Basic physics, that."

"Christ, Harry, tell me you're taking the p.i.s.s. Who the f.u.c.k is Katie, some bimbo f.u.c.king journalist?"

"Right now, Dutch, she's a hostage. If it wasn't for me she'd still be a bimbo f.u.c.king journalist."

"You're walking into an ambush, just like that? Lamb to the f.u.c.king slaughter for some bird you hardly know?"

"It's not much of an ambush. They told me where they'd be."

He grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me hard. I let him. I needed loosening up after the long drive.

"It's a set-up, Harry! f.u.c.k's sake, man!"

"We went through it this morning. Sheridan had a decision to make and he wants to let me know what it is. Then everyone walks away, like the man said."

"The reason they tried to take you out last night is the reason they'll do it tonight. They think you're in with Gonz, which makes you poison."

"Give me some credit, Dutch. It's not heat of the moment anymore. These boys are sharp. They think I want to see them taken down and all things being equal I would. The way things are, though, I couldn't give a flying f.u.c.k about them. All I give a s.h.i.t about is Ben."

"Ben?"

"I keep my trap shut about Sheridan and Helen Conway. Never saw a f.u.c.king thing, I was tucked up safe and warm in bed with Dee for the last week. Dee will back me up, no one can say different. The photos get buried. That way, nothing happens Ben and I'm happy as a pig in the proverbial."

"You're betting on Ben?"

"I'm not betting on anyone, least of all Ben. I'm just letting them know what my priorities are."

"What about Gonzo?"

"f.u.c.k Gonzo."

"Jesus, Harry. He's your brother and these boys put him to sleep. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"On its own it might count for something. Put Ben in the picture and it counts for f.u.c.k-all."

He had a problem swallowing it but he got it down in the end.

"Alright," he said. "That's Plan A. What if they don't bite?"

"I'll burn that bridge when I come to it."

"That's it?" He was incredulous.

"Pretty much."

"f.u.c.k. f.u.c.kf.u.c.kf.u.c.kf.u.c.kf.u.c.k."

"Dutch? The Dibble?"

"You're doing it?"

"It's doing me, Dutch. I'm just along for the ride."

He left, slow and heavy. He was gone about ten minutes, and as far as he could make out no one was watching the office from the street.

He wouldn't meet my eye. I couldn't blame him. My being there was already asking too much, and he reckoned I was going to ask for more. I stood up, faked a yawn.

"Once more unto the breach, Horatio. I'm running late."

"Yeah, yeah. Right."

He let me out the side door, followed me into the alleyway.

"Be cute, Harry."

"There's a first time for everything. Hey, Dutch?"

"What?"

"Did Gonzo say anything, before he died?"

"About what?"

"About anything. I don't know."

He looked away, shook his head, no.

"He didn't get the chance, Harry." He was choking up again. "I told you, he never came out of the coma."

We looked at one another for a second or two, awkward in the darkness, and then I walked away down the alleyway towards the river. Feeling lonelier, more vulnerable, than I'd ever felt in my entire life.

"Hey, Harry?"

"What?"

I didn't look back. Dutchie had sold me out and he wasn't reneging on the deal. Something perverse in me admired that, but still.

"You want me to go with you, I'll go."

"That's why I didn't ask, Dutch."

22.

I was a tumbleweed crossing the street. Locked the door, stood in the stairwell, listening. The building was quiet, a mausoleum. I hoped that wasn't an omen, started breathing again.

I climbed the three flights of stairs. Bright yellow tape was tacked in an X across the doorway of the office. It jazzed the place up, although I'd preferred the doorway when it still had a door. I tore the tape down, balled it up and volleyed it out over the banister, wincing at the sudden dart of pain in my side. Then I stepped across what was left of the door.

Elephants had been through, tap-dancing. The filing cabinet lay on its side, contents scattered across the floor. The desk and chairs were smashed, splintered. The desk drawers had been rifled. The carpet had been ripped up, and some wallpaper had been torn off the wall. Looking for a safe. Or wanting me, or the Dibble, to think they'd been looking for a safe.

Still, it could have worse. I might have been insured, in which case I'd be looking forward to the drip-drip torture of my claim being denied.

I found a sheet of paper, scribbled a couple of lines that didn't take any longer than a good lie took to tell. I had an insurance policy on the mortgage, which looked after Denise. What cash there was I left to Ben, to be put into a trust fund for his education. Or to be released to him when he was twenty-one, if he turned out like his father, who was genetically conditioned against learning. I knew it wasn't legally binding as a last will and testament, but I was d.a.m.n sure there wouldn't be anyone contesting it either.