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"I mean, what else could I do?" Rachel said.
Killian stood and took big gulps of air. "I don't know. Go to the newspapers? Go to the Sunday World? The British tabs?"
"Are you kidding me? I'd be on an IRA death list immediately. You see who that was?"
"I saw."
"They'd kill me. This is big. They've been protecting him this whole time," Rachel said.
Killian shook his head. "They've been protecting each other, haven't they? McCann and Coulter. Catholic and Protestant. Player and politician."
"It's f.u.c.king sick. It's sick. I wasn't crazy, was I? That is Dermaid McCann, isn't it?"
Killian nodded. "Oh aye. Without question."
"And then there's Richard himself."
"Did you watch the whole thing?"
"No. Why?"
"At the very end, I think that's Tom Eichel on there too."
She gasped.
Tom.
"If Tom went down he'd make sure I'd never see the kids again. He'd use the drugs against me. He'd destroy me."
"How did you get mixed up in drugs?"
She shook her head. "I'm just a wee girl from Ballymena. I didn't know that world. Richard's world. That lifestyle."
"Smack wasn't it?" Killian said trying to recall the notes.
"It was just marijuana at first, then cocaine, then the bad stuff. That's the way of it. We had so many f.u.c.king hangers on. It was like Michael Jackson when Richard became a media star. Of course Richard found out and hit the roof. I was pregnant. He went f.u.c.king mental at first but then he got the job done. He got me into Crossroads in Antigua. Eric Clapton's place. It worked. I went off everything for a while. But then you relapse. I made terrible decisions. Look at poor Sue. Learning difficulties, behaviour problems, you name it, it's my fault."
Killian looked at Sue and Claire playing together by the water. Both of them were happy and Sue, at least to him, seemed fine.
"I don't believe there's anything wrong with that girl except perhaps overly high expectations," he said.
"It doesn't matter, does it? Social services would never give me custody if they found out what I had done. I'd lose the kids and the IRA would put me on their f.u.c.king death list. What else could I do but run? Get them away from him and run."
Killian shook his head. "No, a better play would have been to leave the laptop where it was. Pretend you'd never found it. Or, if you'd wanted the evidence, copy the files onto a disk. He didn't need to know that you knew."
"But then I'd have to go on sharing custody with him! I'd have to see him! I'd have to pretend!" Rachel said indignantly.
Killian looked at the hut and the beach and the mist rolling down the lough sh.o.r.e.
"But you wouldn't have to live like this, you'd be safe and your kids would be safe..." and your parents would still be alive, he almost added.
"Besides, I wasn't thinking straight. I'm clean now. I've been clean since those men came for me. This time it's for real."
Killian nodded. He hoped that was the case. A corrupt father, a junkie mother, dead grandparents, the kids didn't have much hope, did they?
"What would you have done?" Rachel asked.
"You should never have taken the computer," Killian said dourly. "You grew up in Northern Ireland, you know the rules: you don't talk, you leave secrets well alone."
"I panicked. I had to get out of there. To think, that man did those things - I just got the kids and I ran."
Killian shook his head, smiled at her compa.s.sionately. "You didn't panic. You took it on purpose. You were thinking blackmail. You were thinking you could use it as a chip. It was stupid. You should never have done it. It was proof that you knew. Richard tried to play it close for the first few weeks but now he's told Tom."
"I told Tom. I called him. I wasn't thinking straight."
"Regardless, now Tom knows and Tom's ruthless. He sees right through all the bulls.h.i.t. He has sent a man to silence you."
Rachel look frightened. "You?"
Killian shook his head. "Not me. My job was to find you. What time do you have?"
"Nine-fifteen."
"We've got about an hour. We better get moving."
"Where?"
Killian walked to the water's edge and examined the still, green water. What are you talking about, mate? he asked the reflection. Go somewhere? There's no going anywhere. Your job is to find the kids and make a phone call. Sit back, do not pa.s.s Go, collect half a million quid.
The reflection looked uneasy. But Ivan was going to kill her and where was there to go?
Not a hotel. Not a motel. Credit cards, traces. Certainly not Carrick. Ivan had been there once already.
It didn't seem doable. He'd be jumping off this island, but still be trapped on the big island of Ireland.
The whole situation was b.o.l.l.o.c.ks.
Killian looked at the phone clock again: 9.16. Ivan was getting closer by the minute.
In the distance he could hear a tapping sound.
His head was throbbing.
What was that noise?
A woodp.e.c.k.e.r? No. There never was such a thing in Ireland. Someone chopping a tree. Nah. The bilge of the ferry? Not that either.
He looked across the lough at the little car park beyond. Three cars over there now. The Merc and two others. He squinted. And the ferry wasn't there. And it wasn't on the water either.
It had brought someone over.
And then he knew.
Ivan had stroked him.
He'd turned the kid.
Paid him more money or put the fear in him.
He was here, right now, on this island, "Bouncing his rubber ball up and down on the dock at the terminal stop," Killian said, recognising the sound.
He was here and he was going to kill everyone. He was going to kill everyone and make it look like he - Killian - had done it before turning the weapon on himself.
"No Sean, I'll be fine, I don't need a gun for a wandering-daughter job," Killian said ironically to himself.
He ran to the girls and pulled them to their feet.
"Come on la.s.ses, we're leaving," he whispered.
"Where are we going?" Sue said loudly "Ssshh!" he said.
Rachel looked at him "What is it? What's wrong?"
Killian put his finger to his lips.
"There's someone coming," he hissed. "Very dangerous, I don't have a gun."
"I do," Rachel said. She ran into the cabin and returned with the laptop and a Heckler and Koch 9-millimetre wrapped in a freezer bag.
Killian took the gun, checked the mechanism and bent down to talk to Sue.
"Sweetie, you're going to have to be very quiet. What's the highest you can count to?"
"Fifty," Sue said.
"That's brilliant. I want you to count to fifty in your head, okay, sweetie?"
Sue nodded enthusiastically.
Killian turned to Rachel and Claire. "He's coming to kill us. We have to get out of here now."
"Do as he says," Rachel added and they ran to the woods keeping low to the ground. They hadn't got twenty feet when they saw Markov walking down the trail.
He was wearing a balaclava, holding his pistol in front of him and walking cautiously towards the cabin. If he had looked to his right just then he would have seen them, despite the trees and the mist.
"Everybody down," Killian hissed and they ducked behind an elm tree.
They lay on the ground until Markov had pa.s.sed their spot.
Killian peeked above a low branch and saw Markov's back entering the campsite.
He was a pro. It would take him only seconds to scope it.
"Now we run," he said and picked up Sue.
She was heavier than he'd been expecting but Killian was a big man. He could carry two of her without much difficulty.
They ran through the woods and got to the b.u.t.terfly meadow before they heard Markov yell behind them.
Killian turned, Markov was running, but they had a hundred yards on him.
"Keep going!" Killian yelled.
Branches were cracking under their feet.
"He's shooting!" Sue said.
"It's just the tree branches!" Killian a.s.sured her.
"He has a gun. We're sitting ducks!" Rachel said.
"He'll never hit us at this range and he knows it," Killian said and hoped that that was the case.
They ran through the meadow and reached the jetty.
"Everybody get on board," Killian said.
He loosed the ropes and pressed the start b.u.t.ton. The engine sputtered into life. He looked at Rachel. "Head for the sh.o.r.e. Don't wait for me."
"What are you going to do?" Rachel asked.
"I'll give our Russian friend something to think about."
He boomed off the little boat with his foot and it started moving into the water.
Killian crouched behind an oak tree and waited for Ivan.
One gut shot would take that motherf.u.c.ker out.
He wait and lined the sight along the barrel.
But Markov was a paratrooper who had fought the Chechen mujahideen.
That was a school where you learned or died.
Frontal a.s.saults got people killed.
He didn't know if Killian was armed or not, but he had to a.s.sume that he was. And Markov had risked too much and had too much to live for.