Echoland (32 page)

Duggan sighed and shook his head. ‘The captain was out of the office today.’

‘That was a relief.’

‘A temporary respite.’

‘You want me to do it?’ Gifford offered. ‘Throw Bradley’s name into the ring the way we discussed?’

‘No,’ Duggan sighed. ‘It’d be too much of a coincidence if you
supposedly
overheard something in a pub the same day I told my people about Nuala’s boyfriend.’

‘People do get ridiculously suspicious about coincidences,’ Gifford agreed.

Harbusch and Eliza turned into Grafton Street and he peeled off and crossed the road into Switzers.

‘Your turn to look at the knickers today,’ Gifford said. ‘But I
better
do it. Your imagination is already in danger of blowing the
mercury
out of the thermometer.’

The commissionaire opened the door to the Shelbourne Hotel with a cursory ‘good afternoon’ and Duggan stepped into the high lobby. The metal cage of the lift faced him and he turned right into the lounge. It was empty apart from four businessmen huddled around a table with documents between their drinks and a pianist playing in the corner. He chose a table by the empty fireplace, away from the windows, and studied the menu card. The prices were out of his league.

He lit a cigarette and settled down to wait. An elderly waiter approached and Duggan told him he was waiting for some people. The pianist was playing something classical, his eyes half-closed,
moving
his head from side to side slowly with the music, away in his own world. Two women came in with shopping bags and picked a table in the centre.

Duggan wondered again about Kitty Kelly and Eliza. It was a mad theory but these were mad times. And it made sense of things. Or did it? It could make sense of things.

Timmy appeared in the lobby, moving slowly. He caught Duggan’s eye and came towards him, scanning the lounge, still moving slowly, as though he feared he was walking into an ambush. ‘Well,’ he said, taking the other armchair with its back to the wall. ‘Just the two of us.’

‘So far.’

‘And who are we waiting for?’

‘Nuala.’

Timmy nodded once as if that confirmed his expectations. He looked at his watch: it was just after ten past three. ‘You think she’ll come?’

‘I don’t know,’ Duggan said. ‘She said she would.’

‘And what does she want to talk about?’

‘You said you wanted to talk to her,’ Duggan reminded him,
trying
to remain calm. He had lost all patience with Timmy’s games. ‘And I persuaded her to come and talk to you.’

‘Was this her idea?’ Timmy nodded at the surroundings.

‘No, mine.’

Timmy picked up the menu and pursed his lips as he glanced down it. ‘We wouldn’t want the afternoon tea,’ he said. ‘But we might as well have a drink.’

He waved at the waiter and ordered a small Paddy and a half pint of Guinness for Duggan.

‘What do you think she wants to talk about?’ Timmy began again.

‘Jim Bradley.’

Timmy dropped his voice. ‘I’ve put the word out that there might’ve been a mistake about him being … you know.’

‘And?’

‘And we’ll see what happens.’

Duggan shook his head. ‘That won’t be good enough. She wants you to get him back.’

‘I’m doing my best.’

‘You got him into this. You have to get him out of it.’

Timmy settled back in his chair and joined his hands on his
stomach
. ‘Hold your horses now,’ he said. ‘I didn’t start any of this. She and Bradley started it. Pretending to kidnap her.’

Duggan shook his head. ‘Bradley wasn’t involved. It was all Nuala’s doing.’

‘And why was he picking up my money if he wasn’t involved?’ Timmy leaned forward with the certainty of proof.

The waiter arrived with their drinks and they waited while he put them on coasters before them and left a jug of water beside the whiskey.

‘Because Nuala had told him about it by then,’ Duggan continued the conversation. ‘And he thought it was too dangerous for her to go herself.’

Timmy poured a small amount of water into his whiskey and
tasted
it. ‘You believe that?’

‘Yes. Ask Nuala yourself.’

‘Have you never wondered why this fellow came back to Ireland?’

‘Nuala will tell you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because his granduncle left him money to go to Trinity College.’

Timmy took another sip of his whiskey. ‘And you believe that?’

Duggan reached for his glass to hold down his irritation. He hadn’t expected this interrogation, hadn’t been prepared for it, and didn’t want it. It was all Nuala’s fault again. ‘I’m sure we could find out one way or the other,’ he said. ‘Aren’t wills public documents? It’d be the same will that left your house to Mrs Bradley, wouldn’t it?’

Timmy’s face went blank and he took out his cigarettes and lit one. He didn’t offer one to Duggan.

‘Look,’ Duggan said. ‘We’ve got to sort this out ourselves. Get Bradley released and put an end to it all. Isn’t that what you want? Keep it in the family.’

‘Or else?’ Timmy glared at him.

‘Or else I’ll have to report it all to my superiors. As soon as possible.’

‘All of it?’ Timmy kept his tone even.

‘Very hard not to. Every bit of it raises more questions until …’ Duggan shrugged.

‘I warned you before this was not a road you wanted to go down.’

‘Yes,’ Duggan lit a cigarette, taking his time to calm his temper. ‘And I talked to my father about that.’

A mixture of surprise and shock crossed Timmy’s face. ‘When?’

‘Yesterday. He told me everything. And he didn’t appreciate your attempt to blame Bradley’s father on him.’

‘I never said that,’ Timmy sounded shocked.

‘Not a road I’d want to go down,’ Duggan threw Timmy’s words back at him.

They lapsed into silence. Duggan let his anger cool and a sense of satisfaction replaced it – he had turned the tables on Timmy. Timmy didn’t know what his father had told him and the prospect had
clearly
shaken him. There are other things Timmy doesn’t want known, he realized. Things which Timmy thought his father knew. And he was afraid that his father might talk if he angered him. Which explained why Timmy had always treated his father with great care.

Timmy scanned the lounge again: no one was paying them any attention. The pianist played ‘She Moved Through The Fair’ at a leisurely pace and the businessmen across the lobby stood up and began a round of handshaking.

‘I knew you’d be good at this intelligence stuff,’ Timmy said at last. ‘That’s why I got you moved into G2. You like it there?’

Duggan nodded, knowing the threat that was coming.

‘And you’d like to keep doing it?’

Duggan nodded again.

‘You know what I’m saying?’

‘I know what you’re saying. But I don’t want to stay there if it
causes
an innocent man to be killed.’

Timmy gave a shrug of impatience. ‘There’s no need to be
over-dramatic
.
You’re taken after your mother. At least your father always kept a cool head.’

Nuala sat down at the third side of the table and looked from one to the other, registering the tension.

‘D’you want a cup of tea or something?’ Timmy asked.

She shook her head and they lapsed into silence.

‘Paul,’ Timmy said at last. ‘Would you let me talk to my daughter in private?’

Duggan looked at Nuala who stared at his half finished glass of Guinness. He got up without a word and walked away. In the lobby he asked the porter where he’d find a phone and was directed to a booth in the back of the building. When he got through to Sullivan he asked him if the captain was back.

‘Not yet,’ Sullivan said. ‘Is there a message for him?’

‘No, it’s okay. I’ll talk to him later.’

He left the hotel, not bothering to glance back into the lounge to see if they were talking. He crossed into the park and walked fast around the duck pond to calm his seething anger. What a fucking pair, he thought. At least it made it easier to do what he had to do. He was finished with them now.

‘You did what he asked you to do,’ Gifford shrugged after Duggan had told him about the encounter. ‘You found his daughter.’

‘Yeah,’ Duggan agreed. And found out some things I might’ve been better off not knowing for sure, he thought. But if Timmy was the only reason he was in G2 he didn’t want to be there. ‘But I can’t leave it at that.’

‘Bradley?’

‘Yeah.’

Gifford scratched his head and walked around the edges of the
room. He dropped to the floor and did five quick push-ups and jumped to his feet and stretched his shoulders. ‘We need to shoot someone,’ he said.

‘I know who I want to shoot.’

‘That’d stir things up all right.’ Gifford looked like he was
considering
the idea. ‘Maybe he’ll get Bradley released.’

‘Maybe. But I wouldn’t bet on it.’

‘He’d let them kill him?’ Gifford shook his head.

‘He’s a vindictive fucker. He won’t back down easily. If at all.’

Duggan picked up the phone extension, unable to let it go in spite of his resolution, and asked Sinéad if she could get him a number. ‘Tea’s ready,’ she said before putting him through. ‘If you want to send your batman down for it.’

He told Gifford while he waited for the number to answer. Gifford saluted and left.

‘This is Paul,’ he said when the same woman as before answered the phone. ‘Is Nuala there please?’

‘She’s not back yet.’

‘Could you ask her to call me at this number as soon as she gets in?’ He gave her the number and thanked her.

He stood in the window, watching the treetops bending in the breeze, and glanced over at the Harbusch’s flat. Their windows reflected the milky clouds, as bland and uncommunicative as ever. He wished he could just concentrate on Harbusch and his spy circle but he couldn’t just walk away from the other problem. At least it would all be out of his hands soon.

Gifford came back with a tray and two cups of tea and a plate with two Kimberley biscuits and two Mariettas.

‘Only plain biscuits for you,’ he said, putting the tray down on the chair.

‘Why?’

‘You’re lucky you’re getting any at all. Had to put in a good word for you.’

‘What’d I do?’

‘Ah, culchies,’ Gifford slurped his tea and bit into a Kimberley.

‘What?’ Duggan took the other cup.

‘She thinks you’ve been ignoring her.’

‘What?’

‘Not paying her sufficient attention.’

‘Don’t know how she got that idea.’ Duggan took a plain biscuit.

‘Indeed,’ Gifford smirked. ‘What’s really happened is that you’ve had your eye wiped by a better man.’

‘Hah. You?’

Gifford curtsied before him. ‘We’re going to the pictures tonight.’

Duggan raised his cup to him.

Gifford touched his cup to Duggan’s. ‘I’ll give you lessons in how to deal with women. Starting next week. If you haven’t been
transferred
back to the bogs by then. And aren’t sitting in a
bothán
in a cloud of turf smoke describing the amazing sights of the city to
open-mouthed
yokels.’

The phone rang and Duggan moved to pick it up.

‘It’s Giggler,’ Sinéad said and put Sullivan through before he could say anything.

‘The captain checked in and I told him you were looking for him,’ Sullivan said. ‘He’s got to go down the country and won’t be back till late.’

‘Okay.’

‘If it’s important and urgent he said to report directly to the colonel.’

‘Okay.’

‘Would you like me to make an appointment for you with the colonel?’ Sullivan asked with heavy sarcasm.

‘Jaysus, no.’ Duggan couldn’t imagine trying to tell the colonel about Timmy. It’d be bad enough telling McClure.

‘Yes, sir,’ Sullivan paused. ‘Did you hear that?’

‘What?’

‘My heels clicking. I’m getting into practice for our new masters.’

‘You don’t need to worry,’ Duggan glanced at Gifford. ‘The Special Branch says we’ll be first on their execution list.’

‘Gifford’s even more full of shite than you,’ Sullivan hung up.

‘Reprieved,’ Duggan told Gifford. ‘Captain’s away until the
morning
.’

Gifford offered him the Kimberley biscuit. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to keep you hale and happy. So that we can push you lot out into the front line when the parachutists start landing.’

‘Thanks,’ Duggan took the biscuit.

‘Or Hansi bursts out with a Schmeisser in his hands. Followed by Eliza and Kitty. And blows your theory apart.’

‘What’d they do today?’

‘The usual,’ Gifford said. ‘Hansi went into Switzers. Eliza went into the Monument and he met her and they walked home.’

Duggan shook his head. ‘It doesn’t make any sense.’

‘It’s a living,’ Gifford said enigmatically. ‘I hope we never run into one of those Switzers women at a dance or somewhere. We’ll be ruined.’

‘Who’s following Kitty Kelly today?’

‘One of the lads went to Mass with her this morning. But he was pulled away to something else afterwards. That fellow they caught in Dartmouth Square is talking his head off.’

‘Carey?’

‘Not him. He’s a tough guy. The youngest one. Coyle.’

‘Would he know anything about Bradley?’

‘Possibly. But I don’t think we can get to him.’

‘But if you told your guys about Bradley …’ Duggan let the
suggestion
hang there.

‘You want me to?’

‘I don’t know,’ Duggan threw his hands up. ‘Time’s running out. We’ve got to do something.’

‘You do it first thing tomorrow,’ Gifford said. ‘And I’ll follow up with a report a little later. To make sure everyone knows. Pretend I got it out of you.’

‘Okay,’ Duggan nodded. Twelve hours or so wasn’t going to make much of a difference. There were still a few days left to the end of the month deadline.

He lit a cigarette and wandered over to the window and blew smoke at a pane. ‘So there’s no one watching her,’ he said. ‘Kitty.’

Gifford shrugged. ‘Our lads aren’t that interested. More
concerned
with the local heroes than anything the Germans are up to.’