Brute Force (41 page)

BOOK: Brute Force

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126

She began to come round.

I eased myself off the bed. The pain in my right thigh had begun to register in my brain. It seemed that these deep, clean cuts really were every bit as painful as any other kind. Blood oozed from the dressings. It was going to be hospital time very soon. I'd have to go in and complain about these drugged-up muggers who not only took all my cash, but also seemed to take pleasure in slicing me up.

I couldn't kneel because of the pain. I had to stoop, one hand on the edge of the steel frame of the bunk as I leant down.

I pulled open an eyelid. The pupil reacted. She could hear me all right.

'It was Richard Isham.'

She took a big, involuntary breath and sobbed.

'Yeah, you know, the one who's always been up for the cause, the local hero, ready to fight to the death. But you know what, he was on the make, just like everybody else.' I leant a bit closer so she didn't miss a word. 'He saw what was coming and made sure he was one of the survivors. What would your dad think of that? But he can't think anything, can he? Because while Richard is sitting behind a big fat desk with an expense account to match, your old man is dead.'

She kicked out her legs.

'It's a fucker, isn't it? But you know what? I agree with you. A traitor is a traitor, in anyone's book, including mine. I have more respect for you than I do for him.'

She was still sobbing but it wasn't from pain or fear of dying. She was a player; she had more bollocks than that. She was grieving.

She should have spent five minutes with me over a brew some time. I could have put her straight: never trust those fuckers, and don't waste your faith in them. They're always in it for their own ends, no matter what side of the fence they're on.

'But the problem is, you're the enemy.' I pushed myself up using the side of the bunk. 'Regardless of what I think of you, we both know what that means.'

I limped into the corridor and locked the door behind me.

127

The TPU box was made of wood and the lid was screwed down tight. Four screws, of course. And there were a good two metres of loose det cord before the detonator was attached, in case it was contaminated. She'd learnt her lessons well.

The screws came out easily.

I turned the Parkway to the full hour, and the plastic disc fell to the floor.

The timer ticked gently as the spring started to unwind.

PART TWELVE

128

Dom drove the powerboat. Siobhan sat shivering one side of him and I stood behind, a hand on a shoulder each to brace myself as we bucked through the waves.

Everyone but me wore a mish-mash of bloodstained fleeces and black leather jackets. I had a duvet draped around me like a cloak.

Little dots of light began to sparkle in the darkness ahead.

Dom half turned his head and shouted against the wind. 'Terrible timing.'

'What's that?'

'Biggest story of my career and it has to break when everybody's away.'

'What do you mean?'

His face broke into a grin. 'Don't you know what day it is? Merry Christmas, Nick.'

He turned back to concentrate on the sea. 'You know you're welcome to finish your holiday at the cottage.'

'No offence, mate, but I've got a place in Italy. For a while anyway . . .'

I sat down next to Siobhan.

She smiled weakly. 'What are you going to do, Nick?'

I shrugged. 'I might go into the antiquities business. It seems there's a lot of rich guys who pay good—'

'No.' She tilted her head to indicate behind. 'What – are – you – going – to –
do?'

I knew what she meant, but I didn't know the answer. Tallulah hadn't exactly been all over me when I got into the boat, and I could understand that. She had an eight-year-old priority desperately holding onto her.

I got up and moved back a row. Ruby was still curled into her stepmother, no longer crying, just staring into I didn't know what. Her hair was being blasted about in every direction.

I leant over to Tallulah as she put a protective hand to Ruby's head. 'Listen, she's going to need lots of care now, to get over this, and to get things right. I know, I've seen it before. If you want, I can be there and help her – and you.'

The expression I got back wasn't the one I was hoping for. There were no nods or smiles, nothing encouraging.

Her lips moved, but I didn't hear the words. A brilliant flash of light arced across the sky from
behind
us, and seconds later came the short, sharp, dull sound of brisance as the steel of the hull took the full impact of the shaped charges.

I tapped Ruby's shoulder. 'Not the best Christmas fireworks you've ever seen, but give me points for trying?'

A little smile creased her face.

'And look at that lot.'

We were approaching a small Irish port. A group of carol singers gathered around a Christmas tree on the quay. Their clear voices reached out to us across the water. A cluster of houses were lit up with Santas and reindeer behind them.