Taken for Dead (Kate Maguire) (47 page)

‘So what other names did this Limerick fellow give you?’

‘I can’t remember all of them.’

‘Then tell me the ones you do remember. Come on, Dad. You’ve already told me Stephen Fitzgerald.’

‘Yes, but he’s in the cemetery. The rest are still with us.’

‘Dad, listen to me! I get threatened every day of the week. You know as well as I do that it goes with the job.’

‘Yes,’ said her father, twisting himself around to face her. ‘But you don’t have children!’

She could tell by the expression on his face that he realized instantly what he had said, and that he could have bitten off his tongue. She had never recovered from little Seamus being taken from her. How cold he had been in his pale blue Babygro when she had lifted him out of his cot, his reddish hair still sticking up from sleeping.

‘I’m truly sorry, Katie – ’ said her father. ‘I didn’t mean – ’

‘It’s all right, Dad. I know what you meant. Now, please, just tell me the names. As many as you can.’

‘There were eight of them altogether, so the fellow said. Jimmy O’Reilly you know already. Then there was Seamus Grant, he was only an inspector in those days, and Bryan Molloy, both of them from Limerick. And Superintendent Jack McGovern from Tip, and Sergeant Harris from Ballincollig and another sergeant from Togher although I don’t recall his name. McConnell or McConnaigh, something like that. Oh, and another inspector … Padraig Duffy, from Fermoy, I believe.’

‘Jimmy O’Reilly and Bryan Molloy – they were
both
High Kings of Erin?’

‘You’re not going to tell them that you know, are you? I’m warning you, Katie, you’ll be in danger of your life. I don’t want anybody coming to my door to tell me that they’ve found you floating in Tivoli Harbour.’

‘Don’t you worry, Dad. I’m not naive enough to go marching into their offices and accuse them to their faces of taking bribes and perverting the course of justice. I’m going to be a little more subtle than that. Besides, I still don’t know how they’re connected to the High Kings of Erin who claim to have carried out these kidnaps. Or even if they
are
connected.’

She took hold of his hand again. ‘I may not have any children to protect, but I do have a father to look after.’

‘I’m so sorry, pet. I never should have said such a thing.’

‘Forget it, Dad. Life has to go on, no matter what. But there’s one more name you can give me, if you know it. Who was your man from Limerick? The fellow who told you all about the High Kings of Erin?’

‘Now, he’s somebody you really don’t want to be messing with, Katie. I mean it.’

‘Dad – you seem to be forgetting that I’m a detective superintendent. Messing with dangerous and undesirable people, that’s my job. I’m not your little Katie-waytie any more, playing with her plastic ponies on the back step.’

Her father gave her a small, resigned smile. ‘Yes, you’re right. But where do they go to, Katie, the happy times? Why are they always over?’

‘You’ll have to ask God that. I don’t know.’

‘You’ve probably heard of him, this fellow. He was Niall Duggan’s right-hand man before Niall Duggan was shot. He’s suspected of murder, arson, drug-dealing, robbery, threatening behaviour and possession of illegal firearms, although he’s never been convicted for any of them.’

‘You’re talking about Lorcan Devitt,’ said Katie.

‘The very man. Face as red as a beetroot, long, wild hair, boozy breath like a knacker on dole day. But he’s not at all what he seems, that man. He’s a cute hoor, and he’s very dangerous.’

Katie said, ‘I’ll be careful, Dad, I promise you. And nobody will know that you told me those names. Now let me go to McKenzie’s for you and buy you whatever you need, and while I’m there I’ll stick a card in the window advertising for a housekeeper for you.’

‘Oh, I’m all right, pet. You don’t have to fuss. I can manage.’

‘No, Dad, you
can’t.
You’re still grieving, and nobody expects you to take care of yourself. I’’ll come back again tomorrow afternoon and see how you’re getting on. I’ll call Moirin, too.’

Her father followed her to the front door. He gave her a kiss with his prickly cheek and grasped her shoulder tightly. ‘You’re a grand girl, Katie. You never let me down. If your mother could only see us now.’ He paused, and then he said, ‘If only we could see your mother.

***

She was still in McKenzie’s Express Convenience Store buying tea bags and biscuits and cheese for her father when her mobile phone rang.

It was her solicitor, Douglas Rooney. He had been held up in court and would have to postpone their meeting until tomorrow at 3.30. She didn’t really mind. It was growing dark now and it had already started to rain and Barney was eager for a walk. She was feeling unusually tired, too, and the thought of driving back into the city in the rush-hour traffic was very much less than appealing.

She still hadn’t handed in her revolver to the Anglesea Street armoury, but nobody had contacted her about it and she could do it tomorrow before she went to South Mall to see the solicitor.

She drove back to her father’s house and gave him the messages, as well as a bunch of fresh yellow roses. Once she had arranged the flowers in a vase for him, she said, ‘Make sure you have something to eat tonight, Dad, even if it’s only a takeaway. And you can have a bath, too. I’ve turned on the hot water for you.’

Again, he accompanied her to the front door. It was raining hard now and ghostly swathes of spray were drifting across the river.

‘And think about getting the roof fixed,’ Katie told him.

‘Oh, yes. The roof,’ he said, vaguely. But then he took hold of her hands and said. ‘I should never have told you those names, you know. Maybe you’d best forget them.’

‘Dad – ’

‘I know, I know. You can look after yourself. In the name of Jesus, though, watch out for those High Kings of Erin, whoever they are, and don’t cross that Lorcan Devitt. He’ll have your tripes out before you can blink.’

Pat Whelan and Eoghan Carroll arrived in Cork City centre shortly after dark. They had walked for over two hours along narrow country roads, hiding themselves behind hedges or dropping down into ditches whenever they heard a vehicle approaching in case it was the High Kings of Erin coming after them. Eventually, however, they had reached the R639 which led directly south to Glanmire, which was only seven kilometres to the east of the city, and had managed to hitch a lift from a chain-smoking, chain-swearing van driver who was delivering second-hand gearboxes to a car repair shop in Glasheen.

‘You’d never fecking believe some of the fecking customers we get, they fecking ring you and say to us, okay, if I bring my car in this afternoon do you think you could service it and fit new brake pads by five o’clock? I mean forget about the other fecking five cars we’ve already got booked in for that same fecking day, just fecking drop everything for them.’

‘Terrible,’ said Eoghan. ‘Some people don’t think, do they?’

‘No, they fecking don’t. They have shite for brains.’

Pat was so tired that he couldn’t even speak, leaning his head against the passenger-side window. The wounds on his chest were throbbing so painfully that he was sure they had become infected.

The van driver dropped them off by the statue of Father Matthew at the top of Patrick Street and they cut through Winthrop Street to Oliver Plunkett Street. Pat wasn’t thinking of going back to his shop. The High Kings of Erin could well come looking for them there, even if they weren’t watching it already, and in any case he no longer had the keys to get in. However the Café Zing two doors away had closed down only a month ago and he was sure that they could break into it through the small courtyard at the back and use it as a refuge for the night.

Before they tried that, though, they went to one of the two Eircom phone booths on the corner of Caroline Street. They looked up and down the street to see if there was anybody who was obviously keeping a lookout for them, but it had started to rain now, suddenly and heavily, and almost everybody was hurrying for shelter.

Pat had only the three twenty-euro notes he had taken from Malachi’s wallet, but Eoghan had enough small change in his pocket for them to use the payphone.

Pat called Mairead first. When she answered, he said, ‘This is me. Is that you?’

‘
Pat
! Mother of God! Where are you, Pat? Are you all right?’

‘Listen, love, I have to be very quick. The gang who call themselves the High Kings of Erin were holding me and this fellow Eoghan Carroll hostage, but we’ve managed to escape. I’m safe now, for the moment, and so is he, but we’re almost certain that they’re going to come looking for us. You need to leave the house right now, love, and I mean like
immediately
. Go to your cousin Clodagh’s, or maybe your brother’s. Don’t tell anybody where you’ve gone, not even the guards, and don’t tell anybody that you’ve heard from me. I’m serious, Mairead. These people are very, very dangerous, these High Kings of Erin. They’re killers.’

‘But they rang me this afternoon, Pat,’ said Mairead. ‘They gave me instructions where they wanted me to hand over the ransom money, and that inspector told me that the Garda have the money all ready for them. If you’ve escaped, like, they won’t have to pay it, will they? But they’ll have to know you’ve escaped.’

‘Mairead, the money doesn’t matter, it’s only paper. We’re hoping that the guards can catch the High Kings of Erin when they hand over the ransom, especially if we tell them that we’re safe. But if they give the guards the slip and they don’t get their money, they’ll be sure to be wanting to take out their revenge on us. If it comes to it, let them have their ransom, for the love of God.’

‘Pat – ’

‘No, Mairead, if they get their money, maybe they’ll leave us alone and we can live in peace. I know that I’ll probably have to declare myself bankrupt, but I’d rather be bankrupt than dead, any day. Now, grab whatever you need to take with you, love. I mean it. Grab whatever you need, and go. I love you. I’ll be in touch with you again as soon as I can.’

He handed the warm receiver to Eoghan, who punched out the number for his parents. After a long wait his father answered. ‘Dad?’ he said. ‘It’s Eoghan. Yes, it really is. I know. But I’m alive and kicking.’

He gave them the same warning that Pat had given to his wife. The Carrolls, too, had already been told by the High Kings of Erin when and where to hand over the ransom money.

‘Don’t say a word to anyone, Dad. You saw what happened to that young detective woman. You and Mum don’t want to spend the rest of your lives looking over your shoulders in case somebody’s coming for you.’

‘I’m not afraid of scumbags like that,’ his father retorted. ‘Besides, they don’t deserve the money.’

‘Dad, this is no time to be playing the hero. If they don’t get arrested and they don’t get their money, then the chances are that they’ll find me and they’ll kill me, and if they can’t find me, then they’ll kill you instead. Or maybe they’ll kill all of us. When Pat and I were escaping, we hurt those two big fellows who snatched me out of your house, and badly. One of them, I think I broke his neck. They’re not going to forgive us for that in a hurry.’

‘Well …’ said his father, grudgingly.

‘
Go
, Dad! You and Mum get out of the house as quick as you can. If you go to Petra’s, I’ll call you there. If you go somewhere else, let Petra know where you are, so that I can contact you. Now,
go
!’

Pat and Eoghan left the phone booth, looking up and down the street again, their hands cupped over their foreheads to shield their eyes from the rain. Then Pat said, ‘Come on. We can get through to the back of the cafe from Pembroke Street.’

‘Let’s hope they left some coffee there when they closed down,’ said Eoghan.

‘Oh yes. And a fridgeful of food, and two comfortable beds. You’ll be lucky, boy.’

Katie took Barney for a short walk along the river front, with the rain drumming on her umbrella. When she got back home, she undressed and took a shower, and then wrapped herself up in her pink towelling bathrobe, with her hair in a turban. She couldn’t think why she felt so exhausted. Of course, she had been under even more stress than usual, both at work and at home, but she kept herself fit and she had always prided herself on her stamina.

‘You wear me out,’ John had said to her, early one morning. ‘You chase criminals all day but you can still keep going all night!’

She poured herself a large glass of Smirnoff Black Label, but when she lifted it to her lips and smelled it she realized that she didn’t feel like vodka after all. She poured it carefully back into the bottle and switched on the kettle for a mug of tea instead. Then she went back into the living room and opened her laptop.

Flathead Consultants had no website and no Facebook or Twitter pages. They didn’t appear on LinkedIn or any other business network. There was a company in California called Flathead Enterprises, but they were website developers and they certainly didn’t look as if they would have links to a company that buried headless bodies in asphalt.

The milk smelled off, or maybe it was just the smell of Barney drying off in his basket beside the radiator, but in any case Katie took her tea black. When she sat down at her laptop again she typed in ‘High Kings of Erin Flathead’.

Instantly, up came the legend of Eógan, King of Munster. His wife was Moncha, who was the only daughter of the blind druid Dil Maccu Crecga.

One day, Dil Maccu Crecga came to Eógan and urged him to make love to Moncha that night. He had sensed that the king would die the next day in battle against the Alban armies of Lugaid Mac Con, and he would need an heir if his dynasty was to continue. Sure enough, Eógan and Moncha conceived a son that night – and sure enough, during the battle at Maige Mucrama the following afternoon, Eógan was put to the sword.

Nine months later Moncha went into labour, but her father had foretold that if her son was born on that particular day he would become nothing more than the chief jester of Ireland. If he were to be born the day after, however, he would be crowned King of Munster and found the dynasty of the Eóganacht.