The Scrapper (8 page)

‘To us,’ said Kieran.

Moya smiled and repeated the toast.

Like young lovers they sipped their wine while maintaining eye contact. Moya began to eat her salad and Kieran followed. He had his fork halfway to his lips when his bleeper sounded. He froze, his eyes locked onto his wife’s.

‘You’d better ring in,’ Moya said flatly.

Kieran shrugged apologetically and left the table. Moya looked after him as he walked toward the reception desk.

‘It has begun!’ she whispered softly to herself and the magic died.

Kieran walked past the reception desk and around to the line of telephone booths on the landing of the stairs that led down to the car park. They were all in use. His heart was
thumping. This was his first bleep. He went back to Reception and spoke to a pretty girl behind the desk.

‘Excuse me, could I use the house phone?’ Expecting a protest and directions to the telephone booths, Kieran was now rummaging in his inside pocket for his police identification. He needn’t have bothered.

‘Certainly!’ The receptionist smiled and placed the telephone in front of Kieran. He tapped out his office number and waited. He looked over at Moya; she was looking at him. He waved and smiled. She returned his wave but not his smile.

When the telephone was answered at the other end Kieran simply said, ‘Clancy.’ He listened to Michael Malone, amazed at what he was hearing.

‘Magpie Grove? How long ago? It certainly does! I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.’ He replaced the handset in the cradle and smiled at the receptionist. He was dreading the thought of telling Moya he had to go. He turned to find her standing beside him wearing her coat. Dangling from her outstretched index finger were the car keys.

‘Off you go. You take the car, I’ll get a taxi. I paid the bill for the wine and the salads.’

Kieran took the keys from her finger and kissed her on the cheek. He held her in his arms and whispered into her ear, ‘You’re special. Do you know that? You’re really special!’ And he was gone.

Moya stood in the lobby looking after him. As he left the hotel she once again spoke to herself. ‘That’s the problem, Kieran, you see I’m not special.’

‘I beg your pardon, Madam?’ the receptionist said.

‘Can you call me a taxi, please?’ Moya asked.

Sparrow McCabe was running harder and longer than he had ever run in his life. He had been running now for over five hours. He had no idea where he was running to, and what he was running from was just too confusing, too horrific even to think about. Life as he knew it had come to an end. He had to stop, he had to take a rest. His heart was pounding so hard it sounded like drums in his ears. His muscles were not getting enough oxygen and his strength began to slow.

He stopped at an electrical shop with a recessed doorway and leaned back in against the door. Slowly he slid to a sitting position. He put his arms around his legs and pulled his knees up tightly into his chest. He sank his head to his knees. Like an ostrich putting his head in the sand he hoped when he looked up it would all be gone. It wasn’t. The scene went through his mind again.

The Morgan brothers had knocked on the door of number twenty-eight. They were excited. It took two further rattles on the door-knocker before there was any sign of life inside the house. They could hear somebody stumbling down the stairs. A light went on in the inner hallway and through the frosted glass they could make out the shape of a young woman. As soon as she had opened it a crack, Bubbles kicked the door fully open and covered her mouth to stifle her scream while he pushed her inside. Immediately PJ Duff came stumbling down the stairs. Instinctively he threw himself at Bubbles, disturbing Bubbles enough to release his hand slightly from the
woman’s mouth. She let out half a scream but was stopped by a punch from Teddy. Upstairs a baby cried. In a rage PJ now turned his attention to Teddy. He was untrained and, having just woken, was disorientated, and before he could even get a hand on Teddy, Teddy’s pistol whipped him on the side of the head. PJ crumpled to the hall floor.

Grabbing PJ by the scruff of the neck, Teddy dragged him out of the hall and into the Duffs’ small front room. Bubbles followed the two with one hand over the woman’s mouth, dragging her by the hair. The woman put up a mighty struggle and even under Bubbles’s hand her screams were audible. By the time Bubbles got the woman into the front room Teddy already had PJ sitting in an upright chair. PJ was dazed but conscious. The flaying of the woman’s arms and legs, banging off tables and the door, was making a racket. Teddy kicked her in the stomach and she immediately quietened. Bubbles lifted her roughly into a lying position on the couch. From under his coat he produced a baton and pinned the woman across the throat on the couch. The woman was in pain and terrified. She looked up into Teddy’s balaclava-clad eyes.

‘My baby. Please let me go to my baby!’ she begged.

‘Shut up! Just stay quiet and yeh’ll go to yer baby soon enough,’ Bubbles advised her, but the woman was too terrified to understand what he was talking about.

Sparrow had been watching all this from the car. He saw PJ stumbling on the stairs. He saw PJ throw himself at Bubbles. He watched as the woman got the punch from Teddy. And he saw the helplessness of the couple as they were dragged like sacks of coal through their own home. He was gripped with anguish.

Don’t get involved, Sparrow! he told himself. Don’t get involved. He was still banging the steering wheel, fighting back the tears. From an upstairs window he heard a baby cry. That was enough.

‘Ah fuck it,’ he exclaimed as he opened the door of the car. Sparrow jumped out and ran to the front door. The baby’s cries were now piercing his ears. Sparrow could hear PJ’s wife from the front room begging Bubbles to let her go to her baby. He burst into the room. Bubbles still had the young woman pinned to the couch with a baton. She was bleeding from a cut above her eye and through her nose. All the time she was pleading with Bubbles.

‘My baby, my baby!’ PJ was sitting upright, covered in blood, so much so that it was difficult to tell where the blood was coming from.

‘Stop it! That’s enough!’ Sparrow screamed as he tried to drag Teddy away.

Teddy was startled by Sparrow’s arrival. ‘What the fuck are you doin’? Get out to the car, yeh fuckin’ shithead.’ He shook Sparrow off and turned his attention again to PJ.

PJ was just mumbling on and on. ‘I needed the job … I couldn’t do anything … The baby, let her go to the baby. Take me away. The baby!’

‘For Christ’s sake!’ Sparrow screamed.

Teddy reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol. ‘Shut the fuck up you,’ he screamed at Sparrow. The pistol made a ‘crack’ sound. PJ’s head jerked back and then his body slumped forward onto the floor in a heap.

‘My baby!’ The woman screeched again. Bubbles jumped up, slapped her face and ran out the door. Teddy pocketed the pistol and turned to leave.

Sparrow stood transfixed, aghast at the scene and overwhelmed by what had happened.

Teddy returned and dragged him away by the collar. ‘Move, yeh fuckin’ dope, move!’ The two brothers ran to the car, Teddy dragging Sparrow. Behind him, Sparrow heard the baby’s cries which were now fretful. Bubbles dived into the back of the car. Teddy pushed Sparrow around to the driver’s side and ran back to the passenger side.

Sparrow stared at the driver’s door. ‘No. No! Fuck this – no! Not for me.’ Sparrow began to walk dizzily away from the car, mumbling.

‘Sparrow, yeh yellow bastard! Get back and drive this car. Sparrow!’ Teddy called angrily.

‘What’s wrong?’ Bubbles called from the back seat.

‘It’s Sparrow, he’s lost it, his bottle’s gone – again!’

‘What bottle, his bottle of what?’ Bubbles was now totally confused.

‘Bubbles, shut the fuck up, will yeh? Sparrow!’ Teddy shouted again. Sparrow didn’t move.

‘Ah fuck yeh!’ Teddy roared. He ran around the car and got into the driver’s seat himself. The car sped off. As it rounded the bend at the end of Magpie Grove a pint of milk flew out the window and smashed against the kerb.

Sparrow was squeezing his legs so much now that they started to get pins and needles. He was sobbing out loud and uncontrollably. There was a display of television sets inside the window of the electrical shop. As a news programme
came on, Sparrow slowly stood up. He looked at the televisions and they all showed the same picture. There was no sound, but Sparrow didn’t need any sound for he knew the whole story. The pictures haunted him. On screen the news reporter was standing in front of the Duff home. There were police cars all over the place in the background. He saw PJ’s shocked wife being led to an ambulance. The reporter moved to a policeman for comment, and the man waved him away.

There were a number of other televisions in the shop. Suddenly the screens all changed and Sparrow fell back against the wall. On one screen Sparrow saw the fight, his fight in Madrid with the Spaniard. On another the Morgan brothers were staring into the camera, pointing with an index finger at Sparrow. They began to laugh. On another screen Simple Simon and Angie were laughing. On another the blood-covered face of the Spaniard was laughing.

Sparrow screamed and began to run again. Dawn was breaking and the sun was rising in the east. In his confused madness, Sparrow made the decision to run toward the sun. Not just in its direction – but actually all the way to it.

It was difficult for Michael Malone to get parking for his car outside the McCabe home, as there were already three squad cars parked there. Kieran had a puzzled look on his face as he hurried from the car to the front door, which was under guard by a young uniformed officer. Kieran flashed his ID.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked the young lad.

‘We’re here on a search, Sergeant, on foot of a warrant,’ the officer answered officiously.

Kieran replaced his ID in his hip pocket. When he gave his next order to the officer, it was not in an angry tone, but it had enough edge in it for the young man to know that it was not to be questioned.

‘I want this search stopped now. Assemble all the men in the front garden, here, now!’

The officer spun around and made his way quickly upstairs. Kieran was joined at the front door by Michael, and together they stepped into Sparrow’s home.

As Kieran entered the front room he had his first glimpse of Eileen McCabe. She was standing by the fireplace. In the fire grate the ash and wasted cinders gave the room a stark feel. Eileen was standing, one hand on the mantelpiece, her other arm wrapped around her son Mickey, who was holding her so tight he seemed welded to her. They were both terrified. Eileen held her cigarette in her hand, which was shaking so much that she might have been holding a pneumatic drill. Kieran was struck by how pretty she was. For some inexplicable reason he had expected her to be a short, dumpy woman. There was no doubting who was the father of the young boy. He was the spitting image of Sparrow from head to toe.

Eileen looked up at Kieran. ‘Join the party,’ she said.

Kieran glanced around the room. Cushions had been ripped open. The contents of shelves tipped onto the floor. Armchairs upturned. He felt embarrassed.

‘I’m Detective Sergeant Kieran Clancy, head of the Serious Crime Squad at Snuggstown,’ Kieran said as he offered his hand.

‘Yeh right,’ was all Eileen replied. She didn’t attempt to shake Kieran’s hand.

‘I’m sorry about all this. It was uncalled for and unnecessary. I’ve called a halt to it. I’ll leave two officers with you to help you put things back the way they were.’

‘I don’t want you to leave anybody here, just get these people out of my house,’ Eileen snapped.

Kieran bent over, righted an armchair and sat down. ‘Have you heard from Sparrow?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Eileen replied. She didn’t look at Kieran, but the boy, Mickey, was staring at him. Kieran smiled at him and the boy turned his face into his mother’s body.

‘The woman – Mrs Duff – she knows Sparrow well –’ Kieran began.

‘She’s mistaken,’ Eileen snapped.

Now Kieran lit a cigarette. ‘No, she’s not. And you know she’s not, Mrs McCabe!’

‘Do I now? How the fuck would you know what I’d know?’ Eileen looked into Kieran’s eyes for the first time.

‘Look, Mrs McCabe, if I have to I’ll take you down to the station.’ As Kieran said this Mickey pulled away from his mother.

‘Yeh can’t do that,’ he shouted. ‘Unless you want to arrest her first. That’s the law, pal!’ He had spunk.

Eileen stepped toward him and put her hands on his shoulders. ‘Quiet, Mickey. Go out to the kitchen and make us another cup of tea, love, will yeh? Go on now, like a good man.’ Eileen’s tone was soft as she pushed him towards the door.

‘Okay Ma, but tell him to fuck off!’

Instinctively Eileen clipped him on the ear. ‘You mind
your tongue, yeh little bastard!’ she snapped.

Kieran was smiling as he looked after the boy leaving the room. ‘He seems like a good kid,’ he commented.

‘He is,’ was all Eileen said.

Kieran stood up. ‘Look, Mrs McCabe,’ he said calmly, ‘where would he usually go?’

Eileen smiled at the policeman. ‘You mean like after he fuckin’ shoots someone? Now, let me see! It’s either golf or tennis – what day is it?’

Kieran smiled at her – he had deserved that and he knew it. Suddenly the phone rang loudly. Both Eileen and Kieran snapped a look at it immediately. Kieran then looked back to Eileen. Her face was anguished.

‘Answer it,’ Kieran said with a wave of his hand towards the phone.

‘No, you answer it.’ Eileen looked away and took a drag of her cigarette.

‘If I answer it he’ll hang up,’ Kieran said.

The phone went on ringing. Eileen looked directly at Kieran. ‘If it’s him,’ she said.

‘Answer it, Mrs McCabe. I won’t interfere, I promise. At least you’ll know he’s safe. You can tell him I’m here, and if he wants to talk to me I’ll listen.’

Slowly Eileen moved away from the fireplace to the phone. She picked it up.