Collusion

42

Lennon searched the crowd gathered around the baggage carousel. He checked the video screen above it yet again to make sure it said Birmingham. People stood shoulder to shoulder, jostling with each other to get a good view of the conveyor belt even though it hadn’t started to turn yet.

A buzzer sounded, and the crowd tightened. Lennon used his height to scan the heads, looking for a flash of blonde.

There, on the other side of the carousel. She stood taller than any of the women around her, the length and paleness of her almost alien. Strips of grey streaked her blonde hair now; her eyes had darkened.

And there was Ellen. The yellow of her hair stood out against the black of her mother’s clothing. A naked plastic doll hung from her fingers, the kind of doll little girls dressed in grown-up clothes, with long limbs and an impossibly small waist. Ellen sniffed and rubbed her nose on her sleeve. Marie scolded her and bent down with a tissue. She pressed it to the child’s nose, and Ellen’s eyes screwed shut as she blew.

Lennon worked his way through the shoulders and bags and trolleys. He kept Marie in his sight as he rounded the carousel. People pushed and shoved as they went for their luggage. He pushed back until he found her stuffing tissues into her handbag.

He stood for a moment, wondering what to say. Her name was all he could think of. ‘Marie,’ he said.

She lifted her head, her face blank. Frozen there, she stared at him. Ellen hugged her mother’s thigh.

Marie asked, ‘What are you doing here?’

It took some time to persuade her to come with him instead of getting a taxi. Even as they approached his car, she protested. He insisted and loaded her suitcases into the boot.

‘At least tell me what this is about,’ Marie said as she strapped Ellen into the back seat.

Lennon held the passenger door open for her. ‘Get in and I’ll tell you.’

Marie held his gaze as she ducked her head in and sat down. He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. A small passenger jet roared along the runway beyond the fence. Lennon watched it leap skywards before he climbed into the driver’s seat.

‘I know about Gerry Fegan,’ he said for the second time in an hour.

Marie didn’t react.

‘I know what happened, that it wasn’t a feud. I know you and Ellen were there on the farm near Middletown.’

Marie examined the lines and veins of her hands.

‘Declan Quigley, McGinty’s driver, was killed this week.’

‘I know,’ Marie said, staring straight ahead. ‘I read it on the BBC News website. They said it was a burglary gone wrong.’

‘Patsy Toner was found dead this morning,’ Lennon said. He watched her for any sign of a reaction. There was none. ‘He drowned in a bathtub in a hotel not half a mile away from here. The official version is he was drunk. He slipped and hit his head.’

‘The official version?’

‘And Kevin Malloy was killed just outside Dundalk a few days ago. His wife too.’

‘Kevin Malloy? You mean—’

‘Yes, one of Bull O’Kane’s thugs.’

Her hands went to her mouth and her eyes brimmed. She sniffed hard, brought herself under control.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘They told me it was safe to come home. I’ve been trying for the last two weeks to get them to let me come home. My father had a stroke. He’s in the Royal. They said he could have another one any time. I wanted to see him while I still could. I’ve been sitting in that bloody awful flat in Birmingham, just waiting for word.’

‘Word from who?’ Lennon asked.

‘It’s always come through the Northern Ireland Office. An allowance for me and Ellen, word on my parents, that sort of thing. It was them told me about the stroke a fortnight back. Then they called two days ago, said someone would be in touch from MI5. Ten minutes later, I got another call. They said the situation was safe now. I could come home.’

She stared hard at Lennon. ‘Is it safe?’

‘No,’ he said.

Ellen giggled and whispered something to herself in the back seat as she moved the doll’s arms and legs into a walking pose.

‘So what’s going on?’ Marie asked, her face betraying no fear.

‘I think someone’s in Belfast cleaning up the mess. I think he killed Kevin Malloy, Declan Quigley and Patsy Toner. I think he also killed a kid called Brendan Houlihan and set it up to look like it was him who got Quigley.’

‘And you think they’ll come after me?’

‘Maybe,’ Lennon said. He thought about it for a second. ‘Probably.’

‘Christ,’ Marie said. She looked tired. ‘I thought it was all over with.’

‘You should have called me,’ Lennon said. ‘When Fegan was hanging around. I could’ve done something.’

‘I never wanted your help,’ she said.

Ellen laughed out loud. Lennon looked up at the rear-view mirror. Ellen turned to the empty seat beside her, brought her finger to her lips, shush.

‘My daughter was in danger,’ Lennon said.

‘She’s never been a daughter to you.’

‘Because you never allowed her to be.’

Marie went to reply, but stopped herself. She covered her eyes and sighed. ‘There’s no point in arguing about that now,’ she said. ‘Are you taking me to your station? I want to see my father first.’

‘I’m not taking you to the station,’ Lennon said.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I don’t trust my colleagues.’

‘Why not?’ Marie asked.

‘My bosses know what’s going on as well as I do,’ Lennon said. ‘But they’re ignoring it, trying to sweep it away. I don’t know who the orders are coming from, but I’m pretty certain you’ll be safer away from them.’

‘Then where do we go?’ Marie asked.

‘You can stay at my place till I figure this out,’ Lennon said. ‘There’s room.’

‘No,’ Marie said. ‘I don’t want anything from you.’

‘Look, this isn’t the time for holding grudges. Ellen’s safety is more important than anything that happened between you and me.’

He looked up at the mirror again. Ellen leaned to her side, cupped her hand around her mouth, and whispered.

‘Who’s she talking to?’ Lennon asked.

‘She has imaginary friends. People only she can see. She’s been like that since . . .’

When Marie couldn’t finish the sentence, Lennon said, ‘What did she see?’

Marie didn’t answer the question. Instead, she said, ‘We went to a psychologist when we were in Birmingham, the NIO paid for it. Didn’t do her any good. She has nightmares. They’ve been getting worse.’

Lennon watched her in the mirror. The thought of the child in fear made his stomach turn watery under the weight of his heart. ‘What does she dream about?’

‘Fire,’ Marie said. Her voice shook. Her eyes fluttered and brimmed again. ‘She dreams she’s burning in a fire. The way she screams, it kills me. I can’t sleep for fear of her screaming waking me. I thought maybe if I brought her home, to the places she knows, maybe it would help. And now this.’

She leaned forward, her face buried in her hands, and wept in silence while Lennon watched, unable to do anything to soothe her.

When the sobbing ebbed away, Marie straightened and sniffed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I haven’t had anyone to talk to for months. It’s been hard.’

‘I know,’ Lennon said. ‘Listen, I’m going to fix this. I’m going to make you safe. You and Ellen both.’

‘I don’t know if you can,’ Marie said. ‘But maybe …’

Lennon waited. ‘Maybe what?’

She shook her head, as if chasing an idea away. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Take us to the Royal first, then I’ll find somewhere to stay.’

‘Come to my place. Please.’

‘No, I don’t want to. Besides, if someone’s looking for me, they’ll know to go there, won’t they?’

He had to concede. ‘Possibly.’

‘Take me to the Royal to see my father. Then we’ll go to a hotel.’ She allowed him a smile, but with no kindness or warmth behind it. ‘You can stand guard at the door if you want.’

He thought about it for a few seconds and realised she was right. ‘No,’ he said, ‘no hotel. I know a place in Carrickfergus. It belongs to a friend of mine. It’ll be safer than any hotel.’

He fired the ignition and set off for the Royal Victoria Hospital, fifteen minutes away if the traffic was kind.