Present Danger

37

‘Here I was, expecting the grim reaper to come through the door, and in walks the most beautiful girl in the world. Or have I died, and gone to heaven?’

Liz was glad to find Jimmy Fergus back in buoyant form. She hadn’t known what to expect; after the shooting it had been touch and go for the first twenty-four hours. He was still hooked up to all manner of machines – an IV feed attached to his arm, wires linking him to monitors. He must have lost a couple of stone, thought Liz; he looked positively gaunt in his thin hospital gown, but at least there was some colour in his cheeks and he was sitting propped up in bed, with the radio playing on his bedside table, and a car magazine on his lap.

She kissed him on the cheek. ‘This place looks pretty five star.’

‘Appearances can be deceptive. You haven’t tried the food.’ He made a face.

‘I should have brought you a takeaway but perhaps these will help.’ She handed him a box of chocolates tied up with a ribbon and sat down in the chair by the window. The sun was glancing into the room, though dark clouds were moving in on a sharp wind.

‘So how’s business? It would be nice to hear about something other than my potassium levels.’ He gave a derisory wave at the rig of wires and monitors around him.

‘We’ve found the van your attackers used. It was burned out in South Armagh, about five miles east of Moy.’

Fergus nodded. ‘Provo country. Can’t say I’m surprised. There are plenty of people in this world who would like to shoot me – including an ex-wife or two – but only the Republican renegades would actually go and do it nowadays.’ He sighed. ‘It’s depressing when you think that ninety-nine point nine per cent of the population is keen to have peace, and yet we can’t stop a few lunatics from jeopardising everything. I just hope everyone can keep their heads, not start blaming each other or using it as an excuse to step up the violence again. Once that starts, there’s no stopping it; it’s like the Israelis and the Palestinians.’

‘So far it’s been condemned by both sides equally.’

‘Any progress finding the villains?’

‘We’re getting there,’ she said with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. ‘There were the remains of a gun in the van – they probably thought it would be unrecognisable after being burned. But it’s a .25.’

‘Like the slug in my chest. Pretty unusual these days.’

‘Exactly. We think we know who one of the guys was – he worked part-time for a laundry service; that’s where they got the van. His name’s Sean McCarthy, and he’s disappeared.’

Jimmy Fergus scratched his cheek thoughtfully. ‘That name rings a dim bell but I can’t put a face to it.’

‘Actually I was hoping that if you felt up to it, you could give us a description of them both.’

‘I’ll try, but I only got a good look at one of them – that was the driver. He was young, maybe twenty, light short hair, skinny, about six feet tall.’

‘That can’t be McCarthy – the laundry owner said he was short and dark-haired.’

‘Sounds like the guy with the gun. I got a quick look at him and he fits that description, but I couldn’t tell you much more than that. He took me by surprise. I was looking at the driver.’

‘Hopefully if we find McCarthy we’ll find the other guy.’

He looked at Liz. ‘But they’re just small fry, aren’t they? This was well-planned; I don’t think two youngsters could have done it all by themselves. Who do you think was behind it?’

‘Your colleagues think it’s the Real IRA. But McCarthy’s never been associated with them. I’m wondering if it may have something to do with our mysterious Mr Piggott.’ And she told Fergus what they’d learned about Piggott, and about Milraud and his recent visit. She didn’t mention Dave’s disappearance, Jimmy was starting to look tired and she didn’t want to give him anything more to worry about.

He pointed a finger down at his chest, where the bullet hole lay buried under a blanket of bandage. ‘I’m glad this happened before Milraud and Piggott finished their business.’

‘What do you mean?’

He managed a wan smile. ‘Piggott would have been buying better firepower from Milraud, I bet. Big powerful weapons and accurate too. Compared to them the little pistol that put me here was a pea shooter. And it jammed the first time he pulled the trigger.’

He was silent for a moment, and Liz wondered if he was thinking of his narrow escape. It must have seemed extraordinary, having lived through years when every day brought the promise of death, to get shot in the middle of what was supposed to be an era of peace.

‘The funny thing is,’ Jimmy Fergus mused, ‘those two guys didn’t even bother to hide their faces.’

Liz said nothing. ‘What is it?’ asked Fergus, disconcerted by the look on her face.

‘I think they weren’t expecting you to be able to provide a description.’

Fergus gave a satisfied grunt. ‘In that case, they really were amateurs.’

‘Or else you’re tough as old boots, Jimmy Fergus. I’d say it was a bit of both.’