Once In, Never Out

by Dan Mahoney

  “I asked him because I believe that he is the person who planned the bombing and sent the bomber to Iceland.”

  McKenna expected a reaction to that statement, but he got none. Instead, O’Dougherty continued with his monotone line of questioning. “Why do you believe that?”

  “Because Inspector Rollins of Scotland Yard told me that he has developed information implicating Mr. O’Bannion as the man behind the bombing.”

  “Are you privy to that information?”

  “No. He refused to divulge it on the basis that it was a British national security concern, but that didn’t bother me. As I told you, I’m investigating the murder of Meaghan Maher, not the bombing.”

  “Shouldn’t that investigation also be under the jurisdiction of the Icelandic authorities?”

  “It is. My department has assigned me to assist Constable Thor Erikson of the Icelandic police in his efforts to bring the killer to justice in Iceland.”

  “Isn’t such an arrangement unusual?”

  “Yes.”

  “During your meeting with Mr. O’Bannion, did you accuse him of involvement in the Iceland bombing?”

  “I would say that ‘accuse’ is too strong a word. I simply suggested to him that Special Branch had developed indications that he may be involved.”

  “Did Mr. O’Bannion give you the name or location of the bomber?”

  “No. As a matter of fact, he vigorously proclaimed his innocence.”

  “You are an experienced investigator and have conducted hundreds, possibly thousands, of interviews, have you not?”

  “Thousands.”

  “In light of that fact, did you believe Mr. O’Bannion’s claim of innocence?”

  “Not then, and in light of his suicide last night, certainly not now. Now more than ever I’m convinced that Inspector Rollins was right.”

  “Did you see Mr. O’Bannion last night?”

  “No. The last time I saw him was in his office at the ministry yesterday afternoon.”

  “Are you aware that Mr. O’Bannion was seen in this hotel last night and that he got on an elevator that stopped at this floor?”

  “No, I’m not. As I told you, I didn’t see him last night.”

  “How would you explain the coincidence?”

  “What time was he here?”

  “Approximately six o’clock.”

  “Then I have one possible explanation. Maybe he had a change of heart and came here to give me the information I requested. Maybe he knocked on my door. Unfortunately for me, at around six I was in the shower and didn’t hear a thing. I didn’t answer, so he changed his mind again and took off. Did anyone see him leave the hotel?”

  “Yes. He had one drink in the bar and left at approximately six-thirty.”

  Thank goodness! McKenna thought. O’Bannion wasn’t in the hotel when Ferguson got here, so he didn’t see us together. I’m not directly responsible for her death.

  O’Dougherty didn’t give McKenna time to dwell on the only good to come out of the interview. “You had dinner with Maggie Ferguson in this hotel at nine o’clock last night, didn’t you?” he asked.

  This guy has done a lot of homework in a hurry, McKenna thought. “Yes, we had dinner. We were in the dining room together from nine to approximately ten o’clock. Then she left, presumably to go home.”

  “Had you met Miss Ferguson before yesterday?”

  “No, and it’s Mrs. Ferguson. She told me she was married.”

  O’Dougherty paused for the first time, leading McKenna to believe that Ferguson hadn’t listed her marriage with the Ministry of Finance. Her husband must be wanted or listed as an IRA member, he concluded, and she certainly wouldn’t want the Ministry of Finance to know that she was married to such a man. “What was the purpose of your dinner with Mrs. Ferguson,” O’Dougherty asked.

  “Hunger on my part, curiosity on hers. Your Constable Sullivan at the ministry told me that she was from the North. Before my meeting with O’Bannion, I had told her that I’d just come from Belfast. After the meeting she suggested that we go to dinner so that I could tell her my impressions on the violence up there. I had nothing to do last night, so I agreed to go.”

  “I’m not implying anything, but Mrs. Ferguson was dressed quite attractively last night,” O’Dougherty said. “It’s my understanding that she usually dresses in a more demure fashion.”

  “You’re implying quite a bit, but I should remind you that she was a married lady and I’m a happily married man,” McKenna replied with an edge in his voice. “Maybe she doesn’t get out much and had that dress she’d always wanted to wear.”

  “Sorry for the question, but you realize that it had to be asked sometime.”

  McKenna didn’t think O’Dougherty sounded all that sorry, but he let it pass. “I understand.”

  “Would you mind telling me what you two talked about over dinner?”

  “Just what she had planned. I don’t think it’s necessary that I tell you my personal views on the situation up there, but that’s what we talked about. I was with her for an hour and I spent most of that time giving her my impressions.”

  “That’s strange. Your waiter last night told me that it was Mrs. Ferguson who did most of the talking.”

  Ouch! Where did they get this guy from? McKenna wondered. Our waiter last night must be off duty right now, so O’Dougherty went to his home to interview him before speaking to me. I have to be real careful. “Then your waiter is wrong, but I can understand how he got that impression. As you said, Mrs. Ferguson was an attractive woman very attractively dressed. I’m sure that every time she opened her mouth, someone was watching. She did have a few things to say, mostly in response to my comments and observations.”

  “I see,” O’Dougherty said in a manner that suggested to McKenna that he wasn’t buying it. “On those few occasions she did speak, did she agree or disagree with your comments and observations?”

  He’s not gonna let this one go, McKenna thought, so I have to tell him something. “As I said before, I’m not going to tell you my views on the situation up there. However, I will say that, in my opinion, Mrs. Ferguson was apolitical. She deplored the violence in the North and only wished that the situation up there could be resolved, somehow.”

  “That’s also strange. Are you aware that in 1980 she gave an interview to the press in which she expressed views that can only be characterized as pro-IRA?”

  Ouch again! Who is this guy? McKenna wondered. “No, I’m not aware of that, but 1980 was a long time ago. Maybe her views have changed since then.”

  “Maybe, but I find it disturbing that in 1990, when Mr. O’Bannion took over the Ministry of Finance, she was given a security clearance in spite of that published interview. Do you have any idea how that happened?”

  “No.”

  “Did she confide to you that she and Mr. O’Bannion were once lovers?”

  “Certainly not, but what would make you think that?”

  “Might I remind you, Mr. McKenna, that I’m the one conducting this interview and asking the questions,” O’Dougherty said, but then he relented. “In going over the investigation that was performed for Mrs. Ferguson’s security clearance, I’ve found a few interesting points. For instance, when she first moved to Dublin and started working for Mr. O’Bannion, she lived in a certain flat in the Old Belvedere section of town. I thought that strange because Old Belvedere is a very expensive area whose residents are not normally secretaries just arrived from the North. So I checked the real estate records and found that the building is owned by Mr. O’Bannion.”

  “So you concluded that they were lovers and he supplied her with the apartment, free of charge?”

  “Let’s just say that I’m looking into the possibility.”

  “Maybe he gave it to his new employee at a reasonable rent,” McKenna suggested.

  “That would be very generous of him, wouldn’t it?”

  “I guess so,” McKenna conceded.

 
“And strange, also. Mr. O’Bannion did not have the reputation of being a generous man. Quite the opposite, actually. He was known as a bit of a tightwad. But if they had been lovers, that would account for the ease with which Mrs. Ferguson obtained her security clearance, despite some obvious impediments. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  O’Dougherty was taking McKenna to all the places he didn’t want to go, then giving him no choice but to answer. “I guess I would agree.”

  “Do you believe it possible that Mrs. Ferguson was the source of the information Inspector Rollins told you about, the information he said implicated Mr. O’Bannion in the Iceland bombing?”

  It was a question McKenna had expected after reading about the shouts of “treachery” exchanged by Ferguson and O’Bannion. “I guess it’s possible.”

  “Being an experienced investigator yourself, an investigator of some renown, and knowing what I’ve told you and what you’ve read in the papers, wouldn’t you agree that ‘probable’ would be a better word?”

  McKenna had no choice. “Yes, I would. For the record, I consider it probable that Maggie Ferguson was Inspector Rollins’s source of information concerning Mr. O’Bannion. Also for the record, in light of what has happened here, I think that if Mrs. Ferguson was his source, and considering how close she was to Mr. O’Bannion, then it’s likely that her information was correct.”

  “I agree, and that’s exactly the avenue I’m going to pursue,” O’Dougherty stated. “Mr. O’Bannion had always been known as a vocal supporter of the IRA. There’s nothing illegal about that here. However, membership in the IRA and being involved in conspiracies promoting terrorism certainly is. Whatever laws he may have violated in that regard, I’m going to find out about.”

  “I certainly believe that you’ll do just that,” McKenna said with absolute conviction.

  “I now am forced to ask you a few questions that might seem offensive, but believe me, no offense is intended. I believed you when you said that both yourself and Mrs. Ferguson are happily married, but there’s a matter of approximately one hour that must be addressed.”

  McKenna knew what was coming, the questions he had dreaded most. “Go on.”

  “You were seen leaving this hotel last night with Mrs. Ferguson at approximately ten o’clock. You returned alone at about eleven. I have to know what transpired during that hour you were gone.”

  “I walked Mrs. Ferguson to her car, saw her off, then took a walk around the city.”

  “Did you talk to anyone who might remember you?”

  “No reason to. It was rather chilly out last night and there weren’t many people on the streets.”

  “Which brings me to another point. When you returned to the hotel, you were wearing only a suit. No topcoat, if you see where I’m heading.”

  “I see where you’re heading, and I resent the implication. I was not with Mrs. Ferguson after we left this hotel. As I said, she drove off and I took a walk.”

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No. I presumed she was going home.”

  “I should tell you that Mrs. Ferguson’s flat is less than a fifteen-minute drive from this hotel, yet she didn’t arrive home until an hour and fifteen minutes after she left here with you. That’s bound to raise many eyebrows.”

  I don’t know where Old Belvedere is, but it has to be a ways from here. What do I say? McKenna wondered. It looks like I was swapping spit or worse with Ferguson in her car, but I can’t tell this guy that she left me to check and see if her wanted IRA terrorist-husband had murdered her boss yet in his secret hideaway flat. What do I say? “Does my story raise your eyebrows?”

  “Not in the slightest. I emphatically believe you took your walk and I’ll state so in my report. However, I think we’ll both agree that my report won’t be the final word on this matter,” O’Dougherty said, giving McKenna a slight sympathetic smile.

  “I’m sure it won’t.”

  “Just a few more questions, if you don’t mind,” O’Dougherty said, all business once again. “Was that Inspector Rollins who called you here at two minutes after ten this morning?”

  This man is unbelievable! McKenna thought. He’s also reviewed my telephone records and spoken to the hotel operator. She must have told him that a man with a British accent called me, so there’s no use denying it. I’m sure he’s got Rollins’s voice on tape somewhere and he’ll just have her compare the voices. “Yes, it was.”

  “Why did he call?”

  “To tell me about O’Bannion’s death, but I had already read about it in the paper.”

  “Not to tell you about O’Bannion’s and Ferguson’s death?”

  “No, just O’Bannion’s.”

  “What else did you talk about?”

  McKenna knew that it was time to put his foot down, come what may. “Confidential aspects of my investigation into the death of Meaghan Maher.”

  “And that took thirteen minutes?”

  “Yes.”

  “During that time, did you discuss exactly how much information you were going to give to me?”

  Right on the money, McKenna thought. “No, that’s not what we discussed. Besides, I don’t think he even knows you.”

  “Of course he does. It may surprise you to know that my government has a policy of cooperating with the British government when they arrest terrorists in Great Britain. I’ve testified in many such cases in London and I’ve worked with him in the past.”

  Now you tell me, McKenna thought. “What do you think of him?”

  “A nice man and extremely competent. However, I’m aware of his connection to British Intelligence and I’m extremely uncomfortable with the fact that it appears he was running an intelligence operation here without our knowledge or permission. After all, we are neighbors and I think that our relations with the United Kingdom might even be characterized as friendly right now.”

  Then it looks like Inspector Rollins has got himself a real problem, McKenna thought, especially if O’Dougherty finds out that their spy was also giving them economic information that had nothing to do with the IRA.

  Still, McKenna felt the need to say something in Rollins’s defense. “If Ferguson ever was a British agent, perhaps they thought that telling your government or even asking permission would compromise her effectiveness. After all, if your minister for finance was IRA, Lord knows who else in your government could also be IRA.”

  “I agree, but he knows that he could have come to me directly. I would have brought his request to people I know and trust.”

  “Would they have approved it?”

  “Maybe, as long as the British government adequately assured us that the only thing they were interested in was information necessary to combat international terrorism.”

  Which is just why the Brits didn’t go to O’Dougherty, McKenna realized. Oh well, it looks like they’ll have to reap what they’ve sown.

  “Could you just clear up a few more things for me?” O’Dougherty asked.

  “If I can.”

  “You have a rented car in the hotel garage, yet you’re leaving today. Since you rented it last night and you apparently haven’t used it, why did you rent it?”

  And now he’s going to try to have me reap what I’ve sown, McKenna thought. If he knows about the car, he probably also knows about my Aer Lingus reservation from Belfast. After all, it’s the Irish national airline and this guy seems to have no trouble in finding out what he wants to know. Think fast, McKenna. Think! “I was going to drive to Belfast last night and return to New York from there, but I was too tired after dinner and decided to leave from Dublin after all.”

  “Why would you drive two and a half hours to Belfast when our airport is thirty minutes from this hotel?”

  “Because I laid out the money for Meaghan Maher to be embalmed in Iceland and I also paid for the casket. Naturally, her family wanted to reimburse me, but it was hectic up there and it slipped all of our minds.”

  “So you were going t
o Belfast to collect a debt before returning home?”

  “Yes. It’s well over five thousand dollars on my credit cards and I wanted to have it by the time the bills came in.”

  “Very understandable and quite decent of you, Detective McKenna. That’s all the questions I have for you at this point, unless you have something you’d like to add.”

  “As a matter of fact, Senior Investigating Constable O’Dougherty, there is something I’d like to add. That was the best interrogation I’ve ever seen and I feel unfortunate that I was on the wrong end of it. You’re very good at what you do.”

  O’Dougherty really smiled for the first time since entering the room. “Thank you. Coming from you, I think that’s the greatest compliment I’ve ever received. However, that was only an interview, not an interrogation. People tell me my interrogations are much better, but you did very well just the same. Aside from the small variances of the truth you fed me, you told me exactly what I expected to hear.”

  “What about those variances?” McKenna asked.

  “None of them will be going in my report, so they’ll certainly never find their way into the press.” Then O’Dougherty reached his hand across the table and McKenna shook it. Both men got up and McKenna accompanied O’Dougherty to the door.

  “By the way, off the record and just between us cops, do you know the name of the man you’re looking for?” O’Dougherty asked.

  “Yes, but now he’s really my problem. He’s in New York,” McKenna answered without hesitation.

  “Did O’Bannion fold and give you that information when he came here last night?”

  “Yeah, he folded. I already knew my man’s name, but I didn’t know he was in New York. However, I wasn’t lying when I told you I hadn’t seen O’Bannion here. He gave me the location in a note he passed under my door.”

  “I was sure he folded. Good luck and be sure to give me a call if you need anything on this end.”

  “You can be sure that I’ll do just that.”

  “Good. One more thing. Could you please give my regards to Inspector Rollins when you talk to him?”

  “I will, but when do you think that will be?” McKenna asked, smiling.