The Trojan boy

by Ken McClure

  Avedissian watched Kathleen engage the man in conversation but was too far away to hear what was being said. He saw Murphy nod two or three times and then say something to the barman in response to something Kathleen had said. A whiskey was put down in front of him and Kathleen paid. The man downed it in one gulp and left the bar. Kathleen came back and sat down. She started to say something but had to pause for a loud bell that heralded closing time. Auxiliary shouts of ‘Time' broke out before she could try again so they got up and left. 'I've asked him to tell Kell that I will be here tomorrow lunchtime,' said Kathleen as they returned to the car.

  It was agreed that Kathleen would go alone to the Blind Horse to negotiate the exchange. Avedissian did not like the notion but conceded that it made sense. Kell could not risk harming her while he held the key to the money. But, even with that seemingly undeniable thought to comfort them, neither could sleep that night and morning came as a relief. The sound of milk and papers being delivered provided a welcome distraction from the fear inspired by thoughts of Kell. They spent the morning rehearsing what Kathleen should say in outlining conditions for the hand-over of the tapes. At eleven-thirty she left for the rendezvous.

  Avedissian watched the progress of every minute on the clock. He calculated that Kathleen should be back by twelve-forty, having taken an agreed detour to ensure that she was not being followed. They would then move to another boarding-house and make final plans for their escape from Ireland, based on the information that Kathleen returned with.

  Twelve-forty came and went as did one o'clock and one-fifteen, then there was a slight knock on the door. Avedissian snatched it open and found their landlady standing there. 'You did say that you were leaving today… Mr Farmer?'

  'My apologies, Mrs Pagan. My wife had to go out and find a dentist this morning. She has terrible toothache. She should be back shortly and then we'll be on our way.'

  'Just as long as I know, Mr Farmer… I really should be charging you for an extra day you know

  Avedissian closed the door on the woman and checked the time again. Where was she? What had happened?

  At one-forty-five the little tap came to the door again. Avedissian, his nerves strained to breaking point, cursed under his breath and took some money from his wallet to stuff into the woman's hand.

  'Are you still there, Mr Farmer?' asked the voice, making Avedissian mutter again as he went to open the door. 'Here you are Mrs

  …' he had started to say when he saw the woman swept aside and the muzzle of a gun was whipped across his face. He staggered backwards and fell to the floor, an easy target for the boots that came thudding into him. He was dimly aware of being dragged out of the house and bundled into a car, but the lapses into unconsciousness were too frequent for him to plot any chain of events after that.

  When he did come round he was lying on a stone floor in semi-darkness and had a raging thirst. He lay still for a moment, wondering whether or not he had any broken ribs but they seemed to be intact when he tried breathing a little deeper. He moved his jaw from side to side. It wasn't broken. Gritting his teeth, he tried to get up, letting out an involuntary groan at the stiffness in his neck through lying in the one position for God knew how long.

  A metal slit was hammered back in the door and eyes peered in. The slit closed and a few moments later bolts rattled and the door was flung open to allow a man holding a gun to enter. He motioned with the muzzle and said, 'Out, you bastard.' Avedissian was prodded and poked all the way along a corridor and then told to wait while another door was unlocked. He was thrown inside and the door closed behind him.

  Avedissian was no longer alone. There were two other people in the room and one of them was Kathleen, her face stained with tears and racked with pain. 'Oh, my love,' he exclaimed in anguish as he crawled towards her, 'What have they done to you?'

  Kell burned her till she told him where you were,' said the other person in the room, a thin, haggard-looking man with only one arm. 'I'm Kathleen's brother.'

  Despite the poor lighting in the cellar Avedissian could see the marks left by cigarette burns on Kathleen's exposed breasts.

  'I told them… I told them…' she murmured. 'I let you down

  …"

  'Don't, don't say that,' whispered Avedissian. He was thinking of the length of time he had waited at the boarding-house and what Kathleen must have been going through. He closed his eyes and put his cheek against her hair. 'What happened?' he asked.

  ‘They didn't even talk,’ said Kathleen. 'As soon as I got to the Blind Horse, Kell's men put me in a car and brought me here. All they wanted to know was where you were… and I told them.' More tears began to flow and Avedissian tried to comfort her.

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop as a persistent squeaking sound reached them. Avedissian looked at O'Neill and asked, 'Kell?' O'Neill nodded and the sound grew louder. Avedissian could feel Kathleen's body stiffen in fear.

  The door opened and Nelligan, Kell's minder, manoeuvred the pram expertly inside. He turned it round on its back wheels alone so that Kell now faced the three of them. Nelligan stood behind like a rock with a gun.

  'Well, well, well,' said Kell with syncopated precision. 'Isn't this nice.'

  Avedissian felt a new kind of fear grow within him, for the monster in the pram seemed to radiate evil and malice. He found himself mesmerised by the huge eyes behind the glasses and the pale, hairless face.

  'Now then,' said Kell with a smile that seared Avedissian like a soldering-iron. 'I want my money.'

  'You would have got the tapes. What the hell did you have to do this for?' said Avedissian with much more bravery than he felt.

  Kell fixed him with a long stare and said, 'I said money, not tapes.'

  Avedissian stayed silent but felt his position crumble as Kell resumed his stare.

  'When news of Miss O'Neill's generous offer reached me last night I thought it was about time to re-establish contact with our American friends and commiserate with them over a British trick that had fooled both of us. They told me that things were even worse than I thought. The British bastards had actually managed to get their hands on the money when they had thought it safe for the time being. But, of course, you and I both know that it wasn't the British who got the money; don't we… Doctor?'

  Avedissian swallowed hard and said hoarsely, 'All right, Kell. I've got the money. Let us go and you can have it.'

  The smile vanished from Kell's face and was replaced with venomous anger. 'I can have it, can I?' he whispered. 'How kind.'

  Avedissian was trying desperately to appear calm for he found Kell's anger almost tangible in the confines of the cell. He would never have believed that anyone could unnerve him so much.

  'Where is it?' rasped Kell.

  'It's in a bank,’ said Avedissian.

  ‘Then we must get it out of the bank,’ said Kell with a wide-eyed stare.

  'Like I said, you let us go and I'll give you the money,’ said Avedissian.

  Kell shook his head slowly and said, 'You just don't understand, do you? There is no bargain to be made. You will transfer the money unconditionally.'

  'Do you think I'm mad, Kell?' snorted Avedissian.

  'No, I think you're dead,’ replied Kell with a chilling finality. 'You are all dead,’ he added. 'The only question to be decided is how much pain you go through before I permit you to die."

  'Then I've got nothing to lose by refusing to transfer the money,’ said Avedissian with cold sweat running down his back.

  'Tell me that when Nelligan is cutting bits off the O'Neill bitch and feeding them to the dogs,’ said Kell.

  'All right, Kell, you win,’ whispered Avedissian.

  'Of course I do, Doctor,’ said Kell, the smile returning. 'In the end, I always do. But there's no hurry. Enjoy my hospitality until Nelligan and I get back from proving that fact to Bryant.’

  'What do you mean?' asked O'Neill.

  Kell adopted a patronising sneer and said softly, 'C'mo
n, Martin, you with your university education an' all.’ He turned to Kathleen and said, 'And you too, school-teacher. Knowing what Bryant had set up for us, what would you say would be the last thing on earth that he would expect us to be planning in the circumstances?… No?…All that education and no ideas?' The smile faded and Kell hissed, ‘I’ll show that bastard who's boss. I'll make him rue the day he ever crossed the path of Finbarr Kell.' He turned to Nelligan and said, 'We have work to do. It's going to be quite like old times, eh?'

  Nelligan agreed, basking in the recognition of his master like a Labrador dog. He wheeled Kell out of the room and the door was clanged shut. Those left in the room listened in silence until the squeaking of the pram wheels had faded away then Kathleen said, 'So we are all going to die.'

  'We're not dead yet,’ said Avedissian, but failed to convince even himself that they had a future. 'I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen him for myself,’ he added.

  O'Neill knew what he was thinking and said, 'From what Kathleen tells me, Bryant isn't much better.'

  'What did he mean by saying it was going to be like old times?' Avedissian asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ admitted O'Neill. 'But Kell and Nelligan used to work together in the old days before Kell was crippled.’

  Kathleen was holding herself in pain and Avedissian suffered the agony of knowing that there was little he could do to help in the circumstances but try to comfort her verbally, something he could do with little conviction.

  They were left alone with their thoughts and fears until their guard, a particularly sullen and uncommunicative individual, brought in some brown bread and a jug of water. He refused all requests for a first-aid kit or any kind of medication for Kathleen's burns. 'You get what I'm told to give you,’ he snarled. 'Nothing else.’

  Toilet arrangements in their cell comprised a single rusty can which, when combined with a total lack of ventilation in the cellar, ensured that their world stank by early evening when the guard changed. Avedissian feared that Kathleen's burns must soon become infected in the squalor.

  Their new guard brought in tea and bread rolls. O'Neill knew the man: he was Liam Drummond, the driver who had taken him to and from Cladeen after the amputation of his arm, the man who had complained bitterly about Kell's earlier behaviour. O'Neill said, 'So you were right about Kell.'

  The man's face filled with fear and he whispered hoarsely, ‘For God's sake, Mr O'Neill, keep your voice down! I'm doing my job. I don't want no trouble.'

  O'Neill could see how scared the man really was. He would have to proceed with great care if Drummond were to be of any use to them at all and it might be that he was their only chance. But Drummond still called him 'Mr'. How much influence did he have left with the man? 'My sister is hurt bad,’ said O'Neill. 'Kell burned her. She needs medication. Can you get her some?'

  'Be reasonable, Mr O'Neill,' pleaded Drummond. 'It's more than my life is worth to cross Kell. You know that.'

  'Kathleen will die if the burns become infected,’ said O'Neill. 'She's in terrible pain.'

  The plain truth, Mr O'Neill, is that you are all going to die when the Bairn gets back,’ replied Drummond.

  'Back from where?' asked O'Neill.

  'England. He's gone operational.'

  O'Neill looked incredulous but he could see that Drummond was serious and fought an immediate urge to ridicule the notion. 'On what operation?' he asked.

  'I don't know, Mr O'Neill, honest to God I don't, but it's something big, something very big.'

  'And Kell is doing it himself?'

  'That's what they say. He and Nelligan are going to do it, just like they used to,’ said Drummond.

  'You said, "when Kell gets back". Does that mean he has already gone?'

  'An hour ago.'

  'Then you can get us some first-aid stuff and Kell will never know.'

  Drummond looked uncertain.

  O'Neill pushed a little harder. 'Go on, bring the boxes from the sick room.'

  'I'll see what I can do.'

  'And for Christ's sake, change this can, will you?' added O'Neill, nodding to their toilet.

  Avedissian admired the way that O'Neill had handled the situation. The man obviously understood people and how to manage them; that implied a degree of sensitivity that he was relieved to find in O'Neill for he had had qualms about meeting the brother that Kathleen cared so much about. In view of O'Neill's past record he had feared that any kind of liking for O'Neill might be completely out of the question. Now he was not so sure and the strange thing was that there seemed to be something familiar about him, something he could not put his finger on.

  Kathleen was now in too much pain to pretend otherwise and sat huddled in the corner holding herself, rocking backwards and forwards as if subconsciously trying to induce a trance to escape her agony. Avedissian and O'Neill had stopped trying to comfort her for their efforts seemed to be doing more harm than good and only upset her more, O'Neill came over to Avedissian by the door and whispered, 'If God would grant me one wish before I died it would be to take that evil little bastard's life.'

  'You and me both,’ said Avedissian.

  O'Neill said quietly, 'I asked Drummond to bring the boxes from the sick room. They're not just first-aid boxes. They have all the stuff the doctor needs for when our boys get injured. Take whatever you think might be useful, pills and the like, in case the going should get too tough.'

  Avedissian said that he would but did not want to dwell too long on the prospects of group suicide.

  Drummond returned with the medicine boxes and he was sweating with fear. 'God, if Kell ever finds out,’ he muttered.

  'He won't,’ O'Neill reassured him. 'Relax, man.'

  Avedissian got to work sifting through the contents of the boxes and was aware of O'Neill getting to work on Drummond again; he was asking probing questions but disguising them effectively as concern.

  'So who do you have to worry about with Kell gone? Who's left in the Long House anyway?'

  'Just the Feeley brothers and me.’

  'Just the four of you? Well, there you are then. Kell will never ever know. Where have all the rest gone anyway?'

  'England. All other operations have stopped for this one.’

  Avedissian gave Kathleen a pain-killing injection before cleaning her burns and applying antiseptic dressings. The injection took almost immediate effect and a slight overdose made her euphoric. She looked up at Drummond and said with what sounded like a drunken giggle, 'Enjoying the view?'

  Drummond became embarrassed. 'Certainly not, Miss O'Neill,’ he stammered, 'I'm just sorry that… well you know…’ His voice trailed off.

  'I appreciate your doing this, Liam,’ said O'Neill.

  Drummond became even more embarrassed and looked down at his feet before saying, 'You were always a gentleman, Mr O'Neill. The lads always had respect for you.’

  O'Neill hit Drummond hard on the back of the neck and the man fell to the floor. O'Neill chopped him again to make sure.

  Avedissian had seen it coming. 'What now?' he asked.

  O'Neill searched the unconscious man with his one hand and then repeated the operation before saying, There's poetic justice for you. He trusted me so much that he didn't bring his gun with him this time. We've no gun and there's three of them between us and the door.’

  'Where will they be?' asked Avedissian.

  'In the duty room at the end of the passage. We have to pass it to get to the stairs.’

  'Couldn't we sneak past?' asked Avedissian.

  'Not a chance. The door at the head of the stairs has an electronic lock on it. It's controlled from inside the duty room.’

  'What about guns?'

  ‘The armoury is kept locked. The key is in the duty room.’

  Avedissian looked at the medical boxes which seemed to be their only resource and asked after some thought, 'Do they drink tea?'

  'I suppose so. Why?'

  'Where do they make it?'

&nb
sp; 'In the duty room. They have a stove.’

  'Pity,’ said Avedissian.

  O'Neill suddenly realised what Avedissian had been considering and added, 'But they have to get the water from the room across the way.’

  ‘Then there's a chance,’ said Avedissian. 'If I can get this lot..’ he held up a bottle of pills '… into their tea, we can put them out for a week.’

  O'Neill filled Avedissian in on the details of the room layout in the passage and of the inside of the room where the men would get water. He wanted to know exactly where the sink was and where the kettle would be, for he would not be able to turn on the light.

  'It should be OK,’ said O'Neill. 'People don't usually have to turn the light on in that room anyway when they fill the kettle. There's enough light from the corridor.’

  Avedissian crushed up the number of pills he thought would be necessary to achieve the desired effect and poured the powder into an empty pill box for the time being. 'I hope to God they all take milk and sugar,’ he said as he prepared to move out into the corridor. He checked on Kathleen and saw that she was sleeping comfortably before listening at the door prior to opening it. The corridor outside seemed quiet.

  'Good luck,’ said O'Neill.

  Avedissian thought the corridor was never ending as he tiptoed along it, scarcely daring to breathe. He was convinced that, at any second, someone would come out from the duty room at the end and start shooting. He passed the halfway mark and could now see the room that he was making for. He kept his eyes fixed on it as he steeled himself for the final few metres. He was inside it.

  As O'Neill had predicted, there was enough light from the corridor to see things inside the room but he was uncomfortable with the fact that the door was wide open and gave it a little push. It made a noise like a giant redwood about to fall. Avedissian froze in fear but, after a few seconds, he could hear that the muted sound of voices coming from the duty room had not changed. He exhaled slowly and left the door as it was.

  The kettle was on the shelf above the sink where O'Neill had said it would be. Avedissian took it down slowly and carefully, avoiding any action that could give rise to noise, and poured the contents of the pill box into it. He swirled the powder around in the little water that lay in the bottom and put the kettle back on the shelf with pained slowness.