A Man With One of Those Faces (The Dublin Trilogy Book 1)

by Caimh McDonnell

  The gates had clearly been made hard to find by design. Immense slabs of thick oak reinforced with steel bars criss-crossing them. These were the kind of gates that tank drivers would have had to take a long hard look at. Brigit pressed the button on the intercom and, after a short delay, was greeted by a cold unaccented female voice.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Hi,” said Brigit, in her best cheerful business voice. “We’re here to speak to Mr Kruger, please.”

  “What is it regarding?”

  “It’s ah…” Brigit looked at Paul, who shrugged. “It’s a personal matter.”

  “Mr Kruger does not speak to strangers about personal matters.”

  “Alright. We have vital information regarding the disappearance of his wife.”

  “And Mr Kruger definitely does not speak to strangers about that. Good day.”

  The intercom had made an unpleasant buzzing noise and then went dead. Brigit had tried it three more times, with no response. On the fourth attempt the female voice returned, no longer even trying for politeness.

  “You are standing on private property. Fail to comply with this final request to leave and the Gardaí will be called.”

  “Please wait,” said Brigit. “Just listen. We really do have information that will be of…”

  The voice at the other end flared anger. “Do you have any idea how many fraudsters and worse attempt to contact Mr Kruger about this every year? You people should be ashamed of yourselves. The police have been called. Go away!”

  The intercom went dead and gave no response when Brigit pressed the button again. Paul pulled her to one side.

  “Look, it was a good idea, but we can’t hang about here, getting into a fight with some arsey receptionist. If she has called the Guards, then we need to get gone, and pronto!”

  Begrudgingly, Brigit had eventually complied and driven them away.

  At least - about half a mile down the road before pulling over. Paul had initially assumed she was doing that getting out and stomping off in a huff thing that he’d seen people do in movies. Mind you, seeing as she took the keys with her, it wasn’t like he could drive off and leave her. After a couple of minutes, Paul begrudgingly got out of the car and followed her into the forest. He found her twenty yards in, staring up at a 12-foot wall.

  And here they were.

  Brigit ran at him and Paul cupped his hands, being careful to let the left one take the majority of the weight, the right being there primarily for moral support. He heaved her up until she was standing with her right foot on his left shoulder.

  “I’ve got the top of the wall!”

  “Super,” he groaned.

  “And you said this would be hard!”

  “You’re not the one being stood on.”

  “I just need a tiny bit more height.”

  Paul got a brief taste of Brigit’s sneaker as it made its way onto the top of his head.

  “Feck sake.”

  “Nearly there…”

  And then Brigit’s weight was off him. He turned to see her heaving herself onto the top of the wall. He debated trying to reach up and give her a further shove, but seeing as the only thing within reach was her arse, he decided against it. She threw one leg up onto the wall and then stayed in that position, dangling precariously.

  “Ehm, Paul?” said Brigit.

  “Yes?”

  “There’s a gentleman on the other side of the wall who is pointing a shotgun at my head.”

  Paul heard a twig snap behind him. He turned around to look.

  “Ah. I wonder if he knows the gentleman on this side of the wall, who is also pointing a shotgun at my head?”

  Brigit sighed. “I’d imagine he probably does alright, yeah.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Miss Choi, the owner of the cold and emotionless voice from the intercom stood before them looking, well, cold and emotionless. Cathy, a Filipino nurse that Brigit had worked with, had once spent a lunch-break enlightening her on how to distinguish the various nationalities from that part of the world. She couldn’t remember it all now, but judging by Miss Choi’s skin tone and facial features, she’d have guessed Japanese, although experience had shown you were always best not to guess. What was not in doubt was that she was very beautiful, scarily beautiful in fact, and not just because she was in command of the big lads with guns. Her smart business suit subtly accentuated an athletic physique and, even glaring as she was, her skin had the flawlessly creamy look that plastic surgeons had been trying and failing to achieve for decades. Her long flowing black hair framed a face that featured large soulful brown eyes. It was only when she looked into those eyes that Brigit pushed her estimate of Choi’s age from mid-thirties to somewhere over fifty. Something in them hinted at the kind of tired that never went away.

  Back at the wall, Brigit had been instructed to climb down and rejoin Paul. The man she thought of as Paul’s big lad casually kept his shotgun trained on them both, until her big lad from the other side of the wall turned up a few minutes later in a Landrover. They weren’t the chattiest; all queries being met with an instruction to be quiet. Both of their captors had dark brown hair and could possibly have been brothers, although Brigit guessed cousins was more likely. It was only when she saw them side-by-side that she realised just how big they were. The big one was 6-foot-3 with a chest as wide as a door. The bigger one was 6-foot-6 at least and, while not quite as wide in the shoulders, he had the kind of physique that loomed whether it wanted to or not. Neither of them were ‘gym bunny big’ as Brigit thought of it. This wasn’t muscle for the sake of muscle; this was the kind of bulk only nature and constant physical activity combined to produce. Their clothing and shotguns indicated they were groundskeepers. Brigit felt sorry for any pheasants that kicked off.

  They bound first Paul’s hands, and then Brigit’s, with masking tape, before placing them into the back of the jeep. Big shoved Paul in, Bigger politely assisted Brigit. Ah, good Irish lads who’d been taught by their mammies to respect women. Bigger had at least picked Paul’s sling up off the ground and shoved it into his back pocket.

  The drive through the estate was uncomfortable, both for the bumpy ride and the silence. She could tell Paul was in one of his moods. The instruction to remain quiet was robbing him of the chance to make this a purposefully awkward silence as opposed to an officially mandated one. The mud splattered back window didn’t offer much of a view of the estate as they passed, and Big and Bigger remained silent throughout. The lads were no great loss to the tourism industry.

  After a bumpy five-minutes they were bundled out of the Landrover and into what looked like the large back kitchen in a grand stately home. In Downton Abbey, this’d be where the staff hung out. With its stone floors and a grand aga, you could be mistaken for thinking it’d stayed the same for a hundred years but Brigit spied a microwave tucked away in a partially closed cupboard. Brigit and Paul were deposited onto a bench, while Big and Bigger leaned against the counters, shotguns held casually over their shoulders.

  “So lads,” said Paul. “How long have yous been in the henchman game?”

  Bigger grinned, Big scowled.

  When the door swung open, both men instantly sprang to attention as Miss Choi entered.

  “Congratulations on both your perseverance and ineptitude,” she said, looking at Brigit and Paul in turn. “We have security footage of your attempt at trespass, which we shall be passing onto the authorities. Rest assured, we will be pressing charges. Have you anything to say for yourselves before I make the call?”

  “I don’t suppose sorry would cut it?” asked Paul.

  “No.”

  “Really, really sorry?”

  Bigger chuckled and then stopped immediately at a glance from Choi.

  “One thing,” said Brigit. “Could you just let your boss know that Grinner McNair is dead.”

  “Hardly breaking news. That gentleman...” Choi stopped and corrected herself. “That man died thirty
years ago, which is before your companion was born.”

  Oh, cheeky cow.

  “Right so, said Brigit. “I guess the man who died two nights ago in St Kilda’s Hospice is an entirely different Jackie ‘Grinner’ McNair. If I was you, though, I’d still nip out early and get tomorrow’s papers.”

  Choi tried to appear disinterested, but Brigit could tell that somewhere behind that perfect façade, wheels were turning, questions were being asked.

  “We look forward to reading it. And how, pray tell, is this of relevance to you?”

  “Oh, we’re the last two people to see him alive.”

  “He stabbed me,” added Paul, pointing at his shoulder. “I had a sling but the little fella took it off me.”

  Brigit noticed Bigger’s eyes light up. She was pretty sure ‘the little fella’ could expect some slagging over that one. When she looked back at Choi, she found those big brown eyes staring down at her. Brigit stared back defiantly. The other woman looked away first and whispered something to Big, who nodded. She then turned and wordlessly walked out of the room.

  Brigit turned to look at Paul. “I told you this would work.”

  “Really? This – is your idea of a plan working?”

  “We’re here, aren’t we?”

  “Will you two shut up?” said Big.

  “Tell ye what,” replied Paul, “could one of you two do me a massive favour and shoot her?”

  “Don’t mind him, lads,” said Brigit. “He’s just your typical whinging Dub.”

  Big glanced at Bigger and this time they both shared a smirk.

  “Ah that’s how it is, is it?” said Paul. “All culchies together. Isn’t that bloody typical. Here’s an idea, how about you shoot me now? It’ll save her the trouble of making it happen, because I guarantee you it’s only a matter of time.”

  “I told you to shut up,” growled Big.

  “Or what?” responded Paul. “No offence but I’ve been threatened by that many people in the last two days, it’s starting to lose all of its impact. Did you see that car being blown up on the news last night? That was mine. All you’ve got is that peashooter.”

  Big opened his mouth to respond but Bigger waved him off as he stood to attention. A moment later, the door opened and Choi returned.

  “Take off your shoes.”

  “Excuse me?”

  To be fair, thought Brigit, these were really nice carpets. If it’d been her house, she’d have insisted everybody took off their shoes too. That didn’t mean that herself, Paul and their two armed guards didn’t look ridiculous as they all stood there in their socks. She guessed this was what a drawing room looked like. Big and Bigger looked surprisingly nervous, seeing as they were the ones holding the guns. The revelation that Bigger was wearing socks featuring Fozzy Bear from the Muppets did nothing to enhance the air of menace they were trying to maintain. At least his were in good nick; Big’s red and white striped affairs were notable for his big toes sticking out of the top of each one. She guessed he’d be taking scissors to those nails tonight too. What would his mammy say, showing her up like that?

  The door in the far right corner of the room opened with a soft automated woosh sound. An old man in an electric wheelchair entered, followed by Choi. The hair had greyed to a salt and pepper mix, but he was unmistakable a much older, frailer version of the Daniel Kruger whose picture she’d stared at in the book over breakfast. The wheelchair had come as a surprise. She guessed maybe it was that which made him seem so much smaller than she’d expected. As he turned to reveal the right side of his face, with its angry red skin curling around his eye and snaking down beneath the neck of his shirt, Brigit found herself trapped in that most human of reactions; not wanting to look but not wanting not to look either, both choices feeling rude. Kruger was wearing a tie under a stuffy tweed outfit. Only the rich dressed that way at home on a Saturday morning.

  “Ms Conroy and Mr Mulchrone, please take a seat.” He accent was the kind of pure Afrikaans that normally made everything sound like an order, but its edge was undercut by a slight gasping frailty. Brigit had no idea what was wrong with him but she’d guess the wheelchair was not a temporary feature.

  Brigit and Paul sat down on the sofa that lay perpendicular to the fireplace. Despite the early hour, a fire burned in it, making the room feel unpleasantly warm, or maybe that was the effect of the guns.

  Kruger briefly looked at Big and Bigger in turn.

  “Thank you, Declan, Connor. You may untie our guests and then go about your business.”

  The two men hesitated and looked from Kruger to Choi, who in turn hesitated. All of them caught between not wanting to follow the command given, but not wanting to disobey it either. Kruger, for his part, looked into the fire as the wordless negotiation went on over his head, aware but patiently and confidently awaiting its inevitable resolution. Choi begrudgingly nodded and then added, “Please wait in the kitchen, gentlemen.” Big and Bigger removed the tape from Paul and Brigit’s wrists and then departed as instructed.

  As the door closed, Kruger turned his gaze back to the sofa.

  “So, Margaret tells me you have some information you’d like to share?”

  He then sat there in impassive silence as Paul laid out, more or less, what had happened over the last two days. McNair’s attack on Paul, his death, the car-bomb and the death of McNair’s daughter, and then finally the confirmation from Lynn Nellis that Gerry Fallon was indeed the one behind it all. Despite owing her nothing, Paul still withheld Lynn’s name. He also skated over where they were staying, for obvious reasons.

  When he’d done, Kruger looked up at Choi. She said nothing but Brigit noticed her hand was now resting gently on Kruger’s shoulder.

  “This is all… very interesting,” said Kruger. “May I ask, what is your motive behind bringing it to my attention?”

  Paul glanced at Brigit before answering. “We’re caught up in whatever the hell this thing is and we thought if anyone might know what’s going on, it’d be you.”

  “I’m afraid I may not be of as much assistance as you hope. After the… incident, I had numerous investigators searching the globe for Sarah-Jane but they never found anything beyond rumours and speculation. Similarly, while we did find issues with the official version of events, we found no trail as to where my wife may be.”

  “What issues?”

  “The Gardaí,” he was unable to keep the bitterness from his voice as he said the words, “were, at best, incompetent. Does it not strike you as odd that such a supposedly massive search for a missing person turned up nothing? That even after the fact, they never found where she had been held?”

  Brigit and Paul let the questions hang in the air.

  “I can tell you that I believe her not to have been held in the Kerry area, as postulated. That was one of many red herrings. I am convinced she was taken somewhere in the west of Ireland.”

  “But,” said Brigit, “the witnesses saw them getting on a boat near Dingle.”

  “Ah yes, the witnesses. One of whom was not who he said he was, and the other who we know received an inexplicably large sum of money soon after. I would suggest you talk to them, but they are now both conveniently dead.”

  “Oh,” said Paul.

  “Convenient for Mr Fallon that is, who, as you have already seen, clearly does not like loose-ends.”

  “But if you know that there were these mistakes in the investigation, why did you not say something?”

  Kruger shifted in his chair.

  “Oh I did, Mr Mulchrone. I also wanted to sue the publishers of that damnable book. If I had my way, I would have spent every penny available to me, in the pursuit of my wife.”

  “So why didn’t you?” asked Brigit.

  Kruger shifted in his wheelchair and again looked up at Choi, whose eyes filled with sadness as she looked down at him.

  “My family, Ms Conroy, were...”

  For what felt like a long time, the room fell silent except for the crack
le of logs in the fire. When he eventually spoke, Kruger stared down at the floor, avoiding making eye contact with anyone. “A family can just about bear the embarrassment of its eldest son being deformed, but a cuckold too? That, it would seem, is too much. They very much wanted the whole shameful affair to go away.”

  Brigit could not help but feel for the man as he looked up again, a mix of bitterness and terrible sadness in his eyes.

  “They didn’t want the embarrassment thirty years ago and, from what little communication there has been since, I don’t doubt their opinion has not changed.”

  Ms Choi cleared her throat. “I think all that needs to be said has been.”

  Kruger raised his hand to stop her. “I wish I could be of more assistance to you. Having said that, if you do discover whatever secret Mr Fallon is hiding, rest assured, I will see that you are handsomely rewarded for helping finally put this matter to rest.”

  Choi pointed towards the door and began to move towards it. Beside her, Brigit felt Paul’s weight shift as he started to stand. She remained seated and looked Kruger directly in the eye. She knew she should not say what she was about to. As her mam had once said to her, it wasn’t that she spoke without thinking, it was that she thought about it and then always said it anyway.

  “You should know… I… If we find out where they are, we will not be sharing that information.”

  Brigit felt her face redden as the other three people in the room stared at her. She glanced to her right to see Paul looking at her open-mouthed.

  “I’m sorry but it wouldn’t be right,” Brigit continued, “to take money to destroy two people’s lives, if they really are innocent of any wrongdoing.”