“It will happen” Sara said warmly. “And I will bring my Sergie from Russia. But I am going to get pregnant. I have warned Samuel.”
“Is he not too old for a family?”
“A man is good until he is dead, don’t worry. I think he is really flattered by my determination. And the pre nuptial agreement covers the succession rights in the event Samuel has more children.”
“Good” Sara said, satisfied and sipped her coffee.
“Closer to home, how are things in Morehampton road? You will have to start my training soon,” Sara suggested.
“I will Sara. Thinks are a bit difficult at the moment. But it will pass.”
“Difficult?”
“The itinerant girl Megan. The one I gave a start to.”
“Pretty little one, the new maid?”
“Yes”
“What about her.”
“Ivan reported that a sum of money was stolen. The girl has disappeared.”
“Did you call the police?”
“No. You know our policy, no police. But Ivan has contacts in the police and he organized a raid in the camp site where the itinerants live.”
“Catch them?”
“No Sara. Her father ranted but it emerged that another girl, another itinerant called Maureen has also disappeared.”
“Do we know where they are?”
“No. But Ivan found some evidence about boat sailings to England. The supposition is that the two girls stole the money, about two thousand Euro, and took off to England.”
“Did their father know anything?”
“No. You know Itinerants, they don’t play ball with the authorities. Once the father understood that they had stolen a large sum of money and made off to England, he went dumb. Ivan says the old goat even seemed proud of the girls.”
“So we won’t hear of them again Sonia?”
“Unlikely. I will have to put it down to experience and not be soft with the next hard case I come across. You also Sara, just bear it in mind. They bite the hand that helps them. I am so disappointed. I thought Megan was a nice girl and straight. I never thought she would let me down.”
“Forget her Sonia. That is the last you will hear of that person. She must have been rotten on the inside. Best put her out of your head and get on with other things.”
“You are right as always Sara.” Sonia said.
Chapter Twenty-six
Robbo was miserable. He sat on the side of the pavement on a side road in the busy city centre. It was raining, in the way it can in Ireland, not heavy drops, but light persistent, all pervasive rain, which slowly found its way into every corner and crack.
Robbo shook his paper cup, which had come with the big Mac he had bought earlier on Grafton Street.
The hood on Robbo’s top was pulled up over his head and face, against the rain, and he sat on a newspaper to keep the wet damp of the pavement at bay. He looked like the other homeless youths of the city, those inexplicably young lost and alone, eking out a living by begging and refusing either to go home or to have engagement with other people, except for their own kind.
To his surprise and gratification having jingled his cup at the passers by, they dropped him a few coins. To his amusement he realized he was doing quiet well. But this was a temporary amusement as nothing could lift the dark cloud of worry and concern that weighed down on him.
Opposite and a short distance up the street, near the lap dance club was obviously not a bad spot for begging. The revellers who passed on their way in were mainly well off men, in groups of three and four, out on the town with money in their pockets.
Robbo watched how the bouncers filtered the crowd, admitting those not too drunk or too aggressive, those who looked to have more money to spend. However, it was now very late in the night, moving towards morning, and most of the passing trade consisted of those now coming out of the club. It all seemed quiet and well behaved, allowing for the occasional raised voice and over boisterousness brought on by drink. A police patrol car passed regularly but was never called upon to intervene.
Robbo had first become concerned when Ann had not met him for lunch, but had assumed she was too busy at work. Then she was not there to come home with him. His enquiries elicited that Ann had not turned in for work that day. He had not noticed this before as he had had a busy day spent mainly in other parts of the office block.
After he had got home Robbo was alarmed to find that Ann had not appeared back home. He knew he had left her in town while he had continued to work and that she was due to follow. He wondered had something happened at Ann’s home and resolved to go there as soon as he had finished his tea.
Then Ann had sent him a text from her mobile to his.
‘Robert, I am leaving you. My father George knows about us. My mother has locked him out of home. He is on the loose in Dublin. I am going into hiding. I am switching off this phone. Will contact you by letter in a few days when I feel safe.’
Ann had told him all about George and her fears of his evil intentions. Also about George’s work as a bouncer. He could understand her reactions if George had turned up.
The text message put his mind at rest at first. He knew Ann would be in touch, he could trust her to do that.
But something niggled. She never called him Robert. Robbie was her pet name for him. She always used Robbie, even in text messages. And she was good at texts, using abbreviations where she sensibly could. The message was in full words with no abbreviations. He decided something was wrong.
George was busy on the door of the club. He stood opposite and even bigger man who had a foreign accent. Robbo could hear them from time to time, as the wind carried snatches of their conversation. They could see Robbo, but he was far enough away from the door and quietly rattling his paper cup. They did not consider him to be an interference with the customers and they left him alone. Occasionally they threw him a contemptuous glance, but they never saw his face as his hood enclosed him.
The conversation was banal. Horse racing and the merits of Frawley's, a department store in the poorer part of town, for buying suits needed for their job of bouncer. Something about Manchester United animated them for a while. Mostly they stood in silence until a customer came in or out, when there would be some banter.
There was nothing out of the ordinary about George’s behaviour to suggest he had interfered with Ann. Robbo wondered was he on a fools errant. Ann would text him in time. He had texted her and rung, but her phone was out of service. However he persisted. He had to be sure his Ann was all right. He hung in and waited.
Around four thirty they seemed to be closing up. The light went out over the door. The building was a terrace and Robbo hoped there was no rear entrance. As far as he knew the street he was on backed on to another equally busy and built up street.
It was another hour before George finally emerged. He had a walking jacket with a hood pulled up and Robbo nearly missed him. It was his walk that decided Robbo. It was George and he would follow him. George hunched and walked along head down into the rain and never gave a backward glance.
Robbo watched him reach the top of the street and then sprinted to the corner to catch sight of him again. He saw George fumble with his keys and climb in to a small car, a black Renault Clio. Robbo noted the number as it pulled out, and then panic hit him. How could he follow a car, he was on foot?
The car proceeded along the street and turned right. Robbo knew this was a one-way system and the car would head for St Stephens Green. There was little traffic at that hour, but the traffic lights did not acknowledge this. They still turned on and off with the same regularity.
George had taken a few drinks, as usual, after his shift and drove carefully. He did not want to give any excuse for a police car to pull him over.
Robbo jogged at a steady pace. He kept back enough to be out of George’s rear view mirror. However had it not been for the traffic lights he would not have been able to catch up.
George turned r
ight at the top of the Green and along towards Clanbrassil street. Far behind, Robbo could see the direction George took but knew he was close to losing him.
The car lights showed red at the far side of the Green and as Robbo continued to jog, the car took off again steadily moving within the speed limit. It turned left down Clanbrassil Street.
Robbo thought he had lost George after a further mile but then saw the car stopped at the lights at Clanbrassil street bridge. As Robbo reached the bridge he could see George’s car in the distance, the only car on the road, take a right fork towards Sundrive Road and the direction of the KCR cross roads.
Robbo stopped. It was impossible. George could not be followed on foot. Then a taxi passed and Robbo hailed it.
“Take me out to Templeogue Bridge,” he instructed knowing the direction but not over familiar with the neighbourhood.
The taxi driver grunted, turned the taxi in the direction George had disappeared and made his way steadily along.
Robbo slumped in the back only his eyes busy. There was no sign of George.
“Wet night,” The taxi drive remarked, engaging in conversation in the friendly way Dublin taxi driver do.
“I need to find a bed and breakfast out near Templeogue Bridge,” Robbo said, backing a hunch. George had to be staying somewhere. Ann had said that he had left home.
“Templeogue is a good place,” the taxi driver said, ‘it is near an exit off the M50 and has a few Bed and Breakfast places. Anywhere in particular?”
“No just drop me off, where is the nearest one?”
“You’ll be lucky to get in at this hour, and you have no luggage,” the taxi man said suspiciously.
“My partner locked the door,” Robbo said by way of explanation.
“Understood,” The taxi man replied, his voice conveying that he was a man of this world.
“There is one just past the Templeogue Bridge, takes a lot of travelling salesmen. Another just up the firhouse road, not as good though” the taxi man added. “Then there are a few more over near the M50.”
“Just drop me on the bridge.”
They were approaching the Templeogue Bridge as they spoke, having followed the road out in a straight line from the KCR crossing. There was no sign of George’s car.
“Fir house road is up to the right nearer the M50 exit” the taxi driver offered as Robbo paid him and gave him a tip.
It was still raining. Robbo felt close to tears. He felt he had made a mess of things. How had he not realized George would drive a car? Anyone working those late hours had to have a car or else have the expense of a taxi every night.
The road out to Templeogue had been through normal suburbia, past garages and shops and streets of residential housing. This western suburb was a relatively prosperous part of town. Robbo was hoping that George would be staying in one of the bed and breakfast establishments near the M50 exit to Knocklyon. The M50motorway was a ring road to the city and a convenient route to everywhere, north south and west as well as close to the city to the east.
He checked out the car park at the B&B near the bridge. No sign of George’s car. He would try the Firhouse road and then make his way around to the M50 by following the road signs. Maybe stop another taxi or find a phone boot to ring directory enquiries.
He saw the car under the cedar trees in the Firhouse bed and breakfast establishment. The iron gates were closed and it appeared all lights were off. No sign of George. Robbo’s heart lifted. He pushed open the gate and made his way to the cedar trees. They were tall and gave some cover from the rain. He had no plan, but he would wait and watch.
Then he had an idea.
Robbo went to George’s car and pushed and shoved it. When the alarm came on loud and persistent, he retreated to the trees.
The alarm roared for about five minutes and someone opened the front door to see what was up. As the alarm continued George came down. He was very disgruntled, but not as disgruntled as the landlord who had called him down.
George clicked his keys and checked the car. Robbo could hear a murmur of conversation. Then the alarm flashed on again. The front door closed and the lights went out.
Robbo re-emerged and set off the alarm again and hid back in the cedars.
The scene repeated itself. However this time, having checked that nothing was wrong with the car, George went to the gate. He went back to the door and come out again. George had a chain and lock and he tied the gate in locked position and then went back into the house. He did not put the car alarm back on.
As Robbo had hoped, George had decided the alarm was at fault and it was too late in the night to investigate in depth. He had secured the gate to stop any thief and left the car alarm off.
Robbo waited until dawn’s early light began to add visibility to the damp dewy garden and he crept out to the car. Robbo opened the small boot and climbed in. He pulled the levers to disengage the clamps on the back seat, so that he would be able to push them forward when he wanted to exit the boot. Then he closed the boot and curled up in a foetal position. The boot lock clicked shut. He had to hope that George would not come to the boot when he next used the car. It was his only hope.
*****
On the north side of the city Adizua also noticed the arrival of dawn. His situation was dire. He had been tied to the rafter across the roof for two days now. He stank of urine and fasces. He had not had a drink of any liquid and his tongue was starting to swell. George or Ivan checked him once a day but otherwise ignored him.
He metal handcuffs were unbreakable. He had tried to cut his right hand off along the rafter, but had made a bloody mess. The wood was strong but too soft to cut him. George had spotted what he was up to and had waited for Ivan. Ivan had hit him on the arms a few times with an iron bar and then secured his arms so he could not move them.
“Soon it will be over. When we are ready,” Ivan had promised.
Adizua knew he would be killed when it suited Ivan. He was weakening and he tried to stay above the pain. If he got one opportunity he would be lucky and he had to be ready to take it. There was no way he could get free of his bonds.
He had to save his strength for the time when they came to kill him. That might just give an opportunity to strike at them. Particularly if they decided he was too weak and this made them careless, or if they decided to move him to somewhere else. Ivan was too careful but the other man might make a slip. His chances were very slim.
He just knew that the dawn of a new day would lead to the beatings again. He would be able to hear girls screaming in pain and wonder which of them was Megan. Most of the time he could tell when it was her. His heart was bursting with love for her and he felt ashamed that he could do nothing.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Robbo tensed when he heard footsteps on the tarred driveway. It was now nearly ten in the morning and a number of cars had moved in the driveway as Guests left the Bed and Breakfast to go about their business. So far George had not emerged. Robbo was expecting action soon, after a fitful night of tossing and lying half awake in the boot of the car. He was grateful that he was cramped and uncomfortable, as it would help him to stay awake. He expected action soon as bed and breakfast establishments would expect their guests to be gone after breakfast for the day.
Then it happened. George came out and opened the car door. George closed the door again. He put the alarm on and waited to see if it would malfunction. Robbo decided to stay very still. There was conversation with what sounded like a landlady.
George checked the boot, which was locked. Then the door locks clicked again as George unlocked the car. More conversation and George got in.
“See you again this evening George,” The landlady’s voice said.
“I’ll be back around six, I’ll get my head down for a few hours before I go out to work,” George said and turned on the engine. The car began to move.
Robbo could sense the direction and speed. He decided that they were heading north out along the M50.
After a half hour they came off the motorway and the car jolted from side to side along a country road. Soon Robbo lost all sense of direction.
Eventually the car came to a stop. George got out. Then minutes later he got back in. The car went forward and stopped and George got out. Robbo surmised that George was opening and closing a gate. The car continued for about five minutes along a very bumpy track and then came to a halt. George got out and Robbo heard the locks click as George pressed the alarm to lock the car.
Robbo waited a couple of minutes and then pushed the back seat upright forward. Light flooded in and he could see out. Robbo shifted to get a better view and could make out two old dilapidated adjoining farm cottages. The sort of cottages farm labourers would have lived in a century ago. As Robbo shifted to get out into the car the alarm went off. In a panic he rolled back into the boot and pulled up the back seat. Robbo stayed very still.
George came to the car and clicked the alarm off. He walked around checking all the doors were closed. He opened the boot an inch and slammed it shut again.
“Bloody alarm,’ he said and retreated back to the cottages. Robbo realized George had left the alarm off.
Robbo pushed the back seat upright forward again and rolled into position to peer out of the car window without revealing himself.
George was at work at an old water pump filling what appeared to be two red fire buckets with water. He looked purposeful but relaxed.
Robbo watched as he put one of the buckets in to the first cottage and then took the second bucket into the second cottage. Minutes passed and George did not emerge. He seemed to be occupied in the second cottage. Robbo decided it was time to make a move and see what George was up to. He let himself out of the back seat of the car and sprinted as silently as he could to the door of the first cottage. It creaked a little as he pushed it in.
Love on the Dark Side of the City Page 26