‘It’s alright, nothing to worry about. If I can’t make it, nothing awful will happen – my legs’ll just refuse to go on. The rest of me will be fine. I doubt I’ll get very far, and you can fetch the chair.’
‘We could take it with us just in case.’
‘And you’re going to push it how, with a stick in your other hand?’
Smith frowned, weighed it up and she burst out laughing.
‘Let’s face it – we’re in a bit of a bloody state between us! Come on. I’ll race you.’
From the summit of Cave Hill, all of Belfast can be seen. It had taken them over an hour, and the walk had included several stops – appreciated as much by Smith, he recognised, as by Catriona O’Neill. The final climb up the side of the rock had been almost too much for her but he never once suggested that they give in and settle for anything less than conquering this peak; instead, he had gone a few feet ahead, planted himself firmly on his good leg and taken her hand as she inched herself onwards, sometimes shuffling on her backside over the ridges that might otherwise have tripped her or caused her to stumble. Over the final hundred yards they had said very little.
Now the city lay spread before them. They sat on the short turf amongst the harebells and wild thyme, stared and said nothing at all. The Lagan was a strip of molten silver in the evening light, widening on the left into its estuary where it became polished steel and then blue-green glass in the sea-distance. And the sky was blue and cloudless as it had been on that spring morning, but a deeper blue, a deepening blue as the sun fell slowly out of it behind them, in the west. The breeze from the south was enough to cool their faces but not enough to make any sound over the summit. In the silence around them, only their own breathing existed, as they slowly regained the oxygen they had spent in advance with the effort of the climb.
Catriona said, ‘Well…’
And Smith said, ‘Timeless.’
Another two or three minutes passed before they spoke again, and then she began to tell him about her family, the people he had known when he was Stuart Reilly. She told him as if he had asked the question, which he had not, but it didn’t matter. Lia and Bradey he knew about already. Caley was in New Zealand, just a carpenter she said but what jobs he had done now, working on film sets for some of the great movies made there. She went to see them all and wondered which of the scenes he had nailed together – Caley himself she had not seen in more than ten years. She had been wondering, she said, whether, if they found Brann, Caley might come home for that… And Adriana, well, it was no surprise with her beauty and her talent that she had married a wealthy man, a banker. Literally, Cati said, he owns a bank. They lived in Switzerland.
Smith said, ‘And do you see her?’
‘Oh yes, sometimes. Every year or two. She’s not high and mighty. She’s even asked me to visit but I wouldn’t go, not like this. It all gets too complicated. And the mountains are much bigger than this, aren’t they? Can you imagine it – seeing them and not being able to climb them?’
‘Still, you should go. It’s a beautiful country.’
‘You’ve been?’
‘Yes.’
‘With your wife?’
He nodded and she looked away. After a time she said, ‘You know, when you used to play that guitar and sing with Adriana, I was so jealous sometimes?’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘I used to torment myself about the two of you – that she’d steal you away! And then you’d sing songs just to tease me, looking at me as you did and I’d know it was alright.’
‘I’m sure you’re confusing me with someone else. I’m not one to tease people. What songs?’
She was frowning with the remembering and smiling with the pleasure of it at the same time. He thought that she must have waited a very long time to say these things.
‘There was one. He was Jamaican…it played in all the bars. No Woman, No Cry?’
‘Bob Marley.’
‘That’s it. Whenever I hear it on the radio, I remember. I heard it a few days ago. I listen to the radio a lot when I’m laid up. Sad, isn’t it?’
She wasn’t looking for sympathy.
‘I don’t think so. I still listen to the radio, and no-one could ever describe my life as sad.’
‘There you go, teasing again. Bob Marley, he sings about good friends.’
‘Good friends we had, good friends we’ve lost…’
‘Do you still sing and play?’
‘I still play. I don’t sing very often outside the bathroom or the car.’
‘That’s a shame. And he sings about the future – “In this bright future…”’
‘You can’t forget your past.’
‘That’s it.’
She was looking at him and it was hard to bear. Somewhere very close by was the girl that he had teased, to whom he had sung, and from whom he had stolen something beyond price. He was afraid that he might see her if she looked at him that way for too long.
She said, ‘You know, that guitar is still in the house somewhere, in the attic I think. No-one has played it since. You should take it back with you. Will you?’
Smith said, ‘I need to be boring and ask you a question about the night Brann disappeared.’
‘Go on, then.’
‘When you saw the boys outside – Aidan Quinn – what time was it? You said it was late. How late?’
She thought, still looking at him.
‘It was June and getting dark but not actual dark, if you know what I mean. So I suppose it was ten o’clock gone. Why?’
‘And he said something to you about maybe they already had someone to ask about me?’
‘Yes. Of course, at the time I had no idea who. If I had…’
He took out his phone to check the signal and found five bars. If someone wanted to reach him, they could certainly do so here.
Catriona said, ‘And I notice you’re still very good at not answering my questions.’
‘Yes, I know. It’s a rare gift but mostly I don’t know the right answers anyway.’
She seemed cross with him then, and it was almost a relief. They both looked out over the city, and the light had already changed; it was softer, more muted and the far edges were more difficult to see.
She said in a different voice, ‘That night – I was desperate to find you and make sure that you were alright. When we heard there was trouble at Rourke’s… You know how these things were talked about then, how the rumours used to fly. I thought…’
Smith didn’t say anything at all.
‘Well, I thought you might be dead already. But I had to see. There were things I needed to say to you, and then you’d gone. We still thought they’d taken you as well. It was weeks before the truth came out, or some of it. Weeks. And it was too late then.’
He told her almost all of it after that. How he had heard what the cell were planning and how soon, how he had put pressure on his own commanding officers to prevent it and how that had led to his cover being leaked to someone in the IRA – it might even have been a member of the intelligence service thinking to use the enemy to eliminate a loose cannon like the young Captain Smith. Nothing was beyond them. Once he had escaped from the room behind Rourke’s, there was no going back, not for anyone. If he had done so, if he had come to find her, other lives would have been at risk – to have been seen with him then would have been a clear sign of complicity.
She said, ‘And did you hear nothing of us? Did you not find out anything?’
‘I was debriefed pretty thoroughly after – well, all that had happened. And because they had made serious attempts to kill me, I was out of any public eye for several months. I got to know Salisbury Plain very well, though.’
‘They tried to kill you? When? I thought…’
He had said a little too much – had not meant to give that away. He pointed to his cheek and then rubbed one finger along the scar.
‘This wasn’t quite the end of it.’
‘Jesus�
��’
She said it under her breath and looked frightened for a moment, as if it had all taken place an hour or two ago. After a little while she said, ‘It was all terrible wasn’t it, in those times?’
‘Not all of it.’
She was going to cry and looked away from him, to the northeast where the sea was a becoming a deep purple-green in the ever-changing light of Ireland. There was nothing more to be said and he could not touch her, could not put an arm around her because then the dam itself might break and sweep her away. Instead, he glanced down at the phone and thought about Lorcan Quinn’s next move.
She saw what he was doing when she looked back, and then took out her own phone.
She said, ‘I’ll text Lia before she calls the police.’
When she had finished, Smith said, ‘What did you tell her?’
‘I said I’m out partying, not to worry, won’t be late home.’
‘Younger sister, still misbehaving.’
‘I know how she comes across, but she’s been very good to me. With Diarmuid so busy now, I don’t know what-’
He had placed his phone on the grass in front of him, and she fell silent when it began to ring. They watched it buzzing on the turf like an angry bee, and then Smith said, ‘I’m sorry but I think I’d better take this.’
Chapter Fifteen
After he had answered, there was quiet again. If the person on the other end had been waiting for him to repeat the greeting, they waited in vain. Catriona watched Smith and Smith found an airliner far up in the evening sky and studied its silent progress due north, as if it was heading directly for the Arctic circle. Eventually a voice responded to him.
‘Is that Captain David Smith or is it Detective Sergeant Stuart Reilly? I must admit I’m getting a little confused here. You must be wondering who you are yourself, sometimes.’
Smith nodded to Catriona and she understood who it was – he knew that because she looked afraid.
‘Hello Lorcan. I’ll confess to moments of self-doubt but I don’t think I’ve changed any more than some of the people I left behind here.’
‘In thirty years we’ve been entirely different people several times. Did you know that? The body replaces all its cells systematically until we get too old. Except for the brain, that is – the brain just loses bits of itself and they never get replaced. Isn’t that fascinating?’
‘Yes. Hopefully it will come up the next time I’m playing Trivial Pursuits.’
Catriona’s face was a picture and Smith couldn’t conceal a smile at the sight of it.
‘Talking of which, then, is that what you’re doing over here? Playing a game of trivial pursuits?’
‘Partly right. I wouldn’t describe what I’m doing as trivial, though.’
Smith could not make out whether Quinn was alone. It was a mobile phone but there was no background noise; Quinn’s voice sounded a little flat, no echo or resonance at all and so the best guess was that he was outside – if he had gone out of whatever building he was in, he probably was alone as well.
‘How would you describe what you’re doing?’
But even if Quinn was alone, he might still be recording the conversation. The wisest plan was to proceed as if he was doing so.
‘I’m trying help the O’Neill family. Brann O’Neill is listed among the disappeared – obviously you know that. It’s time to find him and bring their waiting to an end.’
There was no immediate response. Quinn was a politician, a successful one, and he would be thinking in political dimensions as well as personal ones. The answer, when it came, was a perfect demonstration of that.
‘OK, I see. That’s an admirable thing to be doing. I remember the O’Neills, they were good people. Are you with them now?’
‘One of them.’
‘Well, pass on my respects and my sympathies for what they’ve gone through. Many of us lost loved ones in those difficult times.’
Quinn paused there intentionally and Smith knew why.
‘But I have two observations to make on what you’ve told me. One, I don’t know why you would think that I would be able to shed any light on what happened to Brann O’Neill. And two, that’s not what your message was about this afternoon, the message you left with my secretary.’
Catriona’s own mobile began to ring in her bag. She took it out and then mouthed to Smith that it was Diarmuid. He nodded and said quietly, ‘You should take it.’
She went to stand and could not do so by herself – then she shuffled a few feet away and began talking to her son, so quietly that Smith couldn’t make out what she was saying. He turned his attention back to Lorcan Quinn.
‘In my job I have to turn over lots of stones. When you do that, you can never be quite sure what’s going to crawl out. It isn’t always what you expect but once it’s crawled out you have to deal with it anyway.’
‘Nice. You’re telling me I’m something that’s crawled out from under a stone. Very professional, sergeant.’
‘No, I didn’t say that – you put it on yourself. If the cap fits… But I came over to help the O’Neill family, that’s all. Since I arrived, I hear some odd tales about what happened to Aidan, and now I have to wonder whether the two things are not connected. I can’t help it – it’s how my mind works. On the subject of the O’Neills, I offered to help – they didn’t ask me, and they’re not involved in the inquiries I’m making. Tell Mr Auster not to bother them again.’
‘Who?’
Smith wouldn’t dignify that with a response. Catriona was still alternately listening and talking to Diarmuid. Quinn asked a couple more times about Mr Auster, and then Smith moved things on.
‘As to my professionalism, it’s irrelevant. I’m not here in any official capacity, just as a friend.’
‘A friend? That’s how the O’Neills see you now, is it?’
Quinn was laughing at him down the phone, and Smith said nothing.
‘And don’t tell me you haven’t been in touch with the local force about something here. If you have and you’ve been bandying my name about… Well, that would be unwise. You’re making unfounded allegations.’
‘I have made no allegations to anyone and I’ve spoken to no-one in any official capacity. You can check easily enough – you’re a minister for policing and justice after all.’
Smith left a space for that to go home, and he could sense that it did so. What Quinn was doing, calling him like this and having such a conversation was faintly absurd and potentially dangerous; the fact that he had called at all, when Smith thought about it, spoke volumes.
‘That’s true, I am. As such, I might be able to help you, in an official capacity, you understand, nothing more. I can put you in touch with some very senior officers and ask them to go over what you have. And the Inquiry, too – have you spoken to them yet?’
‘I’ve read the report. It politely says, we give up on this one. Did they speak to you?’
Quinn had lost none of his sharpness, and he picked up the implication immediately; there was even a trace of amusement as he answered.
‘They did not, they had no reason to do so. As part of the peace process and the putting down of arms, I made full disclosure. This was all done with over here a long time ago, David, and I’ve nothing to hide now. But I’ll help you if I can. Would you like to speak to one of our top detectives and see what he can do for you? He’ll be independent of me and I’ll not interfere.’
Yes, thought Smith, and the tooth fairy is really a leprechaun with a dental practice in the mountains of Mourne. Quinn wanted to know what he had; what better way to find out than to have Smith himself interviewed by one of the PSNI’s finest?
‘No, thanks. I’ll just carry on with what I’m doing.’
‘Which is what? What are you actually doing?’
‘At the moment, just looking up a few old acquaintances.’
Quinn was clever but he was also human – and sometimes there is a conflict in that. Would curiosity overcome
caution? He must be desperate to know to whom Smith had spoken and to whom he intended to speak. And if he asked, of course, then that probably meant that he did not know as yet. That would be significant; it would confirm that neither Martin McCain nor Michael O’Dell had made contact with their former leader.
‘Such as?’
Smith’s mouth tightened a little – one could almost have mistaken it for a smile.
‘I can’t say, Lorcan. When people speak in confidence, there has to be some sort of trust.’
The ‘in confidence’ would worry him, and that was the intention. It is what anyone would ask for before they revealed something damning about a man as powerful as the junior minister for policing and justice, and a man as dangerous as a former senior officer in the Irish Republican Army. Quinn had to assume now that someone had spoken to Smith ‘in confidence’.
‘Trust? That’s a good one!’
For a moment it was the former senior officer on the end of the line, and not the junior minister. Smith let the conversation hang there, guessing that Quinn might have more to say.
‘Well, I’ve made you an offer of assistance which you have turned down. I’m not sure what else you want. Why did you call my office? Did you want to ask me questions? Did you want to interview me?’
The final question came with a note of contempt, as if the very notion was something of an insult.
‘Yes, to the last two questions. And I only had two questions of my own.’
‘Really? Just the two? Well, what the hell are they?’
The junior minister seems to have lost a little of his earlier objectivity, Smith reflected, before he asked his two questions.
‘First, I would have asked about your whereabouts on the evening of Friday the 21st of June, 1985.’
‘Right, well, that’s an easy one. I was fifty miles from wherever you thought I might be. Next?’
‘I would ask you then exactly what happened to your brother Aidan that same night.’
This time there was no glib, contemptuous response – just a long, burning silence that caused Catriona to look in puzzlement at Smith, her own call having ended now.
In This Bright Future Page 17