The Scrapper

by Brendan O'Carroll

  Kieran put his hand on her shoulder, and she turned and looked at him. ‘I know, but it will get easier. And I love you, Moya, you know that,’ he said.

  Moya smiled at him. ‘And I love you too, Kieran, that’s the problem.’

  Together they left the office and went to find Michael, who had the children sitting on a desk making a chain of paper clips about six feet long. Kieran gave both children a big hug and gave them a coin each.

  As they left, Kieran heard the phone ringing in his office. Some of the uniformed policemen working at the front desk looked up as the two men ran to the Special Crime Squad office. Kieran snatched up the phone.

  ‘Yes?’

  He picked up his pen and began to scribble on a pad, repeating the instructions he was hearing.

  ‘Midday tomorrow at the Wellington Monument in the Phoenix Park? I’ve got it!’ Slowly Kieran put down the phone.

  ‘Was that him?’ Michael asked.

  Kieran nodded, but had a puzzled look on his face.

  ‘What’s up?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Where – and why – would I get a black suit?’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Friday, 27 December

  The Wellington Monument, Phoenix Park, 10am

  KIERAN WALKED ALONG THE TARRED PATH beside the monument. He scanned his surroundings. At this hour of the morning the park was populated by joggers, cyclists or dog walkers. Not far from the Wellington Monument was St Mary’s Hospital, specifically for members of the armed forces. Here and there elderly or injured soldiers were out walking, each of them accompanied by a nurse. Kieran felt uncomfortable. The short collar of the white dinner shirt he was wearing was cutting into his neck and the elastic bow-tie didn’t help. The black suit he had managed to get hold of had satin lapels and, to all intents and purposes, Kieran looked like a head waiter in search of a restaurant to work in.

  Kieran directed his interest to a string of joggers coming towards him. In front were two women running together, one in a grey track suit, the other in lycra shorts. She must be freezing, Kieran thought. Behind them was a guy wearing a shell suit. The hood was up and under it he had a towel wrapped around his head. As he came level with Kieran he stopped. Only his nose was visible, until he pulled the towel back slightly to reveal his face. It was Sparrow McCabe.

  Sparrow looked Kieran up and down. ‘Are you going out somewhere?’ he asked.

  ‘You said wear a black suit, didn’t you?’ Kieran answered.

  Sparrow folded his arms in front of his chest and began to laugh. ‘I said a fuckin’ track suit, ye eejit.’

  ‘Oh! You know, I thought it was a bit odd!’

  Sparrow stared at this man for a moment with his hands on his hips. ‘And you’re goin’ to save my fuckin’ life!’ Sparrow shook his head. Closing the towel across his face he began to jog on a bit again, then turned back to Kieran.

  ‘Come on, so, are you right?’

  Kieran wasn’t moving. ‘You don’t expect me to jog like this, do you?’

  Sparrow stopped. ‘No, I suppose not. Look,’ Sparrow nodded towards Magazine Hill, the last remains of an underground armaments store-room left in 1922 by the British armed forces. ‘There’s a bench on the far side of that hill; make your way to it and I’ll join you there in a few minutes.’ Sparrow jogged off through the long grass.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later Kieran was sitting alone on the park bench. When he had first arrived there had been two old ladies chatting there. Kieran simply smiled at them and sat down. For a while they stopped their conversation and took in Kieran with bemused looks on their faces. Eventually one of them spoke to him.

  ‘Is it a wedding?’ she asked, a sparkle in her eye. ‘Everybody loves a wedding,’ she added.

  ‘No,’ Kieran replied.

  The women went into a whispered discussion. Now it was the other’s turn to speak.

  ‘Is it a funeral?’ she suggested.

  Again Kieran just said, ‘No.’ But seeing that there was no stopping these two he added, ‘Actually, I’m here to meet a man.’ Kieran smiled, but the women did not. They gathered up their belongings and haughtily made their way away from the bench, but not before one of them snapped at Kieran, ‘Filthy beast.’ The women obviously had very narrow opinions of homosexuality.

  Still, he had got rid of them, Kieran thought.

  Within moments Sparrow jogged up to the bench and sat down beside him. Kieran lit a cigarette and after taking a drag he exhaled.

  ‘So, Sparrow, what’s the plan?’

  Sparrow eyed this young detective. Instead of answering his question he asked one of his own.

  ‘How come you didn’t nick me when you could have in Mickey’s bedroom?’

  Kieran took another drag from the cigarette and looked away as he was exhaling. ‘I didn’t see you,’ he said.

  Again Sparrow just stared at the man.

  Kieran turned back to Sparrow.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ he asked again.

  ‘Teddy Morgan killed young PJ Duff.’ It was a simple statement but the name PJ Duff nearly choked Sparrow as it came out.

  ‘What about his brother, Bubbles?’ Kieran was moving into policeman mode now they were in business.

  ‘He did the damage to PJ’s wife. It was awful.’ Sparrow put his head in his hands.

  ‘Did you hear the gunshot from outside?’

  ‘No, I was standing beside Teddy. I would have stopped him if I’d known – I didn’t know he was going to kill him. Oh shit!’ Sparrow bent double, reliving the pain of it again.

  ‘Well, that’s enough to stitch those two bastards up. Will you give evidence against them?’

  ‘Gladly. With pleasure. But they’re not gonna snitch on Simple Simon. He’s the one I want.’ Sparrow sounded determined.

  ‘No, I suppose not, but then again we don’t have to worry, do we?’ Kieran tossed away his butt and turned sideways now to face Sparrow. ‘Because you have a plan, Sparrow, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeh. You’re going to arrest Simon Williams with twenty-five grand in one pocket, a pound of heroin in the other pocket, and a gun in his right hand.’ Sparrow obviously had it all worked out.

  Kieran ran his fingers through his hair. ‘You know, I read my stars this morning and it said nothing about that!’

  ‘Don’t be fuckin’ smart. I’m serious. I’m going to get Williams into a little trap. But you have to help me spring it.’

  Kieran sat forward on the bench. He rested his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together, interlocking his fingers. ‘Sparrow,’ he said, ‘I’m not going to ask you why he’ll have the money and the drugs, but tell me this – where’s the gun going to be pointing when I arrest him?’

  Sparrow laid his own elbows on his knees in an identical pose to Kieran’s. ‘At me, I think.’

  ‘Well, this all sounds very good except for one or two things.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘For one thing, Sparrow, Williams never points a gun at anyone; he always has someone to do the job for him, usually Teddy and Bubbles.’

  Sparrow nodded his head in agreement. ‘I know. But that’s because Williams is usually cool. But I’ll ruffle him enough to get him to want to kill me himself! And you’ll make sure that the Morgan brothers aren’t around.’

  ‘I can do that now. I can arrest them today,’ Kieran said.

  Sparrow was shaking his head. ‘No, not today. Leave it till the last minute or Williams will smell a rat. He’s smart, yeh know. I know what he’s like, I worked for him long enough. I’ll tell yeh when to pick’em up.’

  Kieran nodded. There was silence for a few moments. ‘So, what’s the plan? How are you going to make him angry?’

  Sparrow leaned back on the bench and stared into space. ‘It’s time Mr Williams experienced a little bit of the terror he likes to dish out.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Saturday, 28 December

  Wilmount House, Malahide, 1am
r />   IRONICALLY, SPARROW’S PLAN WAS VERY SIMILAR to Simon Williams’s own plan. Having worked with Williams for six years Sparrow knew that Simon’s dealings were all done by extension, at arm’s length. Somebody else did Simon’s collecting for him. Somebody else did his punishment beatings or killings for him. Somebody else even handed over the envelopes to those in the Snuggstown police force who were available for Simon to buy. All this, of course, meant that Simon never put himself in the firing line. If somebody was caught and sent down that was their problem. Time after time during the police investigations into beatings or murders the trail would lead in the direction of Simple Simon, but once it got close to him it went cold. For Sparrow’s trap to be successful he had to get Simon involved. He had to make it personal.

  From his ‘safe’ shed Sparrow had seen the lights of the house go off over ninety minutes ago. He felt it was safe now to make his move. He left the shed and casually strolled across the yard to the back door where he removed the maids’ key from under the mat. He let himself in as he had done a few times for breakfast, and went to the alarm panel to punch in the code.

  Upstairs in their bedroom Simon and Angie were sound asleep. On the bedside table on Simon’s side was a digital electric alarm clock. The blue glow from the blue digital numbers provided the only light in the room.

  Once Sparrow had neutralised the alarm he made his way through the door of the kitchen into the garage. He carefully negotiated the three steps down onto the garage floor and from his pocket he took a tiny torch. The beam flickered around the garage from wall to wall until eventually it landed on what Sparrow was looking for. He made his way to the electricity mains box. Stretching up, Sparrow flicked off the main switch. Upstairs the glow from the alarm clock went dead. Sparrow smiled to himself.

  With the torch as his only light Sparrow re-entered the kitchen. Slowly he scanned the room with the torch. It landed on the kettle. I’ll start there, he thought. He went over and switched it on. He then moved to the cooker, switching on every plate and the oven. Next he turned on the microwave. Next to it he noticed an electric mixer. He grinned. Finding the plug at the end of the mixer lead, he plugged it into a wall socket and switched the dial up to full speed. Sparrow opened the bread-bin and took out two slices of bread, put them into the toaster and jammed the handle down. Sparrow switched on the dishwasher, the dryer and the washing machine. There was a television on the kitchen counter; Sparrow switched that on and pushed the volume slide up to full. Before leaving the kitchen he turned the light switch to the on position.

  Sparrow next found himself in the huge living room. There was a giant forty-six-inch television screen. Sparrow switched the television on and again moved the volume slide up to full. He moved to the CD player, and from a rack of CDs he selected Pavarotti’s Nessun Dorma. He inserted it into the player, switched the player on and moved the volume button up to full. It was a surround-sound CD, so full blast was really full blast. As he moved through the house Sparrow switched every light switch he passed to the on position. Stealthily he made his way upstairs, switching on standard lamps as he went.

  Gently Sparrow squeezed through the half-open door of Simon Williams’s bedroom. Simon and Angie were sound asleep. From the dressing table Sparrow took one of Angie’s lipsticks, bright red of course. Just as he left the bedroom Simon burst into a fit of coughing. Sparrow froze. There was a grunt and a fart, and Simon began to snore again. Sparrow returned down the stairs. At the bottom there was a huge wall mirror. Sparrow uncapped the lipstick and scrawled something on the mirror. With his work done, Sparrow left through the garage door. Just before exiting he flicked the main power switch back on. He then sprinted away across the gardens. Behind him the house exploded into a cacophony of sound and a burst of light.

  * * *

  The tiny glow of the bedside clock reappeared. But it was not alone. Simon and Angie Williams leapt from the bed, screaming. Simon dived to a wardrobe and pulled the door off its hinges as he tried to get to the shotgun he had stored there. He found the gun and made his way around to the end of the bed. He fell over a stray shoe, hit the ground and the shotgun blasted off. The dressing table mirror shattered and a hole appeared in the bedroom door. Screaming, Angie jumped into the wardrobe with the missing door.

  With the house a cocktail of noise, above which Pavarotti was on the verge of bursting the speakers, Simon made his way downstairs, his shotgun at the ready. At the bottom of the stairs he stood aghast, looking at the mirror. Scrawled on it in red lipstick was the message: ‘I will call you, we need to talk! Sparrow.’ Simon emitted an enraged scream and blasted the mirror off the wall with the remaining cartridge in the gun.

  ‘YOU BASTARD!’ he screamed.

  Even from where he was in the trees at the edge of the grounds of Simon’s house, Sparrow could hear the faint echo of the scream.

  ‘Step one!’ Sparrow said aloud and disappeared into the night.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Monday, 30 December

  Simon Williams’s office, 11am

  SIMON SLAMMED HIS FIST ON THE DESK. Both Morgan brothers jumped. They had never seen Simon so enraged. His face was purple and perspiration was dripping down his neck.

  ‘He walked into my fuckin’ house. The arrogant little shit!’ Simon was roaring.

  Bubbles took a step forward. ‘Do you want us to keep an eye on the place, boss?’

  Simon threw his arms in the air. ‘A bit fuckin’ late, Bubbles. No! We have to find him and he has to be stopped! What did the retard say?’ Simon directed this question at Teddy.

  Nervously Teddy answered. ‘Nothin’, boss, we gave him a good workin’ over, but all he would say was: “Shush, don’t tell Mammy.” He’s a bleedin’ head-case!’

  ‘What about the wife?’

  ‘She’s back in her own place now. Her mother’s living with her and they’ve two coppers in the house around the clock. We can’t get near her, boss. It’s this new copper, Clancy. He’s an enigma.’

  Bubbles, who had nothing to add, repeated Teddy’s discription. ‘Yeh, he’s an en … en … he’s an en … he’s a cunt!’ Simon gave Bubbles a look so sharp you could shave with it.

  Slowly Simon sat back in his chair. The phone on his desk rang. He picked it up and put it to his ear. ‘Yes, what is it?’ he barked.

  Teddy leaned forward and put his hands on Simon’s desk. ‘Don’t worry, boss, we’ll find him,’ he mouthed. But Simon held up his hand and motioned for Teddy to stay where he was.

  ‘Okay, put him through,’ Simon said into the mouthpiece. He put his hand over the phone. ‘You mightn’t have to find the fucker. I think he’s just found us.’

  ‘Sparrow, me auld pal, so, how are you?’

  ‘Not great, Mr Williams, not great.’

  ‘Enjoyed your little visit last night, did you? You should have hung around, we could have had coffee together.’

  ‘I didn’t like to do that, Mr Williams, but I needed to get your attention.’

  ‘Well, you have it now, Sparrow, believe me, you have it now!’

  ‘The cops are after me, Mr Williams, they’re hot on my tail. It’s this bastard Clancy!’

  ‘Yeh, I’ve met the bollix. So, what are you saying?’

  ‘I have to get out of the country, Mr Williams, I need money!’

  Simon laughed into the phone. ‘Don’t kid yourself, Sparrow. Clancy has the airports and docks tied up as tight as a nun’s knickers.’

  ‘I got that sorted. I can get out of here in two days’ time on a cargo ship going to Panama.’

  ‘How much?’ Simon asked.

  ‘Give him fuck all,’ Teddy interjected in a hushed tone. Simon held his hand up for silence.

  ‘They don’t want money. They want a kilo of heroin, and I need about twenty-five grand to give meself a bit of a start once I get there.’

  Simon mulled this over for a few moments. ‘A kilo? I think we can organise that. Come on up to the office and we’ll sort something out.’
/>
  ‘No way, Mr Williams. No disrespect, but I prefer to keep everything at arm’s length. If you know what I mean.’

  ‘Well, that’s all very well, Sparrow, but if I’m to get this merchandise to you, how am I to achieve that?’ For a few moments there was silence on the other end of the line.

  ‘I’ll meet you for a pick-up. Tomorrow night, eleven-thirty. I’ll call you tomorrow evening, I’ll tell you the place.’

  ‘Wait a minute, Sparrow, tomorrow night is fine even though it is New Year’s Eve. I’m sure Angie can amuse herself. You can ring me all right, but I’ll tell you the place when you ring.’

  Again there was a pause. ‘Okay, it’s a deal. But Mr Williams?’

  ‘Yes, Sparrow?’

  ‘I’ve had enough of this running shit. If we don’t make this drop tomorrow night my chance of getting out of the country is gone. I’m giving meself up to the cops, I can’t take any more of this.’

  ‘Understandable, Sparrow. We’ll make the drop, don’t you worry. You call me here at the office tomorrow evening at nine.’ He added, ‘Sparrow, you’re a better man than I thought you were, it’s a pity you have to go.’

  ‘Yeh. Such a pity.’

  The phone went dead in Simon’s hand, and slowly he replaced it in the cradle. Simon folded his hands on his stomach, interlocking his fingers. He smiled broadly and leaned back in his chair.

  ‘Got him!’ he said.

  * * *

  Dublin city centre, 11.05am

  Sparrow stepped from the phone booth. Kieran Clancy was standing there, waiting.

  ‘All set?’ Kieran asked.

  ‘Yeh, all set,’ Sparrow confirmed, but he was uneasy.

  They began to walk along the footpath.

  ‘I thought calling me a bastard was a bit strong!’ Kieran said, feigning hurt.

  Sparrow looked at him. ‘You’re a headcase, d’yeh know that?’ he said, but it was clear that he liked the man. ‘It’s not over yet, Kieran, there’s a couple of complications. He won’t let me pick the spot.’