The Scrapper

by Brendan O'Carroll

  * * *

  Williams Wholesale Depot, 8pm

  When Bubbles and Teddy entered Simon’s office, Simon was leaning back in his chair with his feet up on his desk. There was an uncorked bottle of Cotes de Nuit Villages on his desk and Simon was holding a glass of it in his right hand. In his left hand he held an expensive Cuban cigar, and on his face was a large smile.

  Teddy smiled at the sight. ‘Well now, Mr Williams, you’re celebrating early?’

  ‘Well, it is New Year’s Eve, boys. Grab yourselves a glass each!’ Simon said as he rocked back and forth on his chair. The Morgan brothers took two wine glasses from a side table and made for the bottle on Simon’s desk.

  ‘Not that!’ Simon barked. ‘The other piss on the shelf over there.’ The Morgan brothers stopped in their tracks and without question changed direction; they were happy to drink the other piss, if that’s what Mr Williams wanted. They filled a glass each of the lukewarm white wine and stood by Simon’s desk.

  ‘There’s our bait.’ With the wine glass Williams indicated the white envelope and a tinfoil-wrapped parcel. The brothers stared at the packages for some moments. They took another sip from their glasses.

  ‘What way do you want me to handle this, Mr Williams?’ Teddy asked.

  But even as Teddy was asking the question Williams was shaking his head.

  ‘No, Teddy, not this time, this time it’s personal. This time I’ll handle it.’ The brothers looked at each other, surprise showing on their faces. Simon Williams hadn’t come on a job with them in years. With the heel of his foot Simon pushed on the edge of the desk and his chair spun around to face the panoramic window. The brothers could see his reflection. He had an evil smile on his face as he spoke. ‘I want to see this little bastard shit himself before I blow his fuckin’ head off.’

  * * *

  The McCabe home, 8.45pm

  Eileen brushed the hair off young Mickey’s forehead. He was sound asleep. She rose from her sitting position on the bed and began to pick up his scattered clothes. When she lifted the crumpled trousers from the floor she saw beneath them a tiny Matchbox Jaguar. She lifted the toy and placed it on Mickey’s bedside table. Her eye rested on the framed photograph of her husband. She picked it up and looked at it lovingly. Slowly, warm rivulets of tears flowed down her cheeks and into the side of her mouth. She held the photograph to her breast and looked out the window at the moon.

  * * *

  St Thomas’s Boxing Club, 8.55pm

  Froggy stared out the window at the moon, wondering why such a big ball never bounced. Sparrow was sitting on the bench lengthways with his feet up and his back to a locker. He was asleep. Slowly he woke, and as his eyes cleared he looked at Froggy. He jumped up with a start. Froggy too jumped up into a boxing position.

  ‘We box them, we box them, Spawoo?’ Froggy asked.

  Sparrow was groggy and in a slight state of panic.

  ‘What time is it, Froggy? Oh, it doesn’t matter.’ Sparrow ran down the hall past the ring and looked up at the gym clock. It was eight fifty-five.

  ‘Shit!’ Sparrow exclaimed. He turned on his heel and sprinted the length of the room to the public phone just inside the locker-room door. Rummaging through his pocket, he came up with a coin, inserted it in the phone and dialled a number. After just two short rings the phone was answered.

  ‘Serious Crime Squad.’ Clancy’s voice was expectant.

  ‘Clancy, is that you?’

  ‘Yes, Sparrow, any news?’

  ‘No, just checking in.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got bad news, Sparrow.’ Clancy’s statement made the hair on the back of Sparrow’s neck stand up.

  ‘Shit! What is it? It’s not Eileen or Mickey, is it?’

  Clancy tried to be as calming as possible, knowing he had fucked up. ‘No, no, nothing like that, it’s the Morgan brothers … I had them tailed all day but my boys lost them a few hours ago. I’m sorry, Sparrow.’ The apology was genuine.

  Sparrow rubbed his eyes and tried to think clearly. ‘Okay, Clancy. I should have rang you earlier anyway to pick them up. Would you believe it, I fell asleep.’

  There was silence between the two men for a few moments on the phone.

  ‘So, what do you want to do? Do you want to call it off?’ Clancy asked tentatively.

  ‘No way! Tonight’s the night, Clancy. It ends tonight. I wasn’t joking when I told Williams I couldn’t take any more of this shit. I can’t.’ Sparrow was emphatic.

  ‘Okay, Sparrow, it’s your call. I’m hitting the streets in a patrol car now. I’ll be waiting for word.’

  Sparrow hung up. With his hand still on the phone he stood for a while trying to calculate how big a difference the Morgan brothers would make. His only worry now was that with the Morgans free Williams wouldn’t come. He lifted the phone, inserted a coin and dialled Williams’s number. The phone was answered immediately.

  ‘Yes?’ The voice is unmistakably Simon’s.

  ‘Mr Williams, it’s me, Sparrow.’

  ‘Okay, Sparrow. Where are you?’

  ‘Mr Williams, let’s cut the shit and get on with this! This boat won’t wait forever.’

  ‘Okay, Sparrow, let’s get the ball rolling. At the corner of Parnell Street and O’Connell Street there’s a phone box. I’ll be ringing you there in fifteen minutes. You answer it. Now go!’

  The phone went dead in Sparrow’s hand. Sparrow hung up and began to put on his jacket, then remembered Froggy. He ran to him.

  ‘The bad men, Spawoo, we wait for the bad men?’ Froggy asks.

  ‘No, Froggy, I must go now. Later, we’ll get them later,’ Sparrow called as he left the club. He sprinted down the street to Carpenter’s Hill. At the traffic lights he looked left and right – the street was empty. He decided to go right towards Snuggstown village. He raced down the steep hill and had difficulty stopping at the bottom. He slid to the edge of the kerb just in time to see a cab coming towards him. He hailed it. He quickly climbed into the back and slammed the door.

  ‘The corner of O’Connell Street and Parnell Street,’ he called to the driver. With total disregard for traffic coming in either direction the taxi driver made a U-turn. When he’d completed the manoeuvre and was on the road safe and sound, he called over his shoulder.

  ‘Headin’ out for the night?’

  ‘No.’ Sparrow answered, thinking: Fuck, a compulsive chatterer.

  ‘Ah, you’re right. Only fuckin’ lunatics out there tonight. I used to go out all the time on New Year’s Eve with me wife but yeh spend hours trying to get a drink in a bar and every smelly whore is bumping up against yeh – and half of what you’re after buyin’ is spillin’ on the fuckin’ floor – fellows are blowin’ smoke in yer face, girls are pokin’ handbags up yer arse, and then when midnight comes every fucker wants to hug yeh. I’ve no time for it meself – it’s a load of shite.’

  ‘Yeh,’ Sparrow answered. When the taxi came to the junction of O’Connell Street and Parnell Street it had to stop at a red traffic light. Sparrow paid the driver and hopped out, then sprinted across the junction to the telephone which was already ringing. He snatched it up. He was breathless.

  ‘Williams!’ he called into the phone.

  Williams was very calm and very cool. ‘Yeh, Sparrow. Your next port of call is George’s Street, just outside Bewley’s Café.’

  After running around to eight phone booths Sparrow had covered half of the northside of Dublin and a bit of the southside. In the square at Temple Bar, drenched with perspiration, he snatched up the ninth phone. This time he didn’t introduce himself or even ask was it Williams on the other end of the line.

  ‘I’ve had enough of this running-around shit, Williams. If you’re not convinced by now that I’m not being followed you never will be. So let’s call it off and I’ll give meself up to the cops.’ He spoke loudly into the phone, not caring at this stage who heard him or who didn’t.

  After a pause, Williams answered. ‘Keep cool, Sparrow.
We’re happy you’re not being followed. I just need to fill in a bit of time. Now, at eleven o’clock exactly I’ll meet you by the bridge in Stephen’s Green. Eleven o’clock, don’t be late!’

  ‘Wait a minute, Williams, Stephen’s Green is closed at this hour of the night,’ Sparrow argued.

  ‘Is it now, Sparrow? Well, I’ll be there!’ Williams answered.

  The phone went dead in Sparrow’s hand. Sparrow replaced the receiver. For a few moments he leaned against the inside of the booth to catch his breath, then he looked around for a clock. He found one at the top of a tower. It read ten-thirty.

  * * *

  Downtown Dublin City, 10.30pm

  Kieran looked at his watch again. He sighed.

  ‘It’ll be somewhere busy, somewhere with a lot of people,’ Michael Malone speculated.

  Kieran just stared out the window, biting his thumb nail. ‘Do you reckon?’ He stretched across and picked up the microphone of the car radio.

  ‘Task Force One to Task Force Base. Over!’ There was a bit of squelch and a female voice came back.

  ‘Go ahead, Task Force One, over.’

  ‘Any word from Sparrow yet?’ Kieran’s voice was hopeful.

  ‘No calls yet, Sir. Over!’ Kieran loosened his grip on the mike and let the spiral cable snatch it back to the floor.

  ‘Damn!’ he exclaimed, going back to his nail-biting.

  * * *

  The McCabe home, 10.35pm

  Eileen put another shovelful of coal on the fire. It was as if she was trying to make the house as warm as possible, to take the chill off her loneliness. The television was not switched on, as if she was in mourning. Dolly had left for the evening to celebrate New Year’s Eve with friends. Eileen was alone now in the house but for her sleeping son upstairs. She turned on the radio and recognised the upbeat music – ‘Saturday Night at the Movies’, a song she and Sparrow had danced to many years before. Eileen sat into the armchair by the fire and drifted into thoughts of her husband.

  * * *

  Temple Bar, 10.40pm

  As Sparrow made his way along Temple Bar there were revellers everywhere and an air of merriment about the place. At the corner of Exchequer Street and Parliament Street, Sparrow picked out a pub. He went in to find the place jam-packed. Everyone was singing and talking, glasses were clinking, smoke was heavy in the air. Sparrow clawed his way to the bar. When he got there he tried desperately to get the attention of a barman, but it was like trying to get a blessing from the Pope for your third marriage. Eventually a barman did catch his eye. ‘What can I get ya?’

  ‘Where’s the phone?’ Sparrow shouted.

  ‘What?’ the barman called, cocking a hand to his ear.

  ‘I said, where’s the phone?’ The barman pointed down to the far end of the bar. Hoping that the fellow actually understood his question, Sparrow started to make his way down through the bar. As he came out of the milling crowd at the bottom he saw a wall-phone tucked under the stairs. He made his way over and inserted a coin. He dialled the number.

  ‘Snuggstown Detective Unit, can I help you!’ It was a female voice.

  ‘I need to get a message to Detective Clancy. It’s urgent.’ Sparrow was roaring over the noise of the pub.

  ‘He’s expecting a message. Is this it?’ the girl asked, to Sparrow’s relief.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Go ahead then.’

  ‘Eleven-fifteen, the bridge, Stephen’s Green Park!’ Sparrow called each word very deliberately.

  ‘You’ll have to speak up. I can’t hear you, it’s very noisy there. Can you get to a quieter phone?’ Although she was in the quiet of the police station the girl was now roaring back at Sparrow. Sparrow stuck a finger in his left ear and spoke even higher than before, if that was possible.

  ‘I’m lucky to have got to this phone, love. I said eleven-fifteen, St Stephen’s Green Park. At the bridge!’

  Sparrow glanced around furtively, but he didn’t have to worry. Nobody was paying a blind bit of attention to him. The phone began to beep, looking for more money. Sparrow thrust his hands into his pockets, but came up without any change.

  ‘Shit!’ he exclaimed and slammed the phone back into its cradle. Again he beat his way through the milling crowd to the bar. The same barman came over.

  ‘Are you okay, pal?’ he asked.

  Sparrow was just about to ask the man for change for the phone when at the other end of the bar he saw Teddy Morgan coming through the door. Teddy looked furtively around the room; he was obviously looking for Sparrow.

  ‘I said, are you okay, pal?’ the barman called again.

  ‘Yeh. Give us a pint, pal!’

  The barman went to the Guinness pump to begin to pour the pint. Although Sparrow pretended not to notice, he saw when Teddy Morgan recognised him and noticed relief in Teddy’s face. Teddy called to the barman for a drink. Within a couple of moments Sparrow’s pint was delivered. He paid for it, and in his change received the coins he needed for the phone. He sipped the pint standing at the bar, still pretending not to notice Teddy.

  Sparrow checked his watch; it now read 10.50pm. He placed the pint on the counter and left. Heading for the door, he passed within ten feet of Teddy, but again he pretended not to notice him.

  Sparrow turned right towards Dame Street, walking casually as if he was going nowhere special with nothing on his mind. After about a hundred yards Sparrow glanced over his shoulder. Behind him, maybe two hundred yards away, the dark Jaguar was crawling along the kerb. Sparrow was less than half a mile from Stephen’s Green. He knew he was being followed and yet also knew he must get to a phone, for without Kieran Clancy’s arrival the entire plan is fruitless. More than fruitless. It was probably going to be fatal.

  * * *

  Downtown Dublin, 10.50pm

  ‘Task Force Base to Task Force One! Over.’

  Both Kieran and Michael jumped as they hear the young woman’s voice on the radio. Kieran called back.

  ‘Go ahead, Task Force Base.’

  ‘The subject has telephoned in. Over.’

  ‘Go ahead, give me the message!’

  ‘I’m afraid, Detective Clancy, the message was pretty garbled. Wherever he was ringing from was very noisy but I wrote down what I think he said.’

  ‘Sweet Jesus tonight! You’d think they’d be able to take a simple message!’ Kieran roared at no-one in particular.

  Michael stretched his hand across and laid it on Kieran’s arm. ‘Hey, Kieran, keep cool. It’ll be okay.’

  Kieran took a couple of deep breaths and returned to the radio. ‘Give me what you have then, Task Force Base. Over.’

  ‘He said, I think, eleven-fifteen at a bridge in some park?’

  ‘A bridge in some park?’ Kieran repeated what he’d heard to Michael as if Michael hadn’t heard it.

  ‘What park has a bridge in it?’ Kieran asked again, thinking aloud.

  ‘The Phoenix Park?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Maybe. That’s where he arranged the first meeting with me. Maybe it’s the Phoenix Park!’ Both detectives were stumped.

  ‘But where in the Phoenix Park is there a bridge?’ Kieran asked.

  ‘The Furry Glen,’ Michael said. ‘I’m sure of it.’

  Kieran thought about this.

  ‘Will we close in on the park?’ Michael was ready to go into action.

  ‘I don’t know, I’ve a feeling if Sparrow meant the bridge in the Furry Glen he would have said the Furry Glen! I just don’t know, Michael. Let me think about it!’ Kieran went back to biting his thumb-nail.

  * * *

  Dame Street, Dublin, 10.55pm

  Sparrow made a decision. Instead of going up Dame Street he went into George’s Street and took the first left down Dame Court. As he turned into Dame Street he saw the Jaguar indicate to follow. When Sparrow turned left into Dame Court he was out of sight of the car and would be for about five or ten seconds. Immediately he rounded the bend he began to sprint. Looking over his sh
oulder he saw the lights turn into Dame Court. Sparrow stopped to a walking pace again. He had put a little more distance between the Jaguar and himself, and felt he’d achieved something.

  Halfway up Dame Court, Sparrow took a right into Corbally Avenue, an ‘S’ shaped lane which would be difficult for the Jaguar to negotiate. Once again as soon as he’d taken the turn Sparrow sprinted. The distance between him and the car had now increased so much that as he turned into South Anne Street the Jaguar was just beginning to negotiate the first bend in the avenue. Sparrow took advantage of this, sprinting up South Anne Street into Drury Street and was halfway up Drury Street before he saw the lights of the Jaguar swing into South Anne Street.

  Sparrow now took a sharp left into the Westbury Mall. This area was pedestrian only, and by the time he had exited at the far end of the Mall he had lost the Jaguar. As he walked along Chatham Street he searched but found no phone kiosk. He turned into Grafton Street and headed towards Stephen’s Green. He checked his watch. It read 11.05pm.

  Sparrow calculated that if he was lucky he would have one more chance to ring Clancy. He saw his chance. The phone kiosk was on the corner of Stephen’s Green and Grafton Street just outside Pizza-Pizza. He didn’t go directly to the kiosk, but instead went to the doorway of Pizza-Pizza and checked Stephen’s Green in every direction, then Grafton Street in every direction. And he even waited until it was quiet on South King Street. Then staying close to the shopfronts, Sparrow made his way to the phone kiosk. He looked around carefully, then, satisfied he was in the clear, darted to the kiosk, took out a coin, and lifted the receiver. The receiver cable dangled in his hand, severed.