The Day That Never comes (The Dublin Trilogy Book 2)

by Caimh McDonnell

  "You bloody idiot," said Maloney to Coetzee. The larger man said nothing, and just looked back at him through those dead eyes. Maloney shifted nervously, wilting under the other man’s gaze. When he next spoke, his tone was much lighter. "This riot is a gift from God though, better than anything we dared hope for. The police killing Franks, that is just too delicious!"

  "Let’s just get this over with and get to the boat, baby," purred Megan.

  Maloney glanced down at Brigit. "Lock her up for now, then go and check outside. Make sure there's nobody else here."

  Coetzee released his hold on Brigit’s leg and took his foot off her. Now that the most immediate threat was gone, Brigit could feel the ache in her jaw start to build.

  Megan moved across and offered her a hand up, which Brigit gingerly took.

  "Against the wall," she said softly.

  Brigit turned around and Megan frisked her, finding her phone in her back pocket.

  "Dead."

  She tossed it onto the floor.

  "Ah for… that's only new." Brigit felt a click in her jaw as she spoke.

  Megan didn't answer, instead looking over at Coetzee. "Take her."

  He grabbed Brigit's arm and dragged her from the room, the gun still held in the other hand.

  "And just lock her up,” said Megan. “We don't have time for any of your other… interests."

  As she was dragged from the room Brigit was fairly sure she’d heard the other woman adding ‘animal’ under her breath.

  They moved fast down a litter-strewn corridor. Brigit had neither opportunity nor inclination to try and make a break for it. Coetzee didn't seem the type to allow her to go for a well-placed kick in the shins. They turned left, and then right, before stopping at a heavy iron door. Coetzee threw her roughly to the ground, causing her head to wallop against the wall.

  He trained his gun on her as he pulled a large key from his pocket and placed it in the lock. With a groan of protest the door opened, and Coetzee shouldered it wider. A foul stench of excrement escaped the room. He reached down and grabbed Brigit's hair. As she tried to stand to follow his grip, he hurled her forward into the darkness behind the door. She fell. Disorientated, her hands couldn't prevent her face slamming into the wall again. Amidst the pain, she could feel blood starting to trickle from her nose.

  The door closed with a pained squeal of metal, and Brigit found herself sitting in pitch darkness. She screamed out, as loud as she could. "Fuck you, ye limp-dicked bag of balls."

  She jumped as the voice came from the darkness.

  "Jesus, Conroy," said Bunny, "where did a good Leitrim girl learn that kind of language?"

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  The only light in the room was the memory of it fading in Brigit's vision.

  "Bunny?"

  "Over here."

  It was him, only… not him. His voice had a slur to it, like how stroke victims got after they'd lost control of the muscles on one side of their face.

  Brigit reached out tentatively, and found a cold stone wall. She pulled herself up off her bloodied knees and started following it around slowly. "Are you all right?" she said.

  "Grand. How's yourself?"

  Brigit found a corner. Bunny's voice was closer now.

  "To be honest, I've had better days," said Brigit.

  She could hear laboured breathing near her feet, and she reached a hand down towards it.

  "Bunny?"

  Her fingers brushed against skin and she felt him flinch away with a gasp.

  "It's OK, it's me. It's Brigit."

  "You're…" his voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, "you're here."

  There was a jangle of chains. A hand touched her leg then reached up and found her hand. It was callused and crusted.

  "Course I am," she said.

  "I thought you were… there's been… I… I… you're real."

  "Yes," said Brigit, and she put her other hand on top of his. She felt swelling over the knuckles, and one of the fingers seemed to be pointing in the wrong direction.

  "Christ, are you…"

  She reached down and found the top of his head. He pulled away slightly but she persisted, moving her hands around his face.

  "Good God."

  The flesh felt hideously swollen and bulbous everywhere she touched, his nose at a sickeningly unnatural angle. Every breath sounded like a gurgling struggle.

  "I'm not looking me best. I wasn't expecting company."

  Brigit put a hand on the wall and then carefully lowered herself down onto the floor beside Bunny. She rubbed her sleeve across her nose to staunch the flow of blood, at least temporarily.

  "Why have…" she didn't know what to ask him.

  The silence stretched out between them.

  "The big fella comes in, every couple of days I'd guess, we have one of our little chats."

  "What does he ask you?"

  "I was being euphemistic, Conroy, there's no talking. He just beats the shite out of me."

  Brigit could feel tears start to well in her eyes, but she tried her best to keep them out of her voice. "How bad is it?"

  "Lemme put it this way. I'd die happy if I could have a couple of minutes where he is the one chained to the wall. If he…" Bunny hesitated. "Before you – this is important Conroy – if he comes back, let me. I'll talk. I'll take most of it that way. It'll be better. You stay back, let me—"

  Brigit didn't know what to say so she leaned across and softly kissed him on the forehead. "You're a good man."

  "Don't go hitting on me Conroy, I'm out of your league."

  Brigit smiled and rubbed her eyes.

  "How did you find me?" said Bunny.

  "Your doo-dah."

  "Ah, right. I don't know what the hell happened, I got blindsided. I’m not even sure where I was."

  “Had you just left O’Hagans by any chance?”

  “Oh yeah.” He actually sounded embarrassed. "I came to in the boot of a car. No phone, but I still had the tracker. Does this mean you’re up to speed about Paulie?"

  Brigit leaned back, bumping her head softly against the wall. "That he's not a cheating scumbag and that I was an idiot for thinking he was?"

  "Don't beat yourself up, you couldn't have known."

  "You did," said Brigit.

  "Ah, lucky guess. Easier for me to see the wood for the trees than it was for you… or him."

  "Thank you," she said softly.

  "Ah sure, least I could do. He's a good lad."

  "He is."

  Brigit put her hand out and found his. She rubbed it gently. His fingers felt hard, the skin cracked and worn.

  "I'm sorry," said Brigit.

  "What are you sorry for?"

  "Sorry I didn't… I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. I could've—"

  "Ara don’t be daft, Conroy. By the way, what are the prospects of the cavalry showing up?"

  "Not great. I don't think anyone knows where I am. On the upside; a lot of the country are looking for you."

  "And you found me. You've done Leitrim proud. Seeing as you did, would you mind telling me what in the name of all things holy I'm doing here?"

  "Don't you know? I thought… Paschal Maloney seems to be in charge."

  There was a moment of silence save for Bunny's laboured breathing.

  "Paschal feckin' Maloney?!" Bunny started laughing. There was an unhinged edge to it.

  "What?"

  "I'd… I've been sitting here, trying to figure out what in the hell this is all about and you're telling me it’s him? Him! That little scrote. I've not given him a moment's thought in what… sixteen years? I'd never even thought of him. I thought—"

  "So I take it you know Maloney?"

  "We had a bit of a run-in back in… what? 2000 it would've been. He saw St Jude's as an exciting development opportunity. I disagreed."

  "And now… now he's gone to all this trouble to get revenge on you? He's had you framed as a killer? A bloody terrorist basically, over
a planning dispute? Are you kidding me?"

  There was a moment of silence.

  "Conroy, what the feck are you talking about?"

  "Oh you… you don't know?"

  "Yeah, I've been a bit out of the loop, what with the whole Terry Waite tribute act."

  "Sorry."

  Brigit then brought Bunny up to speed as best she could. He mostly listened in silence, until she got to the part about the calls to Father Franks.

  "I've not spoken to the Padre in sixteen years. He was involved in the… y'know, the planning thing."

  "He said the same thing, about not talking to you I mean. How was he involved in the planning thing?"

  "Let's not get into that. I'd guess Maloney must've found a way of getting stuff onto our phone bills. Leading the Gardaí on a merry dance, adding to this Púca bollocks. He's… I guess he's, what – trying to kill off his enemies or some shit? I'm supposed to have killed Craig Blake, Jerome Hartigan—"

  "And his lawyer, I think."

  "Shit, a dead lawyer," said Bunny, "now it really is a tragedy."

  "And John Baylor."

  "Old Snow White? He's dead too?"

  "Yes."

  "That'd explain Maloney trying to link in Franks. He can tell the Gardaí these phone calls are rubbish though, so—"

  "Oh," said Brigit. "I… I didn't get around to telling you yet. The Guards raided the Ark today. Franks is… I'm sorry – he's dead."

  "They killed him?"

  "I don't… last I heard on the radio, they were saying it was an accident. It's all a bit confused, what with the riot and all."

  "There's a fucking riot?" Bunny’s voice echoed off the walls.

  "Yes, ehm… when news of Franks broke I guess… people got… y'know."

  "Christ," said Bunny. "I can’t leave you people alone for five minutes without the whole country going to shite."

  There was a pause and then Bunny spoke so softly as to be barely above a whisper. "Danny and I, we… we'd a lot of history. I thought we'd one day, ye know… straighten it all out."

  "I'm sorry," said Brigit.

  "Speaking of which, are you and Paulie back on the tracks then?"

  "Well it's… I mean, I only found out yesterday and we've been looking for you—"

  "Christ on a pogo stick, you pair. It's like watching two lepers trying to arm-wrestle."

  "Now isn't the time, Bunny."

  "Take it from one who knows, Conroy, now should always be the time."

  "Can I—" Brigit stopped, asking felt like a violation. As always though, her curiosity overrode all. "Who is Simone?"

  There was another silence as even Bunny's breathing quietened.

  "She's the last thing I'll see. She's…"

  The silence again stretched out between them.

  "Hang on," said Brigit, "If you didn't know about Maloney, what did you think this was about?"

  Before Bunny could answer, they were disturbed by a key in the lock. He let go of Brigit's hand and stretched a manacled arm over her. His breathing became gasping pants. "Say nothing and stay back. Close your eyes, don't try to stop—"

  The door opened and bright light flooded in. Brigit shielded her eyes as best she could. Through her fingers she caught a brief glimpse of Bunny's face. A ragged beard grew on a visage so distended in painful shades of black and purple as to be unrecognisable; unrecognisable not just as Bunny, but as a human face. Crusted blood was smeared on Bunny’s chin. Brigit felt her stomach heave even as her heart broke. His swollen eyes clamped shut. His chin pushed forward and upwards towards the light as he screamed his defiance. "C'mon, you prick. Come get me, ye dinky-dicked donkey gobbler."

  Brigit, her eyes now adjusted enough to the light, pulled her hand slowly away.

  The blonde and Coetzee stood before them, each of them holding a gun. Coetzee was once again wearing that vacant smile of amusement. The blonde – Megan, wasn’t it? She at least looked horrified.

  Coetzee tossed a set of keys to Brigit.

  "Unlock him," said the blonde. "It's time."

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  The corridor seemed a lot longer the second time Brigit had to go down it.

  This time, she had Bunny's right arm around her shoulder and was doing her best to hold him up. He was having a lot of difficulty walking under his own steam. His face looked even worse in the full light; the swelling around his eyes and lips making him a sickeningly distorted version of himself. His jumper was a ragged mixture of blood and other stains. He could put hardly any weight on his right leg, so the going was slow. He also held his left arm gingerly in front of him; Brigit suspected it was broken. As he'd first gained his feet, with the help of the wall and Brigit for support, he'd leaned into her. "Conroy," he'd whispered, "I'm not seeing too good here. Yer gonna have to help me."

  For all her medical experience, seeing such a big strong man laid so low was shocking. She put herself under his right armpit. "C'mon, old fella, let’s get you out of here."

  Coetzee shoved her in the back again.

  "And you can piss off and all, you psycho son of a bitch. Beating on a man chained to a wall. Why don't you—"

  She stopped as she felt the barrel of a gun being pushed into the back of her head.

  "Coetzee," came Megan’s voice, unseen behind them, "that is enough."

  They'd been shoved into the large, hangar-like area that took up most of the building. The big wooden doors that Brigit had stood outside maybe an hour ago were at one end. Inside them sat Maloney's BMW and Brigit's own car. They both had their lights on to help illuminate the large space. At the other end of the room, mobile floodlights threw light upon an area containing a table and some chairs. From what else she could see in the semi-darkness around them, the room was littered with rusted hulks of machinery and random chunks of debris.

  As they finally reached the circle of light, Megan gave Brigit a hand to lower Bunny down into one of the plastic chairs. Then Coetzee pushed her into the other one.

  "Put your hands behind your back," said Megan.

  Brigit complied, and winced as Megan bound them together, the cable ties cutting into her skin. She then stood in front of Bunny. "And you – hands behind your back."

  "Normally," said Bunny, squinting in the direction of her voice, "I'd be mad for a bit of light bondage with a lovely lady but alas, your gorilla has broken my collarbone, so I can't."

  Megan looked down at him for a second and then looked at Coetzee, who actually smiled and shrugged. Megan mumbled something under her breath and stepped back.

  Brigit could hear footsteps approaching from behind them. "Ah, Mr McGarry, so good of you to join us." Maloney swaggered into the circle of light and then stopped when he saw the state of Bunny's face. He glanced at Megan who looked pointedly at Coetzee.

  Maloney looked at him briefly, then averted his gaze and spoke quietly. "I never said to… the body was supposed to be identifiable. How do we explain…"

  Maloney left it hanging. Like most people, faced with the evidence of such sheer brutality, he seemed unable to fully comprehend it. Coetzee just shrugged again, like a teenager who was being told off by someone who they knew had no real authority over them.

  "Who's that?" interrupted Bunny.

  The smile returned to Maloney's face, as if a switch had been flipped. He tapped the gun he held against his leg as he spoke. "Oh, I know it has been a while, but don't tell me you've forgotten me? I've not aged that badly. Certainly better than you've done." Maloney grinned at Megan, who forced a half-hearted smile back in his direction.

  "Sorry, champ," said Bunny, "I'm afraid I can't see a bloody thing here. Who are ye?"

  "Paschal Maloney."

  "Never heard of you."

  "Most amusing."

  "Were you the lad I arrested for fucking that goat?"

  Terrified as she was, Brigit smiled to herself. Bunny, despite everything, was still Bunny.

  "My name is Paschal Maloney."

  "Did you used
to be a woman?"

  "No, I… no. Take this seriously."

  "I am. I support your choices and that. I was trapped in a woman's body once meself."

  "Yes, ha ha," said Maloney in a humourless whine, "Do try and enjoy these last moments, Mr McGarry, for all the good they'll do you. You know very well who I am. Sixteen years ago you humiliated me and tried to ruin my life."

  "Christ, we were courting? You should've said. Be fair, I bet I bought you a bag of chips at least."

  "I'll tell you who I am," said Maloney, irritation etched across his pudgy little face. "I'm the man who had you kidnapped and who has been systematically destroying your life. I'm the man who has made you public enemy number one. I'm the man who has made you into the big bad Púca." Maloney giggled hysterically, nobody else did.

  Bunny tilted his head in the general direction of Megan. "Seriously, who the fecking hell is this guy?"

  "Ignore the idiot, Paschal," interjected Megan, "Let's just—"

  "No, no," said Maloney, "let him enjoy himself, this is good. Laugh it up McGarry. Laugh. It. Up."

  Megan stepped forward and placed her hand on Maloney's arm, "Paschal, maybe we should—"

  He shook her off roughly. "Shut up, Megan."

  "Now, now," said Bunny, "there's no need to be ungentlemanly. I do know who you are. You're her boyfriend. She talks about you all the time. And she's right; it isn't that big a deal and it does happen to a lot of men."

  Maloney stepped forward and shoved his gun into Bunny's forehead, pushing his head back. "You think you're clever, don’t you? Let me tell you what clever is. I think you deserve to know your place in the grand scheme of things."

  "Couldn't give a monkey’s, to be honest with ye."

  Maloney ignored him. He pulled what appeared to be a silver cigarette case from his pocket and flipped it open. In it sat four ordinary looking black data sticks. “Do you see these?”

  “You’re not getting the whole ‘blind’ thing, are you?”

  “You wouldn’t understand it anyway. All you need to know is that these are the four keys to a buried treasure. Seventy-eight million untraceable dollars, to be exact.”