Sleeping Dogs

by Chris Simms

  A look of irritation appeared on Darragh’s face. ‘You think we could stop them? Us? Sean, Liam, Denis and Conor Barry. A few cousins as back up?’

  Devlan wiped the tip of the blade on his trouser leg. ‘We’ve survived in this country for hundreds of years. You reckon when Francisco swam ashore from the Concepción, he looked at the O’Flaherty’s butchering his mates and thought, I’m fucked? No he kept Pio by his side and he began to fight.’ He thrust the tiny knife at his brother. ‘He didn’t start fucking snivelling, like. And you can have that for nothing.’

  ‘So it’s one man and his dog again is it?’ Darragh laughed incredulously. He turned to his father. When he saw the gleam of pride in the old man’s eyes his smile vanished. ‘Dad?’

  ‘Enough,’ the old man eventually said, pressing a forefinger on the mobile phone. ‘This is why we never speak about that thing. Not to anyone, ever.’ He looked at Devlan. ‘Did you say anything to Denis?’

  ‘Nah, did I fuck. Told him the guy came at me with a bottle, that’s all.’

  ‘Good.’ Gerrard took his finger off the phone. ‘Get rid of it, now.’

  Devlan slid the phone’s back cover off, popped the battery out and then stepped over to the stove. Using the damp tea towel to protect his fingers, he swung the door open and threw the handset onto the glowing embers. The door shut with a clang. ‘Where is the fucking slag?’

  ‘She called in with the shopping,’ Gerrard answered. ‘Then went back to your flat to get some sleep, she said.’

  Grinning, Devlan walked over to the breakfast bar and put the knife on it. ‘I’ll pop over and wake her up.’

  ‘Who is she?’ Darragh asked. ‘Did the solicitor say?’

  Devlan shook his head. ‘I did everything to that man. Worked him for I don’t know how long. I think it was his heart eventually, just gave out on him.’

  ‘Did he say anything at all?’ Gerrard demanded uneasily, eyes on the phone as it began to give off curls of smoke.

  ‘Yeah, bits. Told me he’d passed a load of stuff to the peeler.’ He glanced at Darragh. ‘Spreadsheets, are they called? Any documents she could grab that were left lying around.’

  Darragh sat back. ‘None of that is incriminating in itself. More inconvenient. We might have to get on to Julian at Blackman and May, shift some funds around. What about the thing?’ He nodded at the phone. ‘Does Spicer know?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’

  Gerrard brought his hands together, as if in prayer. ‘I don’t like this. We need Spicer. And we need to get hold of Hazel, too.’

  ‘She can’t be working with the Guards anyhow,’ Devlan stated. ‘She wouldn’t be taking that phone to the solicitor if she was.’

  ‘True,’ Darragh answered. ‘But what’s the link with this Spicer person? If she’s been feeding information to him via the solicitor, she must know him somehow.’

  ‘From when she lived in Manchester,’ Gerrard replied.

  The corners of Darragh’s mouth turned down. ‘Can’t see her being mates with a peeler. Maybe it’s to do with the girl Spicer’s been after.’

  Devlan turned to the wood burner. Greenish flames were now shooting from the buckled remains of the mobile. ‘She’ll tell us. When we hang her over the edge of the pit and make her watch Cuchallain with Spicer, she’ll tell us.’ The thought seemed to mesmerise him for a second. ‘Has Sean rung?’

  ‘Just before you got back,’ Gerrard replied. ‘He delivered the message. Now we wait for the peeler’s call.’

  It was another six miles to Clifden when Liam tapped a finger on the dashboard. ‘Pull over, would you. I’ve got to shit.’

  ‘What, right now?’

  ‘I’m touching cloth here, pull over.’

  Sean eased the car onto the verge. ‘If you’d let me take the bog road, we’d be back by now.’

  ‘Probably,’ the other man grunted. ‘But that thing gives me the willies, so it does. Got any tissues?’

  Sean gave him a look.

  He hauled himself out and walked stiffly towards a gate set back into the dry-stone wall.

  The ring of Sean’s mobile started up and he looked down at the screen. A number he didn’t recognise. The peeler? ‘Sean here.’

  ‘Sean, it’s Brendan Molloy, can you talk?’

  The Sinn Féin official. Sean’s eyes immediately went to his rear-view mirror. Liam was testing the gate, readying himself to climb over it. ‘Yeah, but be quick. Did you get my message about what the de Avilas are planning?’

  ‘Yes. There’s been a lot happening this end. Sean, I’m with a colleague. You’re on loudspeaker.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Rory Duggan.’

  Sean Doyle licked his lips. Duggan had been with the party donkey’s years. A regular face flanking McGuiness or Adams when they appeared on the telly.

  ‘Hello Sean, it’s Rory. We’ve not met, but I’ve heard a lot about you. We appreciate you getting in contact.’

  Sean checked his mirror again. Liam was about to start climbing over. ‘No problem.’

  ‘Sean, I want to be clear about something,’ Duggan said. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Betraying the people who pay you – and just to protect a British policeman.’

  Sean thought about Devlan. It was now obvious the man was a borderline psychopath, with all the risks and unpredictability that involved. When Cuchullain fell ill, the tour they’d arranged over in England should have been cancelled, end of story. But Devlan had insisted on taking Queenie instead, a dog they’d acquired to breed from. That was unforgivable. Then to use that dog – the result of such careful nurturing – to attack a family in a park. The fucking idiot. Then to lie about opening a window in that holiday bungalow. If the de Avila family was about to fall, Clochán kennels would be no more and the plan to establish a new, Irish, line of Alanos would come to nothing. Sean wanted to slam a hand on the dashboard. To cap it all, the family were now planning to kill a Tan policeman – jeopardising the entire quest for independence as a result. ‘I said to Brendan, I’ve no desire to protect that peeler. But I know how things are balanced with you boys. All you’ve struggled to achieve these last years. The ceasefire. I didn’t believe it could work. But fair play to you, it has. And now this family – this bunch of dago-descended pricks – will happily fuck it all up. Clear enough?’

  He heard a quiet murmuring before Brendan spoke again. ‘Sean, this situation in Clifden with the de Avila family. What’s happening now?’

  ‘I’ve just delivered a message to Spicer. They want him out at that pet-food place on the Letterfrack road. They intend to kill him.’

  ‘Golden Fields farm?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s what we gather from someone else.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘We got a call a wee bit earlier. The person played us a conversation recorded on a mobile phone. Our copy isn’t the best. We’re expecting the actual phone very soon. In the meantime, we’d like your opinion.’

  ‘Opinion?’

  ‘We think it’s the de Avilas speaking, but you’ll know better than us.’

  Sean checked his mirror again. No sign of Liam. ‘OK, let’s hear it.’ The recording started and he had to press the phone to his ear in order to make out what was being said. When it had finished, Sean realised he was staring down at his knees. I don’t believe it. They did Collins in Castlebar. The de Avilas did Francis Collins. Brendan’s voice came down the line. ‘Sean?’

  He drew in breath and checked the mirror again. ‘I thought the security forces got to him.’

  ‘So did we.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘Is that Gerrard de Avila and his two sons speaking?’

  ‘Yes.’ Eyes to the mirror. Liam was now climbing back over.

  ‘We thought so.’

  Sean’s mind was reeling. They were dead. The de Avilas were dead men. ‘How…where did that come from?’

  ‘A man who’s been trying
to convince us of it for years.’

  ‘So…’ Liam was climbing down the other side. ‘I can’t stay long. How will it be done? I mean, you can’t get within a half hour of Clifden without them knowing.’

  ‘Let us worry about that. We need to know when this meeting is taking place between them and Spicer.’

  Liam was now on the grass verge. He paused to examine the orange twine that fastened the gate shut.

  Sean said, ‘As soon as possible. The de Avilas want it to happen later today. I guess that will let them dump the body in South Armagh and be back before morning.’

  ‘We’ve a unit en route, but they’re still some way off. Get it delayed, Sean. I don’t care how, we need more time.’

  ‘How will I – ’ He looked at his mobile. The Sinn Féin official had hung up. He bit at his lip. I don’t have a number for the peeler. Christ, I don’t have his number! He returned the phone to his pocket and looked at his watch. Twenty to four. I can’t drive back to Roundstone to warn him off. Not with Liam in the car, he’ll know something’s up. Shit, what the hell do I do?

  The door opened. ‘Did you hear me?’ Liam asked.

  Sean shook his head.

  ‘No? Jesus, I ate in that Chinaman’s restaurant last night. Now? My arse is like the exhaust of batman’s car.’

  Jon sat at the kitchen table facing Kieron. In the corner, Eileen poured boiling water into a teapot. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said again.

  Kieron waved a hand. ‘I said not to worry. They won’t bother us.’

  You’re wrong, Jon wanted to say. You don’t know what they tried over in England. Christ, he thought, looking at the two of them. You’re yet another reason why I’ve got to settle this thing. ‘How often does the council come by emptying bins and stuff?’

  ‘Pardon?’ Eileen frowned.

  Jon looked briefly to the window. ‘Say at Gorteen beach. How often would the bin there be emptied?’

  ‘Gorteen?’ Eileen had arched her eyebrows. ‘This time of year? Practically never.’

  ‘In the last week or so?’

  ‘No – we haven’t had a bin lorry come by for weeks.’

  Thank God for that, Jon thought. He pictured the two cassettes. They’d been lying in an open-topped bin for a week. During that time, there’d been sleet, snow and rain. The things were probably ruined. ‘Gerrard de Avila wants a couple of security tapes I took from the club. He’s prepared to exchange them for Zoë.’

  ‘And you have these tapes?’ Kieron asked.

  ‘I know where they are.’

  ‘That was the message the man relayed?’ Eileen asked.

  ‘Yes. They want to meet me at the place where they make the pet food. Golden Fields Farm.’

  Kieron looked uncomfortable. ‘Who does? Both brothers and the dad?’

  ‘Yes. You don’t seem happy.’

  ‘There’s a rumour. More pub talk really, but it’s been doing the rounds for years now.’

  Jon dipped his head. ‘Go on.’

  Kieron glanced uneasily at Eileen’s back. ‘Some people say the de Avilas used the place to get rid of someone.’

  ‘That story?’ Eileen tutted. ‘Talk in the air is what that story is.’

  Kieron looked over. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Who was this person?’ Jon asked.

  Kieron lowered his voice. ‘I don’t know. A con-artist from Dublin is what I heard. He tried to take the de Avilas for a load of cash.’

  Jon tapped a finger on the edge of the table. ‘It wasn’t Hammell, was it? Tommy Hammell?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Kieron responded. ‘Who’s he?’

  Jon went to scratch his ear, only remembering it was covered in bandages when his fingertips connected with soft material. He lowered his hand. ‘Just a name in a file that was handed to me.’

  Kieron sat forward. ‘Who by?’

  Jon shook his head. ‘I don’t know. This dishevelled-looking bloke. He seemed like a bit of a tramp, to be honest.’

  ‘Well, the story goes that this person ended up as pet food.’

  The sheepdog’s ears went up and a moment later they heard a door opening. The click of Malachy’s walking stick got closer. Jon turned to Eileen who caught his eye and made a placating movement with her hand. The old man appeared in the doorway and looked in uncertainly.

  ‘Dad,’ Eileen said. ‘You’re up. Tea?’

  He shuffled in, stopping for a second when he saw Jon. ‘Thank you, I will.’

  Eileen placed a hand on his arm and Jon listened anxiously as she spoke in Irish. The old man paused to take in her words, shoulders relaxing before he replied in the same language.

  Eileen helped him to his chair by the stove. ‘Jon went for a walk, Dad. Up Errisbeg of all places.’

  Malachy turned to Jon. ‘You went up the mountain? You must be careful, boy. The mists can close in and there’s many a drop you won’t know about until you’re stepping off it.’

  Jon sat back. ‘It was a lot harder than it looks. I wouldn’t want to try and do it twice a day like you did.’

  ‘Ach, well.’ His fingers went to the sheepdog, who had placed its muzzle on his knee. ‘Hello, dog. Hello to you.’

  Kieron gave a cough. ‘Grandad, the de Avila family want to meet with Jon. This business with the girl he’s trying to find.’

  ‘Oh,’ Malachy’s head swung back in Jon’s direction. ‘Did Eileen say? The Guards were here looking for you. I said you were in Clifden again.’

  ‘That’s fine, thanks,’ Jon smiled.

  ‘They say,’ Kieron continued. ‘That Jon can take her – ’

  ‘Gerald?’ Malachy asked.

  ‘No – the son, Gerrard. And his two boys, Darragh and Devlan.’

  ‘I don’t know them,’ Malachy replied, cupping the end of his walking stick with both hands. ‘But I wouldn’t trust them. That’s a family who’ve never been shy if there was lying or stealing to be had.’

  ‘I was thinking Jon should meet them somewhere nearer here,’ Kieron said.

  Jon leaned an elbow on the table. ‘Kieron, they’re not going to try anything. They know I can create havoc with their business.’

  ‘The last person who tried to do that vanished,’ Kieron answered.

  Jon forced his mouth into a smile. ‘Yes – but at the end of the day, I’m a policeman. They know that.’

  ‘Right.’ The pitch of Kieron’s voice had lifted. ‘Like that stopped them from beating the living shit out of you.’

  Jon couldn’t help touch his swollen eye. ‘That was just payback. The person who did this? I broke his nose last week. We’re even, now. But if you really think I shouldn’t go to that farm, then where?’

  Kieron looked at Malachy. ‘I’m thinking the bog road. There’s no way they can spring any surprises there.’

  A glint appeared in the old man’s eyes. ‘The halfway house.’

  Jon looked from one man to the other. ‘I don’t follow.’

  Kieron turned to him. ‘Tell them you’ll meet them at the halfway house. Just the three of them and this Zoë.’

  Jon considered it. As a rendezvous point, it was good. It could only be accessed by the single-lane road and everything was out in the open. ‘OK, that could work.’

  ‘And I’ll be there,’ Kieron said, ‘to watch your back.’

  Jon wagged his forefinger. ‘Thanks for the offer, but no way. I go there alone. I won’t involve you any more than I already have.’

  His cousin crossed his arms. ‘Two of their thugs were parked out front earlier. We’re already involved. And they are not people you can trust.’

  ‘Kieron, even if I wanted to take you along, they won’t just bimble out there without checking it first. In fact, they’ll probably have men at each end of the road. They’ll check me and my car to make sure I’m alone.’

  ‘And you will be,’ Kieron grinned. ‘I’ll go on foot. Setting off from here, it’ll take me about an hour.’

  Jon glanced at Malachy who smiled right back. ‘He’
s right.’

  ‘How’s that possible?’ Jon asked.

  ‘If you know the bog like I do, it’s easy. I set off now, I’ll get there first. Tuck myself in behind a rock with the shotgun – ’

  Jon raised his hands. ‘Wait, wait, wait, wait. A shotgun?’

  Eileen spoke up. ‘This is talk without sense! Kieron, your father will not allow you out there with that gun.’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ her son retorted. ‘I’ll not use it. A precaution is all it is.’

  ‘It’s a fine idea,’ Malachy said, banging his stick down.

  Eileen whirled on him. ‘Dad! You should know better. Jon – tell them.’

  ‘She’s right,’ he nodded. ‘It’s really not a good idea.’

  Kieron waved a hand. ‘Sure it won’t be loaded. But if they try to play a trick on you, I pop up from nowhere with both barrels trained on them. They’ll soon think again.’

  Jon shook his head. ‘Kieron, I appreciate the offer. But this is something I need to do alone. I’ll meet them on the bog road by that halfway house, but it’ll be just me.’

  ‘Well,’ Malachy was looking towards the window. ‘You’ll need to telephone to them now – if you want this meeting while you still have the day.’

  Jon realised the light was starting to fade. He pulled out the piece of paper Sean had thrown at him. ‘Kieron, can I borrow your mobile?’

  Chapter 47

  Sean Doyle walked slowly before the plate-glass windows, phone pressed to his ear. ‘Your rucksack, yeah. And all three, yeah, I heard you first time. I know the halfway house, but I’ll need to check that with – ’ He stopped speaking. Lowering the phone, he turned to the watching de Avilas. ‘He wants to meet the three of you on the bog road. The halfway house.’

  ‘Halfway house?’ Devlan scowled, thrusting a hand out. ‘Give him here. Since when does he tell us what to do?’

  ‘He’s hung up,’ Sean replied, returning the phone to his pocket. ‘That’s what he said. The halfway house on the bog road, one hour’s time. He wasn’t up for discussing it.’

  ‘Why all three of us?’ Darragh asked suspiciously.

  ‘That’s what he said – so there could be no misunderstanding about settling everything.’