Sleeping Dogs

by Chris Simms

  ‘Fuck him.’ Devlan kicked his legs out. ‘Phone him back – ’

  ‘Hang on,’ Darragh cut in, a forefinger stroking his chin.

  Gerrard turned to him with a questioning expression. ‘Let’s hear it, son.’

  ‘Well…I’m thinking it might not be such a bad idea.’

  ‘The bog road?’ Devlan scoffed. ‘Why would we want to go out there?’

  ‘The Guards are all over town – checking all our properties, stopping cars, asking questions,’ Darragh continued. ‘To get to Golden Fields we have to drive through the centre of Clifden. That bog road? We can skirt round the edge of town to get to it. No one can follow without us knowing. It’s the perfect place when you think about it. Middle of bloody nowhere.’

  Gerrard made a clicking sound with his tongue as he weighed the suggestion up. ‘You’re right about it not being near anything else.’ Something sparked in his eyes. ‘And if we grab him there, he can be taken straight on up to South Armagh. Get’s the whole thing done nice and quick.’

  Devlan sat up. ‘Hang on, what about Cuchullain? We’re going to set him on the peeler, aren’t we?’

  ‘No,’ Gerrard replied. ‘It’ll be simpler this way. Sean? Take Liam and Denis, check there’s no one parked anywhere on that godforsaken stretch. When you get to the far end, block it. Nobody is allowed past – apart from the peeler. We’ll have Conor and a couple of others watching things this end.’

  ‘What about Hazel?’ Devlan asked moodily, thinking about how the bed had been empty when he’d burst into his flat earlier on. ‘Conor’s still looking for her round town.’

  ‘She’ll show, don’t you worry,’ Gerrard replied. ‘Sean? Liam? Out to Denis’s place, fetch him and the three of you get going.’

  They were opening the front door when Devlan called out. ‘Sean? Get Denis to bring his shotgun and that toolbox.’

  ‘OK.’ The door banged shut.

  Gerrard placed his hands on his knees. ‘Right, how best shall we do this?’

  ‘I’ll take a van,’ Devlan immediately replied.

  Darragh sighed. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m bringing Cuchullain.’

  ‘I said no,’ Gerrard replied.

  Darragh nodded. ‘We don’t need that bloody great thing.’

  ‘We do,’ Devlan said triumphantly. ‘Think about it. When Spicer realises it’s a set-up, he’s going to try and get away.’

  ‘We have the road blocked at each end.’

  ‘What if he just runs into the bog and fucking sinks? We want the tapes, we need to find out exactly what he knows and you want his body, remember? To make it look like some republican headers did it.’

  Gerrard nodded reluctantly.

  ‘You’re going to like this,’ Devlan said, eyes gleaming as he reached into his army jacket. He removed the clear plastic bag with the mangy old tennis ball inside.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ Darragh asked.

  Devlan smirked. ‘The peeler wants his rucksack, doesn’t he? This ball is what his dog liked to chew on. I wipe it all over the rucksack and it’ll give Cuchullain a target – so he knows what to attack. Da, it’ll be a sight. Cuchullain will bring him down in two seconds and hold him still. We then tie the bastard up and hood him.’

  Gerrard grunted in agreement. ‘He’s right. The dog’s trained for that.’

  They looked to Darragh, who threw out his hands. ‘Fine.’

  ‘OK,’ Gerrard said.’ We find out exactly what he knows, then we gag him before driving him to where Sean and the others’ll be waiting. That way, he can’t say another word in front of them.’

  Devlan was banging his hands against his knees. ‘There’s plenty of room in the back of the van! We can let Cuchullain have a chew, then use Denis’ toolkit on him. When we reach South Armagh, we just roll him out, turn round and come home.’

  Darragh looked queasy. ‘Who’s we?’

  Devlan grinned. ‘Don’t worry. Me and Sean’ll do it. Unless you want to come for the ride, like?’

  Darragh looked away. ‘No thanks.’

  ‘OK.’ The old man hauled himself to his feet. ‘I’ll take the Mitsubishi. Darragh, you jump in with me. Devlan, fetch Cuchullain.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Meet at the bog road turn-off in half an hour.’

  Devlan jumped up. ‘Can’t wait to see his face when Cuch’ jumps out of the van.’

  Jon hung up. ‘Right, that’s it. Meeting in an hour.’

  Kieron shook his head. ‘They’ll try something.’

  Jon reached into his jacket, removed his warrant card and laid it on the table. ‘Surely you agree this counts for something?’

  ‘You think that badge will protect you from someone like Devlan? He’s not right in his head, Jon.’

  ‘Well, it’s a risk I have to take.’ He slipped his warrant card back in his jacket. ‘Mind if I use your mobile to call my wife? I really need to speak with her.’

  ‘Help yourself.’

  Eileen gestured at the door. ‘Ring from the other room, Jon. It’ll be quieter for you in there.’

  Once inside, he went to access the address book. It dawned on him that his wife’s number wouldn’t be inside. He stared at his reflection in the window, registering the nonplussed expression on his face. Christ, what’s her number? I’ve never needed to remember it before. He tapped the phone against his palm in confusion. Shit. This is ridiculous, I don’t have the faintest idea of what her mobile is. In fact, there’s only one number I do know off by heart. Mum and Dad’s. He peered across at the Twelve Bens. The bottom half of the range was now completely in shadow. Please don’t pick up, he thought as their number started to ring. I don’t have time for this. Just let me leave a message for you to pass to Alice.

  ‘Alan Spicer speaking.’

  Jon felt his breath catch in his throat. ‘Alan, it’s me.’

  ‘Jon! About bloody time. Do you know how worried everyone is? They found your luggage at Manchester airport.’

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘Rick.’

  ‘He’s got it?’

  ‘Yes. Alice is beside herself.’ His voice grew hoarse as his voice dropped. ‘To be honest son, I’ve been, too. Alice said you’ve taken a knock or two. Are you…how bad are you, Jon?’

  Guilt suddenly bloomed as memories came back. Riding on Alan’s shoulders, my hands fiddling in his hair. Cricket on the beach at Prestatyn – him tirelessly going to fetch the ball. The hours he spent on the touchline, cheering me on during my junior rugby days. He had to clear the lump in his throat. ‘I’m all right, Dad, honestly. Listen, I’ve been trying to ring Ali but my mobile’s bust. Can you get me her number?’

  ‘Hang on, your mother will know where it is. I’ll put her on – ’

  ‘No! Don’t…don’t bother her. Can’t you dig it out?’

  ‘Me? I don’t know where she’ll keep it.’ He spoke away from the phone. ‘Mary? It’s Jon. He wants Alice’s number, here you speak to him. Get yourself home, son.’

  His mum came on the line. ‘Jon! Thank goodness for that. Alice is worried sick, we all are. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m in Roundstone, Mum. At Grandad’s.’

  Silence.

  ‘Mum – I’m in a real hurry. Can you just pass Alice a message? Tell her I’m fine. I’m just about to collect Zoë and sort things out with the de Avilas. I’m not sure about Sunday evening flights, but hopefully I’ll be back late tonight.’

  ‘With Zoë?’

  ‘Maybe. I haven’t even spoken to her yet.’

  She was quiet for a second. ‘Alice said you’d stayed in Roundstone last night.’

  ‘I did. Malachy’s very well, Mum. A bit shaky on his feet, but otherwise seems healthy. Mum? They’ve all been asking after you. Eileen, Malachy – ’

  ‘I’ll pass your message on to Alice.’

  Here we go again, Jon thought. She’s raising the barriers. Well, it’s too late for that. ‘I’ve also met Eileen’s son, Kieron. He’s thirty-one, got three
kids of his own already. I don’t think Malachy can keep count of his grandkids, what with Holly and our second on the – ’

  ‘I’ll let Alice know.’

  Jon ran a palm over his face. ‘Mum,’ he whispered, ‘I know, OK? I know the score about me. Whatever happened all those years ago, they’re so sad to not still know you. Malachy especially. He misses you so much.’ He paused. ‘Mum? Don’t cry. There’s no need. There’s no need to be upset.’ He could feel tears running down his own cheeks. ‘Alan’s my dad. Not…not anyone else. Nothing can change that. Mum?’

  He listened as she quietly wept.

  Eventually, her sobbing slowed. ‘I…I need to speak…’ she sniffed. ‘Alan.’

  Jon nodded. ‘You two talk. But tell him, won’t you? He’s my dad and I love you both.’

  Sean pulled up and beeped his horn. Dogs started barking from inside the ramshackle cottage. On the front gate was a small plaque. Below an image of a snarling pit bull was the word, Beware. A downstairs light was on and they waited a minute. ‘Give him a knock, will you?’

  Liam grimaced. ‘Can’t you just beep again? I hate those bloody animals. Scare the shite out of me, so they do.’

  ‘Just go round the back. He’ll be in his workshop.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ Liam hissed, opening the car door and getting out.

  As soon as the other man set off, Sean whipped his phone out. ‘It’s me. Halfway house on the bog road, about forty minutes’ time. Gerrard, Darragh and Devlan. You’ll not get the three of them together outside Clifden again.’ He listened for a moment. ‘The bog road – goes from the outskirts of town across to Roundstone. They’re meeting at its mid-point. Where are your lot? OK. One problem – they’ll see you coming from a way off.’ He listened for a few seconds. ‘I’ll be at the Roundstone end of it. Me and two others.’ He shoved the phone in his pocket and started tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

  ‘Alice, it’s Mary. Jon just called.’

  ‘He did? When?’

  ‘He said to tell you he’s fine. He’s going to fetch Zoë and he hopes to be back home later tonight.’

  ‘When? When was this?’

  ‘When did he call?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘About half an hour ago, I think.’

  ‘Half an hour?’

  ‘Sorry, Alice. I needed to speak with Alan, I’m sorry – ’

  ‘Where was he calling from?’

  ‘Roundstone. He was at his grandfather’s.’

  ‘Did he leave a number?’

  ‘No – he said there isn’t a phone in the house. But I did that last-number thing. That function, you know, where you call and they tell you – ’

  ‘What is it, Mary? What number did he call on? I need to let his work colleagues know.’

  Kieron looked to the west. The tops of the Twelve Bens were now in darkness. Above them, a few streaks of pink cloud fought to keep ahead of the slab of grey cloud closing off the sky. The temperature had dropped.

  He adjusted the shotgun strapped across his back and examined the terrain before him. The bog was silent, a silvery maze of water stretching away into the distance.

  As he picked his way forward once more, the saturated land sucked and squelched at his feet. The tips of the trees in the middle of Cormorant Lake were now just visible. Fifteen minutes, he thought, and I’ll be there.

  The phone in his pocket started to ring and he jumped at the sudden intrusion of sound. Jesus, he thought, reaching into his jacket and turning it off. The last thing I need is for that thing to give me away.

  Devlan came to a halt at the end of the track and looked at the half-built property before him. The roof tiles were on and the front door in, but the walls were exposed breeze-blocks, awaiting a layer of render and coating of weatherproof paint. Sheets of chipboard filled all the window frames to keep the rain from blowing in.

  He got out of the vehicle. The sound of waves breaking on the nearby beach filled the air. After picking a large torch off the seat, he turned on the fluorescent tube running down its side. The light flickered into life as he lifted a hand-axe and inserted the handle in the waistband of his trousers. Last, he picked up Jon’s rucksack. He took another look at the deserted house. The dog would be starving.

  At the front door he made a point of jangling the keys before inserting one in the lock. ‘Cuch,’ he called softly. ‘Cuch, it’s me, Devlan. You there, boy?’ He listened at the door. Not a sound. Jesus, he thought, nervously licking his lips. At least Queenie would make a noise, even if it was just a welcoming growl. Tentatively, he opened the door a few inches. ‘Cuch? Hey boy, it’s me.’

  Nothing was waiting on the other side. Torch and rucksack in one hand, he used his shoulder to push the door fully open, his other hand hovering at his side, ready to grab the axe. ‘Cuch, you there?’

  The soft light from the torch lit the first few feet before him, but not much more than that. He knew there was a wall about twelve feet in front – the main load-bearing one for the property. All the internal walls had yet to be put in, along with the plumbing and wiring. Swivelling the torch one way then the other, he examined the thick shadows at either end of the bare room. Was Cuchullain lurking there? A neat pile of planks, left by the builders, had been reduced to a scattering of shards and splinters. Shit, Devlan thought, those things were two inches thick. ‘Cuch?’ Nothing moved. He held the torch as far before him as he could and was able to make out the empty doorway leading into the other half of the house.

  The lower part of the frame was missing large chunks. He wondered whether to just switch to the torch’s main beam. At least it would let me fucking see properly, he thought. But he also knew how much the dog disliked having bright lights shone directly at it. Heart thudding, he called more loudly. ‘Cuch, you in here?’

  Above him, a floorboard creaked. His eyes shot to the ceiling then across to the stairway. Enormous pawprints showed in the dust. Something was moving above him. A slow pad, approaching the stairs. ‘Cuch?’ His chuckle was forced and dry. ‘You been up in the bedrooms, have you?’

  A dark mass detached itself from the blackness at the top step. Devlan lifted the torch and two discs briefly shone. Those eyes, he thought. Dead, like a shark’s.

  The animal began to descend, muscles bunching on one shoulder then the other as it took each step. All the while, its gaze stayed on Devlan. By the time it was halfway down he could make out the tigerish markings covering it. He kept his hand at his side, ready to grab his weapon. Only when the animal reached the bottom step could he see its sharp little ears weren’t laid back in readiness to attack.

  ‘Cuch, good to see you boy!’ He held out his hand, breath frozen in his throat. The dog walked over and allowed its head to be stroked. Devlan breathed out. ‘Jesus, Cuch. I wish you’d wag your tail or something. Just to let me know we’re friends.’

  The dog’s shoulders pushed against Devlan’s thighs as it brought its huge muzzle close to the rucksack.

  Devlan removed the tennis ball and started smearing it across the surface of the rucksack. ‘Take a good sniff, boy,’ Devlan murmured. ‘That smell? It’s your next meal.’

  Chapter 48

  Jon left the passenger door of Eileen’s old Nissan open as he walked over to the litter bin. A layer of little green sacks full of dog excrement nestled on a few empty bottles, cans and snack wrappers.

  Gingerly, he pushed it all to the side and reached down to the bottom. His fingers made contact with a hard, sharp corner. Thank fuck for that, he thought, pulling the cassettes out. He held both up by a finger and thumb. Brown water trickled from each case.

  ‘Is that them?’ Eileen called over.

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Surely they’ll never play?’

  He walked back to her car. ‘I doubt that matters. They just want them back.’

  She nodded at a packet of tissues on the dashboard. ‘You’ll need them. And you be careful now.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll see you in a
little bit.’ He took his wooden staff along with the tissues and pushed the door shut.

  The car pulled away. He walked over to the black Peugeot, put the cassettes on the roof and started to wipe his fingers clean. From the direction of the village came the lonely sound of a single tolling bell. Sunday evening mass, Jon thought. Why Eileen was in a hurry. He studied the fields at the foot of Errisbeg. Did farmers normally go to check their sheep at dusk? It seemed a strange time for Kieron to be doing it.

  He opened the car door, slid the wooden staff across the back seat and placed the cassettes on the floor. After making sure his warrant card was in his jacket, he got in. Right. Let’s get this thing over with. He allowed a brief picture of himself on the plane later on, sinking into a soft seat, a drink before him. Maybe Alice and Holly will meet me at the airport. He felt his fingers twitch as he imagined sweeping his daughter up in a giant hug, then kissing Alice. That’s if they don’t run a mile at the sight of my face, he smiled, starting the engine.

  Ten minutes later, his headlights lit up the sign for the N59. He cut his speed in readiness to turn left onto the bog road. A car was parked across the junction. No surprise, he thought, pulling to a stop. Three men got out. He recognised them all – Sean, the one from the factory and the massive fucker who’d smashed his knee with that crowbar. He lowered his window as Sean neared the driver’s door.

  ‘Pop the boot.’

  Jon did as he was asked as the big bastard peered into the back of the car. ‘He’s got a fucking great stick here.’

  The vehicle rocked slightly as Sean slammed the boot closed. Then the rear door opened. Sean reached in and removed the length of wood. There goes my walking stick, Jon thought. His eyes went to the side mirror and Sean held up a hand. The ginger-haired one got into the car and reversed it out the way. As Jon inched past, he saw the driver staring at him with something that resembled a gloating look. What, Jon thought, are you so frigging pleased about? It’s your boss who’s rolling over, not me.

  He smiled back, then increased his speed, following the narrow road as it entered the waterlogged terrain. Smokelike mist seemed to be rising up out of the thick grass, wisps of it trailing across the road. At one point he had to hit the brakes as a creature lolloped out of the haze. Is that, Jon thought, a rabbit? The animal went up on its hind legs and regarded Jon in a way that indicated a keen intelligence. A hare, Jon realised. He edged forward and the creature only hopped out of the way when the front bumper was almost touching it.