The Kindness of Psychopaths

by Alan Gorevan

  “They could, but we listen in on all calls, so they’d hardly have plotted his escape that way. And I don’t actually remember Brick getting any calls.”

  He must have been planning this for some time.

  At least Joe had some names to look up.

  Murray led him back the way they’d come, up the metal staircase. On the landing, she paused, took out her cigarettes and slipped one behind her ear. Then she continued walking.

  Joe said, “That’s a filthy habit, you know.”

  “Thanks for the newsflash.”

  “And I thought your break was over.”

  Murray smiled. “The next one is just around the corner. Good luck catching him.”

  “You don’t think we’ll get him, do you?”

  Murray shrugged. “He’s a tough man. A personal trainer. And smart too. Did you know he’s a chess whizz?”

  “So what?”

  “That makes him a smart man.”

  “If he’s so smart, then why did he end up in prison?”

  “Have you ever made a mistake? Do you really think the men in here are so much different from you and me?”

  Joe shrugged. Time was running out. He didn’t have time for hypothetical questions.

  “How do I get out of here?” he said.

  Murray smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

  Chapter 33

  The petrol station’s forecourt was quiet. Just the white van on the other side of the pumps. Ken Wall had got into it and the van was sitting there. Engine off. Barry Wall and Handsome sat together in the Mazda, facing the petrol station’s shop.

  There was nobody else around.

  Except the two officers in the patrol car.

  Wall watched it crawl down the road toward the petrol station. A young female Garda was at the wheel. A young male Garda sat in the passenger seat. The girl looked thinner than a skeleton. The guy had a horrible pizza face. They looked young and alert. Eager to make names for themselves. Promotion, power, money.

  Wall’s fingers dug into the steering wheel.

  They could be trouble.

  The patrol car came alongside the forecourt, fifteen feet from where Wall sat. Wall stared hard at the driver. She had a sharp face and small, dark eyes. Her attention was focused on the road, until she looked Wall in the eye.

  “Oh no, mate,” Handsome gasped, lowering himself in his seat.

  Wall stared at the Garda and she stared at him. He was sure that she saw right through him and knew who he was. Fifteen feet away or not. Even with Wall’s shaved head and beardless face.

  She recognised him.

  She knew.

  His pulse started to race.

  If she so much as glanced at the shop, she’d see Buzz inside, causing mayhem.

  What if she needed petrol?

  Wall breathed through his nose. Like a bull.

  Then he noticed the shadowy form of a passenger in the back-seat. A suspect. Wall blew air out of his mouth. They weren’t going to stop, not with a suspect in the car. Not unless they saw something serious.

  The driver looked at Wall for another second, then turned her attention back to the road ahead of her. The car passed by and was gone.

  Handsome sighed.

  He said, “I think I just soiled myself.”

  Wall could see Buzz at the counter. He had the shop assistant by the collar and he was looking out the window. He gave a shrug like, Enough?

  Wall held out his hand.

  “Phone,” he said.

  Handsome handed over his mobile. Wall took it and called Buzz. Inside the shop, Buzz dug his phone out of his pocket.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hit him.”

  Wall hung up.

  He handed Handsome his phone. They turned to watch. Buzz landed a neat blow on the shop assistant’s chin. The young man crumpled onto the floor.

  “Gorgeous,” Handsome laughed.

  “I’ll go get the money,” Wall said.

  “Sounds good, mate.”

  Handsome was expecting five thousand, the same as Buzz. They’d get nothing.

  They thought they were going on a merry chase. They were going nowhere.

  Wall opened the door and got out. He checked that Handsome wasn’t watching, then he lifted the pump and poured petrol onto the ground around the Mazda’s back wheel. When the concrete around the sedan was a pool of petrol, Wall hunkered down and slashed the back-left tire. Just to make sure. Then he walked to the Ford Transit on the other side of the pump.

  The front passenger door was already open. Ken sat behind the wheel. Leech sat in the passenger seat. He nodded at Wall.

  “Alright, Brick?” Leech said.

  Wall hated that stupid name. He was glad Leech was going to be dead in sixty seconds.

  The two brothers looked at each other. They didn’t need words.

  Ken started the engine while Wall went around the back of the van. The doors were open. A bag was sitting in the back. Wall took it out, closed the doors, went back to the front of the van and handed the bag to Leech. He nodded to the sedan in which Handsome sat.

  “They’ll want to count it. Let them. It’s all there. Your cut too. Leave a couple of minutes after us. I’ll see you later. When it’s safe.”

  The man nodded. He got down from the van, took the bag from Wall and walked to the Mazda. Wall watched him. If Leech looked down at his feet, he’d see the petrol. But he didn’t because he was so eager to get at the cash. He got straight into the sedan.

  Buzz came running out of the shop.

  He had taken the opportunity to rob the cash register, though Wall had told him not to. Now bank notes were flitting in the breeze, as Buzz ran over to the sedan and jumped in.

  Buzz, Leech and Handsome. All in one place. Going nowhere.

  Wall got into the van, next to Ken.

  “Good to see you.”

  “You too,” Ken said as he peeled off a pair of latex gloves.

  The two brothers hugged.

  “Did Leech ask why you’re wearing those?”

  “Yeah.” Ken smiled. “I said it was to avoid leaving fingerprints.”

  “He believed you?”

  “Sure. I don’t think he knows anything about explosives.”

  Ken wouldn’t have handled the contents of the bag without gloves. It would have been absorbed through his skin and it would have given him a hell of a headache.

  “This is a blind spot,” Ken said, pointing above. “No one will know you got away. There’s no camera here. Or rather, there is one, but it’s out of order. I checked.”

  Ken handed Wall a new phone and the bomb’s detonator.

  A car pulled into the petrol station, a silver Nissan that had seen better days. A man in his thirties was driving and a girl of about ten sat in the back. The father was easing the car towards the sedan containing Buzz, Handsome, Leech and ten pounds of gelignite.

  “Stop that car,” Wall said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “You want to kill a little girl?”

  “Of course not. But it’s a delay.”

  “So hurry up. They won’t see our faces. They’ll be too surprised.”

  “Alright, fine.”

  Wall and Ken fastened their seatbelts. Then Ken accelerated straight at the Nissan. It was a short distance and Ken closed the gap quickly. Wall braced himself as they approached. The driver was distracted, talking to his kid.

  They hit the Nissan with a crunch of crumpling metal, the impact hard enough to trigger the other vehicle’s airbags, and to snap Ken and Wall’s necks back as the van jerked to a halt.

  “You okay?” Ken said.

  “Of course. Let’s go.”

  Ken reversed a few metres, then took off fast, ignoring the traffic on the road outside the petrol station.

  A call came on Wall’s phone. He put it to his ear.

  “What?”

  “What the hell was that about?” Handsome said. “Why did you crash into a car?”
/>   “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Okay, well, there’s a lock on the holdall. I want to check the money before we lead the cops away. What’s the code?”

  “517,” Wall said.

  He could hear Buzz’s voice in the background. As usual, he was impatient. “Where’s the money?”

  Handsome said, “Alright. It’s open.”

  Buzz’s voice was getting louder. “What’s that? Where’s the money?”

  Handsome said, “It’s not here. What’s this thing?”

  Wall smiled. He said, “Gelignite.”

  “What the fuck is that?”

  “It’s mainly nitro-glycerine, with some kieselguhr mixed in. That’s a sedimentary rock, in case you were wondering.”

  He thought of Aidan Donnelly. He’d sat in Wall’s kitchen and Wall had almost got the truth out of him. Then Joe Byrne ruined everything.

  He’d get Donnelly.

  And he’d get Byrne too.

  Soon.

  “Oh shit,” Handsome said.

  Buzz, in the background, said: “I’ll kill you, you fucker. Where’s the money?”

  Leech was shouting too. “I have no idea. I thought it was here. They told me—”

  “I’ll kill you!”

  Ken eased the van’s speed now that they were in traffic. Wall ended the call and slid the phone into the pocket of his jeans. He looked in the rear-view mirror. He could still see the petrol station.

  The Mazda full of ex-cons began to move, then lurched to a stop on its deflated tire.

  Wall teased the detonator’s button with his thumb, readying himself to squeeze it.

  Ken said, “I doubt the underground tanks will ignite.”

  “Me too. But let’s see.”

  Ahead the sky was blue and clear. Wall rolled down his window so he could taste the air. With his thumb, he pressed down the button on the detonator.

  Behind them, the sedan exploded in an immense roar, and the sky burst into flames.

  Chapter 34

  The lot at the back of Donnybrook Garda Station was almost empty when Joe arrived. The station was already closed to the public for the night. He headed straight up the stairs to O’Carroll’s office, but found it empty.

  He continued up the next flight of stairs and made his way to the incident room – the place where the team investigating Wall’s outbreak would meet and talk through leads, collate information, and figure out everything that needed to be figured out.

  Detective Inspector David O’Carroll was standing at the front of the room looking at a white board. Someone had written BARRY WALL on it and drawn lines to ACCOMPLICE 1 and ACCOMPLICE 2. A few times, places and other pieces of information were scrawled on the board.

  It took Joe a second to realise that O’Carroll was not alone. A fresh-faced blonde in a crisp blue blouse and a charcoal skirt stood next to him. Joe figured she was in her late twenties. With the outfit and her severe ponytail, she looked like an ambitious solicitor. The woman turned her hazel eyes on Joe. She didn’t look particularly happy to see him and neither did O’Carroll. Joe wondered if she was connected to Ger Barrett. Another one of his legal representatives? That whole scene with Ger Barrett, Kevin Boyle and the backpack of cash felt like it had happened years ago.

  “Ah, Joe. So there you are,” O’Carroll said. “Meet Detective Garda Alice Dunne. She’s just been transferred here from Cork. I was going to make the introductions in the morning, but since you’re here…”

  Dunne held out her hand. Her skin felt warm and soft. She didn’t blink as she gazed at him.

  “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  Joe said, “I’m not sure how you talk in Cork, but things aren’t very formal in Donnybrook. We’re mostly on first-name terms.”

  Except me, Joe thought.

  He rarely used anyone’s name at all.

  Dunne smiled. “It’s the same in Cork. But I didn’t want to presume anything. You know how that can rub people up the wrong way.”

  Her face, which had seemed somewhat plain at first sight, became animated when she talked, taking on an almost magnetic quality. Joe realised he was smiling back at her involuntarily.

  O’Carroll raised his hands, as if embracing both Dunne and Joe, without actually touching them.

  “Joe, I want you to take care of Alice while she gets settled in. I’ve given her the bare facts about Barry Wall. You can tell her the rest.”

  “Of course.”

  “Alice, I want you to work closely with Joe on this case.”

  She said, “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Some Cork accents are thick, but Dunne’s just gave her voice a melodic lilt, so her words seemed to float in the air.

  O’Carroll gestured to the coffee machine. “Still hot if you want it.”

  Joe did. He poured himself a cup and knocked it back, though it was bitter. Probably it had been stewing for an hour or two on the hot plate. Better than nothing though.

  He told them what he’d learned from visiting The Mater Hospital and Mountjoy Prison. Dunne’s eyes burned into him as he spoke. O’Carroll didn’t bat an eyelid when Joe mentioned Timmy Martin, how he’d said Barry Wall wanted Joe dead.

  “The usual bluster,” O’Carroll said.

  Maybe he was right.

  When Joe mentioned the names of the men Wall had worked with in the prison kitchen, and who had been released recently, O’Carroll wrote them on the white board. He wrote PERSONS OF INTEREST over the names.

  He listened to the rest of Joe’s report, then said he’d already put out a bulletin for Wall’s arrest. Every officer in the country was looking for him. There would be no getting away. Officers downstairs were poring over CCTV footage. Forensics people were working on fibres recovered from the crime scene. Uniforms were scouring the streets.

  O’Carroll said, “Mark my words. He’s going to turn up at the airport or a ferry port with a fake ID and a ticket to Spain, just like that prisoner told you. That’s when we’ll catch him. We just need to keep a watch out for him.”

  Joe said, “I’m not so sure about that. Wall wants revenge on Aidan Donnelly. I think we should put surveillance on him.”

  “That’s not in the budget,” O’Carroll said, “and it’s unnecessary. Look, you’ve had a long day. Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow you can take a shift watching the airport, if Wall hasn’t turned up by then.”

  Arguing with him was pointless, so Joe didn’t.

  “Go on, get out of here,” O’Carroll said, showing an uncharacteristic amount of selflessness. Joe was pretty sure he was doing it for Alice Dunne’s benefit rather than his.

  Dunne followed Joe out onto the corridor and they walked downstairs together. “Do you know where I could get a bite to eat?” Dunne asked.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Something spicy.”

  “There’s a Chinese place down the road. They do Thai food too. They’ll make it as hot as you can handle.”

  “Sounds great,” Dunne said with a smile that lit up her whole face. “Which way is it?”

  “Are you driving?” Joe asked.

  “Not today.”

  “I can drop you at the restaurant if you like.”

  “That would be great.”

  She touched his upper arm, just for a second. It was enough to send a quiver of excitement through Joe’s body. He led her out to the car park, unlocked the Honda and got in. Dunne eased herself into the passenger seat. Her movements were smooth and efficient.

  “Do you know Donnybrook?” he said.

  “Not really. I’ve heard it’s a good area, though.”

  “It’s not bad.”

  “Where are you from? You sound like a Dubliner. But your accent is light.”

  Joe nodded. “I grew up not far from here.”

  He pulled out of the lot and swung out onto Morehampton Road. The radio was on, turned to the news. When Joe heard the word “explosion”, he turned up the volume. Something had happened at
a petrol station on the north side of the city.

  Dunne cocked her head to the side as she listened.

  “How hungry are you?” Joe said.

  “I can hold off for a while, if you want to see what that explosion was about?”

  “You read my mind.”

  Joe pointed the Honda towards the city centre.

  An explosion.

  He thought of that day at Barry Wall’s house. How he’d made his way around the side and seen Aidan Donnelly through the kitchen window. Joe remembered the sight of the bomb. He remembered the sound of it when it detonated, shredding Wall’s kitchen and throwing Annie-Marie Cunningham out the front door. In the aftermath of the blast, Joe had found Wall out cold. He’d cuffed him while he was still unconscious. Then he’d called it in. That day, Wall’s house had turned into a circus of emergency-service vehicles for the second time.

  All this passed through Joe’s mind in a flash.

  He turned on the car’s lights and siren, and stomped on the accelerator.

  Chapter 35

  Lisa O’Malley was filling the dishwasher. As usual, she ran the plates under the tap before loading them neatly into the machine. Separated from her by the dishwasher, Graham popped the lid on a bottle of Budweiser and leaned back against the kitchen counter. He shook his head, baffled. “Why’d you clean them first?” he said.

  “I don’t want food to clog up the machine.”

  “Don’t you care if it clogs up the sink?”

  Lisa shot him a look.

  “Sorry, it’s just that the kid’s giving me a headache,” Graham said.

  “You know how upset he is.”

  Graham nodded. “Joe was never going to come. That’s just the way he is. Chris shouldn’t get so worked up about it.”

  He could hear the little bastard stomping around in his bedroom. Was he sixteen or six? What a baby. He’d hardly said a word since he got home from school, and he’d barely touched the birthday cake Lisa made. Graham had enjoyed it though.

  Lisa glanced at Graham’s beer. “You said you were going to cut the hedge tonight, right?”

  “Oh yeah.” He took a sip and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I can do that. I just want to chill out for a few minutes first. Get rid of this headache.”

  “Why don’t you do some painting?”