The Kindness of Psychopaths

by Alan Gorevan

  Ten minutes earlier, Alice Dunne had reported Joe Byrne’s son, Christopher O’Malley, missing. Boyle was tense, waiting for something more.

  A crackle came over the radio. It was Dunne again, reporting an address where Christopher might be found.

  Boyle memorised it, then left the radio room. In the corridor he ran into Detective Inspector O’Carroll.

  O’Carroll scowled at him.

  “Kevin, I want to see you in my office in five minutes.”

  “I was just going out to—”

  “No.” O’Carroll shook his head. “I don’t want you going anywhere. Do not leave the building. Am I clear?”

  Boyle swallowed.

  He said, “Of course.”

  “Five minutes, Kevin.”

  Boyle waited until O’Carroll was out of sight.

  Then he sprinted to the car park.

  Chapter 89

  Joe arrived at Ken Wall’s property filled with dread. He’d driven as fast as he could, with the lights in the grille flashing and his siren blazing, until he got close.

  He found the property down a narrow road that wound through hills and forest. It was certainly isolated.

  The gate was open. Not what Joe had expected, but he wasn’t sure what to expect anymore. Some junk lay just inside the gate. A rolled-up rug, tied with rope, and a worn-looking barrel.

  He eased the car forward, wondering if he was being watched. There was a two-storey house ahead. To the right was a ramshackle stone building, maybe old stables. He pulled in at the right, behind the building, so his car wouldn’t be obvious to someone in the house.

  Joe hoped Dunne had rounded up the whole power of the force, but even if she had, they were maybe ten or fifteen minutes behind. And when they arrived, they wouldn’t be as quick as Joe was to go in. They’d be thinking strategy, collateral damage, the veracity of the information, whether a warrant was required, if they hadn’t had time to get one. In other words, all kinds of shit that would make them sit on their thumbs.

  Joe’s strategy was simpler.

  He got out of the car and pulled out his Sig. His first order of business was to put a bullet in Barry Wall’s head. He figured if Wall and Ken were there, they’d be holed up in the big house, but he could be wrong about that. The stables were closer, so he decided to clear them first.

  He jogged to the door, which was locked. He went around the side, but found nothing there except weeds. Moss grew on the side of the building. It must have been a long time since any horses were kept there. He continued on to the end of the building. There was another door there.

  Joe tried the handle and it opened. At first the building appeared to be empty. It was pitch dark. After a moment, a voice pierced the silence.

  “Help us.”

  There were figures in the darkness. The voice belonged to his son.

  “Christopher?”

  “Dad?”

  Joe’s heart skipped a beat. He stepped in, cursing himself for not bringing a torch. He reached out his right arm and felt around for a light switch.

  “Other side,” a voice hissed in his ear.

  Joe spun around, but he was too slow. A fist connected with his nose. He saw stars as he hit the ground.

  He forced himself to get back to his feet fast, shaking off the blow.

  The light came on.

  Wall stood in the doorway, his bulk practically blocking out the sun. He looked like a mountain, bigger than Joe remembered. Somehow his shaved head made him look larger still.

  “Give it up, Wall.”

  Joe tried to raise his gun, but suddenly Ken was at his side. Ken grabbed Joe’s wrists and wrenched them behind his back, tying them together with rough rope. The Sig dropped from Joe’s hand.

  Wall stepped closer, his biceps gleaming.

  Joe said, “What do you want with my son? He’s innocent.”

  Wall’s voice was a growl. “What would you know about innocence?”

  From behind, Ken pushed Joe towards his brother. Wall unleashed an almighty volley of blows, lightning fast but with a power that took the wind out of Joe. It was like a pair of huge steel pistons pounding his chest. He was expecting them to tear through his chest and exit through his back.

  It felt like Wall was breaking every bone in Joe’s body. And he just kept going. After five, Joe lost track of the blows. He was in too much pain to count. Christopher was crying out, somewhere behind, in the dark.

  “Dad!”

  Not Joe, but Dad.

  Then the thought was obliterated.

  Joe couldn’t reply. Couldn’t say anything. If Ken hadn’t been holding him up, he would have fallen to his knees. That was for sure.

  Wall paused.

  As far as Joe could tell, he hadn’t broken a sweat.

  “My wife is dead,” Wall said. “What of her innocence? Where’s her justice?”

  Joe gasped for breath, struggled to reply. “It’s – it’s not my fault. And it’s not my son’s.”

  Wall took Joe’s chin in his hand, lifted it up.

  “Of course, it is. You punish the innocent and let the guilty walk free. Your sham justice system failed. You failed. You could do nothing for my wife. You didn’t protect her, and you couldn’t find justice for her. Now you’re going to learn how that feels.”

  With that, Wall gave Joe a punch that just about took his head clean off his shoulders. He didn’t know how he held onto consciousness, even for a moment.

  Joe felt Ken let go of him.

  He wobbled on his feet for a moment.

  Then a plastic bag was slipped over Joe’s head. Ken squeezed it tight around Joe’s throat.

  And he started to kill him.

  Chapter 90

  Christopher watched helplessly as Ken choked his Dad until his body went limp and fell to the floor. Christopher screamed and strained against the chains holding him to the wall. He pulled them with all his might, willing them to snap, trying to lift his backside off the cool concrete floor and get to his feet, but he only succeeded in hurting himself. He fell back on the floor, defeated.

  He squinted through the dark, trying to detect the slightest twitch on his Dad’s face, through the plastic bag over his head. Anything to let Christopher know that he was alive. But there was nothing.

  Dad couldn’t be dead. No way. Not now, when he’d finally come into Christopher’s life.

  Barry Wall leaned back his foot and pushed Joe over onto his back. He looked down at Joe for a moment in silence.

  “I’ll put him with the others,” Ken said.

  With a terse nod, Wall turned and disappeared out the door.

  Ken dragged Joe a short distance to the wall, where another set of metal rings were set into the stone. He lifted Joe up, only to throw him hard against the wall. Then he took a pair of hand cuffs, attached to a chain, and closed them over Joe’s wrists.

  He must be alive, Christopher thought. Otherwise Ken wouldn’t be binding him. He felt a glimmer of relief at the realisation. But Dad looked awful. There wasn’t a trace of life visible on his face or in his body. He looked exactly like a corpse.

  Ken crouched down in front of Dad and slapped him across the face with an open hand, like he was trying to wake him up.

  No reaction.

  “Ha,” Ken said, and stood up again. He looked at Christopher. “What a disappointment, eh? A couple of slaps and it was over.”

  “Please let him go,” Christopher said. “Please.”

  Ken paused, then came and stood in front of him.

  “Should I tell you a secret?” Ken said. “We have a surprise in this building. In fact, there are surprises all over my land… ones with timers… volatile surprises… So talk quietly. You wouldn’t want to set something off. Better breathe gently too… Or else, kaboom.”

  Smiling, Ken pointed to the corner of the room. Christopher saw an innocuous-looking barrel that he hadn’t even noticed before. His heartbeat began to race. Was there really a bomb inside it? And there was n
othing any of them could do about it.

  Ken switched off the light and followed his brother out the door. Christopher was plunged into semi-darkness. He heard Ken stop outside the door and make a phone call.

  “How’s my favourite officer? Tell me, what’s new? I didn’t put fifteen k in your bank account for nothing. Tell me something I don’t know. Really? Okay… FYI, there’s a dead boy here. Someone you know. And there’ll be another one soon.”

  Christopher heard Ken’s voice fade as he walked away. After a moment, all he heard was the sound of his own blood pumping. He started to cry.

  “Whoa,” Aidan said. “That’s not going to help.”

  “I’m going to die,” Christopher said, through his sobs. “We’re all going to die. Do you think there’s really a bomb? Why do they have bombs here?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe to get rid of evidence. So no one will know we were here. Look, don’t lose hope. You never know how things will turn out.” Aidan picked at his upper lip. “I thought I was going to die before.”

  “When?” Christopher looked up.

  “Six months ago. After I was in court, Barry Wall tried to blow me up. Only your dad stopped him.”

  “Another bomb?” Christopher shuddered. He remembered hearing about it at the time, but Joe had done his best to downplay it. “My dad saved your life?”

  Aidan nodded. “Yeah, he did.”

  “But he thought you were a killer.”

  “I thought he would have been glad to let me die. But he saved my life.”

  Christopher looked around. “Now we’re both going to die here,” he said.

  “That’s no way to talk. Don’t say that. You hear me? You’re going to be alright.”

  Christopher nodded. But he couldn’t see how.

  *

  Dunne hadn’t wanted to take Lisa O’Malley with her. After Joe drove away, Dunne had gone back up the driveway to the house. Lisa was standing in the doorway, looking all mournful and willowy. Hard to imagine what Joe ever saw in her.

  Dunne said, “Stay here. We’re going to take care of this.” She turned to go.

  “Wait,” Lisa called. “You can’t leave me like this.”

  “It’s better for everyone if you stay at home. We’ll be in touch as soon as we have more information.”

  “No, I can’t stand it.”

  Dunne didn’t have time for a lot of talking. She needed to go.

  “Fine,” she said. “But you have to stay in the car. I don’t want you getting hurt. Or compromising the response.”

  “I will,” Lisa said.

  “Whatever happens, you stay in the car. Got it?”

  “I promise.”

  “Okay then.”

  They hurried out to the Lexus. Lisa’s hands had shaken as she struggled to fasten her seatbelt.

  Dunne checked the address again, and then hit the accelerator.

  Chapter 91

  Joe came awake slowly, feeling like he’d been hit by a freight train. The room was dark, dimly lit by a tiny window near the ceiling. Everything was blurry. Ken hadn’t killed him, but he’d left the plastic bag loose over Joe’s head. Maybe it was to taunt him.

  You’re dead anytime we like.

  At least it was clear plastic, so Joe could still see.

  “Dad? Are you okay?”

  Joe turned his head, sending a jolt of pain down his neck. Christopher was straining forward.

  “Yeah.”

  But he didn’t feel okay at all. He’d never been in so much pain in all his life.

  “Are you okay, Christopher?” His voice was muffled by the layer of plastic.

  “Yeah. They didn’t hurt me.”

  Joe squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent thank you. Someone coughed. Farther down the room, past Christopher. Another dim shape loomed in the darkness.

  “Who’s there?” Joe said.

  “Me.”

  A familiar voice. Joe squinted at the man.

  Christopher said, “It’s Aidan Donnelly. He’s lost a lot of blood. Th-they cut off his fingers.”

  Joe didn’t want that murdering little creep talking to his son.

  Christopher said, “They think he killed that woman.”

  “He did.”

  “I don’t think he did.”

  Joe’s head hurt, and he didn’t want to talk. The only thing he wanted to do was get Christopher out of there. And he had no idea how he could do that.

  Chapter 92

  Boyle reached the property as quickly as he could, which wasn’t as quick as he would have liked. The drive there had been infuriatingly slow. In any case, the important thing was that he arrived before the uniforms. He needed Joe dead and the cash retrieved, both in next few minutes, or he’d be paying with his own life.

  From the road, Boyle could see a Honda that looked like Joe’s, parked right next to some badly crumbling stables. A big house stood in the distance, down a dirt road.

  Boyle didn’t enter the gate. Instead, he circled around the side of the property. It was a long detour, which led him uphill, around a patch of forest.

  Big place, Boyle thought.

  Eventually, he made his way to the back gate. After parking, he climbed over the wooden fence and struggled through a thorny shrub that cut the backs of his hands, and his cheeks and nearly took his eyes out.

  The things I have to do, he thought. Me, a sick man.

  On the other side of the fence stood a big metal shed. The door was unlocked. Boyle opened the door. Two motorbikes were parked inside.

  Bingo.

  The Wall brothers were here.

  Boyle walked over to the beginning of a steep path, from where he could survey the property. He was looking at the back of everything he had been looking at a few minutes ago, but from a higher vantage point, because of the hill. He could see the back and roof of the house below, and, in the distance, the stables. He also saw a white van parked around the side of the house. This was definitely the place.

  Boyle shunned the dirt path. Instead, he trudged into the pine trees and made his way laboriously through the forest, so he could stay out of sight.

  He caught a glimpse of Barry Wall in the house as he passed it.

  Bingo again.

  He’d get Wall later. He had priorities, and nailing Joe was far more important than nailing Wall.

  As he approached the stables, he crouched down and jogged over to Joe’s car, nervous now that he was out in the open. He approached cautiously in case Joe was sitting in it, but there was no one in the car.

  The backpack of money was sitting on the back seat.

  Bingo bingo bingo.

  Boyle was beginning to feel a lot better. He tried the door handle. It was unlocked, and no alarm sounded as he opened it. Finally, things were going his way.

  Leaning into the car, he unzipped the backpack and looked inside. The cash was still there. Or most of it was. The bag seemed a little less packed than it had been earlier. Boyle wondered if that was just his imagination or if Joe had already spent some. Fucking asshole. In any case, most of it was there, and that was what mattered. He could always supplement it if he had to. He’d find a way. He’d do whatever he had to do to stay alive.

  Boyle wrinkled his nose. A faint but unpleasant smell suffused the car, as if an animal had died under the seat. Boyle looked around, but he could see nothing that would cause the smell.

  He leaned back out of the car, and swung the backpack over his shoulder. Closing the back door, he opened the driver’s door and looked inside. He could see nothing there that might explain the smell.

  Maybe it was coming from the boot?

  He walked around the back and popped the boot. The smell was stronger now. Something bulky was wrapped up in a sheet of plastic. Boyle reached out and pulled at the edge of the sheet, taking a peek at what was wrapped inside. His eyes widened when he saw a body.

  “Bloody hell, Joe.”

  He pulled back the plastic far enough so he could see that th
e corpse belonged to a young man in a school uniform. Could that be John Kavanagh, the missing kid? Whoever he was, his body was starting to go bad.

  What the hell had Joe been up to lately?

  He let out an amazed laugh, then closed the lid of the boot and walked around the stables. A heavy bolt held the door shut. Boyle slipped it open and went inside.

  “Jesus,” Boyle whispered.

  A teenage boy and a bloody mess that looked like Aidan Donnelly were chained to the walls of the building. And a short distance away, Joe Byrne was chained up too. A clear plastic bag covered his bloody face.

  He looked up when Boyle stepped into the room.

  “What the fuck?” Boyle said.

  Joe’s eyes widened. “Get us out of here. Christopher has just told me there’s a bomb,” Joe said.

  “Here?”

  “Yeah. I think it’s going to blow soon.”

  If Byrne lived, Ger Barrett would come after Boyle. That was clear. And if Boyle didn’t get Barrett his money, he was dead. Boyle wasn’t a killer. He’d never ever wanted to murder anyone. Even though he hated Joe, he didn’t want to shoot him. But here, a solution had been provided. If he did nothing, and let events take their course, his problem would be solved.

  Boyle took a step back.

  “What are you doing?” Joe said.

  “I’ll be back.”

  “Help us now.”

  “I’ll call the bomb squad. Just hang tight, okay?”

  “No, it’s not okay. Get us out of these chains.” Joe looked furious. “Is that the money?” Joe said, eyeing the backpack slung over Boyle’s shoulder.

  Boyle didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “I saw what you’ve got in your car, Joe.”

  Joe flinched. “Get us out of here. Then we can talk about that.”

  Boyle said nothing as he turned and walked outside. He ignored Joe’s shouts as he slid the lock shut.

  Boyle allowed himself a smile. He had the money and Joe was going nowhere. Things were working out well. The sooner the bomb went off, the better.

  Chapter 93