Allegiance: A Dublin Novella (18 page)

Emptied of all its contents, the space beneath the floorboard in William’s room seemed cavernous and barren. Laid out on the bed, though, it didn’t seem like all that much: two notebooks, a pencil box, and the report from the Director’s office, smudged with dust instead of fingerprints or ink. Everything fit neatly into William’s monogrammed briefcase, leaving plenty of room for the few extra belongings he had collected over the past four months.

He packed quickly and efficiently, but he did not hurry. There was no point in hurrying now – a slinking retreat would only add insult to already substantial injury. Best to just ease out the blade as quickly as possible and prevent further rupturing. The job was over. It was time for him to go.

The door creaked behind him and cool air from the stairwell brushed against his legs. He knew exactly how long Adam had been standing there, watching him – he could see the shadow on the sunlit wall, feel the eyes burning into his back. William kept packing. The silence grew louder as the minutes ticked by, but still he did not turn. He was not yet ready to pass through that door.

He set a stack of neatly-folded shirts aside and checked each drawer for anything he might have missed. He placed each found object on top of the bureau: a penny whistle he won at the street fair in March; two folded five-pound notes, the winnings from last week’s cards; a spool of darning thread (
If you’re set on walking about in your stocking feet, William Young, then sure you can mend your socks yourself
); two matchbooks, and a pack of Black Jack chewing gum. In the second drawer his hand closed on soft green and brown striped wool. Mary had bought him the scarf three weeks ago when he’d left his own in Daniel’s lorry after a crowded ride home. The lads had given him hell for that one, especially when Mary told him how well the green brought out his eyes. It had been a Thursday night, he recalled, and rainy; the first night Gerald had called him “son”. William’s bruised throat ached. He swallowed painfully and rolled the scarf into a ball before tucking it into the suitcase.

“How did your parents die?”

It was the same toneless voice from the alley, but quieter now, stretched a little thinner. William answered without turning.

“Exactly as I said. I never lie about my parents.”

“How noble of you.”

“I’m not going to do this, Adam.” He closed the bureau drawer and dropped the last items into the suitcase. “I’m going to finish packing my things, and then I’m going to walk out of here and leave you all in peace.”

“Time to run again, is it?”

He turned. Adam leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, shoulders squared and head resting against the frame. He regarded William with that same careful expression, but his jaw clenched a little too hard and his fingers dug a little too tightly into the flesh of his arms. He said nothing else, only looked at William from beneath lowered brows, his mouth set, his pulse beating in his neck. William had prepared himself for shouting, swearing, cutting words and well-deserved insults – but this icy silence suddenly unnerved him. It thickened between them, dense and palpable, the last barrier between his guilt and his escape. A row he could handle and curses he could take, but William was not sure how much longer he could stand the weird purgatory of that unwavering stare.

“You should go, Adam. Just
… You should go.”

“No.” His expression did not change, but a muscle twitched at the corner of his jaw. “You don’t get to run this time. Not yet. Not until you tell me…” The last word did not come, but William could see it in his eyes.

He closed his briefcase with a small
click
and set it on the bed. Then he reached up and drew his shirt collar aside, past his scar, all the way back until it reached the thickened tissue on his right shoulder.

“Do you know how I got this?”

Adam said nothing.

“
The day I was shot, my Gran was too afraid to take me to hospital. She mended my neck herself, in our kitchen, with her darning needle and a sewing lamp. She had my sister boil the water because it took her and both my uncles to hold me down. By the time it was ready Meg’s hands were shaking so fierce she dropped the kettle straight off the stove onto my bed.” He straightened his collar and made a noise that vaguely resembled a chuckle. “Gran stuck me in ice water and bandaged me with cheesecloth. It took two weeks for the fever to pass.

“She had just lost her son and his wife, and she wouldn’t take her grandson to a doctor for fear of going out in the street. I swore then
– I won’t have any more children grow up like that. I want no more of men dying and boys living to take their place. That’s the only thing I have ever—” His words gave out, and he shook his head. “I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you.”

He would not prolong this with further discussion; it would only make things worse. He of all men knew when it was best to cut your losses and walk away. Adam was just too young to know when to let go.

“They’re using you, you know.”

“No one uses me.”

“You’re working for the people who killed your parents. What else would you call it?”

William felt his hands clench into fists. “What do you think this is, Adam? You think you can move a few boxes in the dark, skim off a few pounds and buy your brother back? Make yourself a hero while you’re at it? You’ve no idea what the real world is like. People are dying, and you’re going to be one of them if you don’t open your eyes.”

For the first time, the smooth façade over Adam’s face cracked. “You think I don’t know death? I watched my mother bleed her lungs out because we couldn’t find a doctor would come to our street. I watched my brother get shot full of holes and dragged off to be tossed on a boat for America. I’ve seen men beaten and shot and hung. This might be a job to you, but it’s my fucking
life
.
I live every day knowing it could be gone tomorrow. You know the same, and so you choose not to live at all.” He came up off the door jamb and stepped into the room. “
I know what I am, and I know what I’m good for, which isn’t much. But I would rather die than get duped into fighting for the wrong side.”

“There is no right and wrong here. There’s only sides.”

“Then why the hell are you here?”

William turned back to his suitcase. “Look, none of this matters now. What’s done is done. My reasons are my own, and I won’t waste my breath. You go ahead and hate me all you need to.”

“It’s not hate I have for you,” Adam said. “It’s pity.”

William’s hand went still on top of the suitcase.

“You hate them as much as I do – I can see it in your eyes. You work for them to ease your conscience, to make yourself think you’re so high and mighty, bestowing justice on us poor misguided souls – but you’d put a bullet in all their backs if you could. Sure you pulled a fine trick out there, but that’s only the half of it. I know you. I know who you really are.”

Something dark bubbled up in the back of William’s throat. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know you turned traitor for the men who shot your father dead in the street. They’ve deceived you, William. Can’t you see that?”

“Don’t you fucking
—
” William swallowed the wave of anger and took a steadying breath. “You don’t know anything about what I want. I’m trying to end all this.”

“They killed your parents, man!”

William slammed the case aside and whirled on him. “
This
killed my parents!” He pointed at the window with a finger that shook with fury. “All of this, all you fucking people, all these years, everywhere! It’s all the same! A fucking waste, that’s what it is, and I want it over! I want it stopped! I want
—
” He ran out of breath, and tried again. “Don’t you talk to me about deception. You don’t know a damn thing about real deception. You only know the lies you tell the girls you peg and the men who think you’re serving same cause they are.

You think
I’ve
been used? Ask Sarah Reilly what she thinks about being used.” He saw the color rise in Adam’s face and dug in harder. “We are the same, Adam. You use your brother as I use my father. You don’t want justice. You want revenge. You want a reason to be worth something more than a box of rifle shells and a shag in the cellar.”

“You shut your mouth.” Adam’s face grew dark, his body lined with rage. His hands dropped to his sides as he moved forward. “How
dare
you. I am nothing like you. You come in here and lie and pretend and take us all for our trust, and then you want to tell me about honesty? Well fuck you.” His voice was rising in both volume and pitch. “You’re not the only one protecting his folk. I know exactly what I’m doing. I take care of them, all of them. It’s called allegiance, William – something you wouldn’t know about. This is the only family I’ve got. I
love
them. I loved
—
”

His voice cracked and he looked away. Gone were all traces of the smooth-talking rake, the swaggering gunrunner, the silver-tongued lover; in his place stood a pale and skinny boy whose eyes shone with raw, glistening hurt. William had expected an outburst; he was well prepared for spite and vitriol. Bitterness, anger, hatred – all those things he knew. Adam’s wrath he could take, but not this – not the sudden pain welling up in his eyes, the bright, swelling overflow of a breaking heart.

William had left hatred behind in his wake before; the look on Adam’s face he would never leave behind for the rest of his days.

Break it clean
,
he thought.
Not this. You have to break it clean.

“You loved what? Me? Do you love me, Adam?”

His voice was little more than a whisper. “Yes.”

William’s left hand closed into a fist against his thigh. He dug his fingernails in as hard as he could – sharp, glassy pain, loud and focused. He tightened his grip until he could no longer feel the sting; then his hands relaxed at his side. He lowered his brow and tilted his head, curling his mouth into a sneer.

“Well I guess I got the job done after all, then.”

Adam’s eyes went wide for one terrible moment. All the color drained from his face. And then his body stiffened, and his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aye, I guess you did.” His voice was thick with disgust, but William could hear the tremor beneath. “And fucking me? Was that part of your job, too?”

“My job was to get all the information I could out of you people.” He used the phrase on purpose, cutting, punishing. “Fucking you was just a bonus.”

He took a step toward Adam, then another, slow and predatory, fighting the bile in this throat.
Only way,
his mind told him.
Only way.

“Getting into your heads was one thing; getting into your bed was even better.” He smiled. “Reckoned if I chose the whore at least I’d enjoy the work.”

“You bastard.” Adam moved for him but he was too fast – Adam’s fury made him clumsy and it was easy for William to grab him and turn, one quick shove and his chest hit the bureau and shook the drawers in their brackets. His cap fell off and William kicked it aside as he pushed the bedroom door closed with his foot. Then he leaned up hard, twisting Adam’s arm into his back from behind; when Adam tried to break free; William’ s grip tightened until he grunted in pain.

“Did you trust me, boy? Hm?” William said into his ear. “Poor Adam. The little fighter, yeah? Gonna make your brother proud? Gonna save your friends from the big bad English? You couldn’t even save them from me.”

Adam’s face contorted into a crimson scowl, pushing back the tears in his eyes. “
Cac ar oineach
,” he spat. “You lying British fuck. You don’t know us. I’ll look after them. I’m
—
I’ll keep them safe.”