Fear of the Fathers (35 page)

“I imagine you were quite a handful back in the day,” said Cronin.

“I guess I was,” she laughed. “But then again, so were they,” she added, her face dropping slightly.

“Did you not get on with them?” asked Cronin.

“Does any teenager?” she replied. “To be honest they were too busy at each other's throats to notice me most of the time. Then Dad left and it was just me and Mum. After that I spent as little time in the house as possible. I couldn't stand being around her constant nagging and moaning. Now I look back on it though, it all seems a bit heartless. She was hurt and scared and frustrated and alone, so no wonder she acted the way she did. I wish I'd helped her out a bit more rather than shutting her out and running around with the local bad boys.”

“I wouldn't be too hard on yourself, it's a common enough phenomenon. It was your parents' responsibility to look after you, not the other way round. The problem with most parents is that they have no idea of the amount of distress they cause their children. They get so caught up in their own problems that they forget how sensitive young people are. To quote Philip Larkin: ‘They fuck you up, your mum and dad'.”

“They certainly do,” Stella agreed. “But I'm alright with them now, just about. Did you get on with your parents?”

“I'm not sure,” said Cronin. “I suppose so, in the beginning anyway. We were a large Catholic family: six boys and three girls. There was always a clamour for attention, and I suppose they did their best to treat each of us equally, even though it felt like I was invisible half the time. They were strict but never bullying or overbearing, except where religion was concerned. The Catholic way was the only way. It was drummed into us as soon as the umbilical cord was off.”

“They must be very proud of you, being a priest and working in the Vatican,” said Stella.

“I'm sure they would be if they knew,” said Cronin.

“You haven't told them?”

“No, I haven't. Like I said, I got on with them in the beginning. When I got to about thirteen or fourteen, I started to formulate my own ideas and question their beliefs. We lived in Belfast, and although the violence had subsided slightly since the seventies it was still rife. I couldn't, and still don't, understand why two factions who worshipped the same peace-loving Messiah were constantly at war. By the age of fifteen I'd stopped going to church, and by sixteen I'd been thrown out of the house.”

“So you haven't seen them since then?”

“Yes. I went back a few times to try and make the peace. But once they found out I'd joined the British army that was it – I was a traitor, a murderer, and no son of theirs. I pointed out that my job was protecting innocent people, and not murdering them like the IRA, but that just infuriated them more. After that all contact ceased.”

“That's sad,” said Stella. “Do you think you'll ever make it up with them?”

“I hope so, but it's probably a bit of a long shot now. I don't think my comments about the IRA were very well received. I suspect my father had links with them.”

“What about your brothers and sisters, do you still talk to them?”

“I'm in touch with a few of them, mainly by email, but they don't know about my current position. They still think I'm in the army, and I don't disabuse them of that idea.”

Apart from the inevitable traffic when they joined the M5 their journey was swift and uneventful. Stella did her best to keep calm, but by the time they reached their destination the ashtray was overflowing and a coughing Cronin was about to take out a lawsuit.

“Are you sure this is alright?” said Cronin, as they got out of the car. “Perhaps you ought to go and check with him first, if only to put your own mind at ease.”

“It's a bit late now,” said Stella. “I've made the decision I think is best. He wanted my help getting out of the country, and I've found someone who can do it. If he doesn't like it, tough shit.”

Jennings stood on the balcony of the suite and looked out over Hyde Park. It was a busy Saturday morning despite the weather. He watched a group of Japanese tourists excitedly taking pictures of the local flora and fauna, and wondered how they managed to work up such fervour for all things English.

Grady stepped out and handed Jennings a cup of coffee. “Anything interesting?” he said.

“No. I'm just watching the world go by. It's something us British do very well.”

“Yeah, I've noticed. Have you thought any more about what you're going to do?”

“What can I do?” said Jennings. “I'm a wanted man. I might not have done anything wrong, but it'll take a miracle for me to prove it. I just can't see any way out of this. It'd be handy if I knew what it was all about.”

“Yeah, that would be helpful,” said Grady. “So you've not even got the slightest clue.”

“No. I told you last night. All I know is that Appleby had his suspicions about Stone and Davis, and now he's dead. I've just got nowhere to turn.”

“Nowhere?” said Grady.

Jennings shrugged. “Well, I know that Brennan would believe me if I could get through to him. But what good is that? He'd be powerless in the face of the frame-up that Stone will have done on me. And also, I don't know how far up this goes.”

“And even if he could do something,” Grady interjected. “There's no way of getting through to him.”

“Exactly,” said Jennings. “They'll be expecting it. His phone will be bugged; his house will be watched. And that goes for all my known associates. I'm fenced in; up the proverbial creek; fucked.”

“Well, not exactly fucked,” said Grady. “I can get you a US passport. All you need to do is dye your hair, apply a bit of makeup, and you'll be in the States before you know it.”

“You can still do all that?”

“Of course I can. I might be officially retired but I still know people. I'm a fucking hero remember. If you want to disappear in the States, it won't be a problem. I'll sort you out with a cushy little job and a house, and you can see out your days on easy street in the greatest country in the world.”

“I already live in the greatest country in the world,” said Jennings. “But I guess I'm going to have to do something. The thing is, I don't want to live my life running and looking over my shoulder. I know you'll sort me out, but this will always be waiting to bite me on the bum at any given moment. And, more to the point, if Stone and Davis are involved in some conspiracy then somebody needs to do something about it. They could have been part of the plot to kill the PM for Christ's sake! Imagine that: his two closest bodyguards planning to take him out. With me and Appleby out of the way it won't be long before they succeed.”

“If they wanted him dead, they would have done it by now,” said Grady.

“Not without getting caught. They're not going to dirty their own hands. They'll hire someone and stand aside when the bullet comes, just like they did at Cheltenham. Appleby was right, they were acting strangely. It should have been one of them diving into the line of fire, not me.”

“Are you sure you're not getting just a little bit paranoid, old buddy. Seen a few too many conspiracy movies.”

“No,” said Jennings defiantly. “You've been in the game long enough to know that anything's possible. If something's going on then I'm going to find out what it is. And if they're after Jonathan Ayres then I'm going to warn him.”

“Oh really,” said Grady. “And how exactly are you going to do that?”

“I'll find a way,” said Jennings. “He's been good to me. I won't stand back and allow him to die. All I have to do is call him and tell him what's going on.”

Grady rolled his eyes and shook his head. “And he's going to say what exactly? ‘Thank you Jennings, I'll get rid of Stone and Davis and give you the George fucking Cross'. I don't think so. Who's he going to believe – a treacherous killer, or his trusted advisers?”

“He'd believe me, I know he would. He trusts me.”

“Be that as it may,” said Grady. “As soon as you get in touch with him, they'll trace you and you'll be caught.”

“I don't care. If it means saving his life, then so be it.”

“For fuck's sake,” sighed Grady. “You're in no position to do anything like that. You've been discredited; your word counts for nothing. If you get caught, at best you'll spend the rest of your life behind bars, but most likely you'll be killed before you can get a word out. And even if you do manage to say something, you've got no proof. Like you said – I've been in this game a long time, I know what I'm talking about. Just let it go. Come to America with your old pal Grady, you'll have a great life.”

“Fine,” said Jennings. “If you're not going to help me…”

“Fucking hell Jennings you stubborn motherfucker, all I'm doing is trying to help you!”

Jennings bowed his head. “Sorry Grady, I didn't mean it like that. It just makes me mad that they're going to get away with this. It's frustrating.”

Grady patted his shoulder. “I know buddy. There's just nothing you can do about it at the moment.”

Jennings gazed forlornly out to the park.

Grady looked at him and felt a twinge of something alien. It might have been guilt. He sighed. “Listen buddy, I'll tell you what – if you can come up with a reasonable plan that doesn't involve you getting killed or put in prison, then I'll do all I can to help. But you need to wait a few days. You can't do anything at the moment, your emotions are running too high.”

Jennings turned and forced a smile. “Thanks mate,” he said. “I appreciate it. I must sound really ungrateful after you've come all the way over here to save my ass. And you're right, I shouldn't be making any decisions at the moment.”

There was a knock at the door. “That'll be our breakfast,” said Grady. “Come on, let's go and eat.”

Grady had ordered enough to feed an army.

“Are we expecting guests?” asked Jennings.

“No,” said Grady. “I just thought that you'd be hungry. I wasn't sure what you fancied so I ordered everything. I'm American Jennings, food's my thing.”

They sat down and slowly began to devour the feast. Jennings gradually calmed down as he ate, the food replenishing his sugar levels and capacity for rational thought. He continued to regret having been so hard on Grady. “How's Brooke by the way?” he asked. “Still healthy with child?”

“Yeah, she's great thanks. All the scans have been good, and the baby seems fine.”

“Do you know what it is yet – boy or girl?”

“We've decided not to find out, keep it as a surprise.”

“What does your instinct say?”

“Nothing really, although I'm secretly hoping for a little boy I guess. A little Grady Junior to carry on the family name, play baseball with etc. But it doesn't really matter, a little girl would be just great – she'd be beautiful like her mother.”

“And not ugly like her father,” quipped Jennings.

“Yes Jennings, not ugly like her father…Anyway what about you? How's your love life? You found anyone stupid or blind enough to put up with you yet? You haven't mentioned anyone in your emails.”

“I'm married to my job Grady, you know that. I haven't got time for romance, I'm too busy saving the country.”

“What about that little filly from the Mulholland affair? What was her name now…?”

“You mean Stella.”

“Yeah, Stella, that was it. I thought you two were getting a bit friendly.”

“We are friends,” said Jennings. “But that's all we are. She's only just getting over Stratton, you know – the guy who died at Stonehenge.”

“Yeah, I know. There's no need to get defensive.”

“Who's being defensive?”

“You are.”

“Whatever,” said Jennings. “The point is, there's nothing going on between us…But now you mention it, I've really got to get in touch with her, she's going to be worried that I haven't called. She needed my help with something.”

“I don't really think you're in a position to help anybody,” said Grady. “But if you're really worried we'll find somewhere safe to call her from. After all, I wouldn't want to get in the way of young love…”

Jennings moved to say something, but realized it was pointless. He grunted and turned his attention to back to his food. Grady smirked mischievously.

Stella tapped nervously at the door of room 301. Cronin stood behind her. If he was nervous too then he wasn't showing it.

“Who is it?” barked Oggi's gruff voice.

“It's Stella.”

The door opened and a hairless Oggi appeared. “What are you doing here?” he said. And then, noticing Cronin for the first time, he frowned and added, “And who the fuck is this?”