Seventy Times Seven (14 page)

O’Brien was staring at him.

‘What’re you looking at me for? It wasn’t me that did it.’

‘Here, relax‚ Danny, I know it wasn’t you. Sure I caught the wee fucker myself‚ didn’t I? Got a call from someone saw him drinking in the Mountain Bar in Camlough. Started crying like a fuckin baby when I walked in. Took him out the back and shot him there and then.’

‘What was he doing back in Newry?’ asked Danny, wondering if Lep had said anything to O’Brien about their meeting.

‘Exactly what I asked him: “What the fuck are you doing back here?” D’you know what he said?’ O’Brien looked at Danny as if he was expecting a reply, but Danny just shrugged. ‘He said he’d come back to say sorry to his family. I mean, what’s all that about, eh? I know for a fact the wee shite was brought up by his grandmother. Sure his ma and da died when he was still in primary school and his granny was buried about twenty years ago. Lep McFarlane RIP . . . “Rest In Piss” more like, eh?’

Danny stared out at the rain lashing the runway and said nothing for a few minutes. When he turned round again Owen was well into his second pint.

‘I thought you’d be more pleased,’ said O’Brien, looking over at Danny.

‘Pleased? Why would I be pleased? I couldn’t give a shit.’

‘Sure he’s the wee tout that got your brother killed, isn’t that right?’

Danny didn’t answer. It was time to change the subject.

‘What happens to your chances in Oshkosh now that Crazy-Pete and Tony-O have got themselves arrested?’ asked Danny.

Owen smiled and took a sip of beer before answering. ‘Do you know how many “pullers” there are in a tug-of-war team?’

‘No idea‚’ replied Danny.

‘There’s eight pullers and one extra: usually the coach.’

‘Don’t you need subs?’ asked Danny.

‘What for?’ replied Owen. ‘All you’re doing is pulling a bit of fuckin rope. E.I. told us to get you on the plane no matter what. That was just a wee diversion we had planned in case you were spotted. Crazy-Pete and Tony-O didn’t even have plane tickets.’

The girl with too much make-up on working behind the front desk of the Lakeshore Hotel didn’t look up at the unassuming figure walking past and into the elevator. She heard the collapsible gate clunk into place and the electric motor whirr into life, but paid little attention. The drive cables clattered around in the lift shaft and the counterweights dropped noisily as the Twenties birdseye-maple elevator cabin lifted to the second floor. When it stopped the man made his way down the long stale corridor that stretched out in front of him, coming to a stop outside room 260. A small set of Wiggler Rakes – thin, flexible wires – was produced and after careful consideration, the chosen ‘rake’ was inserted into the lock. With a few deft twists and turns the various cylinders clicked into place and the door swung open.

Danny stood motionless, taking in the dimly lit room. The contrasting decor had a tired, grubby feel about it: none of it quite matched up to the promise offered by the picture postcards of the hotel on sale in the lobby. The bed looked deep and comfortable with large sky-blue satin pillows resting against its tall, pink-velvet, button-fronted headrest: all of it uncomfortably at odds with the pale mustard paper that covered nearly every wall in the building.

In the far corner sat a faux-Victorian bureau, just as it had been described to him. Danny crossed the room and knelt in front of it. He pulled the bottom drawer clear and laid it to one side before reaching in and feeling around the bureau’s carcass. After a few seconds he pulled out a small parcel wrapped in white polythene and placed it in his holdall. He then retrieved two boxes of cartridges before sliding the drawer back into place and leaving the room.

The elevator clanked its way back to the ground floor and Danny crossed the lobby to the check-in desk. He had to wait for the girl to finish whatever she was doing before she looked up and acknowledged him.

‘I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t see you standing there. Can I help?’

Danny pushed his glasses up on his nose.

‘I have a reservation under the name of Leonard.’

The girl handed Danny a form.

‘I have an envelope here for you, Mr Leonard. Someone left the keys to your car for you. If you could fill in this registration form and let me swipe your credit card. You’re in room 260, at the front of the building on the second floor.’

‘I’ll pay cash.’

‘I need to take a two-hundred-dollar deposit, I’m afraid.’

‘Don’t be afraid, that’s fine. Is the room across the corridor available?’

Danny was instinctively wary. Room 260 had been booked for him, but he didn’t want to sleep in there. If anything went wrong it would be the first place they’d look. He was being over-cautious, but that’s how he worked.

‘Let me just have a look. 261’s free but it’s not as nice. It does overlook the pool though.’

‘Perfect,’ replied Danny.

‘Sure. I’ll just grab you the key.’

The girl handed Danny a bulging envelope and a room key with an eight-inch rectangular piece of wood attached to it by a small brass chain.

‘You use this on muggers?’ asked Danny, wrapping his fist round the fob and holding it like a truncheon.

The girl’s face was blank. ‘It makes the key a little more difficult to lose‚’ she said.

‘Could you get a porter to help me carry it up to my room?’

It was obvious from her expression that checking people in and out of the Lakeshore Hotel, Tuscaloosa‚ didn’t require too many qualifications. Danny was too tired and hungry to explain that he was joking.

‘What time does the restaurant open?’ he asked.

‘Breakfast is at 7.30 a.m.’

‘Breakfast?’ replied Danny. ‘It’s only 9 p.m. I have to wait until breakfast?’

‘The main restaurant closes early over the Easter weekend.’

‘The bar?’

‘Closed too.’

‘Anywhere local?’ asked Danny.

‘Nowhere till Monday night. But‚ there’s a minibar in your room.’

‘Is there a telephone in my room?’

‘Sure.’

‘Am I allowed to use it?’ asked Danny, only half kidding.

‘Sure,’ replied the girl earnestly. ‘If you ring room service they’ll maybe rustle you up a sandwich . . . but nothing hot.’

‘Is Alabama a cold state over Easter too?’ said Danny, giving it one last try.

This time the girl smiled, but she still answered, ‘No, I don’t think so.’

Danny sat on the edge of the bed in the darkened room and stared out through the open glass doors at the palm fronds swaying gently in the warm evening breeze, their long spindly leaves masking the light from the pool, and the uplighters of the inner courtyard. The quiet rustling sound and concerted trills of cicadas reminded Danny that he was in a foreign country. An immaculate-looking sandwich lay half eaten on a plate next to him. Just like the postcards of the hotel, it promised more than it delivered. The cheese should have been called something else. It was bright orange and had a consistency that Danny had never experienced in his mouth before: like flavoured lard. The ham was ‘wafer-thin’, with a taste to match, and the coleslaw so sweet that each mouthful gave him a sugar rush. There was so much food on the plate it had become unappetising. Despite his hunger, Danny managed only a few mouthfuls before giving up.

He’d been travelling for most of the day, and the long hours spent sitting motionless on the plane combined with the after-effects of the beating had finally caught up with him. Everything ached: his arms, legs, eyes, head – even his fingers.

After mixing himself a convincing vodka martini from the limited stock of alcohol in the minibar, Danny found he barely had the energy to drink it. His head kept tipping forward and several times the highball glass he was holding slipped from his grasp. Taking another sip, he placed the martini on the table next to his bed and picked up the phone. He tried O’Hanlon’s home number again, letting it ring for over a minute before hanging up. He wasn’t expecting anyone to pick up and even if they had, what was he going to say? ‘Wait there, I’m coming to get you’?

Danny pulled one of the large pillows under his head and lay back. It was still too early to go to sleep, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He thought about calling Angela, but wasn’t sure what he’d say to her, either. All he knew was, he wanted to hear her voice.

Outside in the corridor a door slammed closed. Danny awoke to the sound of a couple’s muffled arguing‚ drifting off towards the elevator. He glanced at his watch‚ it was now 2 a.m. He must have nodded off.

He couldn’t remember if Ireland was five or six hours ahead. If it was six hours Angela might have already left for work. He dialled anyway.

‘Seven-five-two-four-one-six, hello!’

The voice at the other end was warm and friendly: there was no doubt it was her this time and not her mother.

‘Angel?’

There was a moment’s silence before she responded.

‘Leg End?’

‘Eh?’

Danny heard her laugh.

‘My ma left me a note saying that someone called Leg End called to talk to me. It was the way she’d written it down. She’d split “Legend” into two words. I was wetting myself when I worked it out.’

‘Aye, well, Leg End’s probably about right,’ replied Danny.

‘Are you all right? You sound tired. Where are you?’

Straight into nursing mode! ‘I’m grand,’ he replied. ‘A bit knackered, but I feel fine.’ He ignored the last part of her question.

‘I delivered the letter to your ma and gave Órlaith your envelope, she said if I talked to you to say thank you. She was overwhelmed. We both got a bit emotional: no idea why. You should give them a call, Danny.’

‘Don’t use my name over the phone.’

He hadn’t meant to sound so abrupt, but he could tell by the silence that’s how it had come across. ‘Sorry Angel,’ Danny continued. ‘You never know if some sad-arse might be listening in. Phone tapping is illegal, but it doesn’t stop them having a go, y’know what I’m saying?’

‘I think so. I’ll stick with Leg End,’ said Angela. ‘Sorry. All I was going to say was they’re worried sick, you should give them a call.’

‘Aye maybe! How was my ma?’

‘Quiet,’ said Angela.

Danny wasn’t surprised.

‘Have you found anyone called Decency to go have a drink with?’ asked Angela.

‘What d’you mean?’ replied Danny

‘You told me you’d fallen out with some fella called Decency and he wouldn’t meet you for a drink any more.’

‘I was being poetic.’

‘Is that what you call it?’ said Angela.

‘Are you taking the piss?’

‘Yes,’ replied Angela.

‘Next time I see you I’m going to skelp your arse.’

‘Mmm! Sounds good. I think that’s about the only thing we didn’t try.’

‘You looked amazing,’ said Danny.

Angela wasn’t used to getting compliments: she wasn’t quite sure how to respond. ‘Thank you,’ she said eventually.

‘I wanted to keep telling you, but . . . I don’t know . . . I was just a bit overwhelmed.’

‘Stop it now, you’re making me blush.’

An odd silence followed. There was much more to say, but it was obvious neither of them wanted to go first: scared they might reveal too much of themselves and frighten the other off.

Eventually Danny broke the silence. ‘I’d better get cracking. Call you tomorrow, eh?’

‘My ma’s just come in with my breakfast, I’d better go anyway.’

‘I’ll never lie to you, Angela,’ said Danny.

‘Why are you saying that?’

‘I don’t know, I just thought I should tell you.’

‘Where did the money come from?’

‘I said I’d never lie: I didn’t say I’d tell you everything you wanted to know.’

‘Relax! I was just testing you. I have no interest in where the money came from. Better go before Ma starts complaining about my toast getting cold. Call me when you can.’

‘Will do, Angel.’

Danny held the button on the phone down for a few seconds then released it and dialled another number. It was a while before anyone answered.

‘Hello.’

‘It’s me. Sorry to call so early.’

‘Jesus, where are you? Are you all right? I really thought that was it this time. You didn’t even call us to let us know you were all right. I had to phone E. I. O’Leary to find out what the hell had happened to you.’

‘I’m sorry it all got a bit out of hand, but I’m fine. Don’t worry. Did Ma get my note?’

‘She did‚ but she doesn’t believe you.’

Danny had written to his mother to tell her he was intending to leave Northern Ireland. He wanted to get away from his life there: away from the Troubles. He wanted to leave his past behind and start again. He hoped that she understood and that once he had established himself she would join him. He explained in the letter that there was one more thing he had to do, before it would all be over. He also wrote that he loved her.

‘What are we supposed to do with all that money?’ asked Órlaith. ‘I haven’t told your ma yet. She’ll only trouble herself over where it came from.’

‘Tell her she should trouble herself about where it’s going instead. The money’s for you and Niamh and Ma. Tell her you had a big win at the bingo. You can do what you like with it. I’ll be away for a while . . . on business . . . so that’s to tide you over. But don’t take it to the bank or you’ll have the Special Branch at the door before the ink’s dried on the pay-in slip.’

‘Where am I supposed to hide twenty grand . . . under the mattress?’

‘Twenty?’

Danny had to think for a minute.

‘Is there a problem?’

‘Jesus! It was only supposed to be ten. She’s given you her half as well.’

‘Whose half?’

‘Angela’s! She was supposed to give you ten and keep ten for herself.’

‘Well I won’t touch a penny of it till you’ve sorted it out. I don’t know what you’re up to, but keep yourself safe, all right?’

‘Tell Ma I meant every word of what I wrote.’

‘I will. And you look after that Angela. She seemed lovely: don’t be mucking her about. D’you hear me?’

Sometimes Órlaith sounded like she was his big sister. It was a role that she had adopted quite naturally, and one that Danny didn’t mind her having.

‘I’d better go,’ said Danny.

‘I want you to promise me you’ll look after this one.’

‘I promise,’ replied Danny. ‘I’d better go. You take care.’

‘
You
take care,’ replied Órlaith.

Danny replaced the receiver. He wanted to call Angela back straight away and ask her why she’d given her share of the money to Órlaith, but it could wait till the morning. He lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

When he next looked at his watch, it was just after 7 a.m. The shadows had been replaced by flickering sunshine. He could have sworn he’d only closed his eyes for a second, but he’d been asleep for almost five hours. Danny sat up and caught sight of the perfectly preserved sandwich at the bottom of the bed. He knew if he left it there for a month it would still look exactly the same.

The telephone beside the bed started ringing. Danny picked it up, but waited for whoever was calling to speak.

‘Mr Leonard?’

‘Who is this?’ said Danny, trawling his memory to place the voice.

‘You shifted rooms! We thought for a minute you hadn’t made it. You get the delivery?’

‘Who is it?’ repeated Danny, letting the suspicion in his voice show.

‘Relax, big fella, it’s O’Brien, just checking you’ve got everything you need.’

There was something about Owen O’Brien that Danny didn’t like: he wanted to get off the phone as quickly as possible.

‘Your special request is in the boot of the car.’ O’Brien was talking about the Heckler & Koch MSG90 Danny had asked for. It was a sniper rifle that had its faults, but it was light and accurate. ‘Unfortunately it was too conspicuous to carry in to the hotel so we had to leave it in the boot. Don’t wait too long before you deliver De Garza’s money to him, he’s an impatient fucker and The Farmer wants to keep him sweet. Anyway, did you get the car keys?’

‘Yeah. Where is the car?’