Undercover (14 page)

"You all right, Lydia?"

She needed to get the security code. Keep it simple.

"Yeah, I just need to get something. Where's the nearest pharmacy?"

"Probably Kingston Street. It's dead easy to find too. Just follow the road that runs along the side of the house. You'll practically bump into the shop front."

"Great, thanks. Um, you want anything while I'm out?"

"There's a minimarket right beside the pharmacy. Maybe you could pick up a bottle of
vino
for later? Or more vodka."

"Certainly."

Lydia stepped out into the hallway. She felt like she'd gotten away with something, then Rory called out to her.

"Oh, here, you need me to disable the alarm."

It's going to work!
"Or you could just tell me the code..."

Rory's backside hovered inches from the cushion. He thought for a second then lowered himself back onto the sofa.

"Twenty-two, ten, nineteen-forty-six."

"Somebody's birthday?"

"George Best's."

Rory's attention was divided between her and the TV, with the TV enjoying the lion's share. She could almost feel him drift away as she tapped in the numbers. The system started to bleat.

"What have I done?"

Rory paused the recording, heaved himself off the sofa and went to the number pad. "You've just hit a wrong number or something. Let me try..." His fingers found the right sequence and the beeping stopped. He went to the door and opened it for her. Stepped aside to let her pass.

Lydia looked out into the front garden. Two men in biker gear approached, their tinted helmet visors down. They had guns. Lydia whimpered.

"What's wrong, Lyds?"

Rory looked beyond her, cursed and shoved the door shut. He grabbed her by the back of her coat. One of the men hit the door. It moved but held. Without the bolts engaged, it wouldn't hold for long, though. And with the alarm deactivated there'd be no automatic emergency call to the police.

"Upstairs, quick."

She hesitated and Rory jerked her coat.

"Move, you stupid bitch. We have to go."

They were headed towards a dead end, but Lydia allowed him to drag her backwards. It was all going to end, one way or another. She was too tired to fight.

###

"W
hat are you waiting for? We need to move."

Cormac shot Donna a glance in the rear-view mirror. She held up a bloodstained hand then dropped it back out of sight. He looked over his shoulder to see Donna's hand pressed against her patient's abdomen. John Gallagher's wound was bleeding through the stitches and dressing. The car's interior light timed out and they were shrouded in twilight. Cormac nodded slightly towards Mattie for Donna's benefit. She shook her head. His ex didn't think he should tell the kid in the front passenger seat that his da was bleeding out in the back of the car.

Cormac clacked his teeth together a couple of times. He needed to jar his brain back into motion. "If we go to the City Hospital, can you get us through any bullshit questioning?"

"He'll be seen to right away. Just get us there."

Cormac listened to the improvised phone-bug. It picked up Shane's heavy breathing. The thumps and bumps of the thug's struggle with his bindings had ceased. If he'd any sense he was saving his energy and coming up with a decent explanation as to how he'd let his partner die and his quarry escape. Cormac handed the phone to Mattie.

"Look after this for me, kid. If anything gets picked up on it, a voice, somebody else coming in to the apartment, whatever, you make sure I hear it, right?"

Mattie, face rigid like he was afraid to look flattered or nervous, held the phone's speaker a few inches from his ear. Cormac winked at Donna in the rear view mirror. She averted her glare; no sign of forgiveness. He started the engine and slipped the Seat Leon into first. Then he spotted a dark hatchback with its full beams on pull a ridiculous manoeuvre on the Malone Road. In the process of overtaking a little red Micra it barely missed a City Bus pulling out from a stop on the other side of the road. Horns blared. The car, a black Ford Focus, indicated left. It was coming into the car park.

"That'll be our Frank, then," Cormac said.

He quashed the urge to speed out of his parking space and peel off in the opposite direction. That would be the best way to draw attention to them. He held back and hoped the Leon's slightly tinted windows and the darkened winter sky would provide them with enough cover.

"Come on, Cormac."

"Just a minute, Donna. We need to be cool here."

Cormac drew the Glock out of his pea coat and rested it on his lap. If Big Frank did see him, he'd have no option but to shoot. But with an armoury consisting of a half-empty clip, he would need to make each shot count.

Big Frank screeched to a halt at the door of the apartment building. He jumped out of the car with his usual lack of finesse, almost tripping over his own feet in his rush to the door. The gorilla didn't waste time with the security system. He pulled a Desert Eagle hand cannon from the waistband of his jeans and pumped three rounds into the lock. The kid flinched but held his tongue. Cormac could hear the hurried whisper of Donna in prayer. Then Frank was in the building.

"Hold the phone up to my ear, Mattie."

Cormac nosed the Leon out of the car park entry way and held tight for a break in the traffic. No need to panic. They'd be gone before Big Frank figured out the situation. The phone crackled into life.

"What the fuck happened here? Where's Paul?"

Shane's voice was clipped and steady. He'd prepared his response. "You didn't tell us we were going after a fucking cop."

"Where the fuck's Paul?"

"He's dead. The cop killed him."

Big Frank roared and there was a sickening thump. Shane started coughing.

"Keep your mouth shut about that, you dickhead. Ambrose O'Neill doesn't get taken on by sneaky peelers, all right?"

Shane's wheezy response was muted by the frantic hoot of a car that swerved around the Leon's front end. The driver stopped for a few seconds to point his finger and make an angry face. Cormac motioned him on with a dismissive wave.

Frank was talking again. "You know you were out of line, don't you, Shane?"

"Yeah, no sweat, Frank. Sorry."

"Just watch your mouth, okay? Now did Kelly hurt you bad?"

"I've a sore head, but I'll live."

"Good, because I need your help. We'll have to move aul' Paul when I'm done cutting you loose."

"Ah, Frank, don't make me lift him. He was my godfather."

"Was he? Ach, bollocks... Right, look, that's okay. Leave him there for now. I'll call somebody else."

"Thanks."

"I'll hunt down this Kelly fucker and make sure you get your chance at a bit of payback, okay?"

"Fucking right. He's only just left too."

"Why the fuck are we still here, then? Come on. What car did your man say the dirty doc drove?"

"Silver Seat."

"Hold on..." Footsteps then the swish of a drawn blind. "He's right fucking there! Come on you slow bastard."

The line of traffic broke and Cormac pulled out onto the road. He tried to plot out the journey ahead. Once he got to University Avenue he could hang left and cut through to the Lisburn Road and get John to the City Hospital.

Cormac broke the lights at the bottom of the Malone Road. John cursed and groaned in the back when they took the left too hard.

"Sorry, mate."

"Just fucking drive, Cormac," Donna said. "I'll hold him as steady as I can."

The ugly but iconic hospital building loomed in front of them. Cormac registered the pedestrian crossing ahead. Red. Not good. But he could see a break in the two lanes of oncoming traffic that blocked his path onto the hospital entrance. The Leon's engine roared and Cormac pumped the horn. He whipped up the handbrake and relied on the reactions of the well-seasoned Belfast drivers. Joyriders had nothing on this move. Horns blared and headlights flashed like strobes. But they made it through. Cormac risked a glance at the chaos he'd left in his wake. The Ford Focus sailed through the gap in traffic Cormac had created. If nothing else, Shane was a decent driver. Cormac would have to up his game.

"These bastards are too close to risk stopping here, Donna. They've already proved they're not afraid to pull out the guns in public. I'll try to lose them on the way to the Royal."

Belfast's other major hospital was close enough that Cormac could have them there in five or ten minutes if he continued to drive like a lunatic. He flipped on his hazard lights and dropped into third gear. The Leon's engine roared and catapulted them through the hospital grounds. They came out onto the Donegal Road and cut off a speeding Audi. The Audi's driver leaned on his horn and then whipped out into the oncoming lane to attempt to overtake Cormac. He drew level with the Leon and lowered his window. Signalled that Cormac should do likewise. Cormac waggled his Glock at the uppity prick.

"Fuck off, mate."

Angry-man in the Audi slammed on his brakes and almost caused a pile-up.

The Focus was just a few cars down the line and closing fast.

Cormac bullied a filthy Hyundai Getz out of his path. The student-type driver waved his middle finger with an admirable degree of apathy as the Leon edged past. Cormac didn't think this young fellah deserved the same fright as the Audi guy. He set the gun back onto his lap, waved an apology and sped on.

Up ahead, a long row of glaring red brake lights. No exit in between. The Focus was five cars' lengths behind and showed no indication of slowing. Cormac braked hard. The Glock slid off his lap and disappeared under the dashboard.

"Ah, no."

He swerved to the left and mounted the kerb just before the Focus rear-ended him. Big Frank was too slow on the draw. Missed a split-second opportunity to put a bullet in Cormac's face. They sailed past. And as Cormac rolled to a stop, other cars filled the space between the Leon and the Focus like Tetris blocks. A cold, sticky sweat sprang out on his forehead and trickled from his armpits over the corrugated curves of his ribcage.

With all the CCTV, traffic-watch webcams and speed cameras posted along the stretch of road on which he'd just travelled, the cops had to be on their way to see what the fuck he'd been playing at. Police interest in their vehicle would feed back to the wrong people at high speed. His handler could renew the efforts to drag him in. He pricked his ears for the squall of PSNI Land Rover sirens. Nothing, but that was little comfort. Their arrival was inevitable.

Up ahead, the Focus was penned in by other cars. Cormac popped on his hazard lights and played chicken with the oncoming traffic. He drove past the trapped Focus to a discordant orchestra of car horns, revved engines and yelled death threats. Big Frank tried to get out of the car to shoot at them as they passed but he couldn't pull himself together quick enough. They swerved back into the correct lane as the traffic lights changed and Cormac guided the Leon towards Broadway Roundabout. The huge arty structure in the centre of the roundabout, nicknamed ‘The Balls on the Falls', was lit up by flood lights. The Royal Hospital lay on the other side. But a glance in the rear-view mirror showed that Shane had negotiated the tailback and was on the move again. Cormac realised he wouldn't be able to lose their pursuers in the short distance to the hospital. He had no choice but to dig his heels in and face down the thugs.

––––––––

W
hy the hell would you name your kid after the city he was conceived in? You think that child wants to be reminded that his mum and dad love to shag every time he hears his name? It's a good job those dopes can afford to pay for some quality therapy.

Rory Cullen,
CULLEN: The Autobiography

––––––––

L
ydia's chest hitched. They were at the top of the stairs and the front door had just been kicked in. The men in the biker gear were on their way to get them.

Rory pointed to his room. "In here."

"And what? Hide under the bed?"

Rory dashed in and she followed. From the landing she heard the front door slam shut. They went to Rory's room. He opened his sock and condom drawer and scooped out a nasty looking hunting knife and what looked like a kid's toy gun. Then he went into the bottom drawer and took a little box from beneath a jumble of boxer shorts. Clicked it into the business end of the gun-type thing, flicked a switch and handed it to Lydia.

"Aim for the chest and pull the trigger, okay?"

The weighty plastic thing had a stubby pistol grip and a trigger that was set in what would normally be the stock of a handgun. The edges were rounded but the overall appearance of the object was blocky, like a mobile phone from the eighties. A yellow badge on the side labelled it as an X26. This meant nothing to Lydia. Then she noticed the butt of the grip was embossed with something. She traced her finger over the words. TASER X26 MADE IN U.S.A. She didn't ask him if it worked through leather.

Down below, there was a brief and mumbled exchange between the intruders and then the creak of motorcycle boots on stairs.

Lydia went to Rory's bedroom window and swept open the curtains. Looked for an escape route.

"There's a trellis here, Rory. Will it hold us?"

"Wise up."

Rory stood in front of the door, knife in hand and poised like a gunslinger. Lydia scrambled over the bed, the taser held high, careful not to set it off, and stood beside Rory but had no idea what to do. She grabbed Rory's wrist with her free hand.

"They probably have guns. Maybe you should drop the knife?"

"Will I drop my trousers and bend over for them as well?"

"I'm serious, Rory. Just give them what they want. Maybe they won't hurt us."

The bedroom door burst open. Lydia hid the taser behind her back. One of the bikers stood in the doorway. He hefted a handgun to head height. Aimed somewhere between Lydia and Rory.

"Where's your safe?"

Rory raised the knife. The biker chambered a round and settled his aim at Rory's chest.