They sat in a motorway service station café south of Peterborough with coffee and a sandwich. He couldn’t decide whether to go east to Norwich or carry on south towards London. He even contemplated taking her back to the Isle of Wight; it had a certain attraction given it was where it had all started for him and he remembered its relative isolation; somewhere they could hide easily. It was as far away from Ireland as you could reasonably get without going abroad, something he hadn’t ruled out either, but it had already become clear to him that in the modern age of instant, real-time communications, going off grid was virtually impossible.
“Tell me something. You shelled out a few grand for our little stopover at Buxton Manor almost without thinking. Now tell me it’s none of my business but I would not have guessed you were a wealthy woman.”
“It’s none of your business,” she said, but it was clear she was having a joke. “I’m not personally wealthy at all. I have no house, a beat-up old car abandoned in Scotland and very few assets or possessions other than a couple of savings accounts.” She left the rest hanging.
He shrugged. “So?”
“It’s not my money.”
“Any more than it was Eamonn’s money he gave to The Sisters?”
“No. It came from Rowan Maguire. But it’s not his either. He either stole or it or acquired it by nefarious means for nefarious purposes so he’s not gettin’ it back.”
“And that’s why you’re being chased around the country? For a few grand?”
“I know what you’re thinkin’. You’re thinkin’ we can settle this amicably by simply payin’ the bastard back and he’ll go away and never darken our doorstep again. That’s not how it works. The thing is, I know where the money came from and he’s not goin’ to let me live to tell the tale. As soon as he’s got it back, I’ll be found in a ditch with a bullet in my head and if you’re still with me, so will you.”
“So, if it’s not just a few grand, how much is it?”
“It’s not just money. It goes to the very heart of Maguire’s operation. Through Eamonn’s obsession with the Church and the Charity, he set in train the means of Maguire’s destruction. He couldn’t whistle-blow on his own family or else he’d be dead in the same ditch, but it’s goin’ to look like Maguire’s business empire imploded and all those who helped him go down with it too.”
“Wait. Stop there. What’s this got to do with you and The Sisters? I don’t see any connection between an organised crime empire run by a rabid Protestant and a Catholic charity for fallen women, however disgusting each of them are.”
“I don’t think Eamonn saw any connection either and there’s no way Maguire would associate himself with a Catholic charity. He probably doesn’t even know it exists. But once Eamonn started talkin’ to them, especially the priest, he developed a profound interest in the Church. If he hadn’t been married to a Maguire he would just have converted to Catholicism and that would be that. But that was never an option for him. He also wanted to support the Charity financially to make sure what happened to his mammy didn’t happen to others. I tried to tell him that The Sisters wasn’t what it appeared to be, but he had already made the decision. He wanted to help The Sisters do what was originally intended; be a genuine charity for fallen women. He became obsessed with his mission and that’s what led to his death.”
“He killed himself because Maguire found out what he was up to, or because he finally realised The Sisters were just as evil in their own way?”
“Both. And by the time it all fell into place, I was the only one he thought he could trust. So he told me what he’d done.”
Jack finished his coffee and let out a deep sigh. His head hurt, and while the testimony she’d offered had filled in many of the blanks, it threw up yet more questions. He rubbed his chin without thinking and she noticed.
“I’m sorry I hit you.” In contrition, she was as attractive as ever, only more so.
“That’s okay. I’m getting used to it.”
“I’m not a violent person. They made me like that. They made me hate and I’m not proud of it.”
“There’s fear too.”
“Aye, there is that. I like to pretend none of them bastards are goin’ to get me down. But they do.”
“Why are you still here? Why haven’t you fled the country; gone to Panama or New Zealand or somewhere they really won’t find you?”
“Because I don’t really have the resources to do that and I want to be here when it comes crashin’ down around their ears. Only then will I know it’s safe. If Eamonn’s right, it’s only a matter of time. It can’t be stopped. I can’t stop it and I’m not even goin’ to try. Maguire and his cronies will be history, Eamonn will get the blame for everythin’ and I’ll be in the clear. I admit I was naïve to think they wouldn’t find me. It took a while, but now they have, I don’t think I’ll be free wherever I am.”
“You never thought about going to the police? They have witness protection schemes.”
She shook her head. “What am I goin’ to say? RBM Industries is a front for organised crime and Maguire is a really naughty boy? I have no evidence of that. I can’t just allege he’s committed a crime. They’d laugh at me. Anyway, I wouldn’t trust them for a second.”
“I have a mate in the force.”
“The one who said I was trouble?”
“The very same.”
“Would you trust him with your life?”
It was a tough question. He’d never had to trust anyone to that extent, and put on the spot, he couldn’t think of anyone he did. Barry would have a conflict between their friendship and his professional obligations. One of them would take precedence and in all conscience, he couldn’t be certain which.
“Do you trust me?”
She looked at him long and hard before answering. “I don’t know you well enough. I’m takin’ a chance so I am, tellin’ you all this. It doesn’t mean I trust you. It means I’m tired of bein’ by myself. I have to believe in somethin’. Any scrap of faith I ever had was beaten out of me. I gotta tell you, life so far has been one big feckin’ disappointment.” He’d heard her use similar words before and it made him shiver. Despite her inner strength, she was vulnerable, as vulnerable as his wife had once been, the difference being Natalie had managed to cover it up and he’d been content to swallow the lie. Caitlín McConnell was placing her faith in him; without any great expectation he was worthy, and yet remained philosophical about the outcome. He reached a hand across the table and she looked down at it before taking it hesitantly and rubbing the back with her thumb.
“I think we should be making a move. I can’t promise you Buxton Manor again but I’m sure we can find somewhere comfortable to continue the conversation.”
“You’re still willin’ to risk trouble?”
“In for a penny. By the way, how much of Maguire’s money are we talking about.”
“Twenty million.”
***
Back on the motorway, he was still thinking about money and the unexpected magnitude of the problem, when the phone rang in the car and Charlie’s name appeared in the centre console display.
“Now if you think you’re trouble…” said Jack, pressing a button on the steering wheel. “Hello sweetheart? How are you?”
“Where are you?” Her exasperation filled the spacious cabin. “I’ve been round there twice and you’re never in!”
“I told you, I went to Scotland but now I’m on my way back.”
“Well, when will you be home?” The tone was plaintive, a toxic blend of anger and frustration.
“Can’t say for sure. What’s up?” He could imagine the raised eyes look, the gritted teeth, the barely concealed contempt she displayed for anyone who couldn’t move at a pace of her choosing.
“I’m in the middle of the biggest purchase of my life, I’m trying to switch jobs, Gavin’s promotion has been put on hold and it looks like we’re going to have go somewhere else for our mortgage, that’s all! I need you here.”
“I’m not sure what I can do there that I can’t do on the phone. And I can’t help Gavin get his promotion that’s for sure.”
“You’ve never liked him, have you?”
“That’s not the point.”
“You aren’t denying it then?”
“There’s nothing to deny. You love each other and that’s all that matters to me. You have my blessing.” She burst into tears and he looked at Caitlín who appeared equally confused. “Charlie?”
“He’s been seeing his ex-girlfriend,” she wailed.
“What do you mean seeing?”
“Seeing! Seeing!” Jack shook his head in dismay. Caitlín put a hand on her forehead. “He’s been…seeing her!”
“Is that a crime? I’m sure there’s nothing to it. He’s buying a house with you isn’t he?”
“Yes, but Alison told me she’d seen him in a coffee shop with Laura and they were acting like they were together.”
“Who’s Alison?”
“A friend.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Yes of course I asked him!” It came out as a shriek. “And he denies it.”
“Then maybe it’s not true.”
“Then why would she say it?”
“Who?”
“Alison!”
“Look. Who do you believe? Alison or Gavin?”
“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I don’t know what to do. Can you not come home?”
He cast a glance at Caitlín. “No darling, I can’t. Not at the moment. But let’s meet up somewhere and have a chat about it. I’ll call you later. Okay…?” but the phone had gone dead.
“Sounds like she needs some TLC,” said Caitlín. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back?”
“No. I don’t think it’s wise to go near the house at the moment. But we can get probably get close enough to pick a rendezvous point and I can mop her fevered brow.”
“You’ll have to go back at some time if you’re selling it.” He had already wondered how he could successfully dispose of a £3m house, clear it of contents, deal with all the minutiae of relocation and complete the documentation, and do it all either from a hotel room or the driving seat of a Range Rover. He told himself anything was possible but the only reason for staying away from the house was to protect Caitlín. He could find her a safe place to stay, return to Milton to tidy up his affairs and join her later, but that risked him being followed all over again. There was everything to lose by raising his head above the parapet. More importantly, he didn’t want to let her out of his sight; she might have second thoughts about wanting to involve him further and disappear all over again. It didn’t bear thinking about.
“You said the process of Maguire’s destruction was in train and it was only a matter of time. Do you really expect when that happens you can resume some sort of normal life?”
“If and when Maguire is arrested, I’ll release all the information and the money to the relevant authorities.”
“And when do you think that will be? Weeks? Months?”
“I really don’t know. Eamonn led me to believe it was six months maximum. That’s why I thought all I had to do was keep my head down for a while. I never expected it to turn into a full-time occupation. But the fact is, I’m not in control of the process.”
“Then who is?”
***
In response to Charlie’s cry for help, he’d turned west and headed for Milton Keynes. They booked two rooms at a Travelodge and he called her back.
“I’m in Milton Keynes. Why don’t you drive over here tonight and I’ll buy you dinner? It’ll take you less than an hour.” In the space of a few hours, his daughter had gone from quivering wreck to joyful exuberance.
“She’s getting married!”
“Who? You?”
“No stupid. Laura. Gavin’s Ex. She wanted to show him the ring and tell him there were no hard feelings, that’s all!”
“So, panic over.”
“There was never any panic,” she said irritably. “Don’t overreact. When are you coming home?”
“Not sure.”
“I need to go over to the house and decide what I want to take with me to the new place, before you sell the lot or put it in storage. There’s a lot of stuff still in my room and some bits and pieces of Mum’s. If you’re not going to be there, I’ll just let myself in.” Jack felt suddenly nervous, the alarm bells ringing loud in his ear.
“No don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I want to be there with you. I promise I won’t get rid of anything without you being there. It’s weeks away. I’ll be back long before then.”
“What are you doing?” Charlie seemed genuinely interested for once, but he knew her well. It was more curiosity than concern.
“I’m just sorting out a problem for a friend. And also taking time out to come to terms with my own situation.”
“Cool.” It was the closest he’d get to understanding but he was relieved she hadn’t turned it into another argument.
***
They had a drink in the pub next to the Travelodge and found a Chinese restaurant five minutes’ walk away.
“So, she’s all right?” said Caitlín as they took a small table by the window.
“Yes, just another melodramatic episode in the long running soap opera of my daughter’s life. I should be used to it by now. Keep thinking she’s going to grow up one day, but as time goes by…”
“Maybe when she settles into her new house with her boyfriend, she’ll calm down? I’d trade places with her tomorrow so I would.”
It was a striking reminder that, however serious Charlie thought her problems were, they were nothing compared to those Caitlín was facing. The more he thought about it, the more he thought they should go abroad. It would be far safer than living out of a suitcase in the UK. He thought about getting Barry’s advice without actually revealing any facts, but he could imagine the response. “You’ve given me absolutely nothing to go on. No names, no facts, no crimes. We all know there are bad guys everywhere, but someone needs to bring us some credible evidence of wrongdoing. We can’t go looking under stones just in case we find something we don’t like. And Ireland’s way off pitch. Even if I thought she was on to something, which I don’t, all I could do would be to alert the PSNI. Honestly mate. She’s trouble. My advice is cut her loose before she takes you to the cleaners. Get out of there now!”
Barry’s imaginary words were compelling. It could all be one totally concocted story about a disgruntled closet Catholic who embezzled shed loads of money from his family’s business with the sole intention of running off with his girlfriend, but then got found out and topped himself rather than face the wrath of his Protestant father-in-law.
“Tell me about Eamonn’s plan to bring down the Maguire empire.”
“I only have a basic knowledge of what he did. He said I didn’t need to know all the details, but also that he had put himself in grave danger so the less I knew the better. He only told me towards the end, sayin’ that all I had to do was sit tight and keep my head down. I didn’t know at the time he was plannin’ to kill himself.”
It struck a chord. He had experience. “He would never have admitted it. Even if he had suicidal thoughts, they’re only thoughts until some catalyst makes them a reality.” He was reminiscing, but only for a moment. “But was he so afraid that he’d rather end it himself than face Maguire’s wrath?”
“It wasn’t just that. You have to realise that by this time Eamonn had become a committed Catholic, attended Mass whenever he could and went to confession. All of this was done secretly without the knowledge of his staunchly Protestant family. He had only two things that drove him. First, he was convinced the work of The Sisters was noble and not only needed supportin’ but expanded across Ireland and the world as a beacon for the Catholic Church. Yes, he knew they had made mistakes in the past but the principles on which they were founded, offerin’ refuge and sanctuary to disadvantaged women and their children, were just as important and laudable as they ever were and crucially, were done in the name of God. If they were goin’ to continue their good work, then they needed massive fundin’.
“The second thing is, he was disgusted by the criminal activities of his father-in-law and his business; its corrupt associations with police, politicians the Protestant Church, its illegal trade in drugs and arms and prostitution and wanted to put a stop to it. RBM had become a very wealthy and powerful organisation; who better to fund Christian charities like The Sisters? In his mind it was the perfect solution. He could channel the illicit profits of crime to a worthy cause. He believed that was God’s wish and that he’d been put on earth by God to carry it out.”
“Jesus? The second coming? You are joking.”
“When Orla told him his mother Mary had called him baby Jesus, he thought little of it, until he got more and more involved with the Church and The Sisters and he eventually convinced himself this was what he was destined to do. He became obsessed with his mission. I know it sounds crazy to you and me, but I can see how he would get sucked into it. He was especially close to some Catholic priest who administered him the Blessed Sacrament in private because he could never attend Mass on a Sunday or at scheduled times. It turns out this same priest knew his mammy because she had been a choir girl at his church for a short time until she got pregnant, and The Sisters gave her a home when her family threw her out. The priest remembered wee Mary precisely because she had referred to her son as baby Jesus. I don’t imagine he was stupid enough to believe Eamonn was the second comin’, but when he started throwin’ money at The Sisters, there was no way he was goin’ to disabuse him of the fact and who knows, maybe even encouraged him?”
“You’re right. It sounds crazy to anyone like me who doesn’t have any religious beliefs, but you were brought up in that environment. Could you imagine yourself being drawn in like that?” She suddenly went quiet and looked pensive and he thought for a moment he’d put his foot in it again. But she was just composing herself.
“I went to church like everyone else did. It was expected, just a part of normal life, and back then you didn’t think twice about it. I never knew who my real parents were, but after mammy and daddy McConnell were murdered and I found out I was an orphan twice over, I prayed for them all every day until I entered the convent of The Sisters. It was there, prayin’ before God for their souls that I lost my faith. I never forget what happened to me at The Sisters and I never will.”
He searched his conscience to find words that might be appropriate, but he had never encountered circumstances like these before. He knew enough to be convinced she had been abused in some form or other at the hands of The Sisters and his flippant comment the previous night was what had tipped her over the edge, provoking her extreme reaction. Part of him wanted to know exactly what had happened to her and who had done it, so that he could help her heal, if that was possible. But at the same time, he couldn’t bear thinking about it and assumed neither could she. Part of him wanted to push it out of his mind altogether. It was the most private of matters and only she could decide whether or not to divulge the hideous details. He chose his words carefully, supremely conscious he was playing with fire.
“You were obviously sceptical about Eamonn’s motives and beliefs. Did you try and talk him out of it?”
“It was too late. He was too far gone. I watched him self-destruct and I could do nothin’ about it. He came to me as a kindred spirit, the only one he could trust in the end. We had common origins and for different reasons, we both felt lost. It was a symbiotic relationship.”
Before he could stop himself, the words came out of his mouth. “You were lovers.”
If ever there were justification for a vitriolic response it was now. But she simply looked drained. “Aye, but only once. We both knew it would end soon, and badly, so we took the only opportunity we had.” Their food arrived but neither had any appetite and they prodded and picked at it with their chopsticks. He poured her some more wine. “Careful with that,” she said, surprising him with a smile. “You know how it can sometimes make a lady emotional.”
“I’ll go easy. Are you happy to continue?”
She nodded. “Basically, Eammon secretly borrowed millions in the name of RBM and funnelled it into the Church and The Sisters. He set up a network of hidden offshore subsidiaries, forged signatures, board minutes, and racked up huge debts that Maguire knew nothin’ about.”
He stuffed a Chinese dumpling in his mouth and pointed his chopsticks at her. “That sounds easy but in practice, it’s pretty difficult to do with modern compliance, money laundering regulations and banking controls, especially since the crash in 2008. Who’s going to lend substantial amounts of money to a group of offshore companies whose activities by definition are less than transparent.”
“But the activities of RBM were transparent. The loans were taken out by the group and the money syphoned off to invisible subsidiaries. The lenders didn’t care where the cash ended up, they knew exactly who was ultimately responsible for repayment of the debt.”
He was still sceptical, even though the workings of the financial markets were something he didn’t know a great deal about. “Who are the lenders?”
“The Vatican Bank.”
“God in heaven!”
“The very man. Well, not so much the VB itself, but a low-profile subsidiary called Banco della Sorellanza, that’s Bank of the Sisterhood to you. It’s run by a bunch of Italian cardinals aided and abetted by the usual mixture of mafia from politics, police and big business. They were introduced to Eamonn through his parish priest and specialise in fundin’ ethical causes, at least on the surface. Their primary good cause is the promotion and expansion of the Catholic Church in any way possible.”
“Are you telling me the Catholic Church funded its own charitable enterprises by sucking money out of a Protestant run organisation like RBM?”
“It’s very elegant, you have to admit.”
But he wasn’t convinced. It didn’t sound plausible. “I don’t see how the Banco della whoever is going to make Maguire pay back a loan he knows nothing about.”
“Think about it. It’s all documented and legally enforceable. The money was lent in good faith for business expansion purposes, supported by a full business plan prepared by the finance director…”
“Eamonn?”
“…aye, the loans approved by the board of the parent company and secured on the assets of the group, includin’ stock, cash, debtors and a castle in Donegal where Maguire lives. It’s a composite supply-chain finance rollover facility and comes up for renewal every six months so that the company doesn’t need to draw it if it doesn’t need to. The bank can give notice to repay at any time if it fails to get adequate financial information from the company. Eamonn’s been gone for six months, so if they haven’t had it already, RBM will get notice to repay and if it defaults, then the bank will appoint administrators, they’ll take charge of the company’s affairs and blow the lid off his operations. Not even Rowan Maguire can stop that. They’ll eventually uncover his real activities, prosecutors will get involved, it will all become one big feckin’ mess. Even if he manages to rustle up twenty million from somewhere, it will kill him to have to pay it back to the Vatican. Not only will he be ruined financially, but his criminal conduct will also be exposed and worst of all, his reputation as the Worshipful Master of the Lodge will be in tatters.”
“So, has the money done the round trip. Has it gone back to The Sisters?”
“No. Most of it’s sittin’ in a Swiss bank.”
“Jesus Christ.”
She pointed her chopsticks at him and gave him a disapproving look. “You pulled me up for swearin’, so you did, so enough of that blasphemy.”
It brought him up short, then she winked at him and he couldn’t help grinning madly. “So why is it sitting there?”
“Eamonn didn’t release all the funds straight away. He wanted to make sure it was used for furtherin’ the aims and objectives of the Charity and for promotin’ the renaissance of the Church in Ireland and elsewhere. Havin’ the money was one thing, makin’ sure it was used properly was a major task in itself. But he’d achieved one of his objectives, he’d sown the seeds of Maguire’s downfall. He just didn’t know how to use it for the Charity and the Church. No sooner had he started making his first big donation to the Church it was sucked out by the big cheeses in Rome and he was suspicious it would all just be routed back there instead of bein’ used to rebuild their reputation in Ireland. So he insisted he would release the rest slowly, as and when the Church gave him good reason.”
“Why does the Church need to rebuild itself? I thought Ireland revolved around the Catholic Church.”
“Aye, it used to. When I was born, eighty five percent of people went to Church but that’s dropped to thirty five percent now and some of that is due to all the child abuse scandals that were uncovered and have never been properly resolved, includin’ places like The Sisters. If they were goin’ to try and get back their congregations, they’d have to clean up their act, do a massive marketin’ exercise to build up their numbers and all that costs money. In the meantime, the fall in active members has had a massive impact on donations, not just in Ireland but everywhere. All those pound coins and euros from the masses. It all adds up. No one knows how much money the Vatican has, because their finances are secret, but you can bet it’s a hell of a lot less than it used to be, and a lot of that is just because a load of Catholic priests, and not a few nuns, wanted their hole.”
He almost spat out a dumpling, taken aback by the scale of it but also her casual obscenity, the whole notion incongruous in the extreme. “You’re telling me it’s all about sex and celibacy?”
“No. It’s much simpler than that. It’s all about power. Priests and gangsters like Maguire both have power in their own way; power over other people. And when you give men power, history says they’re goin’ to abuse it and they’re goin’ to want more.”
“Nuns aren’t men.”
“No, but they’re a tiny minority with fecked-up brains and ultimately, they’re controlled by men.”
The concept was as old as time itself and he was no stranger to it, having had power of his own over his hundred or so employees. He liked to think he’d used it for the benefit of everyone. “So tell me how you market the Catholic Church? I don’t see them taking out a load of TV and newspaper advertising?”
“Evangelism. The Pope wrote this big pamphlet, one of his Apostolic Exhortations. It acknowledged the sins of a few members of the clergy and explained how the Church had to now send its disciples out into the community, out of their comfort zone, take the Church to the people rather than expect the people just to turn up, be penitent and hand over their cash.”
“Like Jehovah’s witnesses?”
“A bit like that. Bein’ pro-active and seekin’ to bring people back into the fold. Knockin’ on doors and gettin’ directly involved in communities, supportin’ local charities, turnin’ up at schools and tellin’ weans sweet bible stories, tryin’ to make themselves look all goody-goody. Warnin’ people of the perils of social media and tryin’ to get folks to believe that’s where evil resides and if they come back to the Church, God will save them from the devil.”
“You seem to know a lot about them. Do you follow Catholicism?”
“I follow its decline. I watch to see how hypocritical it can get, and I hope one day I’ll watch it burn in hell. Religion, and not just Catholic; it’s the grand feckin’ illusion, so it is.”
He felt ill-equipped to contribute to the argument. She wished for the destruction of the Church; the Church that had visited untold misery on her life and the lives of others in direct contradiction to its stated aims and objectives. He had never been touched by it, nor ever been minded to get involved. There was nothing there for him, the real world posed too many challenges to allow him the luxury of hiding behind the cloak of religion. He thought she had finished, but he was wrong.
“I actually don’t think it’s the Church itself that’s to blame. The Church has millions of followers, deluded eejits