The emerald-green eyes bored into him, cold as ice, unblinking, concentrated and determined; seeking any shred of reaction from him to justify her next response, challenging him to declare his thoughts and intentions. She need say nothing to articulate her own; her eyes said it all. There you go, lover boy, you finally got what you wanted. Are you satisfied? Are you goin’ to repeat all that romantic shite you said earlier? Do you still feel the same way now you know about the incest? Are you goin’ to rant and rave, laugh or cry, demand retribution, promise revenge, reiterate that boast to solve a problem that can’t be solved, repair what can’t be repaired, pledge your undyin’ love and allegiance to a miserable wretch, these irrevocably damaged goods? Can you accept that the stain of infamy will tarnish me forever in your eyes and no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be able to banish it from your conscience? Will you understand that what haunts me will always haunt you and you’ll just have to try and make the most of it? Or are you just goin’ to feck off and leave me alone? He had no answer to any of it and equally, he had no idea what she wanted him to do or how she wanted him to react. There was no stock response to the situation in which he now found himself; he could only work off instinct. She was waiting.
“I meant what I said. I mean it more than ever now.”
“I don’t need your sympathy!”
“I’m not offering sympathy. I’ve never been where you’ve been, so I won’t even try to imagine it or put myself in your shoes. I can’t change the past. But I can change the future. If you’ll let me.”
“You never needed my permission before.” She was doing it again, putting up that barrier, refusing to engage, seeing how far she could push it before he finally gave her up as a lost cause. She’d said she wanted to be left alone but the difference was that she now implied acceptance that he wouldn’t give up.
“No, but if we’re going to do this, we have to do it together.”
“Do what?”
“Put things right.”
She let out a hollow laugh. “How are you goin’ to do that? Are you goin’ call your copper friend and tell him some Irish priest and a few nuns have done somethin’ really bad and need a tellin’ off? He’ll laugh his feckin’ head off, so he will.”
“I’m not talking about exposing scandal in the Church. I’m talking about getting Maguire off your back.”
“Same thing applies.”
“Which is exactly why we need to sort it out ourselves. I can’t undo what the Church did to you, but I can undo the mess you’re in now. Then we can think about the future.”
“We?”
“You’re one stubborn, feckin’ woman, so you are.”
Her jaw dropped in shock and then she broke into the biggest smile he’d seen. “That’s the nicest thing anyone ever said to me.” He reached across the table and took both her hands, leaning forward, watching her mouth, moving his closer as she moved closer to him. His phone rang, jolting his senses and he released her to fish it from his jacket pocket. It was Charlie.
“Hello sweetheart.”
“Daddy?” He knew straight away she was upset.
“What is it sweetie?” He straightened up when she didn’t answer. “Charlie?” He flashed a look at Caitlín and her smile had vanished.
“Hello there, Jack.” Middle aged male, avuncular, Irish. A ripple of fear crawled up his back making his neck tingle.
“Who are you?”
“I just wanted to let you know your daughter’s safe and well and enjoyin’ some legendary Irish hospitality.”
“Put her back on!”
“Aye in a wee minute. I just thought we could have a wee chat first.”
“Let me talk to her and then we can have a wee chat.” He heard a pause and a rustle and Charlie’s voice, quavery and distressed.
“Daddy? Daddy?”
“Are you alright? Where are you?”
“I don’t know. Some big house. Like a castle.”
“What happened?”
“These men… I was in your house…” she started sobbing and it broke his heart to hear her so distressed. “They put a bag over my head…” She broke down and wept then recovered her composure a little “…then threw me in the boot of a car…I’ve been in a helicopter.”
“Are you hurt…?” He glanced across at Caitlín, fearing the worst. She’d put her head in her hands and looked horrified. “…did they hurt you?”
“No. Not like that. But I’m frightened Daddy.”
“Charlie? Charlie?”
“She’s fine Jack. Just a little disorientated, that’s all.”
“You hurt my daughter and you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your short life.” It was a hollow threat, but it was all he could think of saying. His left hand ached and he noticed his knuckles were white, the fist clenched involuntarily, primed to attack an invisible foe.
“Now, now Jack. Stay calm. She’s a beautiful young lady. You should be very proud. There’s no way she’ll come to any harm, not with me. I have a daughter myself, about the same age. I wouldn’t dream of hurtin’ her. She’s very comfortable here. My wife is lookin’ after her, so she is.” The mention of another woman instantly took the heat out of the conversation.
“What do you want?”
“Oh, I think you know what I want.”
“Help me out.”
“I want to speak to Miss McConnell. Is she there?”
His mind was already a step ahead and he wanted to keep it that way. “No. But I know where she is. What do you want her for?”
“She has somethin’ belongin’ to me and I simply want it back.”
“What’s that got to do with me and Charlie?”
“Well you see, that’s what I don’t know.” The guy oozed charm and innocence. He sounded like everyone’s favourite uncle yet even if Jack didn’t know what he knew about Rowan Maguire, he’d still guess there was sinister intent. “How do you know Miss McConnell?”
“We just bumped into each other and to be perfectly honest, I wish I hadn’t.” He looked straight into Caitlín’s eyes, but she didn’t react.
“Are you tellin’ me that you and her are not…an item?”
Ordinarily, Jack liked a negotiation. Next to aero engineering it was one of the things he thought he did well. But he wanted to keep his distance and that meant giving little away. “Who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter who I am.”
“It matters to me. I want to be sure I’m dealing with the head man and not another one of his flunkeys.”
“I can assure you I am no flunkey,” he said icily, his tone imperious and threatening. “There is no higher authority.”
“Then I assume those two goons I slapped around on the Isle of Wight and followed me to Scotland belong to you.”
“One of those ‘goons’, as you put it, the dead one, was my brother-in-law.”
“Sorry about that, but it was nothing to do with me.”
“But you were there to protect Miss McConnell. Why is that?”
“Look, you know my name, but I don’t know yours. Who am I talking to?” There was a long pause before the answer came. Maguire had decided there was no risk or if there was, it was worth taking.
“My name is Maguire. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you about me.” The arrogance oozed from every word.
“No Mr Maguire, she hasn’t. And I wasn’t there to protect her. She invited me.”
“What, you just went along because she asked you to?”
“I was offered a week’s holiday in a quiet cottage in Scotland by a fit young woman. Okay. I expected to get my leg over, but we were rudely interrupted and now frankly, I’m getting bored with her games. She’s peddled a story about being on the run from some UVF thugs but won’t explain who or why.”
“As I said Jack. She stole somethin’ from me, and I want it back. I’m a reasonable man. I’m not a man of violence. I’m not a member of the UVF and I’m certainly not a thug.” Liar on four counts.
“What about your brother-in-law and his sidekick? Don’t you think sending armed men to harass and intimidate people suggests otherwise?”
“I regret that. They got frustrated and over-stepped the mark.”
“So what does she have that you want?”
“You don’t need to know that. All you need to know is that she has somethin’ belongin’ to me that I want back, and I have somethin’ belongin’ to you, that you want back. It’s a simple trade, so it is. You’re a businessman, like me. I looked you up.” A rudimentary internet search would have revealed Jack Fleming as the founder of Fleming Aerospace, the industry awards his company had won, press clippings from trade magazines, photos of him with Natalie at gala dinners, photos of them all in Sunday supplements, the millions he made from the sale of his business and the tragic loss of his wife. He’d never set out to create an online profile for himself, but once it got out there, it was indelible.
“That’s all very well Mr Maguire, but if you give me a clue, I might be able to help. I’m pretty sure whatever Caitlín McConnell has, she won’t hand it over just because I ask her to. She’s a feisty bitch and she’ll do whatever she wants. She has up to now.” He continued to stare at her as he spoke and could swear he saw her blink. “If I’m going to help you, you’ll have to help me. Believe me, all I want is my daughter back, safe and sound. If you’ve looked me up, you’ll know I don’t need money, I don’t have strong views, I’m a pretty ordinary guy. On this occasion, just a little out of his depth. Don’t get me wrong, I like Caitlín. She’s hot. Just too hot for me.”
“Well then it sounds like we’re on the same side Jack.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I don’t want her to get hurt. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I’m sorry about your brother-in-law.”
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt either.” The thinly veiled threat was clearly designed to show hurt was at his discretion. Either Maguire’s mask was slipping, or he was reminding Jack he was in a position of strength.
“So, let me guess. This is about money, isn’t it?”
“So she fessed up?”
“Not exactly, but I’ve spent much of the morning sitting in the reception area of a Swiss bank, so it’s a reasonable assumption. How much are we talking about?”
“You don’t need to know that.”
“Look, Mr Maguire.” He tried to convey tired and frustrated without too much disdain. Maguire would not be a man to be ridiculed. “If it’s a few grand, I’ll just settle up and we can all get on with our lives.”
“Twenty million.” Jack left a suitable pause before whistling fake surprise down the line.
“Ah, okay. I guess you might get a bit angry about that. I now see Caitlín’s behaviour in a new light. But let me tell you this. My daughter’s worth a hell of a lot more than twenty million. In fact, she’s the only thing I have left in the world that I care about. If necessary, and provided you offer some evidence, I’ll personally see you right and take it up with Caitlín myself.”
“Then we have the outline of a deal, Mr Fleming.” The use of surname showed the balance of power had suddenly shifted. Maguire still had the better hand, but he was ready to fold if the price was right.
“But let me reiterate, so we have no misunderstanding. If you hurt my Charlie, I will hurt you back twice as hard. I can do it and I will have nothing else to live for.”
“I understand Jack. I would do the same, so I would.”
“Tell me one more thing. Who’s Eamonn Flynn?” He said it as if it were genuine curiosity. But he wanted to puncture Maguire’s arrogance and get under his skin. It worked; the reply carrying an undercurrent of rage.
“That Fenian’s name will not be mentioned in my presence. He’s the bastard that started this, but he won’t be finishin’ it that’s for sure.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because he’s dead, that’s why.” The relish was evident, the avuncular Rowan Maguire exposing the psychopath he really was.
“You had him killed?”
“No. He topped himself, before I could get my hands on him.” Jack had said and heard enough. He wanted to finish the conversation and resume at a time of his choosing, but Maguire wasn’t finished. “He left his wife, my daughter, and her two weans for that hoor, stole my money and now that hoor has it. I want it back.”
“I understand. Leave this with me for twenty-four hours. I’ll call you back on this phone. You’ll get your money.”
“Don’t call this number Jack. We will call you.”
“Okay. Now, put Charlie back on please.”
“Twenty-four hours Jack.” Maguire would have the last word. Megalomaniac.
“Daddy?” Her distress was still raw and he struggled to maintain his own composure. “What’s happening?”
“Charlie sweetheart. I’m going to come and bring you home.”
“When?”
“Soon. Mr Maguire and I have an understanding. Just you do what he says and sit tight. Okay?”
“I’m frightened.”
“I know. Don’t be. Everything’s going to be fine, so be a strong girl. Love you.”
“Love you daddy.” She started sobbing again and it was all he could do not to succumb himself. He looked at her smiling picture on his phone and pressed cancel.
“Jesus Christ that was feckin’ awesome. You were so feckin’ cool, so you were.”
“I don’t feel it.” He rubbed his forehead.
“This is out of hand. This was Eamonn’s problem and it’s now a feckin’ virus infectin’ everyone who comes into contact. One woman’s dead and there’s now three more in the frame. No amount of money’s worth this shite. I’ll give the jaffa his feckin’ money. All we have to do is make sure we can all walk away.” She looked at him quizzically. He was shaking his head. “What?”
“Do you trust me?” he said, looking at her expectantly.
“No.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I don’t know you well enough. But I trust you more than I trust anyone else.”