The sat-nav told him it was a three-hour drive from Dublin to Derry and a further forty-five minutes to Maguire’s home at Larnock Castle on the north coast of Donegal. She would leave him in Derry and he’d go with Maguire’s men in their car. He couldn’t see how that part of the plan could go wrong, until Maguire found out Caitlín wasn’t with him, but he had a good explanation, and he was confident Maguire would go along with it for the simple reason he had no choice.
They’d avoided excessive amounts of alcohol after dinner so they would have clear heads the next day and were able to discuss the arrangements over and over again to anticipate and counter any unexpected variables. Afterwards, they fell into bed and made love again, gently and slowly, drawing out the experience for as long as they could before falling asleep curled up together, exhausted.
He pulled into service station to refuel, and after paying the bill, walked around to the passenger side and opened her door.
“Have you ever driven a Range Rover?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Well then it’s about time you did. It’s pretty much like any other car, you just need to get used to it.” They swapped places and after he’d helped her adjust the seat and steering wheel, she slowly guided the big car out into the motorway traffic, staring intently out of the front window, gripping the wheel in concentration.
“We’ll be in Derry by twelve. If Maguire think’s we’re on the eight o’clock ferry, he won’t be expecting us to get up there until about two, so it’ll give us plenty of time to make the call and set things up. If we want to go earlier I can call him and say there was a change of plan. I’m sure he’ll be anxious to get it done sooner. As if by magic, Jack’s phone rang, and he looked at the screen. ‘Unknown Number’. “I bet that’s him. Don’t answer it!”
“I wouldn’t know how!”
“It’s probably him checking we’re on the ferry. Best to let him sweat a bit.” The ringing stopped and he waited for a voicemail, but there was none. “He’ll call again unless I get to him first.” They drove on and she started to relax, leaning on the left armrest and sitting back in her seat.
“I really enjoyed sex with you last night.”
“So did I.”
“It’s been a long time, so it has.”
“I thought…”
“And I thought you weren’t goin’ to mention that!”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway, Eamonn doesn’t count. I didn’t enjoy that. I was just doin’ him a favour.”
“A favour?”
“You know what I mean. He was all weepy and feelin’ under pressure. I was just tryin’ to calm him down, give him a hug, but his hands started wanderin’ and I didn’t have the heart to stop him. Anyway, I didn’t trust anyone else, not after all that…you know. It had been years and I vowed I’d never to go near a man again. Bastards, all of them.”
“So where does this bastard fit in?”
“You’re no bastard. You’re…different.”
“Thanks.”
***
They left the motorway at junction 14 heading west, but by the time they got to the A5, heavy traffic had slowed them down. They eventually crossed the River Foyle and parked in the Foyle Road car park fifteen minutes before noon.
“Are you going to be okay by yourself?”
“I’ll have to be.”
“I think you should make your call first. Then we’ll be able to firm up on the timetable.” She looked suddenly hesitant but then nodded in agreement and retrieved her phone from her bag. He put his hand on hers. “Even after you make this call, you can pull out if you want to. You can pull out anytime you like. I’ll understand.”
“This is for you and Charlie.”
“It has to be for you and Eamonn too. And Mary.”
“Do you want to listen?”
He nodded. She dialled a number and put it on speaker, but he noticed her hands were shaking. It rang five times before it was finally answered.
“St Patrick’s, good afternoon.” Woman, elderly, speaking slowly but deliberately in her best telephone voice.
“Hello, good afternoon. Is that St Patrick’s church in Drumloghan?”
“Yes, it is. How may I help you?”
“My name is Sineád. Sineád O’Callaghan. May I ask who I’m speakin’ to?”
“Yes, this is Oona O’Brien, the clerk to the church.” Caitlín crossed two fingers in the air.
“May I call you Oona?”
“Yes darlin’. Is it Father Donal you’re wantin’?”
“No! I mean yes, but I don’t need to speak to him right now. The thing is, I wondered if he was goin’ to be there later this afternoon. I haven’t seen him for many years, not since I was a wee lassie, but I’m passin’ by and wondered if he could spare me five minutes.”
“Aye, well he’s havin’ a meetin’ with Bishop McKenna and the other priests over at The Sisters…” he watched as Caitlín involuntarily closed both eyes at the sound of the name “… but I expect him back here around three. Would that suit you?” They looked at each other and nodded.
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
“Can I ask what you want to see him about?”
“Yes. But Oona, only if you promise to keep it secret.”
“I promise.”
“I want to make a big donation to the Church, but I want it to be a surprise.”
“A donation? The Father will be very grateful, I’m sure. Did you have a sum in mind?”
“Yes, but that’s the secret.”
“Well, I’m sure that’s very kind of you.”
“Will you be there all afternoon Oona?”
“Aye, I will.”
“All by yourself?”
“Aye. It’s just me and Father Donal, when he’s not out and about. We’ll see you later on then?”
“Yes. Thank you very much.”
“Sineád darlin’? Can I ask you a wee question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Father Donal says I have a photographic memory. He says I know everyone who ever came in and out of this church in the last forty years,” she allowed herself a small chuckle, “but that’s only because I keep a record of all the comin’s and goin’s. But for the life of me, I can’t remember your name.”
They exchanged anxious glances and she had to think fast. “Aye well there’ll be a good reason for that. I’ll tell you all about it when I get there.”
“Well, you come here as early as you like, and we’ll have a chat over a wee cuppa tea and a nice piece of cake.”
“That’s lovely Oona, bye now.”
“Bye darlin’.”
She cancelled the call. “Jeez. I’m feckin’ shakin’ so I am.”
“You were brilliant.” He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. She put her hand behind his neck and pressed her lips against his, massaging them hungrily until they both needed air. “So far so good.”
“She sounds real nice, so she does. Forty years with that fecker? Do you think she knows?”
“Don’t underestimate her, whatever you do. She sounds harmless and a bit dim, but I bet she’s razor sharp.” He looked at his watch. “Okay. It’s twelve o’clock now. It’ll take you about an hour to get to Drumloghan, so you should leave here about two. That’ll give you time to have a bonding session with Oona before the big man arrives. Then we’ve got three hours to play with.”
“Is that long enough?”
“I have no idea. But I suspect it’ll go to the wire.” He pointed at a café. “Let’s go and get something to eat. We may need our strength.” But before they could open the doors his phone rang. “Guess who. You remembered your line?”
“Get on with it.”
“Jack Fleming.”
“Hello Jack, where are you?”
“We’re on our way to Derry. Be there in about two hours.”
“And I take it Miss McConnell is there with you?”
“Yes, she’s here. You’re on speaker.”
“Hello Miss McConnell, we get to speak at last.” His tone imparted a toxic blend of glee and menace. She said nothing. “Hello…? Are you there? Or has the cat got your tongue?” They could sense his smile was fading.
“Caitlín is not well disposed towards you Rowan. She believes she’s here under duress.”
“Well, that’s a shame. I’m sorry she feels that way, but I do need her to confirm she’s actually there or else we might have ourselves a wee problem. Are you there Caitlín?”
“Away and feck yersel!” she shouted, earning a thumbs up from Jack.
“Charmin’. No more or less than I expected from a thievin’ hoor.” Caitlín’s face creased in anger and Jack put a finger to his lips.
“Let’s not argue, please. We all have a job to do, let’s just do it and go home. Let me speak to my daughter, Rowan.” They waited anxiously, not sure which Charlie they’d get; the bubbly enthusiastic one they had yesterday or the distressed one from the day before. She was neither.
“Hello?”
“Charlie? It’s dad.”
“Oh hi.” She was in her disinterested mood. He knew it well in normal circumstances, but it was as unexpected as her excitement yesterday.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?” She sounded sleepy and washed out. As if nursing a hangover.
“I’ll be there in a few hours and then we can go home.”
“She’s feelin’ a bit sleepy Jack,” said Maguire, butting in. “Must be the after-effects of the wee pick-me-up we gave her.” Jack remembered drugs was one of Maguire’s specialities. It explained her change of mood and he had to rein in his anger.
“Keep her off the drugs Maguire.”
“We had to do somethin’ to help her calm down Jack. She was out of control when she got here so we gave her a wee sedative and then she swung too far the other way so we gave her a wee shot of DMT to lift her spirits. She really liked that and wanted some more but now, she’s feelin’ a bit fragile, so she is. She’ll be fine as soon as she sees you, I have no doubt.” Jack wanted to punch the guy, but he was powerless to do anything, and further threats would be meaningless. He took comfort from the fact that she didn’t sound distressed although he was prepared for that to change.
“Where do you want us to meet you in Derry?”
“There’s an open-air car park in William Street. The boys will be waitin’ for you there.”
***
They had coffee and a sandwich in one of the cafés adjacent to the car park. Killing time was the hardest thing to do, especially when hazards lay ahead and they had plenty of time to worry about something going wrong. But he forced her to walk through the plan, step by step, challenging every assumption; each based on information they knew, fully aware there was so much they didn’t. A random fragment of information jostled back into his consciousness, begging explanation.
“I’ve just thought of something else; something Eamonn wrote in his letter. May I see it?” She fished in the large attaché case that held his laptop, the bank device and the other contents of the yellow padded envelope. He scanned the letter again. “Here it is. He mentions someone who told him not only about the church’s banking arrangements but also set him on the path of discovering the truth about the abuse. But there’s no name. He says that person ‘will make themselves known at a time of their choosing’. What if it’s Oona, the old biddy you talked to?”
“Not with forty years’ service to Father Donal.” He thought about it and guessed she was probably right, but he was undeterred.
“Yes, but she’s the clerk, so she’ll know how the bank account works and although she may not have acknowledged any of the Church’s crimes, she may have unwittingly pointed Eamonn in the right direction. She more or less told you she knows everyone and everything.”
“Okay. But if that is true, then how does it help?”
“I don’t know. Just thinking out loud, that’s all. But I’m guessing as soon as you mention Eamonn, you’ll find out where her sympathies lie.”
“She may have sympathy for Eamonn’s death, but after forty years you can’t expect anythin’ other than blind loyalty to the Church.”
He checked his watch. “I think you’d better get on your way.
***
She drove him to the corner of William Street. They were thirty minutes early, but he decided it was better she dropped him off than wait. She couldn’t risk being seen by Maguire or his men and, if necessary, she could kill time on the next leg of her journey. He grabbed his outdoor jacket from the back seat and stroked her hair.
“Good luck. Text me when the time’s right. Are you going to be okay?” She gave him a withering look.
“I’ve had plenty of practice dealin’ with shite thrown at me by scumbag priests and jaffa thugs, so this is nothin’ new.
“Good point.”
“What about you?”
“Got any tips for an amateur?”
She kissed him. “Go and get Charlie. I’ll see you later.”
“Sat-nav’s set for Drumloghan. Drive carefully.”
“Go!” she said impatiently, as if not wishing to prolong the agony.
He watched her drive off and wondered for a moment whether he’d ever see her again. It was the first time they’d been parted since that day in the cottage and he suddenly felt as if something precious had been taken away. The weather added to his feeling of isolation, standing in the gloom in a car park in Northern Ireland. The late November air was cold, and spots of rain were beginning to fall, so he zipped up his jacket and checked his watch. He was in no hurry to greet his driver, but he was anxious to see Charlie. He wasn’t sure who or what he was looking for, but he positioned himself between two cars which gave him a clear view of the entrance marked by the swing barrier.
It didn’t take long and was predictably familiar; a black BMW containing two grim faced men. He stayed out of sight as he watched it cruise slowly around the car park and when it came back to where he was standing, he stepped out from behind a van and held out a hand. The car stopped and the passenger got out. Neither he nor the driver looked like the thug Mikey who’d survived the incident in the cottage, but just like him and the late Uncle Dec, both wore black polo neck sweaters under a black leather jacket. RBM uniform.
“Jack Fleming?” he said in a monotone.
Jack nodded “I assume you work for Maguire?”
“Where’s the woman? We was told to pick up two of ye.”
Jack smiled and shrugged. “She had to run an errand. All you’ve got is me for now.” He stepped towards the car. A palm came up to stop him.
“Stop there,” said Mr Monotone. He turned away and consulted with the driver then and after a moment, reached inside his jacket. Jack tensed, he was too far away to do anything about a gun and primed himself to leap into the gap between two cars, but the guy simply pulled out a phone and jabbed at it. “I need to call this in.” He turned away and walked a few steps. Jack strained to hear the conversation, but Monotone’s quiet mumbling was unintelligible, unlike the swearing from the person at the other end, the sense of which if not the words themselves coming across loud and clear. Monotone turned and handed him the phone. “Mr Maguire would like a wee word.”
Jack took the phone. “Hello Rowan.”
“What the fuck is goin’ on Jack? Where’s the hoor?”
“Calm down Rowan. It’s all under control.”
But Maguire was clearly not in control of his temper. “You fuck with me Jack and you’ll be sorry, so you will.”
“Look. It’s not a problem, trust me. I’m sure when I explain what we’re doing you’ll see it was the right decision.”
“Explain then!”
“Not here. It would be much better in private, unless you want these monkeys to overhear. Caitlín has some other business to attend to first. It’s a necessary part of the process.” He waited as Maguire thought through his options, which they both knew were limited.
“Give the phone back!”
Monotone took the phone, listened for a second then cancelled the call. “Put your arms out,” he said, pocketing his phone.
“Sod off!”
“I need to check you’re not carryin’.” Jack sighed and removed his hands from his pockets, spreading his arms wide. The guy frisked him perfunctorily and then tried to take the phone from his hand, but Jack avoided his grasp.
“No way. I need it to communicate with ‘the woman’. She’ll only talk to me.” Monotone relented and opened the back door. Jack climbed in, the engine roared and the BMW lurched forward out of the car park and into the traffic.
Maguire’s men remained silent as they navigated the town, progressed to the outskirts then hit the open road. After twenty minutes, he surreptitiously checked his phone, launched the Find My app and saw they were travelling north. The other flashing icon showed Caitlín going south west with about forty miles between them. It was a risk, he knew, but one he had to take. At some stage he’d have to reveal Caitlín’s location; just not yet.
“Did one of you punks put a bag over my daughter’s head?” He saw the driver glance at him in rear-view mirror and then at his pal. It was all that was required. “You and I are goin’ to have a wee chat later, so we are,” he said mocking the accent. “And did your pal here help you?” There was no response to either question, so he put his head back and settled into his seat. It was an idle threat, but he felt better for it. If he had the opportunity, he would show his displeasure later.