he saw his two intruders. ‘What the…?’ he began.
‘Jimmy Mal, you bastard,’ hissed Liam, The Killer ready in his hand. ‘You’ve shipped your last gun.’
‘What?’ said the man, his eyes wide.
‘And you can say goodbye to your NORAID pals.’
‘NORAID? Oh no. I didn’t mean… You haven’t found… Oh no.’ A briefcase fell from the man’s hands and papers scattered across the floor.
‘Jimmy Mal?’ Liam repeated, his blade dropping a little in his confusion. This wasn’t the reaction he had expected.
‘Who? I’m not – who?’ stammered the man as a wet, gurgling sound came from his direction.
Liam jumped back in surprise. A sloppy brown liquid emerged from the trouser leg of the man opposite before James Malcolm Brennan, otherwise known to his students as The Bug, fell to the floor in a dead faint and his own shit.
‘Paddy,’ whispered Tommy at his side. ‘I have a funny feeling that ain’t Jimmy Mal.’
Liam looked at the man on the ground, then at Tommy and then at The Killer as he spread his arms wide in disbelief. ‘What - the - fuck?’ As his eyes moved back to the ground, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed. ‘This bloke’s a schoolteacher, a fuckin ’ schoolteacher. He is not my fuckin ’ Jimmy Mal.’
‘What?’
‘Look,’ yelled Liam, indicating the papers strewn across the floor. There, in the middle of the mess, lay a laminated I.D. card. “ Mr. J. M. Brennan. Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences.”
Tommy let out a long, low whistle. ‘Jeez, man, I can see why you had to take this tough guy out. I bet he gives really bad grades.’
‘Tommy, shut the fuck up,’ hissed Liam, his voice beginning to shake as he turned his anger towards the man on the floor. He kicked out at the prone body. ‘What’s all that I.R.A. crap? What are you up to, you stupid bastard?’
‘Christ, Paddy, it’s not his fault he’s a teacher with the wrong name.’
‘ Gimme those papers.’
‘What?’
‘Those fuckin ’ I.R.A. papers you found in the desk.’
As Tommy handed them over in confusion, the man on the floor groaned. ‘Paddy, you’re gonna have to look at ‘ em later, man. We need to get out of here.’
Once more the patio door slid open and Liam controlled his breathing as the two men walked carefully out and made their way quietly back through the shadows. Jack was lying at the fence next door and he let out a small whine as they passed. ‘Shush boy, be quiet, that’s a good feller,’ Liam whispered as they made their way, stealthily, to the car. Jack wagged his tail and then settled down to his dreams of the sexy Marie-Claire.
Back in the car Liam’s mood quickly darkened. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he hissed as he repeatedly punched the dashboard. He’d messed up twice in one day. What the Hell was happening to him and how had he got it so wrong? He turned on the interior light and Tommy watched as he flicked angrily through the papers they’d found. ‘What the fuck are you playing at, you stupid, stupid, stupid…? Christ, look what you did. I don’t fuckin ’ believe this.’
Tommy glanced across. ‘Christ, man, was he the right guy after all? Was all that teacher crap just a cover?
Liam let out a hollow laugh. ‘Tommy, you couldn’t be more wrong,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Jesus, I couldn’t have been more wrong. You know of NORAID?’
‘Yeah, I heard you mention it back at the house. I put money in their bucket every Paddy’s Day. They send it for the families back home, don’t they. Everyone’s an Irishman on March 17 th , you know.’
‘And I bet everyone’s a fuckin ’ Mexican on May 5 th too, you morons. Still, the Mexicans aren’t killing anyone. You know where all that money in the bucket goes, do you?’
‘I think I’m starting to guess,’ Tommy offered, not wanting to upset this guy any further.
‘Yeah, that’s right, you guess away.’ Liam’s chest was heaving and he breathed deeply while he spoke,
‘Jimmy Mal, you bastard,’ hissed Liam, The Killer ready in his hand. ‘You’ve shipped your last gun.’
‘What?’ said the man, his eyes wide.
‘And you can say goodbye to your NORAID pals.’
‘NORAID? Oh no. I didn’t mean… You haven’t found… Oh no.’ A briefcase fell from the man’s hands and papers scattered across the floor.
‘Jimmy Mal?’ Liam repeated, his blade dropping a little in his confusion. This wasn’t the reaction he had expected.
‘Who? I’m not – who?’ stammered the man as a wet, gurgling sound came from his direction.
Liam jumped back in surprise. A sloppy brown liquid emerged from the trouser leg of the man opposite before James Malcolm Brennan, otherwise known to his students as The Bug, fell to the floor in a dead faint and his own shit.
‘Paddy,’ whispered Tommy at his side. ‘I have a funny feeling that ain’t Jimmy Mal.’
Liam looked at the man on the ground, then at Tommy and then at The Killer as he spread his arms wide in disbelief. ‘What - the - fuck?’ As his eyes moved back to the ground, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed. ‘This bloke’s a schoolteacher, a fuckin ’ schoolteacher. He is not my fuckin ’ Jimmy Mal.’
‘What?’
‘Look,’ yelled Liam, indicating the papers strewn across the floor. There, in the middle of the mess, lay a laminated I.D. card. “ Mr. J. M. Brennan. Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences.”
Tommy let out a long, low whistle. ‘Jeez, man, I can see why you had to take this tough guy out. I bet he gives really bad grades.’
‘Tommy, shut the fuck up,’ hissed Liam, his voice beginning to shake as he turned his anger towards the man on the floor. He kicked out at the prone body. ‘What’s all that I.R.A. crap? What are you up to, you stupid bastard?’
‘Christ, Paddy, it’s not his fault he’s a teacher with the wrong name.’
‘ Gimme those papers.’
‘What?’
‘Those fuckin ’ I.R.A. papers you found in the desk.’
As Tommy handed them over in confusion, the man on the floor groaned. ‘Paddy, you’re gonna have to look at ‘ em later, man. We need to get out of here.’
Once more the patio door slid open and Liam controlled his breathing as the two men walked carefully out and made their way quietly back through the shadows. Jack was lying at the fence next door and he let out a small whine as they passed. ‘Shush boy, be quiet, that’s a good feller,’ Liam whispered as they made their way, stealthily, to the car. Jack wagged his tail and then settled down to his dreams of the sexy Marie-Claire.
Back in the car Liam’s mood quickly darkened. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he hissed as he repeatedly punched the dashboard. He’d messed up twice in one day. What the Hell was happening to him and how had he got it so wrong? He turned on the interior light and Tommy watched as he flicked angrily through the papers they’d found. ‘What the fuck are you playing at, you stupid, stupid, stupid…? Christ, look what you did. I don’t fuckin ’ believe this.’
Tommy glanced across. ‘Christ, man, was he the right guy after all? Was all that teacher crap just a cover?
Liam let out a hollow laugh. ‘Tommy, you couldn’t be more wrong,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Jesus, I couldn’t have been more wrong. You know of NORAID?’
‘Yeah, I heard you mention it back at the house. I put money in their bucket every Paddy’s Day. They send it for the families back home, don’t they. Everyone’s an Irishman on March 17 th , you know.’
‘And I bet everyone’s a fuckin ’ Mexican on May 5 th too, you morons. Still, the Mexicans aren’t killing anyone. You know where all that money in the bucket goes, do you?’
‘I think I’m starting to guess,’ Tommy offered, not wanting to upset this guy any further.
‘Yeah, that’s right, you guess away.’ Liam’s chest was heaving and he breathed deeply while he spoke,
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