first."
"You won't let me live."
"Paddy, I'm a cop."
Paddy double blinked. "Shit."
"Yeah, I know. So do yourself a favour. Talk to me and I will phone that ambulance."
"He's followed the bitch and her footballer over to England. Wants to keep an eye on her. The Scullions are with him. Me and Frank were left here to watch you lot."
"Where's Frank now?"
"Don't know. Cunt left me here to die."
Cormac rubbed the back of his neck. "Fuck."
Paddy pawed at Cormac's lower legs with his free hand. "Will you call the ambulance now? Please?"
"Sorry, Paddy." Cormac smiled down at him. "I've no phone on me, mate."
"Use mine, you stupid prick."
"Aye, I suppose I could. First things first, though."
Cormac raised his boot off Paddy's gun hand and slammed it back down. Paddy's bones cracked and crumbled. He let loose a squeal that erupted into a coughing fit. A blood mist sprayed from his mouth and rained down on his face. It thickened with each cough. And then his eyes glazed over. He'd a few shallow breaths left in him, but they faded too. Cormac blessed himself and stooped to take the gun from Paddy's mangled hand. Then he rifled through the fat man's pockets until he found his mobile phone. It had been smashed by a bullet. Useless. As he stood up he saw Mattie come to the bedroom door.
"Stay in there for a minute, kid. Please."
Mattie ignored him and stepped onto the landing. His gaze passed over Paddy's corpse and came to rest on the other body, sprawled out at the top of the stairs.
"Dad?"
Chapter 6
––––––––
I rish, British, Northern Irish... who gives a shit? Last year I was a Londoner and this year I'll be a Mancunian. It's just geography.
Rory Cullen, CULLEN: The Autobiography
––––––––
S tansted Airport was a world apart from the almost serene Belfast airport Lydia had left behind little over an hour ago. She moved from left to right to avoid blinkered travellers willing to walk through rather than around her while Rory waited for his case at the baggage reclaim carousel. Somehow, above the hustle and bustle, she heard her ringtone sound.
Private number.
She took a deep breath before answering the call.
"Hi, gorgeous."
It was one of her visitors from the night before. Just hearing his voice made her crave a shower.
"I'm in London," she said.
"I know. That's a nice suit you're wearing. Black pinstripe... very businesslike."
Lydia wheeled around looking for her caller. "Where are you?"
"Close enough. Just keeping an eye on you. The one you didn't try to claw out of its socket, you know?"
Lydia scanned the seething masses moving in and out of her view. Tried to locate the caller but it seemed like every other person had a phone pressed to their ear.
"I'm doing what you want," she said. "Leave me alone."
"Aren't you going to ask me about your family?"
"Would you tell me anything if I did?"
"No, but it strikes me as a little cold that you wouldn't even ask."
"Fuck off."
"That's lovely, that is. I might call you later for another dirty phone call. Your toy boy's on his way back."
The line went dead. Sure enough, Rory was headed her way. His little wheelie case trundled behind him.
"That's me all set, Lydia. Will we head on out?"
Lydia nodded and turned to lead the way to the exit. Rory laid a hand on her upper arm to halt her. She shrugged it off without thinking. He rubbed his palm down the front of his shirt as if to wipe off whatever Lydia found so repulsive.
"Are you okay, Lydia?"
"I'm fine."
"You look like you're about to cry."
Lydia shrugged. What could she say?
"Was that John on the phone or something? Everything okay?"
"Don't worry about it." Her voice cracked. "I'll just nip to the ladies and sort myself out."
Rory called after her as she hurried off. She stopped for a second, held up her hand with her fingers splayed and mouthed, "Five minutes."
It the bathroom she stood at the sink furthest from the door and ran the taps. The hot water was scalding but
"You won't let me live."
"Paddy, I'm a cop."
Paddy double blinked. "Shit."
"Yeah, I know. So do yourself a favour. Talk to me and I will phone that ambulance."
"He's followed the bitch and her footballer over to England. Wants to keep an eye on her. The Scullions are with him. Me and Frank were left here to watch you lot."
"Where's Frank now?"
"Don't know. Cunt left me here to die."
Cormac rubbed the back of his neck. "Fuck."
Paddy pawed at Cormac's lower legs with his free hand. "Will you call the ambulance now? Please?"
"Sorry, Paddy." Cormac smiled down at him. "I've no phone on me, mate."
"Use mine, you stupid prick."
"Aye, I suppose I could. First things first, though."
Cormac raised his boot off Paddy's gun hand and slammed it back down. Paddy's bones cracked and crumbled. He let loose a squeal that erupted into a coughing fit. A blood mist sprayed from his mouth and rained down on his face. It thickened with each cough. And then his eyes glazed over. He'd a few shallow breaths left in him, but they faded too. Cormac blessed himself and stooped to take the gun from Paddy's mangled hand. Then he rifled through the fat man's pockets until he found his mobile phone. It had been smashed by a bullet. Useless. As he stood up he saw Mattie come to the bedroom door.
"Stay in there for a minute, kid. Please."
Mattie ignored him and stepped onto the landing. His gaze passed over Paddy's corpse and came to rest on the other body, sprawled out at the top of the stairs.
"Dad?"
Chapter 6
––––––––
I rish, British, Northern Irish... who gives a shit? Last year I was a Londoner and this year I'll be a Mancunian. It's just geography.
Rory Cullen, CULLEN: The Autobiography
––––––––
S tansted Airport was a world apart from the almost serene Belfast airport Lydia had left behind little over an hour ago. She moved from left to right to avoid blinkered travellers willing to walk through rather than around her while Rory waited for his case at the baggage reclaim carousel. Somehow, above the hustle and bustle, she heard her ringtone sound.
Private number.
She took a deep breath before answering the call.
"Hi, gorgeous."
It was one of her visitors from the night before. Just hearing his voice made her crave a shower.
"I'm in London," she said.
"I know. That's a nice suit you're wearing. Black pinstripe... very businesslike."
Lydia wheeled around looking for her caller. "Where are you?"
"Close enough. Just keeping an eye on you. The one you didn't try to claw out of its socket, you know?"
Lydia scanned the seething masses moving in and out of her view. Tried to locate the caller but it seemed like every other person had a phone pressed to their ear.
"I'm doing what you want," she said. "Leave me alone."
"Aren't you going to ask me about your family?"
"Would you tell me anything if I did?"
"No, but it strikes me as a little cold that you wouldn't even ask."
"Fuck off."
"That's lovely, that is. I might call you later for another dirty phone call. Your toy boy's on his way back."
The line went dead. Sure enough, Rory was headed her way. His little wheelie case trundled behind him.
"That's me all set, Lydia. Will we head on out?"
Lydia nodded and turned to lead the way to the exit. Rory laid a hand on her upper arm to halt her. She shrugged it off without thinking. He rubbed his palm down the front of his shirt as if to wipe off whatever Lydia found so repulsive.
"Are you okay, Lydia?"
"I'm fine."
"You look like you're about to cry."
Lydia shrugged. What could she say?
"Was that John on the phone or something? Everything okay?"
"Don't worry about it." Her voice cracked. "I'll just nip to the ladies and sort myself out."
Rory called after her as she hurried off. She stopped for a second, held up her hand with her fingers splayed and mouthed, "Five minutes."
It the bathroom she stood at the sink furthest from the door and ran the taps. The hot water was scalding but
Similar Books
