Cross - Ken Bruen [45]
Almost.
I said, 'Not me you have to be afraid of. In fact, I might be the only hope you've got.'
He attempted some hard, had probably waited his whole life to attempt it, made a feeble effort at a snigger. 'Yeah, right.'
Time to rattle his cage. His one shot at bravado and I was about to smash it.
'One of two things in your future. You either get caught, or you carry on looking for the elusive brother your family are so desperate to find. Rory, that's his name, right? You probably know the answer to that better than me, but pretty it won't be. We can agree on that, right? When I had my little chat with your sister, I didn't get any sense of fraternal affection.'
He was staring at me. 'I dunno what fraternal means.'
Jesus.
I sighed. Demolishing this kid was not the simple task it had first presented. Christ, he was like a puppy on a busy road, hoping a car would stop and take him in. I continued, though I had lost any zeal for it.
'Or you go to prison. And a kid like you, the long hair, the weak-as-shite personality, they'll run a freight train through yer arse before supper, and that's just for openers.'
Hard to say which scenario freaked him more. His body gave a shudder and he said, 'I want to go home, that's all. Just leave.'
No protestations of innocence, no argument about me being wrong, no fight at all.
I said, 'Not going to happen, kid.'
He began to weep. I could have taken anything – anyfuckingthing – but that. I nearly reached out to him, and then what?
I let him cry it out then I said, 'Give it up. I'll help you, get the best deal that's going.'
He dabbed at his eyes, then said, 'I need a smoke.'
I left some notes on the table and followed him outside. He didn't wait, started to move away and I followed.
'What's it going to be, kid? You with me? This is it, make-up-your-mind time.'
He stopped, turned, gave me a look of such agony that I had to glance away, and then he said, 'I can't, they'd kill me.'
'They'll kill you anyway.'
He looked up at the street, terror in his eyes, but I couldn't see anybody. He said, 'I hope so.'
When I finally got home I was bone tired, but not too exhausted to miss the smell of smoke. I cautiously entered my tiny sitting room. All my books had been piled in a heap, set on fire and were smouldering nicely.
I went to the bathroom, filled a basin with cold water and doused my prized possessions.
Then I noticed the table. It had one of those toy cars, it had also been burned, and I could see a tiny stick figure in the front seat, burned but still recognizable. Meant to be a girl, I'd hazard. And underneath the tiny car was a note:
Hot enough for you?
Gail
The fucking bitch.
And then, in one of those odd moments of madness, I thought, 'Girl, you sure saved me from having to decide what to do with the books. With my going to America, I wasn't sure which volumes to bring. That's solved now.'
But rage was building. She'd not only come to my home, but taken the one thing that still had any meaning. Books have been the only reliable, the only comfort zone I had left, and I swear, the bloody demented psycho, she knew, she fucking knew how to hit me.
Took deep breaths, tried to see myself on that plane in a month's time, all of this behind me. Didn't ease the storm of pure hatred I felt and I swore, 'I'll bring you down before I leave, girl, I swear by all that's holy, if it's the very last thing I do. I'm going to put a halt to your insane gallop.'
20
'A cross offers two options: you can be nailed
to it . . . or lie on it, as a voluntary act.'
Irish saying
I needed protection.
Chances were that Gail would take another pass at me and a more serious one. I better be ready, and if I was going to take on the whole family, at least Gail and her father, I'd need more than an attitude. You want to buy a gun in Galway these days, you are spoiled for opportunity. So many different nationalities here that weapons have become more and more common. You