Eight Ball Boogie - Declan Burke [90]
“Sibling rivalry,” he sneered.
I didn’t answer. I was suddenly tired, so tired I hadn’t the strength to close my eyes. Brady held his hand out, snapped his fingers. I handed him the pro’s gun. He gave it a quick once over, removed the clip, dropped to one knee in front of Galway.
“Alright, boss?” he asked, the evil smile on full wattage. “How goes it?”
Galway said nothing. Brady clapped him lightly on the shoulder, moved around behind him. Then he slipped the butt of the pro’s gun into Galway’s hand, closing Galway’s fingers around it. The ERU wallah watched, impassive. When Brady finished he stood again, holding the gun by the trigger-guard.
“Take him out. Put him in the van and don’t drop him too often. There’s a lot of people want to see Detective-Inspector Galway and I want him in good nick for receiving visitors.” He jerked a thumb at Gonzo. “And get someone in here to look after that.”
They hauled Galway to his feet. He glared at me, a look of pure hatred.
“Remember what I said, chief,” I reminded him. “No lubrication.”
He spat, a filthy gob that landed squarely on my cheek, and then they were gone. A third ERU wallah came and stood in the doorway, nervous, machine-gun clutched to his chest. I could hear voices outside, orders being barked, doors slamming. Two medics appeared, began tending to Gonzo. They covered his face with an oxygen mask, stuck a needle in his arm, but even I could see it was a lost cause. Gonzo’s head was lolling, the pool of blood widening by the second. Brady stood over me as I rubbed at Galway’s spittle, plastering it all over the side of my face, unable to take my eyes off Gonzo.
“You’ll make Commissioner for this,” I said.
“Aye. And you’ll do time.”
“All things considered, I’ll take prison any day. You find what you wanted at The Odeon?”
“Pretty much.” He nodded at the Ice Queen’s gun. “That the magic gun?”
“Yeah. Rub the barrel and a genie pops out.”
Gonzo went into a spasm of coughing, spattering the medics with a spray of blood.
“She’d lost a lot of blood, Rigby. Another twenty minutes, maybe, she’d have bled to death.”
“Stop teasing. What about Sheridan?”
“Made a full confession on the spot. Named you as the leader of a gang of dissident Republicans that had kidnapped him and Helen Conway for ransom.”
“Obviously in shock, poor lad.”
“Obviously. The fractured skull wasn’t doing him any favours.”
“That confession goes on the record?”
“Has to.”
“So I’m getting a day out in my Sunday best?”
“Let you into court with a mouth like that? Fuck no. The way my report reads, Galway ran the show and plugged his own side when they double-crossed him. Then he came looking for you. When Eddie there bravely tried to protect his brother and sister-in-law, Galway nailed him too. Extortion, drugs, murder… Fuck me, Galway won’t get out until the anti-Christ arrives.” He paused. “Whether they’ll believe the report is another matter, of course.”
“Of course. What about Joe?”
“The old bloke? Ascended into heaven in a fiery chariot just as we arrived.” He looked at Gonzo. Then: “You alright, Rigby?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He laughed, gruff.
“I’m ten years on the force and I’ve shot a gun in anger twice. Never came near hitting the target either time and you better believe I’m twice as happy as they were that I didn’t.”
“Next time open your eyes.”
“You’ve just shot your brother, Rigby. You’re telling me you can deal with that?”
I looked across at Gonzo. I had an impulse to say something to him before he died, because nothing was surer than Gonzo’s dying, this time for real. Nothing came to mind.
“Who’s going to deal with it for me if I don’t?”
“You’re some cold bastard.”
“What do you want, poetry?”
“You killed him, Rigby, your own brother. The papers are going to love that.”
I shrugged. He said: “Got a brief? If they don’t run with my report?”
“No.”
“Get one. If you’re stuck, I know some people. They’ll tell you what I’m telling you now. Self-defence, he was going for the gun. Better still, he had the gun and you took it off him. You’ll get manslaughter at worst,