John Brady - A Carra ring

“Did I hear you right?” from Freeman.

“I don’t know. Tommy, give Mr. Freeman his rights and bring him in.”

King was up now. Hayes had taken out his phone now. Comical, Minogue was thinking, the phones being pulled out. The Wild West, but polite.

“Mr. Hayes,” Minogue began. “Or is it Garda Officer Hayes? I’m placing you under arrest on a charge of — ”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Hayes said. “Where do you think you are?”

Minogue took a breath and sighed.

“Conspiracy to prevent — ” he resumed.

“You’re out of your mind,” Hayes said.

“Resisting arrest is number two — oh, shut down that phone there — ”

Hayes turned and walked to the window, dialing. Minogue gave Malone the nod.

Malone came around the table and grabbed Hayes’s arm. Minogue heard Hayes swear as he shoved hard against Malone. He kept his eyes on King, watched the mouth open. Freeman looked over Minogue’s shoulder at the door. The inspector shook his head.

“Put your phone away there, Hayes. And sit down and shut up.”

Hayes had turned away from Malone. He began shouting into the phone. Minogue recognized the name: second in command in the branch. Malone pulled Hayes’s arm and made a grab for the phone. Hayes elbowed him hard. Minogue heard Malone’s grunt, saw his knee come up, and then Hayes stagger back. The voice on Hayes’s phone kept on saying hello. Minogue picked it up.

“This is Inspector Minogue,” he said. “Your man is all right, or will be. Except for resisting arrest. You’ll be able to get hold of him at the Pearse Street station.”

He held his thumb on the end button. Hayes got to his feet. Declan King began making his way along the wall to the door.

“Stay put, Mr. King,” Minogue said. “You’re in the pot along with these two clowns.”

“You stupid fucking iijits,” Hayes said. “Give me the phone back.”

“No phone,” said Minogue. “Sit. And stop the language. Mr. Freeman here is a visitor from America.”

Freeman looked very pale now. His hands were wavering.

“I have no idea what this is,” he began. “I’m not going to be arrested, am I?”

“You are arrested. So are these two.”

“But Mr. Hayes is a police officer,” said Freeman. “A Garda officer.”

“I understand that too, yes. But he’s also a considerable pain in the arse here.”

“And Mr. King here has been my main contact with the government.”

Minogue glanced at King.

“Inspector, I have to butt in here,” King began. The house phone began to ring. Minogue waved Freeman away.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Freeman?”

“No. He’s busy.”

“Who’s this?”

“I’m a Garda inspector. Who’s this?”

“Front desk — you’re not filming a movie or something and we weren’t told?”

“No.”

“There are five Guards on the way up. One of them stopped by to check the room number.”

“Why are you phoning here then?”

“Well, Mr. Freeman asked us to.”

“Asked you to what?”

“He said he was wondering if there was someone following him, but I told him, I says, if you think that you should be talking to the Guards, I told him…”

Freeman and his cloak-and-dagger stuff, was Minogue’s first thought. Maybe Leyne had been telling him everyone in Ireland was crooked, chancers at least

“Okay. What’s your name, like, a good man?”

“Liam. ”

“Okay, Liam, listen. Everything’s all right here. There’s no one hurt, there’s no property damage. We’re all in fine fettle here. So a piece of advice. Never, ever phone up ahead of a Garda who’s on his way to apprehend someone. ”

“I just thought — okay. Is this a sting, like?”

Minogue glanced at Hayes.

“A sting?”

“Yeah, like when, you know?”

“Good-bye, Liam. And remember what I told you. ”

Minogue nodded at Freeman.

“Get all the stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Are we going to carry on like this all day? The stuff you should have given me the minute you stepped off that plane at Dublin Airport.”

Freeman exchanged a look with King.

Minogue walked to the table and flicked open the folder. A signed affidavit or something, signed by Leyne and Freeman and some Villani, same name as the firm on the letterhead. He heard murmuring from the hallway now. Malone opened the door. A tall Garda had one arm raised to knock.

“You come with us,” Minogue said to Freeman.

Hayes began arguing with the Garda. The tall one inspected Hayes’s photocard on both sides and glanced at Minogue several times.

“It’s these two bloody lunatics you should be taking in,” said Hayes. “I want him on assault too — him Malone. ”

“They’ve had the caution,” said Minogue. “Hayes there belongs to the cell phone there. ”

Hayes pointed at Minogue.

“You are talking your way out of a job,” he said.

“Give him his call at the station,” Minogue said to the Guard.

He paused and eyed Hayes.

“Unless you have reason to believe, as I do, that that call might further hinder the prosecution by police of a serious crime — ”

“That’s a load of crap — ”

“- or to the commission of another.”

The Garda pushed his hat back, and studied the photocard again. Then he motioned Minogue over to the door.

“This says C3, you know,” he murmured. “They’re the tin gods aren’t they?”

Minogue gave him a glazed look but said nothing.

“The highfliers,” the Guard murmured. “And he’s a sergeant. Are you sure about this?”

Minogue nodded toward King.

“That’s nothing compared to the other fella here,” he said. “He’s up in the stratosphere in Justice. But he knows enough to keep his gob shut there now. ”

“Both of ’em?” asked the Garda. Under the wariness, the skepticism, Minogue was sure he saw a smile begin.

“Take them in,” he said. “Obstructing a police officer. I’ll follow up with a call within the hour. This Freeman fella is the same but he’s going to the squad for a chat first.”

Minogue had noticed the tic on the left side of Freeman’s face first. A quick blink of both eyes, a tilt of the head, and then his nose would wrinkle. It was usually followed by an intake of breath which Freeman seemed to hold on to for a long time.

“It’s not withholding,” said Freeman. “Mr. Leyne would never have suggested that.”

“Me bollocks,” said Malone.

“What?”

“He doesn’t believe you,” Minogue said. He looked up from the statements.

“Whose idea was it to produce these?” he asked Freeman.

“Mr. Leyne got advice from our firm.”

“Before or after the news that the son had been found?”

“Does this matter at the moment?”

“It matters,” said Malone.

“He never said directly. The date here is after you found him.”

“How do we know it stayed sealed until he was put on life support here?”

“He’s my client, and I’m an ethical lawyer. ”

Malone snorted. Minogue watched another tic. He was almost ready to feel sorry for him. Cruising around Dublin with two detectives who had just busted an arrangement he’d thought was official, high level, wasn’t in a day’s work for him.

“Mr. Leyne knew he was taking a risk coming here,” Freeman went on. “You saw him. You heard him. He wouldn’t take a physician, a doctor, with him. ‘I don’t need a doctor anymore,’ he said. Is that nor — I mean, is that the way people are here, usually?”

Malone turned down Ship Street, down toward the back gate of Dublin Castle.

“Where are we going?”