John Brady - A Carra ring

“Here, look. You can bet your bottom dollar the Yanks would be all over any stuff coming in freight for a rock band. They don’t sit around over there you know. Customs, DEA, FBI. Do you know anything about them?”

Minogue stopped rubbing his eyes. He examined the reinforcing bands on one of the boxes again.

“No. Who gets in here? Into this cage, I mean.”

“Staff,” said Paddy Mac quickly. “It’d depend on the shift. Stuff d be moved in and out, signed in by whoever’s on shift.”

“Other people, I mean ”

“Nobody. We sign for stuff, we bring it in here ”

“So say there’s stuff brought here — ”

“- drivers, freight forwarders, taxis sometimes, couriers, you’re talking about, Chief. We get the paperwork, we see the bill of lading. We sort it out. We stick it on the right plane.”

“Do you get break-ins?” Malone asked. “Stuff go missing?”

“A: no. B: it’s happened.”

“Recently?”

Paddy Mac studied some distant part of the ceiling for several moments.

“The last break-in was two and a half years ago,” he said. “Yobs, total iijits. We had pilfering and that but two fellas were nailed for that. That was early last year.”

He turned and pointed at two boxes by hanging lights.

“See them?”

“Yes and no,” Minogue said. “What are they?”

“They’re cameras. The union finally gave them the go-ahead last year. It was a do or die thing. The computer crowd as well as the big pharmaceutical companies here put the boot in and said they couldn’t do business here if there was no watertight freight handling. Security and that.”

Minogue surveyed the boxes again.

“Are all those boxes that heavy stuff?” he asked.

“What would you say now,” said Paddy Mac. Minogue read the scorn plainly now. “The boys’d need their gear, wouldn’t they? ‘Customized,’ oh yeah. Everything has to be just perfect. For the boys.”

The sneer was for Malone, Minogue believed.

Malone looked at his watch. He held his hands out.

“I think I’m getting the shakes,” he said. “Do you know that? I keep on thinking this last while I’m going to wake up. Is that how it — ”

Minogue had his hand on the phone already. He pressed to receive even before the ring had finished. Eilis’s voice brought him relief.

“What’s with the warrant, a stor?”

“Not a word, I’m afraid ”

“But didn’t we have a judge lined up?”

“We do,” she said. “Fergal and John Murtagh took it to Enright’s chambers, what is it, now?”

“Over an hour ago, Eilis. What does Enright want, someone bigger than sergeant to sign it over?”

Eilis said that she didn’t know. Minogue leaned against the window of the Opel. A breeze stirred a crisps bag and sent it scudding across the pavement. There had been steady traffic in and out of the terminal. He had given up counting the planes. Paddy Mac’s shift was over in ten minutes. He thanked Eilis and closed the phone.

“Nothing on the getaway car even?” Malone asked.

“No. It’s the search warrant we’re chasing now still.”

“Ah shite,” said Malone and closed his eyes again.

Minogue studied his colleague’s face for several moments. The patches around the eyes, already almost closed to slits, were new to him. Malone opened his eyes, and rolled down the window. He hawked long, and then spat once.

Minogue checked the battery strength.

Malone let his eyes close and settled back in the seat.

“Waiting,” he sighed and yawned. “Sitting in a car, waiting. That’s half the job.”

Minogue felt the belt pinch his shoulders again. He shifted in his seat. He knew he’d be checking the gun, for the tenth time since they’d driven out to the airport. Completely neurotic, of course, but still he’d check: he had never loaded in a magazine.

He reached in and pushed up the strap. The Velcro gave a little.

“Are you going to load it or not?” Malone murmured. Minogue looked over. Malone hadn’t opened his eyes.

“I should just take a bleeding walk and leave you to it,” Malone said.

Minogue thumbed the Velcro down and tugged on the grip. Tight.

“Well?”

“Well what?” asked Minogue.

“Where’s the clip?”

Minogue studied the scrawny shrubs wavering in the breeze. A small turboprop rose over the terminal.

“You need things called bullets to make it work. You know?”

“Tings,” said Minogue.

“Come on,” said Malone. “Show it to me, in anyhow.”

“What?”

“The clip. So’s I know you have one at least. Or did you throw it out the shagging window on the way out here?”

“No. I have it.”

“Prove it. How do I know? Show it to me.”

“I just didn’t want to blow my arm off, Tommy.”

“What, you want someone else to do it for you? Gimme.”

“I haven’t had one of these for years. Anything could happen.”

“Anything will happen! If you don’t show me the — ”

“I’m an inspector, Tommy.”

“Oh yeah, now you pull the regimental shite? Now all of a sudden you decide it’s — ”

Minogue lifted out the phone and waved it at Malone. Eilis sounded pleased.

“They’re on the way, your honor. ”

“Who, Eilis? The both of them?”

“To be sure. They don’t want to be in the squad with Purcell and company looking through the laundry here.”

“But who’s in charge there then?”

“I am.”

“Eilis, much as I admire — ”

“I have Purcell corralled in the palace. I think he’s busy phoning people. Locksmiths or such like.”

Minogue stared at the frayed tip of the windscreen wiper. Malone had shoved home the clip and had tested the safety twice.

“What in the name of God does he want a locksmith for?”

“We can’t find keys to some of the cabinets, your honor.”

“Eilis — ”

“Whissht! I’ve enough on my hands. Farrell’s here too. He’ll cover the legit side of the staffing for the investigation.”

“Should I be hearing this?”

“Decide that for yourself,” she said.

“Is there anything coming in then?”

“Not a thing — wait. There’s only seven cars left at the long-term car park unaccounted for. Three were claimed this morning, all holiday people in from Greece I think.”

Minogue glanced at Malone.

“I take it Purcell has tried to contact me at home to get those keys then?”

“He has,” she said. “And you’re not there are you?”

Minogue closed the phone and checked he had switched it off.

“We’re on,” he said to Malone “They got it. The warrant, Fergal and John. ”

Malone handed him the pistol.

“Take it,” he said. “Remember the deal: I don’t want to be a sitting duck like this morning.”

Minogue waited until Malone had stepped out to greet Sheehy when he and Murtagh showed up ten minutes later. He drew out the pistol and shoved it under the seat before he stepped out.

Fergal Sheehy unfolded the warrant and handed it to the inspector.

“So we’re investigating the theft of a bit of the nation’s heritage then.”

Minogue checked the Premises section again.

“That’s right, Fergal,” he said.

“You look like you’re just after getting out of ten years solitary,” said Sheehy. Malone leaned against the window. He looked from Murtagh to Sheehy.

“You look worse,” said Murtagh. Malone grunted.

“Do you want us in then?” asked Sheehy. Minogue folded the warrant again.

“As long as you know you’re only assisting us in a theft investigation,” he said. “We’re, er, standing back. In a manner of speaking.”

Sheehy nodded. Minogue heard Malone’s mocking snort.