Stephen Leather - Dead Men

‘Even if she’s killing killers? Killing the scum that murdered her man? Would you kill to avenge your husband, Charlie?’

‘That’s not the sort of question you can ask a person, it really isn’t. I’m not a killer, Spider. I’ve never killed anyone.’

‘Well, I have. In combat and in the line of duty. And if someone ever killed someone close to me, I wouldn’t hesitate. I really wouldn’t.’

Button held up her hands. ‘I hear what you’re saying. But what you or I might or might not do is hypothetical. Here in the real world two men are dead and it’s our job to find out who killed them.’ She reached into her handbag and passed a packet of Marlboro across the table. ‘You’ll need to start smoking,’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘She’s a smoker. Forty a day. In my experience, smokers tend to trust other smokers.’

‘That sounds like the voice of experience.’

Button nodded. ‘I started when I was a teenager. Only gave up a couple of years ago.’ She gestured at the packet. ‘That’s her brand. Should help you break the ice, if nothing else.’

Shepherd picked up the pack. ‘You’re serious?’

‘You’re not local, Spider. You’ll need all the help you can get to gain her confidence.’

‘And offering her a cigarette will get me in, will it?’

‘Trust me. It’ll help.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ said Elizabeth, looking up at the grey stone walls of Belfast Castle. ‘But I thought it would be more . . . castley.’

‘Castley?’ said Kinsella. ‘What do you mean?’ They were standing in the grounds by a fountain. Beyond the castle they could see the wooded slope of Cave Hill. The building’s window frames, guttering and downpipes had been painted pink. Two big men in dark suits, Kinsella’s police bodyguards, waited near the stairs that led down from the car park to the gardens.

‘More like a castle, you know,’ said Elizabeth. ‘With a moat, turrets and slits for archers.’

Kinsella laughed and hugged her. ‘It’s not a real castle,’ he said. ‘It’s more of a baronial mansion. It was built in eighteen seventy as part of the British occupation,’ he said. ‘It’s a clone of Balmoral, the Queen’s Scottish home.’

‘Where’s your romance?’ she said, putting her arms round his waist and kissing his cheek. ‘Have you seen the white cat yet?’

‘The what?’

‘The white cat. There’s a legend that the castle will only prosper so long as there’s a white cat living there.’

‘You’ve been reading those guidebooks again.’

‘I want to learn about your country’s history,’ she said. ‘If things work out the way we hope, I might be Ireland’s first lady one day.’

‘You’re an ambitious wee thing, aren’t you?’

‘We want the same thing, honey, and you know it.’ Elizabeth stiffened. ‘Noel, there are three men coming this way.’

Kinsella smiled as he recognised the man in the middle of the group. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart. He’s Gerry Lynn, an old friend.’

Kinsella’s minders moved to intercept them but Kinsella told them it was okay, he knew who they were.

Gerry Lynn strode across the grass, his long coat flapping behind him. It had been more than a decade since Kinsella had seen him and he had put on weight. His hair was grey and thinning, but he had the same flint-hard eyes. ‘On the tourist trail, are you?’ he asked.

‘Elizabeth wanted to see the castle,’ said Kinsella. ‘Figured it’d be easier to meet here. My minders prefer me to stay in at night.’

The two men hugged. Kinsella frowned as something hard dug into his chest. He stepped back and patted Lynn above the heart. ‘What the hell’s that, Gerry?’

Lynn undid two of his shirt buttons to reveal a white bulletproof vest. ‘I’m not taking any chances, lad, and if I were you I’d do the same.’ He glanced at the two men shadowing Kinsella. They were in their early thirties, both a little overweight. Their jackets were unbuttoned and their eyes were constantly sweeping the area. ‘Bring them with you, did you, from across the water?’

‘Special Branch,’ said Kinsella. ‘RUC.’

Lynn chuckled. ‘The RUC’s long gone,’ he said. ‘It’s the Police Service of Northern Ireland now. And there’s no more Special Branch. It’s called the Intelligence Branch, which is an oxymoron if ever there was one.’

‘Leopards and spots comes to mind,’ said Kinsella.

‘Nah, they’re changing,’ said Lynn. ‘There’s more Catholics joining and they’re accountable now.’

‘Are you going to introduce me?’ asked Elizabeth. She smiled at Lynn. ‘You’ll have to forgive my husband,he doesn’t have much in the way of social graces.’

Lynn held out his hand. ‘Gerry Lynn. Pleased to meet you.’

They shook hands. ‘You’re wearing a bulletproof vest?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘It’s nothing,’ said Kinsella, hastily.

‘A bulletproof vest isn’t nothing,’ said his wife. ‘What’s going on, Noel?’

‘Nothing. It’s fine.’

‘You keep saying it’s nothing but he’s wearing a bulletproof vest and he says you should wear one, too.’

‘I was joking, love,’ said Lynn.

‘Please don’t “love” me, Mr Lynn,’ said Elizabeth, frostily. She turned to her husband. ‘We need to talk, honey.’

‘We will, baby,’ said Kinsella. ‘Let me have a chat with Gerry first.’

Elizabeth glared at him. He tried to kiss her but she moved away. ‘I’m serious, Noel,’ she said.

‘So am I, baby. You visit the antiques shop while Gerry and I have coffee and a chat.’

‘Noel . . .’

Kinsella kissed her on the cheek. ‘Baby, come on now, I have to talk to Gerry.’ Elizabeth looked as if she wanted to argue, but then she walked away from him. ‘Elizabeth!’Kinsella caught up with her and they went to the side of the castle where there was an entrance to the antiques shop and a tea-room.

‘Ten minutes,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Sure,’ said Kinsella.

Elizabeth picked up a framed watercolour of the castle as Kinsella and Lynn went through to the tea-room, their minders following.

Kinsella’s eyes were on the men who had arrived with Lynn. One was in his late forties, short and stocky with unkempt red hair, the other tall and lanky, in his late twenties. They were dressed casually in leather jackets, jeans and training shoes. ‘They’re not cops, are they?’

Lynn chuckled. ‘No.’

‘What’s with the vest, Gerry? Do you seriously think someone’s going to shoot you in broad daylight? Those days are gone.’

‘You think?’said Lynn. ‘You know yourself it doesn’t matter whether it’s day or night. Someone’s shooting and everyone gets their head down. We did as many shootings in the day as we did at night.’

‘Speak for yourself, Gerry. I was involved in just the one.’

‘Aye – and then you ran off to America with your tail between your legs.’ He put up his hands as anger flashed across Kinsella’s face. ‘I meant nothing by that, Noel.’

‘When they pulled in McEvoy I knew it was only a matter of time before they’d be knocking on my door,’ said Kinsella.

‘You were a Volunteer, Noel. You should have stood your ground. We were fighting a war and in a war there are casualties.’

‘There was no way I was going to spend the rest of my life in jail,’ said Kinsella.

‘Well, now, luckily it never came to that,’ said Lynn. ‘And look at you, guilty of murder but not a day behind bars. Who says fortune favours the brave?’ Kinsella’s face darkened and Lynn patted him on the back. ‘I’m only messing, Noel.’

They sat at a quiet table. Lynn despatched one of his bodyguards to get two coffees. ‘What did they tell you?’