Adrian McKinty - The Bloomsday Dead

I looked at the lawyer and put my hand over the receiver.

“Are you getting an earful of all of this? Make yourself scarce for a minute.”

“I’ll sit over there until you need me,” he said, moving to an adjacent table.

“They weren’t supposed to hurt you, Michael,” Bridget insisted.

I laughed out loud.

“Oh, Bridget, the times we had, you make me smile, and I suppose the men in Los Angeles last year wanted to take me to a surprise party in Malibu.”

“No, they were there to kill you. They were there to kill you and cut your fucking head off and bring it to me. But the two men today were there to make sure you flew to Ireland. My daughter has gone missing and I need your help. For God’s sake, I’m a mother and my only child has vanished. I need your help, Michael,” she said, her voice trembling.

I looked at the phone. I found her very affecting. She was good. She nearly had me convinced. All she had to do was squirt a few and I’d be on my way to the Emerald Isle and certain death.

“Honey, look, it’s been great talking to you and it was very clever of you to find me twice in one day. But this time I’m out of your life forever. I’m going to India, wearing a turban, opening a pawnshop in Bombay, so adios, Bridget, my love. And I’ll give you this wee warning, honey: my patience has its limits. This game can go two ways. Try this one more time and if I find you’re still after me, I’m coming for you, understand? Be a lot harder for you to conceal your movements than it will be for me to conceal mine. I’ve had twelve years of practice.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Aye. I am.”

“Michael, first off, you are no position to fucking threaten me. Second off, I’m not trying to con you or scam you. Everything I said was completely true,” she said.

“I am sure it was. Right back to ‘I love you’ and ‘Let’s run away together.’ Bridget, it’s been terrific having this chat. Do keep in touch. Do think about what I’ve said. Hate to have to kill ya some night like I did with your boyfriend back in the day. But I will if you keep on my case. And now I have to go, love, got a couple of federales coming to meet me and give me a lift downtown. So I wouldn’t try anything.”

“Don’t go, Michael, don’t go, listen to me, just listen. Everything I said was true. My daughter, Siobhan, has gone missing in Belfast. We were over here on a trip, we come here every summer. We were in Belfast. On Saturday she went for a walk, she didn’t come back to the hotel. She said she was going to get a milk shake but no one at the milk shake place saw her. Michael, she has completely disappeared. The police are looking for her, you can call up their tip line if you don’t believe me. 01232-PSNI-TIP. Please, Michael, I want you on board. I am losing my mind, I’ve got every single person I know helping me here. The police, everyone. Please, I’m willing to let bygones be bygones. Wipe the slate clean, if you would just come and help. I know you’re good at being you and you’re better than anyone I know. I’m not trying to flatter you, Michael, but you’re the best I’ve ever met. This is your town, you can find her, I know you can. Please come. Please.”

And now she did start to cry. She cried and cried.

I could feel the tide shifting under my feet. I blinked. And I fought against it, but it didn’t help and now I did believe her.

Shit.

What an eejit I was.

“Don’t cry, Bridget, please don’t cry,” I said.

The sobbing continued for another minute.

“Ok, enough, I’ll come,” I said.

Bridget blew her nose. Sniffled.

“I love her. She’s my whole universe, Michael.”

“I understand. I’m sure she’s fine. Kids run away sometimes. Especially at that age. It’s a mother-daughter thing more than likely. Don’t worry about her. We’ll get her.”

“Thank you, Michael. That man who contacted you will give you fifteen thousand dollars for expenses and a ticket to Dublin. The plane goes in an hour, you better hurry if you’re going to catch it,” Bridget said.

“I’ll be calling that tip line, I need to confirm this. What did you say her legal name was?” I asked.

“Siobhan Callaghan. Eleven, nearly twelve years old. The spit of her ma.”

“Heartbreaker, in other words.”

“She’s my whole life, Michael, I want you to help me.”

“Ok, if it’s kosher, I’ll be on the plane. Bridget, I got to warn you, I don’t respond well to heavy stuff; if you have goons waiting to meet me in Ireland, I’ll kill them and you’ll never hear from me again. And if it’s a trick, I’ll make sure you go down. I’m getting mighty tired of this.”

“Thank you, Michael. It’s not a trick. I hate you. I hate your guts. But I need you. I’m pulling out all the stops.”

“Ok.”

She hung up. I motioned the kid to come over.

“Ok, dickwad, you got some money for me,” I said.

“Mr. Forsythe, I have been instructed to give you this envelope containing fifteen thousand dollars and a confirmation for your Aer Lingus ticket to Dublin on the five-fifteen flight this evening.”

“Take out the money and put a few bills in your mouth.”

“Why my mouth?”

“Didn’t I tell you about the nerve toxin? If they’ve poisoned the money, I want it to kill you first.”

The kid hesitated, as if considering the possibility that someone had indeed spiked the dough. He put the first two bills in his mouth with no ill effect.

“Ok, now, the thirteenth bill and the last five.”

He did those as well, again without keeling over or spitting blood.

“This may seem crazy to you but you never know with Bridget. She’s smart. Now do the same with the airline ticket and then piss off out of my life and go back to your vida loca.”

“Can I get a receipt for the money?” he asked.

“A receipt? Oh, I see. Of course. You’re worried I’ll take the money and just fuck away off with it. Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret, that’s precisely what I’m going to do,” I said.

“Ms. Callaghan believes you will not do that. However, Mr. Moran has instructed me-”

“He’s instructed you, has he?”

“Yes, he has. I am to ask politely but I am not to coerce you in any way,” he said.

“You think you could coerce me if you really needed to?”

“Um, well, it isn’t really my department,” he said.

“No, I didn’t think so.”

He nodded, stood.

“Good luck, Mr. Forsythe,” he said.

I watched him walk out of the airport and hail a cab. I counted the money. Fifteen large, sure enough. And I could have it for free. But there was that other thing she said. She would “wipe the slate clean” if I helped her.

Wipe the slate clean.

Now that was an attractive proposition. My body ached from the exhaustion of it all. Dodging her and her minions. Twelve years I’d been on the run from the New York Irish mob. Since Christmas Eve 1992. Now Bridget claimed she was willing to forgive it all. Forgive me killing Darkey, forgive me selling Darkey’s boys down the river. Why?

There were really only two possibilities.

One, that this was all a trap, an elaborate hoax to get me to come to Ireland.

Two, she really did have a daughter who had gone missing and like any concerned parent she was at the end of her tether. If I were a betting man, I’d have gone for one.

But you never knew. I sipped the dregs of my beer.

“How do you think the Red Sox rotation will match up against the opposition this year,” a voice said.

I looked up.

A tall, blond storm trooper of a man, in a wide blue business suit. A clone behind him with dark hair.

“Can’t you cocksuckers get anything right?” I said. “Yankees’ rotation and I’m supposed to mention the- Oh, forget it, take a seat, there’s been a slight change of plans…”