‘It’s years since I’ve been in a nightclub,’ said Redmond, looking around at the lush gold and brown decor of the Blue Parrot as Gary greeted him in the foyer. ‘We owned some, you know. My family. Back in the dim distant past,’ he said in that almost hypnotically soft southern Irish lilt.
And they were all burned to the ground, he thought.
‘Really,’ said Gary Tooley, uninterested.
Redmond took his time looking over this strange stork-like individual. He was too tall, too thin, his hair swept back and coloured a bright blond. His eyes were the eyes of a killer; pale, uncaring. Redmond recognized a kindred spirit, someone who could be every bit as vicious as himself.
‘So,’ said Redmond after they’d shaken hands. ‘This information you’ve got for me . . .’
‘Yeah. You’ll be amazed,’ said Gary. ‘Come on up.’
He led the way up the stairs at the side of the big room, escorted Redmond into an office, closed the door behind them. He sat down behind the desk, while Redmond sat in front of it. Then Redmond sat there and stared at Gary Tooley expectantly. Gary swallowed; he seemed all of a sudden nervous.
Well, he should be, thought Redmond. Gary Tooley ought to remember that the Delaney gang had shoved hard at the Carter territories, had been almost more trouble than could be handled. The Carter boys had been tough; but the Delaneys had given them a run for their money.
‘So?’ said Redmond, when Gary didn’t speak.
‘I’ve been getting calls,’ said Gary.
‘From who?’
‘Whoa.’ Gary sat back in his chair, sprawled, tried to reestablish just whose office this was, who was in control here. There was something about Redmond that chilled and intimidated him. But they were here to do business. That was all. Redmond had been out of the hard game for years. Even so, he still looked like a cold son of a bitch who’d pull your throat out through your ears if you upset him.
‘Whoa?’ echoed Redmond. His thin lips tilted in a lopsided smile. ‘Would you like to explain just what you mean by that?’
‘I mean let’s not rush this. There’s the question of payment first.’
‘Payment?’ Redmond’s smile broadened but it didn’t touch his eyes. ‘For what?’
‘For the information. It’s pretty hot stuff, I can tell you.’
‘But you can’t tell me. Apparently. Until I pay you money.’ Redmond stared at Gary and thought of old enemies. ‘Has Max Carter told you to do this?’
‘No. No way. This is all my own work.’
‘Mr Tooley, I need a suggestion of what you’re talking about.’
‘All right.’ Gary sat back, hooked one long leg over the other. Considered for a moment. ‘Suppose I shared with you some information I’ve held for a long, long time. About you. And about your sister, Orla.’
Redmond went very still. He had no idea where his twin was, or what had happened to her. They had parted ways back in the seventies, and so far he’d felt no driving urge to hook up with her again. He hoped she was well, and happy, wherever she was, but being Orla, tormented soul that she’d always been, he doubted it.
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘Someone’s been in touch with me and has told me things that concern you, and her.’
‘Like what?’
‘Can we negotiate first? Agree a price?’
‘No. I need more.’
‘It concerns an accident. A crash. Back in the seventies.’
Redmond stared at Gary but he wasn’t seeing him. Suddenly he was back there. The plane plummeting from the sky. The icy waters closing over his head, the panic, the pilot strapped dead, drowned, in his seat at the controls . . .
‘What about it?’ asked Redmond.
Gary smirked. ‘That got your attention.’
‘I said, what about it?’
Gary took a breath and said, very slowly, leaning forward in his chair: ‘It wasn’t an accident.’
He saw the impact his words had on Redmond. Saw the pale face blanch even whiter as the words sank in. Gary leaned back again in his chair and said: ‘Now can we talk money?’