They spent two glorious days and nights at the hotel. Noreen phoned her parents and explained that they were back together and that the whole thing had been a terrible misunderstanding. They decided to move back to the States but to try a different city in a different part of the country. As it turned out, Pete from his old office in New York had been transferred to Charlotte, North Carolina. He got in touch, and he was able to get Brian a position with his group down there. He had never been anywhere in the South but he had to say he really liked Charlotte when they moved there. Nice weather, friendly people, affordable housing. Noreen had no trouble finding a nursing job. His New York relatives thought he had gone crazy, but they put it down to itchy feet and a young man’s desire to see the world. For them, North Carolina may as well have been Tahiti. They settled into their new life and within a year Noreen was pregnant. The birth of his son was the most amazing experience of his life. Nothing could beat the feeling of pure joy he got when they handed his son to him to hold for the first time. His son was perfect, Noreen was fine, everything was perfect.
His dad got a great kick out of Brian’s son being fair like his mother. He laughed about the end of the black Irish. He worried a little bit about having a grandson with a Southern accent. Brian assured him that his grandson would not call him granpaw and that Brian would not allow grits in the house. Brian told him that if his son ever came home and said ‘I’m a fixin’, he would pack him off to military school in the North (the one he had always been threatened with). He laughed and remembered that the threat of it had kept him in line for years.
As is usually the case in life, the great circle moved around and they went from a period of great happiness to one of deep sadness. Less than a year later, Sean Flanagan was told he had liver cancer and that it had spread. They gave him three months and he got two. He was incredibly brave about it all and never complained about the situation. He reserved his complaints for the food, the nurses, the way the hospital was organized, his bed, etc. He drove them crazy and flirted with the young nurses right until the end. Brian never did ask him about the guns. Brian was not sure if his dad would have told him anyway and it seemed like some things were just better left to the past.
His dad’s funeral was a lot smaller than Uncle Jim’s had been. Noreen had stayed in Charlotte with their son Liam (a solid Irish name), who had been running a slight fever and was still a bit young for a plane ride. He didn’t mind them not coming. He wanted his son’s first trip to New York to be a special, happy event for him, something they could all remember. They had the wake down in the Village and the funeral mass at St Joseph’s, just family and some old friends of his from the docks and from the neighborhood. A couple of the guys from NORAID (Northern Ireland Aid) showed up at the wake and told him that they were sorry for his trouble, which is what a lot of Irish people say at wakes. An old family friend, a friend of his grandfather’s, Pat Whelan, showed up and insisted on having a quiet drink with him. Brian knew that Pat had worked with his grandfather on the docks back in the day and that Pat had moved out to Long Island years ago. The families had kept in touch and Brian remembered going out on what seemed an endless train ride to visit the Whelans a couple of times when they were kids. Pat had a grandson his age who had gone to law school and was with a big firm in the city. In fact, Brian thought all Pat’s grandchildren had done well, not unlike the Flanagans. Pat maneuvered him to a quiet corner and with a glass of Jameson in hand he said,
“I want to drink a toast to your father, Brian. I knew him, man and boy, and his father before him.”
“Sláinte,” he said, and they clinked glasses.
“Brian, as you know your grandfather and I were old friends. I helped to show him the ropes when he was a fresh faced lad just off the boat. He worked hard all his life, as did your father, to make a better life for his children. I want you to understand and appreciate their sacrifice because I think it was particularly hard for men like them to lead the lives they led. At the back of it all, both of them were dreamers, idealists, men who believed in something greater than themselves. A cause, a dream, freedom, rights for the working man. I suppose the world needs men like that, they inspire us. But the world also needs practical men, men who know how to survive, to adapt. Without the practical men the species would not survive. I hope for your grandfather’s sake, and for your father’s, that you are a practical man, Brian, not a dreamer. It is up to you now to move your family forward and make them proud.”
Brian remembered hearing that Pat had been an old IRA man in his day and asked him if he had not been a bit of a dreamer himself when he was young.
“Ah, that was long ago and I had no one at the time to set me straight. I had to learn all my lessons the hard way in the school of hard knocks. I suppose that is why I try to pass on what I can, so that others don’t make the same mistakes. I tried to keep your grandfather out of trouble when he got here first and I don’t regret it. He was a good friend and a great comrade and despite our different temperaments, I think he understood me. ’Tis a great thing to have someone understand you. Did you ever hear of the time we stood shoulder to shoulder up in Hell’s Kitchen?”
Brian told him honestly that he had not.
"Well, for some reason that I can’t recall, I took it into my head to do a tour of the Irish pubs in Manhattan and I persuaded Dan to go with me. I explained that it would be a great way for him to get to know the city. Well, at any rate, we wound up in a pub in Hell’s Kitchen and I must confess that I was much the worse for wear and your granddad was propping me up. Then I took it into my head to make advances toward one of the girls at the bar. Well, the fellow she was with and his friends did not take kindly to this at all. As we were leaving, Dan went back to the bar and bought a bottle of Irish whiskey. I was surprised and delighted that he was ready to keep the party going. When we got outside, I saw the girl’s boyfriend and few of his mates waiting for us. When I looked around, I saw a few more of them behind us.
‘Right,’ says Dan and he pulls the bottle out of his pocket, walks to the curb, breaks it and comes up holding the jagged end.
‘Now, lads,’ he said.
‘My friend here apologies for any offense he may have given to the young lady, and we would like to go home now. I am sure it is in your minds to send us to the hospital first, but I can assure you now, that if we are going there at least one of you is coming with us. So step up now, lads, or step aside,’ he said.
"And didn’t they step aside for him and let us go. I believe that the sight of an Irishman smashing a full bottle of whiskey put them in shock and that they were sure that the man they were facing was not in his right mind. I did my best to thank him later and I even offered to replace the whiskey. He said to me,
‘Sure, Pat, aren’t you my friend, not much of a one now, mind you, but my friend all the same and sure, I’d like to think you would do the same for me, if the odds weren’t too great or handy escape was not available.’ God, he knew me well, he did, Dan. I miss him, by God I do."
He asked Brian what he was doing for work and how his family were. He was delighted to hear that Noreen was a nurse and that they had a little boy. Pat advised him to get out of banking and go to law school before he got much older.
“Working for any large public company long term is a bad idea. They work you to death and then lay off people by the hundreds and by the thousands as soon as they have a bad quarter.”
“Also,” he said. “I will give you a last piece of advice. Do you remember my granddaughter, Jessica?”
Brian remembered a little girl in pig tails who followed him around the Whelan’s back yard.
“Well, that’s her over there,” and he nodded toward a striking red head surrounded by a circle of young men.
“She insisted on coming this evening. She knew your dad and wanted to pay her respects, but she was quite clear that she also wanted to see how you turned out. Now, I mentioned to her that to the best of my knowledge you were married and had a child. She wasn’t at all concerned. She told me that she had a great crush on you and that she was going to see how you turned out. She said I wasn’t to worry, that she had no intention of running off with you, well, at least not for more than a night, anyway. Can you believe the brazenness of her? I would not be alone with her now if I were you. You’re tired and emotional and you’ve had a fair few drinks today, I’m sure, and she is a young lady who generally gets what she wants. Make sure now that she does not get you alone. Remember the lines… ‘and lead us not into temptation.’”
Brian nodded and Pat seemed pleased.
“I warned her father when he married into a Donegal family. Good looking women but hard as nails, God help us.”
Jessica did manage to seek him out later, but Brian made sure they were not alone. Even with a crowd around them she handed him a card with her number on it and said if he was ever in the city that he should look her up and they could have lunch or something. He keep the card for about five minutes after she had left and then went to the bathroom and tore it in pieces. He thanked Pat for his wisdom, ‘and lead us not into temptation, indeed!’
The next day he was thinking about what Pat had said as he walked away from the graveside. Especially the part about moving the family forward. His dad had often said the very same thing to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his cousin Mike, who came over and pulled Brian aside.
“Brian, I know this is bad timing, but you’re going back home tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah,” Brian replied, “in the morning from Newark.” He had been staying with his brother and sister in law in their apartment in New Jersey.
“Listen, some people need to see you for a few minutes. It’s not far from here. I can drive you over and bring you back to Paul’s place.”
He had not seen Mike since his father’s funeral; he wasn’t looking well at all. Brian heard that Mike had continued with his father’s business and was even deeper in than his dad had been.
Maybe the increased responsibilities did not suit him but Mike looked like he had lost weight, and he was pale and sweaty as if he had the flu.
As politely as he could, Brian explained to Mike that he didn’t want anything to do with anyone who wanted to see him and that he would be gone in the morning. As politely as Mike could, he explained that Brian had to go with him or they would send some other people to bring him. He assured Brian that everything was okay, but that his boss Al had insisted on seeing him before he left. Mike said he would be with Brian the whole time and that there was nothing to worry about. Needless to say, Brian was now worried sick. They probably knew where he was staying and he didn’t want to bring any trouble to his brother’s door step. He agreed to go with Mike and explained to his brother that he would be back at his place by dinner time. His brother kept insisting that he would go with Brian and Brian kept insisting that he should not. Mike absolutely assured him that he would have Brian back for dinner. In fact, Mike said that when he brought Brian back, he would take them all out to dinner, his treat.
Mike didn’t say much in the car. He talked a little bit about Brian’s dad and he kept telling Brian not to worry. Brian thought Mike was worried that maybe he would jump from the car and make a run for it. The thought had crossed his mind, but he couldn’t see why anyone would want to hurt him. Maybe his dad had owed these people money and they wanted to collect from him.
He didn’t have too long to think about it. Mike was right about it being close by. The family grave plot was in Queens (he supposed it was too expensive to be buried in Manhattan). He was not familiar with the neighborhood, but in less than ten minutes they were in a residential suburb and they pulled into the driveway of a nice looking ranch house with a two car garage. Mike assured him for the hundredth time that he would be with him and that it was just a few minutes of his time. He noticed as they got out of the car that Mike had a gun in his waist band. Jesus Christ, what now?
The door was opened before they got to it and Mike got a friendly greeting from the doorman. They went straight into the living room and two other guys got up and said hello to Mike. Mike introduced Brian and everyone said hello, friendly enough, so far so good. He didn’t know whether to sit down or not; he certainly felt like sitting and was making a move toward an empty chair when two more men came down the hall and into the room. Everyone stayed standing and he assumed from their attitudes that the older man was Al, the man who wanted to talk to him. He assumed that the other guy was his cousin, Tony; Brian had never met him, but he had seen him around the neighborhood when he was young.
Mike said, “This is my cousin, Brian.”
Al replied, “Yeah, come with me for a minute. There’s something I want to show you.”
Al saw that Mike intended to come with them. He looked at his guys and then looked at Mike.
“Mike, you stay here. It’s alright, I just need to show him something. We’ll be right back. Have a drink, everyone, sit down, relax.”
The guys in the room went to sit down. Mike remained standing and looked at Brian.
Brian told him it was fine and that he would be back in a minute. He didn’t know what the hell he was thinking. Al led the way, with Brian following him and Tony behind them. They walked down the hall and came to an open basement door. The stair light was on and Al beckoned Brian to follow him. Brian hesitated a little and he felt Tony’s hand on his shoulder and heard him say,
“Watch your step.”
They made their way down the steps to a large unfinished basement. It was poorly lit, just a bare bulb in the middle of the ceiling. There was a table in the middle of the room. There was something on the table covered by what looked like a bed sheet. Brian noticed that there was plastic on the floor and on the walls. Brian heard that little voice in his head, the Village voice say ‘goodbye.’ He hesitated on the last step and then felt the shove from Tony. He stumbled toward the table. Al had gone around to the other side and waved him closer.
“Come here, I want you to see this.”
Brian looked behind him. Tony was standing near the stairs with a gun in his hand.
Before Brian had a chance to say anything, Al pulled back the sheet.
It was a woman’s body; the face was badly bruised but he recognized it. It was Irresistible Dolores.
“My brother, the idiot who thinks with his dick, got picked up by this gal and went to a hotel room with her. Before anything happens, she goes to the bathroom and comes out with a nine millimeter. By the grace of God, the fucking thing jams and he manages to get it away from her. After some not so gentle persuasion, she starts talking, trying to save herself. She’s giving up everyone she ever knew. She told us about you and your uncle.”
Al went on to explain that if Jim was linked to Joey’s death, everyone would assume that he had been involved, that he had given the order. He could not have that coming back to him. He went on to say that Jim had worked for him for a long time and that it was out of respect for Jim that he was now explaining things to Brian.
Brian was only half listening to the explanation. From the time he heard his voice say goodbye, Brian knew they were going to kill him. He thought about his wife and son. He thought about never getting to see his son grow up. He was intensely sad and angry, he hoped to God he would see them on the other side. He asked God to forgive him and to watch out for them. He felt hot tears well up in his eyes. Then he remembered a line from a play he had read years ago. Three brothers are in a dungeon awaiting execution. One of them starts to cry, another tells him to be brave. The third brother cries out, “What does it matter?”
The brave brother replies, “When the end is all there is, then it matters.”
He waited for Al to finish his explanation for having to have him killed. He assumed Tony would pull the trigger any second now.
“Al,” Brian said.
“On behalf of my uncle and my cousin (who he assumed was already dead or would be shortly) and myself I would like to say… Fuck you, fuck you very much.”
Brian closed his eyes and asked forgiveness a last time. He heard a voice say ‘good man’ and then he heard a shot. He opened his eyes and heard two more shots. He saw Al take two hits to the chest and he saw someone walk over from the shadows, lean over him and fire again.
The shooter said, “In the old days, he would have been left with a canary in his mouth. People knew how to deal with rat bastards who talk to the feds. Now they will cut him up in little pieces, and hide the pieces. Everyone is worried about this fucking forensic science, first it’s fucking electronic surveillance, now it’s fucking forensic science. It’s a fucking shame. And I don’t know what they were thinking sending this one (nodding toward Dolores), fucking outsourcing as if we didn’t have enough of our own people to do the work.”
The shooter came out of his musings on the modern world and turned to Brian.
“You’re alright, your uncle would have been proud of you. He was a good man, your uncle. I had a lot of respect for him. He was a man that could be relied on and I think you’re the same. Am I right?”
Brian’s head was spinning and he was having trouble keeping his balance, but he assured the man that he was right.
“Okay then, go upstairs and get your cousin, both of you leave the city tonight and don’t come back, not for a very long time. Understood?”
Brian told him that he understood and he thanked him. The man said that, in a way, Brian had actually helped him out and made things easier. The man saw Brian hesitate at the bottom of the stairs and he said not to worry, the guys upstairs were with him. Brian thanked him again and the man said,
“Don’t mention it,” and smiled at his little joke.
Brian took the stairs two at a time. He couldn’t wait to get away from the horrible scene in the basement and although he had just saved his life, he wanted to get away from that guy, whoever he was. He had the craziest eyes of anyone he had ever met.
His cousin gave him a long hug when he got back upstairs and they left right away. Brian did not tell Mike what had happened in the basement, but he told him that they had to leave the city right away, probably for good. Mike said that they had held him upstairs at gun point while all the while telling him that they would be okay and to just sit tight. When Mike heard the shots, he figured that it was all over for him. Mike had said a prayer and he promised God that if he got out, he would leave the city and this life behind forever, so he was ready to go and not come back without another thought.