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MARCO RESISTED THE temptation to light up a cigarette whilst driving. He already had the four litres of milk he had been despatched to buy, which meant all he needed to complete his mission was his soul mate. Jack had accompanied Josh and Deco as far as Oisín’s store for the sole purpose of checking out a couple of small canoes and a kayak.
Oisín didn’t stock such items himself, but had obligingly put the word out amongst his numerous connections that D-Ly and the Tinman required half a dozen or thereabouts. Offers of used craft had flooded in, and three tandem canoes were already safely tucked away in one of the garages, ready to be loaded onto the trailer at first light on Friday.
When Jack received the call concerning yet another possible purchase late on Wednesday, he announced his intention of examining the potential craft on Thursday. Even though it was Thanksgiving, and Dorothy wanted them all to stay close to home, she saw that Josh and Deco were also keen to check out the solo canoes, and did not try to deter them from the proposed expedition.
Neither did she try to prevent Josh from driving the BMW when he said the roof rack might be needed to transport the latest purchases home. The boss had handed the Dog a wad of cash, and waved him and his charges off, telling him to do whatever he thought best regarding the canoes, but on no account to hang about shooting the breeze with Oisín all day, since the entire family was expected by thirteen hundred and he was needed at home.
Jack pocketed the cash and hopped into the Range Rover with a casual wave and a promise to be home in plenty of time to get changed. Now it was getting on for noon and there was still no sign of the big fecker. Marco was not remotely perturbed by this absence, yet was in no doubt the boss was starting to become agitated. Not only because the Dog was MIA, but because Josh was with him.
When Glenda announced there was not enough milk to last the day, she had been quick to ask Marco to fetch it, while also dropping a less than subtle hint that he might round up the truants while he was out.
‘I don’t really want to call them and start nagging,’ Dorothy grimaced. ‘But I’d feel a lot happier if they were home safely. I wish Frankie Prince would quit making us sweat like this. Those damn Radleys are still out there.’
Marco whistled along to the stereo as he piloted the car up to the topmost part of the Baily and indicated right. He manoeuvred the Maserati through the narrow entrance and straightway spotted the Range Rover and BMW, each with two small craft strapped to their respective roof racks.
‘Those aren’t canoes,’ he muttered to himself, as he parked his car in the furthest corner where it would be safe. He got out and carefully stretched his arms over his head, admiring the sea views as he did. Not a bad day for November, and there was still over four hours of daylight left. There might be time to shoot a few hoops after dinner, assuming it didn’t last longer than two hours.
‘Might be wishful thinking,’ the driver told himself, as he strolled up to the Range Rover and examined what was strapped to it. Even to his inexperienced eye, it was obvious both items were kayaks. One was a virulent shade of green, and the other a shocking shade of pink.
‘Might suit the lezzers,’ Marco commented to himself as he scrutinised the lines of the craft. ‘I wonder what the boss will fancy using. She might be better off in one of those tandem canoes with Elaine or Diane.’
A piercing whistle distracted him and he turned to see Jack clutching a half-drunk pint of Guinness, looking the picture of insouciance. He was without his usual jacket and instead was wearing a silver-grey cable knit sweater over a pair of black jeans. The sweater had cost Dorothy somewhere in the region of three hundred euro, and the fact the Dog had thrown it on just to go and hang out with Oisín irritated Marco beyond measure. He glared at his friend, although that only seemed to make Jack happier. He raised his glass again and seemed to be toasting the driver. As Marco drew closer, he noticed the way Josh and Deco smirked, and knew they were tempted to also salute him with their bottles of beer.
Sitting behind the truants and occupying a wooden table and chairs which had very likely been fashionable during the Cuban Missile Crisis, were two octogenarians. The elderly men also clutched pints of the black stuff, and sat watching the newcomer as if he was an alien species.
Since this was the usual pattern of behaviour every time Marco tracked Jack down to The Dirty Sailor public house, he merely nodded at Rory and Paudie before glaring at his pal some more.
‘You’re not wearing your kevlar,’ he said accusingly. ‘Prince Josh shouldn’t be in a shithole like this when the Radleys are still very much alive and kicking. I don’t know how you can stand all the spit and sawdust, so I don’t.’
‘Rory’s just been telling us a very interesting story about his days on the fishing trawlers,’ Deco piped up. ‘I’ve driven by here loads of times, although I always assumed they shut up shop years ago.’
‘I can’t think why,’ Marco continued to glower at Jack as he waved at the rundown establishment. ‘This place could be a little goldmine if the right person bought it. Right now, it’s only fit for a wrecking ball. You lads need to finish those beers. The boss wants yee home, stat, and you still have to shower and change before the family arrives.’
Fully expecting mutiny, he took three steps back and folded his arms. Somewhat to his surprise, Jack lifted his pint and poured the contents down his neck. Then he turned around to Rory and Paudie, and set his empty glass down on the equally ancient table.
‘Duty calls,’ he said in a genial tone. ‘Catch you guys next week.’
‘I’ve never driven a Maserati,’ Deco sidled up to Marco looking hopeful.
‘Well you needn’t think you’re driving one today,’ was the sour response, as the stylist began to stride back towards his car. Deco trotted after him, confident of his own abilities in the persuasion department.
Both men paused when they heard a female voice calling to them from the rather dilapidated gates of the pub. The woman was warmly dressed in jeans, boots and a zipped up padded jacket with a black beanie on her head. She was young, being barely into her twenties, and looked frantic as she waved an empty black leash at them.
‘I let our labradoodle get away from me,’ she called. ‘My parents are going to kill me and my brother if we go home without him. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him?’
Just then a white furball shot past her and bolted towards the spot where Rory and Paudie were sitting. Josh sidestepped to intercept the dog, but Jack’s hand shot out and pushed the young man behind him instead. Marco saw his lips move, but was too far away to hear the words spoken.
Almost simultaneously, a young man also dressed in jeans and a padded jacket trotted through the gates and shouted, ‘We can’t let the little fecker escape again. Let’s try some sort of pincer movement and see if we can catch him.’
Marco watched the girl jogging in Jack’s direction while the newcomer began to bear down on the spot where he and Deco stood. He looked over his shoulder and saw Deco only had eyes for the labradoodle that was frolicking around Rory and Paudie in a manner the men clearly found irritating.
Swearing under his breath, Marco kicked Deco’s legs from under him and dropped him onto the flaking concrete of what constituted a car park at The Dirty Sailor. Then he swung his body around in time to see Jordan Radley pulling a 9mm semi-automatic from his jacket pocket.
Knowing he had not a second to lose, Marco ran at his assailant and did the only thing that came to mind. He bore down on Jordan’s gun arm with his left hand, while at the same time placing the palm of his right hand on the young man’s face. Then he pushed the chin upwards with every ounce of strength at his disposal.
Marco felt something snap under his hand and Jordan crumpled into a heap on the ground, his gun still clasped in his dead hand. Not quite believing what he had done, Marco looked over at Jack in time to see his friend relieve Chelsea Radley of her own semi-automatic, and punch her in the face. The young woman collapsed on the concrete while Jack examined the weapon.
Deco slowly got to his feet and stared in horror at the cadaver on the ground barely a metre away from him. ‘What the fuck,’ he whispered in shock.
‘Welcome to our lives,’ Marco commented dryly, as he picked up Jordan’s gun and checked the safety. ‘This is a right royal Charlie Foxtrot so it fucking is. I already have a criminal record, and I’ve only gone and murdered Jordan Radley in broad daylight. And you needn’t think the Shades will go easy on me just because it was in self-defence.’
‘That wasn’t what I was thinking,’ Deco spluttered. ‘You’re amazing, Marco. What the fuck did you do to him?’
‘Dog!’ Ignoring Deco, Marco yelled at his pal. ‘I am in so much trouble, dude. I only went and killed Jordan in a public place. Is Chelsea still alive?’
‘She’s out cold but she’ll live,’ Jack replied off-handedly. ‘Hang tough, man, you’ll live to fight another day.’
‘Hang tough he says,’ Marco muttered under his breath at Deco. ‘The boss only sent me out for milk. I should be at home polishing the good wine glasses, not standing over a cadaver in the freezing cold. I don’t even like this pub!’
He suddenly rounded on Deco. ‘And what were you doing just standing there like a big thick gawking at the mutt when two Radleys were coming at us? Did you not recognise them from their file pics?’
Realising he had screwed up big time, Deco began to edge away from Marco and closer to Josh. ‘I’m sorry I was so slow on the uptake,’ he managed to say as he backed away. ‘I was distracted by the mutt.’
‘That was the whole idea, you dumbass moron,’ Marco extended his arm and aimed the gun at the ground as he advanced upon the younger man. ‘And what about you?’
To Deco’s relief, the driver decided to vent his irritation upon Josh. ‘You were all set to go running after the flea bag when the Dog grabbed you. Do neither of youse thickos understand the concept of clear and present danger?’
‘We understand it considerably better now,’ Josh spoke in voice that rasped like sandpaper.
‘Twelve hours of surf torture is too good for you pair,’ Marco hissed at them. ‘We should dump your useless arses into the Atlantic and leave you there to fling piss in each other’s faces.’
‘Why would we do that?’ Deco squeaked.
‘How the fuck do you think the tadpoles keep warm when they’ve been confined to the water for what feels like an eternity?’ Marco glared at him contemptuously. ‘I’m ashamed of the pair of yee.’ He swung around to face his friend. ‘How do you feel about this?’ he demanded.
‘I guess I’m a mite disappointed,’ Jack rumbled, after examining the culprits from head to toe.
‘There!’ Marco gestured towards his friend triumphantly. ‘You have disappointed the Dog, so yee have. How does that make yee feel?’
‘Deeply ashamed,’ Deco replied sullenly. ‘Can we stop talking about it now and decide how to deal with the situation? Maybe we should call the boss and ask her to alert the lawyers.’
Marco elevated the hand still clasping Jordan’s gun and pressed the butt against his forehead. ‘I am so fucked right now,’ he said dramatically. ‘And on Thanksgiving as well. And to think I was feeling a bit pissed at the idea of yet another visit from Pat and Joey. That’ll teach me to be so fucking ungrateful. There’s no way I’ll get any turkey now, and it’ll take a miracle to keep me out of custody so it will.’
As the final word died away in the November wind, a black van nosed its way into the car park, and Marco saw the way Jack immediately went on high alert. He dropped his gun arm so he could get a better look at the occupants. Two hooded figures sat up front.
Once again Jack reached for Josh and pushed the young man behind his own body, concealing him from the new arrivals. The man at the controls of the van made a wide circle and faced the vehicle towards the gates, effectively blocking the entrance. Then he jumped out and ran around to the back so he could open the doors. He gestured towards the lifeless form of Jordan Radley and asked, ‘Is that the middle son?’ in a strong Scottish accent.
‘Yes,’ Marco managed to squeak. ‘It’s Jordan.’
‘Excellent,’ the stranger sounded pleased. ‘He’s a slippery little fucker. It’s good to have him nailed down. Give us a hand.’
He approached the body and took hold of the young man’s shoulders. Then he looked at Marco expectantly. Not quite believing the way his day was working out, the stylist handed the gun to Deco and ran to take hold of Jordan’s feet. They lifted on three, and seconds later the inert form was lying in the back of the van.
Marco backed away to stand near Deco again and readily accepted the weapon offered to him. He gripped it securely but did not bother to take the safety catch off. Even though there was little doubt the newcomers were armed, they had not drawn their weapons; hence he reasoned it would be foolish to antagonise them.
In the meantime, the second hooded figure was standing over Chelsea. Marco clearly saw the way his eyes glinted behind the mask, and tensed up. Whoever this individual was, he was the more dangerous of the two, of that he was certain.
‘She’s still alive,’ the hooded figure spoke in an odd accent. ‘We can use her as leverage to lure Boo out of whatever rock he’s hiding under. This is turning out to be a pretty good day.’
‘What the fuck did she think she was doing?’ the Scotsman sounded puzzled as he too regarded the inert form. ‘Did she wake up this morning and decide she had enough tactical training to bring Maddox down? Bitches be crazy.’
Then he reached into his pockets and produced two extra-large cable ties, which he used to bind Chelsea’s hands and feet. He grabbed her ankles while his colleague with the unusual accent took the weight of her top half. They lifted the young woman and unceremoniously flung her into the back of the van on top of her dead brother.
Marco sensed the way Deco winced beside him, but resisted the urge to as much as twitch, determined to stay totally alert and focused while the hooded strangers went about cleaning house. The Scotsman slammed the back doors of the van and locked them. He looked to his partner, but the other man had clocked the way Jack was hiding somebody behind him.
‘Who’s that you’re shielding, Commander?’ he enquired in a way that made Marco’s flesh crawl.
‘It’s D-Ly’s kid,’ the Tinman responded calmly.
The hooded figures eyed each other and the Scotsman whistled in appreciation. ‘Give us a look at him,’ he urged. ‘Go on, man, just a quick peek.’
Jack slowly sidestepped about a foot so Josh was clearly visible.
‘Christ on a fucking cross, would you get a load of that,’ the scary stranger spoke.
‘He’s the spitting image of the psycho cunt that was all over the papers,’ the Scotsman sounded delighted by this fact.
‘How much is he worth to D-Ly?’ the scary one addressed Jack.
‘Every nickel she’s got,’ Jack replied calmly. ‘Upwards of two hundred million bucks.’
Once again, the hooded figures eyed each other and their eyes glinted with suppressed excitement. Jack returned to first position and blocked their view of Josh again.
‘Don’t go getting any ideas, Clem,’ he sounded more than unusually calm. ‘It would go against my conscience to kill you. This kid is under my personal protection.’
‘Fuck it anyway,’ the scary stranger ripped off his hood, and Marco saw a man in his early forties with a shaved head and badly scarred right cheek. ‘I thought I had you fooled,’ he told Jack in an American accent. ‘I was trying to sound South African.’
‘You were doing a piss poor job of it,’ Jack told him. ‘Linguistic nuances were never your strong suit, Clem. Stick to what you’re good at, brother. You guys had better roll. You’ve hung around long enough.’
‘It’s good to see you again, Boss.’ The man called Clem extended his hand in a manner which suggested he was unsure how it would be received. Jack instantly reached for the appendage and pumped it up and down in his usual style.
‘I guess you heard the top brass discharged me after sixteen years, and I didn’t see a penny of my pension,’ Clem grimaced.
‘I heard you were shit on from a great height,’ Jack nodded. ‘I’m in no position to judge your lifestyle choices, man. Just don’t forget what I said about the kid. Now get going before your luck runs out.’
The man called Clem nodded once and pulled his hood back on. He reached into his pocket and extracted a scrap of paper, which he handed to Jack saying, ‘I’d appreciate it if you could have the youngest kid delivered to those co-ordinates at midnight, Boss. And any of the others you might have picked up by now.’
‘Consider it done,’ Jack barely glanced at the piece of paper before shoving it deep into the pocket of his jeans.
Clem nodded and then unexpectedly turned his gaze upon Marco. The driver tensed up, wondering what the scarred veteran could possibly want with him.
‘Nice chin jab,’ was Clem’s comment.
‘Thanks,’ Marco squeaked. ‘I didn’t have a baseball bat handy.’
Clem laughed, seemingly finding this observation vastly entertaining. Marco saw he had a full set of gleaming white teeth, and wondered if they were the original articles. Clem jumped into the cab of the van where he was swiftly joined by the Scotsman. With a final wave, the men drove off. Jack and Marco watched in silence as the vehicle exited the gates and headed down the Baily.
‘Clem Nolan of all people. Just about the best Master Sergeant I ever served with,’ Jack rumbled, as he patted his pockets. ‘I wonder if I have a stogie in the car.’
‘They had a camo net in the back of the van,’ Marco was looking thoughtful. ‘I bet they had a whole bunch of fatigues in there as well. Shame they couldn’t hang around for a proper chin-wag.’
‘Why would you want to chat to fellas like that?’ Deco enquired croakily.
Marco turned surprised eyes on the other man. ‘They’re both soldiers,’ he explained patiently. ‘The Scots fella had his boots bloused as well. Most likely one soldier and one sailor. That means they probably know how to get blood and shit out of fatigues. I just fancied discussing it with them, that’s all. I bet Clem hasn’t had a chance to sample a decent pint of Guinness since he got here.’
‘You’re a fucking headcase,’ Deco muttered.
As Marco scowled, Josh edged his way out from behind the head of security’s bulk and picked up the bundle of fur sitting under Rory and Paudie’s table. He clutched the mutt against his chest and went to stand with Deco. Marco’s pocket began to ring and a robotic voice told him his boss was calling. He fished the phone out and fixed a smile to his face.
‘Would you mind telling me why Jack Maddox has been buzzing like a swarm of mosquitoes for the past ten minutes,’ Dorothy’s face was livid. ‘He had better not have taken Josh to one of those places where the girls gyrate around poles.’
‘We’re still in Howth, Boss,’ Marco grinned at her. ‘We sort of got between two ferrets and a couple of rats. As if that wasn’t excitement enough for one day, it turns out the Dog is acquainted with one of the ferrets. We’ll fill you in on the finer details later. Suffice to say, we’re all fine and dandy and just about to head home.’
‘Oh,’ Dorothy was looking almost cerebral now. ‘Tell Jack I got him a big box of stogies for Thanksgiving, but he has to get his bad ass home before he can have one. Joey sprained his wrist doing something stupid so I need him to carve the turkey. Unless, of course, you think Josh would rather do it.’ She sounded uncertain now.
Marco glanced up from the screen and clocked the expression of near terror on Josh’s face. ‘I think you’ll find the young master will be more than happy for the Dog to do the honours, Boss,’ he told her cheerily. ‘See you in five.’
‘Who else is with you?’ Dorothy asked.
‘Just Rory and Paudie. Shall I invite them to dinner?’
‘You’ll do no such thing, Marco Kelly,’ she sounded indignant. ‘Those two odorous, lecherous old farts are not welcome at my dinner table. Rory only washes his hands once a week at best, and Paudie stares at my boobs as if he never saw a woman before. I don’t want them anywhere near my mother or sisters.’
‘The poor guys are bachelors, Boss,’ Marco threw a triumphant look at the octogenarians. ‘Are you not going to feed them on Thanksgiving?’
‘Feed them?’ She sounded borderline hostile now. ‘I’d like to see Ralph hosing the dirty bastards down. Commander Maddox certainly does have friends in low places. Now get your hineys home,’ and she promptly disconnected.
‘Excellent,’ Jack rubbed his hands together with anticipation. ‘The boss is in one of her kickass moods, there’s a big turkey dinner waiting for us, and a box of stogies for afters. Happy days. Let’s ship out.’
‘Do you think I might be able to bring the labradoodle?’ Josh spoke for the first time. ‘We don’t know who his owner is. Maybe he really does belong to the Radleys.’
‘That mutt belongs to a very nice widow lady who lives not a mile from here,’ Rory unexpectedly spoke up. ‘If you put that lead on him, I’ll return him to her later. She’ll be distraught by now. Adores the little pooch so she does.’
Deco fetched the lead Chelsea had discarded when she reached for her firearm, and attached it to the dog’s collar. Then he tied it to the table leg so as to prevent escape. The bundle of fur returned to his former spot and settled down next to Rory’s grimy boots.
‘Sorry about all the trouble with the guns,’ Josh addressed the elderly men stiffly.
‘Think nothing of it,’ Rory replied with a nod. ‘Those Radley scum had it coming.’
‘That’s very big of you,’ Josh cast a sideways glance at Jack. ‘Perhaps I can compensate you for the emotional upheaval the situation has caused.’
‘You’re a true gent,’ Rory told him, and grinned through blackened teeth.
Seeing he had in no way offended the odorous duo, Josh reached for his wallet and extracted a wad of cash. He tentatively offered it to Rory, although Paudie was the one who grabbed it and shoved it into his pocket with a triumphant glance at his friend. As Rory seemed almost philosophical about the theft, Josh wisely chose not to interfere. Nonetheless, he could no longer contain his curiosity.
‘Do you really ogle my mother?’ he shifted on his feet as he asked the question.
‘Absolutely,’ Paudie answered in a cultured accent totally at odds with his whiskered face and gappy teeth. He made an hourglass shape with his gnarled and dirty hands. ‘She has a lovely little body on her and always smells good enough to eat.’ Then he licked his lips.
‘Eww,’ Deco stepped back in shock and Jack chuckled to himself.
‘Enough already. Let’s hit the road, stat,’ Marco ordered imperatively. Determined to lead the convoy back to the palace without any further delays, he ran to his car and started the engine. Josh extracted the keys to the BMW from his pocket as he approached the vehicle with a furrowed brow. Deco jumped in next to him and they watched Marco taking point in the white Maserati.
‘Do you think that’ll be us in twenty odd years?’ Deco asked, as they watched Jack exchanging a few final words with the elderly men. ‘Happy to be heading home for dinner and cigars?’
‘I doubt it,’ Josh replied tersely. ‘I think it’s far more likely we’ll end up like Rory and Paudie. Unloved, unwashed and unwanted.’
Deco snorted in amusement at this and then said, ‘That Clem guy called the Dog boss.’
With a casual wave at his drinking buddies, Jack jumped behind the wheel of the Range Rover and turned the key.
‘He sure did,’ Josh eased the vehicle out the gate in Marco’s wake.
‘The Dog pushed you behind him even though he wasn’t wearing his kevlar,’ Deco tried again. ‘And told your man you’re under his personal protection.’
‘Yep,’ Josh grunted.
‘What do you think it all means?’ Deco thumped his pal on the arm.
‘It means Maddox would do just about anything to keep my mother happy,’ Josh replied in a serious voice. ‘The question is; how can we turn that situation to our advantage?’
