The Bogside Boys Page 12

  Mick was in the shop, closing up. The news of the soldier’s funerals was on the radio in the background as he swept the floor. He was numb to it. If anything, Pat had become more defensive in the days since the killings, insisting that they stick together, that if no one said a word they’d be safe. After all there were no witnesses, were there? No one would talk.

  Mick felt the vise closing in on him. He needed to see her, to explain what had happened. She was the only link. But what would he say? Why should she forgive him? He hadn’t pulled the trigger, but what did that matter? He hadn’t done anything to stop it. He could have done something, tried something. The only chance was to convince her that he was finished with the IRA and that he was sorry for what he’d done. It all felt so hollow. He didn’t deserve forgiveness, couldn’t even forgive himself.

  A knock on the door jarred him into the moment. Mick called out that the shop was closed. The knock came again. The person had their hood up but was plainly female. His heart ignited, and he paced over to let her in. Mick stood back as the door opened and watched Maggie pull the hood down to reveal the vicious scowl on her pretty face.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Didn’t think we’d meet again did you, John?” Her smile was like a weapon.

  Mick was taken aback but stood his ground. “I asked you a question,” he replied.

  “We need to talk. I spoke to McClean. We’re both concerned about the security of the operation the other night.” She motioned to the seats the customers used. “Take a seat.”

  Mick did as he was ordered. Maggie pulled up a chair and set it opposite him. “First of all I should introduce myself. My name is Maggie. That’s my real name. My surname isn’t important. I’m an intelligence officer in the Derry Brigade of the Provisional Irish Republican Army, and as such it’s my job to uncover opportunities to strike at the imperialist invaders occupying our country.” Mick felt a cold sweat running down his back. Maggie seemed to be burning a hole in him with her eyes. “Another significant part of my job is to root out any potential informers, witnesses and any other rotten elements that could supplant or undermine our struggle.” She had seen him talking to Melissa. He tried not to betray the raging sea of fear inside him.

  “I’m no informer.”

  “Who said you were?” She stared back.

  “You’ve no need to worry about me. I’d never rat out my twin brother.”

  “I know that. McClean testified to you and your brother’s loyalty. I’m not worried about that. I don’t see that as a possibility.”

  “Well then, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  Maggie’s looked as if she’d just tasted something sour, and shifted in her chair. “The outcry of the loyalist community since the killings you took part in the other night has been more than we expected. It seems that when they kill thirteen of ours nobody cares, but three of theirs is a crime against humanity. Retribution is coming, and it’s my job to make sure we all get through this unscathed.”

  “I’m here to help in any way I can.”

  “Good, I’m glad to hear that. Let’s start with this. Who was that girl you were speaking to outside the pub in Limavady the other night?”

  Mick’s entire body stiffened. He had no idea how to answer.

  “What girl?”

  ‘The girl you had the conversation with outside the pub. The girl who knew you.”

  “She’s no one, just someone I used to know.”

  Maggie gave a joyless smile, shaking her head. “I’ve no time for this. I saw the look on your face when you saw her. You looked like you’d seen a ghost. She knew you. She was inside with the soldiers, one of them stopped to talk to her as we led them out to the car. She’s the only link between the killings and us. The RUC are going to turn over every rock and question every witness. The public wants blood. It’s not going to be mine. Now, I ask you again. Who was that girl?”

  The range of possibilities that opened up to Mick at that moment were like none he’d ever known before. His life, and possibly Melissa’s life, depended on what he said next.

  “She’s an ex of mine. It’s pretty embarrassing actually. She’s a nut, completely out of her mind. I dropped her like a bad habit.”

  Maggie stared at him for several seconds before she began again. “And does this ex of yours have a name?”

  “She doesn’t know anything about me or what I do. I haven’t spoken to her in almost a year.”

  “Don’t make me repeat the question.”

  Mick was stunned by the harshness in Maggie’s voice. It took him a second or two to regain his composure. He’d give her real name. She’d be able to tell if he were lying. It wouldn’t go any further than this. That one truth would buy him the latitude, the trust to deflect her suspicions. “Her name is Melissa Rice.” He spat out the words under the duress of her piercing eyes, regretting it as soon as he had.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

  ‘She doesn’t know anything. I never told her my business.”

  “But you live here, don’t you, in Free Derry, where everyone knows each other’s business? That’s what this place runs on. So to suggest that she’d have no idea that you’re an IRA volunteer when half the people you pass by on the street know is patently ridiculous.”

  “She doesn’t live around here.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “I don’t even know. I think she used to live in Waterside but…”

  “Where does she live, Michael?”

  Her usage of his name scared him, and she saw that.

  “You think I don’t know who you are?” She grinned. “I wouldn’t be much of an intelligence officer if I didn’t know who my own people were, now would I?”

  “No, I don’t suppose you would be.”

  “And I wouldn’t be much of an intelligence officer if I couldn’t tell when someone is trying to hide something from me, trying to protect someone.” She inched her chair closer, the legs screeching against the floor as she moved.

  “I’m not trying to protect anyone, Maggie. I’ve no one to protect except my brother and myself.”

  “Where does she live, Mick?”

  “I told you…”

  “Jesus,” Maggie shouted, and all in one movement she jumped up and threw the wooden chair she was sitting on to the floor. “Whose side do you think I’m on? Why do you think I’m here? I’m trying to protect you. I’m attempting to protect your brother and your other comrades. You said you were going to help me, so help me. I saw the way you two were talking. I saw the look on your face. She wasn’t the only one who was upset.” She brought a hand to her head and paced around in a semi-circle before bringing the force of her glare back onto him. “That was no crazy ex-girlfriend who you were trying to get rid of. I need to know who she is. I need to know she can be trusted.”

  “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “No, you’re not. Please don’t make me get some people around here who will make you tell the truth, Michael. Don’t make me do that, because I don’t want to.” She picked up the chair again and turned it around, so she was leaning her arms on the back as she faced him. “Listen, Mick, you seem like a nice kid.” She was maybe two years older than him, but her face betrayed the horrors of what she’d seen and done. Right at that moment she looked twice his age. “I can understand how hard the other night was for you. I remember my first operation, back in ’69. I was scared out of my mind, truly I was. My faith in the cause and belief in my actions got me through, and they’ll get you through too, but you have to work with me. You need to realize that we’re on your side. You showed your loyalty the other night, but being loyal isn’t a one off. It’s a lifetime bond.”

  Mick was trying to listen to her as the thoughts raced through his head. Could he run, and take Melissa with him? No, that was impossible now. She’d never leave with him. He could see the fear, the fanaticism in Maggie’s eyes. He wondered what her story w
as, what had made her like this. What was the use in running? He had to protect Melissa. She was completely innocent. He’d dragged her into this. But how could he tell her the danger she was in? He focused back on the here and now of Maggie’s piercing eyes. He had to make a decision, and he had to make it now.

  “I admire your faith in the cause, the same as I feel. I’m just a little shaken after the other night. It’s hard to see that for the first time.”

  “I understand that.” Maggie’s voice was less serrated now as if she were the good cop and bad cop all rolled into one. “It was a great blow on behalf of our cause. You should be proud. But the unionists are up in arms about it. There’s a great whirlwind coming. We need to make sure we’re watertight on this. I need that girl’s address.”

  “OK, I understand. I just didn’t want to get her involved, you know.”

  “Of course, but the truth is we’re all involved.”

  “The address is 62 Clooney Terrace in Waterside. Her name is Melissa Rice.”

  Maggie stood up. “You did the right thing.” She reached across to shake his hand, and he was standing too. “What do you think she knows?”

  “I wouldn’t say she knows too much. She’s a complete scatterbrain if truth be told.”

  “Well, it’s best we speak to her, just to be sure. How are you doing otherwise?”

  “I’m just trying to adjust. It’s a new life now.”

  “I know all about that but once the people in the south join us, we’ll win this war.”

  “Soon, please God.”

  “Hopefully,” Maggie said, moving toward the door. Just as she put her hand on the doorknob, she turned to him. “Any doubts in your mind? Any problems?”

  “None.”

  “If you do, now’s the time to say it. If the Brits do find us, they’ll find you first. They’ll put you under more pressure than most people could bear.”

  “I’ve already lived under more pressure than most people could take.”

  She hesitated for a few seconds, looking him up and down. “I think we all have. Just remember to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut.” She closed the door behind her.

  He stared after her for a few seconds as she walked down the street and away. His whole body began to shake, breaths slicing in and out of his lungs like razor blades. How long would it be before they realized that the address he’d given her was a fake? Would they go tonight? It was after six o’clock now. It would likely be the next day before they went to look for her. How long before they found her? And then how long before they came for him? The thought of running came to him again, but he dismissed it immediately. Why should he escape? He was guilty. She was completely innocent. His fate barely mattered anymore. He deserved this. He had to get over there, had to warn her. But then what was she going to do? Run? Go to the police immediately? If they connected him to the killings, Pat would be next. That couldn’t happen. But she was his priority. He had to get to her first.

  He ran to the phone in the corner and picked up the receiver. His hands were wet, shaking as he dialed the number. He held the receiver to his ear and listened to each torturous chime of the dial tone.

  “Hello.” It was her mother.

  “Hello, Mrs. Rice. My name is Tom Adams. I’m a friend of Melissa’s from college. Is she home?”

  “I’m sorry, Tom, she’s not. Can I ask her to call you back?”

  Darkness fell across his vision. “Do you have any idea where she is?”

  “Not really, Tom. And I don’t know you, so I’d be slow to give out any information about that kind of thing over the phone.”

  “Any idea when she might be home?”

  “She’ll be home in time for bed.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Rice. I’ll call back later.”

  He replaced the receiver and sat down in a wooden chair beside the phone. Maybe they did only want to speak to her. He had no idea of what Melissa’s intentions were. Would she want to go to the police about this? He thought of the words she’d exchanged with the last soldier they’d killed, the good-looking one. She knew him somehow, and he knew her, perhaps only from that night, but that might have been enough. Did she have any loyalty left to him? Did he deserve loyalty? He slumped back in the chair as the adrenaline in his body began to fade, and exhaustion swept over him.

  Chapter 14

  Pat arrived home from work at around six o’clock. Fergus, his boss, had asked him to go for a pint after but Pat made an excuse. He threw his bag down and went to the cabinet where they kept the booze. There wasn’t much left. He picked up a bottle of whiskey, a quarter full, screwed the top off and held it to his lips. The amber liquid burnt all the way down, but somehow it soothed the agony. He felt the lightheadedness almost immediately, one step closer to leaving the reality he could no longer endure. The phone rang in the kitchen. Pat heard it and sat down, raising the bottle to take another swig. The phone was still ringing. He put the bottle down and hauled himself out of his seat, made his way into the kitchen and picked up the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Pat. Jesus, thank God you’re there.”

  “What’s going on, Mick? Is everything all right?”

  “I had a visit from Maggie, the contact from the other night.”

  “What? Why?”

  ‘There’s something I didn’t tell you about. I ran into Melissa outside the pub.”

  “Your ex?”

  “Aye. She seemed to know those English boys somehow. Maggie saw me talking to her. She thinks that Melissa might go to the police. She came to the shop, put all kinds of pressure on me until I gave her up. She’s going to go and see her.”

  “When?”

  “She wasn’t willing to share those details with me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me on the night? Why did you let us go ahead after you met her?” Pat felt his anger rising. “Why would you put us in danger like that?”

  “It was all happening so quickly. I didn’t…think it was going to matter. It just seemed like once everything had started there was no way to stop it.”

  Pat grimaced but regained his composure. “Where are you now?”

  “I’m at the shop. Listen, I need you to do something for me. I need you to go and see McClean. I need to know what he knows. Don’t be too obvious…”

  “I know how to handle him. I’ll see what I can find out. What are you going to do in the meantime?”

  “I don’t know. I need to warn her that they’re coming. I gave them a fake address, but that won’t keep them away for more than a day or so, not in a small town like this.”

  “Maybe there’s no need to panic. They might just want to talk to her. She might co-operate and maybe not go to the police.”

  “You think they’re going to take that chance? The whole unionist half of Ulster is baying for a sacrificial lamb. The RUC are going to break down every door, and question everyone in the city about this,” Mick said.

  “Would she protect you?”

  “Why would she? She knows what I did. She must.”

  “You didn’t do anything, Mick. It wasn’t you.”

  Mick didn’t answer. Pat let the receiver drop by his side before bringing it back up to his ear. “Right. I’ll go to McClean and see what I can find out. You stay put. I’ll call as soon as I can.”

  “All right.”

  “And Mick? You might want to say a prayer to that saint of impossible causes again because you’ve certainly got us into another.”

  Pat hung up the phone before his brother had the chance to say another word. The bottle was still in the living room where he’d left it. He took a deep swig, almost coughing out the burn. McClean lived about fifteen minutes walk away. Pat put the bottle down and went straight out the door. Mick had always been the more sensitive one, the better of them. Pat had been angry that McClean had brought Mick along on the mission, but once he’d realized what was going on it had been too late. What right did he have of denying Mick the chance to fulfill his duty
? But Pat had known it had been wrong, had known all along. He’d hoped that Mick would see the war for what it was before it had a chance to leave a stain on his soul. He could accept the realities of the war himself, could bear the weight on his shoulders, but the thought of the effect it was having on Mick was like razor-wire wrapped around his heart. Mick was smart and romantic, not hard and practical like he was. He should have been inventing great things, wooing beautiful women and making babies, not killing unarmed men by the side of the road in the black of night. That was for the likes of him.

  A brown Ford Cortina, not McClean’s car, sat outside McClean’s house. Pat slowed the pace of his footsteps as he approached, wary now. McClean’s wife came out of the front door as Pat walked onto the driveway. She was carrying their baby daughter, holding their young son’s hand. She smiled at Pat.

  “Here for the meeting are ye? They’re in at the kitchen table,” she said, holding the front door for him.

  “Thanks, Mrs. McClean. Off for a wee walk?”

  “Just a few times around the block. Best to get out of the house with this kind thing going on.”

  “Who’s in there? None of the top brass, I hope? I don’t want to intrude.”

  “No, just some young blonde. Good looking girl, but serious.”

  Pat hid behind his smile. “Thanks,” he said and went in. Mumbled speech came from behind the closed kitchen door. He turned around, leaving the door on the latch. His running shoes made no sound as he crept toward the kitchen door. He was about three feet from the door when he heard words that stopped him dead - ‘Melissa Rice.’