Meehan sighed heavily. “You know there are days when I really despair of you, Billy. You’ve just seen hell on wheels and didn’t recognise it.” He laughed harshly again. “You’ll never come closer, Kristou. He was mad at you, you old bastard. Mad enough to kill and yet that shooter didn’t even waver.”
Kristou winced. I know, Mr.. Meehan. I miscalculated. I shouldn’t have mentioned those kids.”
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
Kristou glanced at Billy, then back to his brother, frowning slightly. “You mean you still want him, Mr.. Meehan?”
II
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“That’s true enough.”
He laughed nervously and Meehan stood up and patted him on the face. “You fix it, Kristou, like a good kid. You know where I’m staying. If I haven’t heard by midnight, I’ll send Fat Albert to see you and you wouldn’t like that, would you?”
He walked into the darkness followed by his brother and Kristou stood there, terrified, listening to them go. The Judas gate opened and Meehan’s voice called, “Kristou?”
“Yes, Mr.. Meehan.”
“Don’t forget to have a bath when you get home. You stink like my Aunt Mary’s midden.”
The judas banged shut and Kristou sank down into the chair, fingers tapping nervously. Goddamn Fallon. It would serve him right if he turned him, in.
And then it hit him like a bolt from the blue. The perfect solution – and so beautifully simple.
He picked up the telephone, dialed Scotland Yard and asked to be put through to the Special Branch.
It was raining quite heavily now and Jack Meehan paused to turn up his collar before crossing the street.
Billy said, “I still don’t get it. Why is it so important you get Fallon?”
“Number one, with a shooter in his hand he’s the best there is,” Meehan said. “Number two, everybody wants him. The Special Branch, Military Intelligence – even his old mates in the IRA which means – number three – that he’s eminently disposable afterwards.”
“What’s that mean?” Billy said as they turned the corner of the alley and moved towards the car.
“Why don’t you try reading a few books, for Christ’s sake?” Meehan demanded. “All you ever seem to think of is birds.”
They were at the front of the car by now, a Bentley Con-tinental, and Meehan grabbed Billy by the arm and pulled him up quickly.
“Here, what the hell’s going on? Where’s Fred?”
“I2
“A slight concussion, Mr.. Median. Nothing much. He’s sleeping it off in the rear seat.”
A match flared in a nearby doorway pulling Felon’s face out of the darkness. There was a cigarette between his lips. He lit it, then flicked the match into the gutter.
Meehan opened the door of the Bentley and switched on the lights. “What are you after?” he said calmly.
“I just wanted to see you in the flesh, so to speak, that’s all,” Fallon said. “Good night to you.”
He started to move away and Meehan grabbed his arm, “You know, I like you, Fallon, I think we’ve got a lot in common.”
“I doubt that”
Meehan ignored him. I’ve been reading this German philosopher lately. You wouldn’t know him. He says that for authentic living what is necessary is the resolute confrontation of death. Would you agree with that?”
“Heidegger,” Fallon said.Interesting you should go for him. He was Himmler’s bible.”
He turned away again and Meehan moved quickly in front of him. “Heidegger?” he said. “You’ve read Heidegger?” There was genuine astonishment in his voice. “I’ll double up on the original offer and find you regular work. Now I can’t say fairer than that, can I?”
“Good night, Mr.. Meehan,” Fallon said and melted into the darkness.
“What a man,” Meehan said. “What a hard-nosed bastard. Why, he’s beautiful, Billy, even if he is a fucking Mick.” He turned. “Come on, let’s get back to the Savoy. You drive and if you put as much as a scratch on this motor I’ll have your balls.”
Fallon had a room in a lodging-house in Hanger Street in Stepney just off the Commercial Road. A couple of miles, no more, so he walked, in spite of the rain. He hadn’t the slightest idea what would happen now. Kristou had been his one, his only hope. He was finished – it was as simple as that. He could run, but how far?