“You can have it the hard way or you can have it easy,” he said. “It’s all one to me. Understand?”
“I always try to,” Fallon said.
“Right, go and sit down by the bird where I can keep an eye on both of you.”
Fallon moved across to the cot and sat down beside it, his back against the wall. He looked at the child. Her eyes were closed, the breathing easy.
“The daughter you told me about?” he said. “Is she all right?”
She nodded. “They gave her a sedative, that’s all.” Her eyes were bright with tears. Tm sorry, Martin, I didn’t have any choice. I collected her after lunch like I do every Saturday and took her to the playground in the local park. That’s where Rupert and that creep Harry picked us up.”
“And they threatened you?”
“They said they’d hang on to Sally. That I could have her back if I managed to get you out here.” She put a hand on his arm. “What else could I do? I was terrified. You don’t know Jack Meehan like I do. He’s capable of anything – just like Billy.”
“Billy will never bother you again,” Fallon said. “I killed him last night.”
She stared at him, eyes wide. “You what?”
“Just as I intend to kill Dandy Jack,” Fallon said calmly. “There’s a packet of cigarettes in my left-hand jacket pocket, by the way. Light me one, will you, like a good girl?”
She seemed stunned by the enormity of what he had said but did as she was told. She put a cigarette in his mouth and as she struck a match, Donner joined them. He was carrying a tartan bag in one hand and squatted down in front of Fallon and unzipped it. One by one he produced three bottles of Irish whiskey and placed them on the ground.
“Jameson,” Fallon said. “My favourite. How did you guess?”
“And all for you,” Donner told him. “All three bottles.”
“I must say it sounds like an interesting idea,” Fallon said. “Tell me more.”
“Why not?” Donner said. “Actually, it’s very good. I think you’ll like it. You see, we have three problems, Fallon. The priest and his niece, because they know more than what’s good for them.”
“And me?” Fallon said.
“Exactly.” Donner helped himself to a cigarette. “Anyway, Mr.. Meehan had this rather nice idea. It’s beautifully simple. We get rid of da Costa and his niece and put the blame on you.”
“I see,” said Fallon. “And just how do you propose to do that?”
“You were a big man with a bomb in your hand over there in Ulster, weren’t you? So it would make sense if you used the same method when you wanted to knock someone off over here.”
“My God,” Jenny said.
Donner ignored her and he was obviously enjoying himself. He said, “Evening Mass at Holy Name is at six o’clock. When it’s over, Mr., Meehan and Bonati will pick up Father da Costa and his niece and take “em up that tower, together with about twenty pounds of plastic gelignite and a chemical fuse packed in a Waverley biscuit tin. When that little lot goes up, they go with it and the church comes down.”
“I see,” Fallon said. “And me – what about me?”
“That’s easy. Bonati drives out here in da Costa’s Mini van. You get three bottles of Irish Whiskey poured down your throat, we put you behind the wheel and send you for a drive. There’s a hill called Cullen’s Bend about three miles from here. A terrible place for accidents.”
“And you think that will wrap things up?” Fallon asked him.
“As neat as a Christmas pared. When they check what’s left of that van they’ll find bomb-making equipment and a few sticks of gelignite from the same batch the church bomb was manufactured from, not to mention the gun that was used to kill Krasko. The forensic boys will have a field day and let’s face it – the Special Branch and Intelligence have been after you for years. They’ll be delighted.”
“Miller won’t buy it for a second,” Fallon said. “He knows Meehan was behind the Krasko killing.”