“What do you mea—”
“Tell me about the crossbow. We couldn’t figure that one out.”
“The crossbow?”
“The crossbow.”
“I was fucked, Duffy. Deauville saw me at the Rangers Club and my only contact was in the hospital. Deauville was going to start blackmailing me. I had to end it. I had to kill him before anything got going. My son had a—”
I put my hand up to stop him.
“I get it. Francis Deauville pops up out of nowhere with his big mouth just when you were on the verge of promotion to ACC. You couldn’t shoot him with your gun because it would be traced back to you. You couldn’t get the IRA to get you a stolen gun because your IRA contact was in the hospital gravely ill, but your son had a crossbow. You take the crossbow, practise with it in that big back garden of yours. Get good at it. Shoot that guy in Larne to establish a pattern and then you shoot Deauville, toss the weapon in the sea, and when Harry is out of intensive care he tells his mates in DAADD to call it in as one of theirs.”
“You see, Duffy—”
“I’m not done, Strong. Never interrupt Columbo when he’s doing his final fucking speech. But DAADD refused to admit to the killing lest it start a turf war, so Harry got that story printed in Republican News, which was good enough for us. The car. I should have paid more attention to the car. You couldn’t follow Deauville and shoot some tosser in Larne in your big fucking Bentley so you took the train to Derry and borrowed your mate Harry’s car. And squared it with him when he got out of the hospital. Am I right?”
He nodded. “You’ve solved it. You’ve figured it out as you always do, Sean.”
“Who bought the crossbow? We showed your photograph at the archery shops.”
“My wife bought it for Teddy.”
“Your wife. Should have thought of that.”
Still keeping the gun on him I sat down on the grass and took my leather jacket off and opened the Velcro on the bullet-proof vest.
“That’s better. Sweating like a bastard in that thing.”
“Who were those men with you?” Strong asked.
“Lawson and McCrabban.”
“I knew it! I told Harry that you’d tell them, that the whole thing was a set-up.”
“But Harry was sceptical about your psychic ability?”
He took the envelope out of his jacket pocket. “It’s a blank piece of paper in here, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Tell me about Mrs Deauville,” I said.
“Oh, I had nothing to do with that. Harry was out of the hospital then. He took care of all that.”
“Took care of it how?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Took care of it how?” I asked and waggled the gun in his direction for emphasis.
“Killed her. Abducted her from the bus station in Antrim,” he said.
“Why’d you do it, John?”
“She knew too much.”
“I don’t mean that. Why did you do all of it? Work for the IRA, betray your friends, the police, everything?”
“I had to do it! Harry was blackmailing me. It would have been the end of everything. And it wasn’t so much. They never wanted so much. It’s like the red telephone, isn’t it? The red telephone between the Kremlin and the White House. A line of communication. That’s what I told myself. We have a mole in their upper echelons and they have moles in ours. We keep each other honest.”
“So you were doing the police a favour?”
“In a way, yes. Besides, all this … what’s the point? You know. You’re a Catholic. You know. It’s all a sham. What’s that line, ‘On the dunes and headland sinks the fire’ … You know the rest. Smart boy like you.”
What eejit can refuse quoting memorised poetry: “‘On dune and headland sinks the fire/all our pomp of yesterday/is one with Nineveh and Tyre.’ Is that what you mean?”
“That’s the one, Duffy,” Strong said, sitting down on the grass.
“That’s the reason you sold us out? Apart from the money and the fear? And you as the red telephone?”
“You’ve had those thoughts too, Duffy. We’ve all had the same conversations. What’s the point to any of this?”
I took off my vest and let it drop next to Strong. “Aye, I’ve had those thoughts. You ever watch that Carl Sagan bloke on TV?”
“I’ve seen him.”