‘How did you…’ he began.
Lottie shook her head. ‘How could they lose him? He’s one man, not an army. Now Corrigan will have that field day you were going on about.’
‘Shit, I don’t know. The squad car stayed outside his apartment Saturday night, and all day and night Sunday. Said he never left, not even for work this morning. They’ve just knocked on his door. No answer.’ He paused for breath.
‘We’d better go up there.’ Turning round, she began striding back the way they’d come. ‘He could be dead inside.’ She broke into a run.
‘Slow down. If he’s dead, he’s not going anywhere,’ Boyd panted.
She kept running.
Seventy-Four
Dan Russell heard the door open and turned away from the window. The phone slid from his fingers when he saw the man entering his office twisting a leather dog lead round and round his hand.
Rooted to the spot, Russell said, ‘How are…’
The words died on his lips when Fatjon stepped into the office behind the first man.
‘Wh-what’s going on?’ Russell asked, backing up against the wall, knocking down two of his prized photographs.
The man with the dog lead spoke. ‘I was hoping you could tell me that, Dan.’ He moved further into the office until he stood beneath the motionless ceiling fan. ‘Why don’t you sit and make yourself comfortable.’ He unfurled the lead and slapped it against his thigh. ‘This won’t take long. Will it?’
‘I told the police nothing. Do you hear? Nothing. There’s no need to be threatening me.’
‘I thought I could trust you,’ the man said. ‘Instead you bring the pigs sniffing and grunting into our business. And you know I don’t like pigs.’
‘I swear to God, I didn’t say a thing. That girl, Mimoza, she involved them. It’s all her fault.’
‘Come on. You promised me you would do what you were told. The one thing –’ the man slapped the leather against the palm of his hand – ‘the only thing you had to do was keep that girl and boy safe for me. Did you do that?’ He turned to Fatjon. ‘Did he?’
Russell didn’t like the sneering tone. He gulped spit down his throat, tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t form.
‘It’s his fault.’ He pointed at Fatjon.
‘Fatjon here is a sex-mad lunatic. He couldn’t organise a… What do you Irish call it? A piss-up in a brewery.’
Russell prided himself on never begging for anything, but this was a time to plead.
‘I’ll find the boy. I promise. Just give me today and I’ll bring him back to you.’
‘Too late, my friend. I already know where he is and will deal with him myself. And as you’ve reneged on our agreement, I will have to deal with you like I dealt with the other troublemakers.’
‘You can’t do that. We agreed—’
‘Deal’s off. You lost the boy.’
‘I got his mother for you, and that other bitch. I only involved the detective to try to find the boy for you. She doesn’t know you have his mother.’
‘Too little, too late, my friend.’
‘But you promised that if I let you take who you wanted, you would never tell anyone what I was involved in, in Pristina. Please. The only thing I have left is my reputation.’
‘Reputation? You didn’t care back then that you could drag the name of peacekeepers through the mud. You only saw the colour of the dollar flashing before your eyes. I don’t care about your reputation, Captain, it’s your life I want.’ The man laughed loudly, the sinister sound cutting through the air.
Russell heard the crack of the lead before he felt it lash his face, the prong from the brass catch hooking into his eye. He sensed the second strike without hearing it. Sinking to the floor, his legs like jellied eels, he raised a hand to shield his face. As he touched his eye, he felt it hanging from its socket like a smashed ping-pong ball.
Seventy-Five
‘Open up! Come on, Petrovci. I know you’re in there.’
Lottie banged hard on the door. Neighbours stared. Boyd rocked from foot to foot beside her. Two uniformed gardaí stood on the bottom step shooing onlookers away.
‘This is your last chance. I’m counting to three, then I’m breaking down the door.’
‘You’re not breaking down anything,’ Boyd said.
‘No, but you are, smart-arse. Get the enforcer from the trunk of the patrol car. Hurry up.’ Lottie continued banging on the door. It remained firmly shut. Shit, hopefully he wasn’t dead. Not because she felt anything for the foreigner with the pained eyes. No. She needed him alive to get information. And possibly charge him with three murders, two abductions and attacking her daughter. Bastard.
Boyd returned hauling a battering ram.
Lottie shouted at the door, ‘Andri Petrovci, this is your final warning. We’re coming in on the count of three.’ She counted loudly, then stepped out of the way and gestured for Boyd to proceed.
The door splintered with the force of his strike. Lottie pulled on gloves, put her hand through the fragmented wood and unlocked the latch. Boyd dropped the enforcer, gloved up and followed her into the silence of the one-bedroom flat.
Katie opened the front door.
‘Hi, Eamon,’ she said. ‘Are you here for Milot?’
‘I’m afraid I am.’
‘Mum isn’t here. I can’t let you in until she gets home from work. Sorry.’
He glanced around nervously. ‘I have documents which allow me to take the boy. We’ve found a good home for him. He can live there until his mother is located.’
Katie smiled her sweetest smile. ‘All the same, I can’t let you in. Come back later when Mum is home. There’s a squad car patrolling the area, so I think you should go.’
The social worker looked over his shoulder. Katie followed his gaze, but saw no garda car. Nor was there a car parked outside the house.
‘Did you walk over here?’ she asked in surprise.
‘Er, no. Yes.’
‘Which? You can’t take Milot with you. He’s only a child. He can’t walk far. It’s too warm. He’ll get heat stroke.’ She pushed the door, but his foot stopped it closing fully.
‘What are you doing?’ Katie asked, her skin prickling.
‘I have to take him with me. Now.’
‘I’m sorry, but—’
She was hurled back into the hall as Eamon Carter pushed the door inwards. Landing on her side, she squealed loudly. ‘What the—’
His hand clamped over her mouth. ‘Shh. I don’t want to hurt you.’
Her eyes bulged.
He said, ‘I’m going to take my hand away and close the door. Do not scream. Understand?’
She tried to nod.
‘Good girl.’
When he removed his hand, Katie gasped for air and screamed as loudly as her lungs would allow. His fist crashed into the side of her head and stars floated in front of her eyes.
He slammed the door and drew the safety chain across.
‘I asked you to be quiet.’ He knelt down beside her. ‘I shouldn’t have hit you. But it’s not my fault. I have to get the boy. Let me help you up and I’ll explain.’