contrast with the bear-like physique and sanguine colouring of his elder brother.
‘Ben,’ he said, raising his head.
‘Leon,’ I replied, folding the newspaper and replacing it on the seat where I’d found it.
‘Right,’ Fearghal said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Let’s get some food, men, shall we?’
We went to a café on the outskirts of Omagh. While Fearghal and I ate cooked breakfasts, Leon contented himself with coffee and a rolled cigarette, despite having not eaten in almost a day. He said little as Fearghal admonished him for his actions and, every so often, read and replied to text messages he received on his mobile.
‘What the fuck were you thinking?’ Fearghal asked. ‘Bad enough the stunt you played in Donegal, never mind breaking into a bloody missile factory.’
‘It was a protest,’ Leon shrugged.
‘Against what?’ his brother replied with exasperation.
‘Against whom,’ Leon corrected him. ‘Hagan.’
‘What about him?’ I asked.
‘He’s a major shareholder in Eligius,’ Leon replied. ‘Another finger in another pie.’
‘What have you got against him?’ I asked.
‘He’s an arsehole. He funded terrorism over here for years, and now he’s trying to stifle debate in the US over Iraq.’
Neither Fearghal nor I spoke.
‘Of course, what nobody says is that Hagan is part-owner of a company that sells parts to the US Army. He has a vested interest in keeping the war on terror going for as long as he can.’
‘People responsible for wars generally do,’ I said. ‘Breaking into their offices or shooting starter pistols at them won’t make a difference.’
‘We’ll see,’ Leon replied darkly.
‘You used to think it did,’ Fearghal protested, turning to face me. ‘When we were young. You used to think stunts like that could make a difference. You did it yourself, for Christ’s sake!’
I was taken aback by the shift in the tone of the conversation, and realized I had ignored the cardinal rule that blood is thicker than water. Fearghal could take digs at his brother, but when an outsider did so they closed ranks.
I felt I had to defend my position. ‘The only people it affects are those doing it. The university didn’t change its recycling policy because of us, Fearghal, and America won’t change its foreign policy because Hagan had the shit scared out of him with a starter pistol.’
‘You used to have a bit of spirit about you, Benny.’
‘Did you protest against Weston being given Kate? Or Weston giving it to Hagan? Would it have made a difference?’ I knew it to be a sore point with Fearghal. He did not respond. ‘I make what difference I can in my own way,’ I concluded.
The Bradley brothers looked at each other.
‘You hardly expected a cop to understand, did you, Ferg?’ Leon said, looking at his brother. ‘Sure, he’s one of them.’
Fearghal dropped me back home after lunch. We exchanged pleasantries and agreed to keep in touch, though I suspected, and even hoped, that I wouldn’t see him again after our conversation.
Chapter Thirteen
Saturday, 14 October
Debbie and I spent Saturday morning with the kids, shopping in Derry. On the way to town, Penny complained of being thirsty, so we stopped at the shop on the border and I took her inside to buy drinks for the family.
As we waited in the queue to pay, I recognized the man at the front. Dressed in a suit and bow-tie, his hand covering his mouth as he attempted to stifle a yawn, stood Karol Walshyk. He apologized to the girl at the till, lifted his milk and bread and turned towards us. His eyes were slits in his face from lack of sleep and I guessed he had just completed another night shift. As he passed us, he smiled in semi-recognition, then seemed to realize how he knew me and stopped.
‘Inspector Divine?’ he said, pointing at me.
‘Devlin,’ I nodded. ‘Good morning, Doctor. Late night?’
‘Busy night,’ he replied. Then he looked down at Penny, who was
‘Ben,’ he said, raising his head.
‘Leon,’ I replied, folding the newspaper and replacing it on the seat where I’d found it.
‘Right,’ Fearghal said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Let’s get some food, men, shall we?’
We went to a café on the outskirts of Omagh. While Fearghal and I ate cooked breakfasts, Leon contented himself with coffee and a rolled cigarette, despite having not eaten in almost a day. He said little as Fearghal admonished him for his actions and, every so often, read and replied to text messages he received on his mobile.
‘What the fuck were you thinking?’ Fearghal asked. ‘Bad enough the stunt you played in Donegal, never mind breaking into a bloody missile factory.’
‘It was a protest,’ Leon shrugged.
‘Against what?’ his brother replied with exasperation.
‘Against whom,’ Leon corrected him. ‘Hagan.’
‘What about him?’ I asked.
‘He’s a major shareholder in Eligius,’ Leon replied. ‘Another finger in another pie.’
‘What have you got against him?’ I asked.
‘He’s an arsehole. He funded terrorism over here for years, and now he’s trying to stifle debate in the US over Iraq.’
Neither Fearghal nor I spoke.
‘Of course, what nobody says is that Hagan is part-owner of a company that sells parts to the US Army. He has a vested interest in keeping the war on terror going for as long as he can.’
‘People responsible for wars generally do,’ I said. ‘Breaking into their offices or shooting starter pistols at them won’t make a difference.’
‘We’ll see,’ Leon replied darkly.
‘You used to think it did,’ Fearghal protested, turning to face me. ‘When we were young. You used to think stunts like that could make a difference. You did it yourself, for Christ’s sake!’
I was taken aback by the shift in the tone of the conversation, and realized I had ignored the cardinal rule that blood is thicker than water. Fearghal could take digs at his brother, but when an outsider did so they closed ranks.
I felt I had to defend my position. ‘The only people it affects are those doing it. The university didn’t change its recycling policy because of us, Fearghal, and America won’t change its foreign policy because Hagan had the shit scared out of him with a starter pistol.’
‘You used to have a bit of spirit about you, Benny.’
‘Did you protest against Weston being given Kate? Or Weston giving it to Hagan? Would it have made a difference?’ I knew it to be a sore point with Fearghal. He did not respond. ‘I make what difference I can in my own way,’ I concluded.
The Bradley brothers looked at each other.
‘You hardly expected a cop to understand, did you, Ferg?’ Leon said, looking at his brother. ‘Sure, he’s one of them.’
Fearghal dropped me back home after lunch. We exchanged pleasantries and agreed to keep in touch, though I suspected, and even hoped, that I wouldn’t see him again after our conversation.
Chapter Thirteen
Saturday, 14 October
Debbie and I spent Saturday morning with the kids, shopping in Derry. On the way to town, Penny complained of being thirsty, so we stopped at the shop on the border and I took her inside to buy drinks for the family.
As we waited in the queue to pay, I recognized the man at the front. Dressed in a suit and bow-tie, his hand covering his mouth as he attempted to stifle a yawn, stood Karol Walshyk. He apologized to the girl at the till, lifted his milk and bread and turned towards us. His eyes were slits in his face from lack of sleep and I guessed he had just completed another night shift. As he passed us, he smiled in semi-recognition, then seemed to realize how he knew me and stopped.
‘Inspector Divine?’ he said, pointing at me.
‘Devlin,’ I nodded. ‘Good morning, Doctor. Late night?’
‘Busy night,’ he replied. Then he looked down at Penny, who was
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