Islandbridge by John Brady Page A

phoning Eimear before the morning was out, telling her that he’d decided, and that they’d have to change everything. When she’d hear what he’d been going through, all her dismissals and her warnings would fall away. It’d be Canada he’d ask for, if they gave him a choice.
    Rynn stopped rolling the brandy and stared at it.
    â€œHave you gone and done something very stupid?” he murmured. Kelly didn’t answer.
    â€œWho’ve you told?” Rynn asked, his voice even lower.
    Kelly shook his head.
    â€œHow do I know that?”
    Kelly glanced at him.
    â€œYou know,” he said. “You know.”
    â€œDo I? How do you figure that?”
    â€œIf I didn’t tell people that same night, then every day after that, every hour that I didn’t make that call, looks bad. And you know that too.”
    There was a hint of thoughtful amusement in Rynn’s gaze now.
    â€œYou don’t hear me arguing, do you? But who knows you’re here now, is what I’d like to know. I mean, you’re a married man now.”
    â€œNo-one. I would never involve my wife.”
    â€œAre you certain? ’Cause you better remember what I told you. This is bigger than you or me. It doesn’t matter where you go, or even where I go. Things will be taken care of. Are you hearing me?”
    Kelly studied the cigarette burns at the side of the counter.
    â€œWhat’s with this change of attitude then? Are you hinting at something?”
    â€œIt’ll never let up,” Kelly said. “If I do this. It’ll just go on and on.”
    â€œNobody’s telling,” said Rynn. “So what’s the big problem? I get what I want, you get what you want. So?”
    Kelly felt Rynn’s eyes on him now.
    â€œOh, I get it,” said Rynn then, and sat back. “You want something better, is it? How much?”
    â€œNo, it’s not that.”
    â€œWhat do you want, then?”
    â€œI want to, I want out.”
    â€œYou want out? What does that mean, ‘out’?”
    â€œJust out. It’s too much, the pressure. I can’t function. It just gets worse and worse.”
    â€œYou can’t function, is it? Well, well.”
    â€œYou could easily get it yourself,” Kelly said. “You don’t need me.”
    Rynn did not react.
    â€œIt’d be something else the next day. And the next. There’d be no end to it. So, I decided I can’t start that.”
    â€œHave you been drinking all day?” Rynn said. “You look like it. And now you sound like it. That’s the only explanation.”
    Then he sighed and stared into the mirror.
    â€œFrankie,” he said. “Meet you out in the car.”
    The red-haired man got up and threw a last glance at Kelly. Kelly looked to see if he was carrying anything, but his jacket stayed zipped.
    â€œYou put me in a spot,” said Rynn. “I don’t think you realize that.”
    Ree – ah – luy – is , Kelly heard, that guttural accent that was as bad as raking your nails down glass. His words were coming easy; this was going to work.
    â€œI didn’t ask for this,” he said to Rynn. “I don’t want any more of it.”
    â€œWhat, you don’t want an envelope full of twenties, for a lousy address? You want to go back to your night-job at that dump where all this trouble started?”
    Kelly shook his head.
    Rynn waited while the barman fixed something under the counter nearby and then moved off.
    â€œThis isn’t a bus,” said Rynn. “You can’t just ring the bell and get off, bye bye. You know?”
    When Kelly said nothing, Rynn looked over sideways.
    â€œYou’re a stubborn, stupid, thick bogman, Kelly. The Guards don’t give a damn about you. I know what you get paid. I know that’s the way it’s going to be for years. Sergeants’? Hah, that’s ten years.”
    â€œI