The Pariot GAme (22 page)

“That’s why the IRA hooked up with the PLO—those Palestinians’ve got Kalashnikov assault rifles, which is an even better weapon, and the Soviet Union doesn’t make it nearly as difficult for the PLO to get Russian guns as the good old USA
does with American guns. There’ve been stories that the PLOs’ve got the Israeli machine guns too, the Uzis, but I tend to doubt that. They would’ve had to capture those, and they haven’t had much luck capturing Jews or their equipment. Still, the AR’s a fine weapon. Perfect for your informal little bushwhacking. No terrorist organization in its right mind would turn down a few crates of those little gadgets, Russian guns or not.

“No,” Riordan said, “if you want ARs in quantity like I expect they probably do, there is only one way to get them, and that is: steal them. Get into a warehouse, get into a few sporting goods stores, that kind of thing. Hijack a truck. That’s what Magro specializes in. He’s good at cutting chain-link fences and getting doors open, and he’s been around long enough so he knows where they store the stuff that people want. He’s good enough so he never got caught at it, either. It was only when he branched out into shooting a guy that the cops grabbed him and put him away. Magro’s a thief, and he’s a capable one. Doesn’t matter to him what he steals, especially if being willing to steal something that somebody really wants will get him sprung from a murder rap eight years early.”

“And put him on the loose to take care of a little private business on the way through,” Doherty said.

“You don’t think your brother’s involved in this?” Riordan said.

“Nope,” Doherty said, “I don’t. For once I think Jerry’s skirts are clean, at least from this escapade. He’s probably doing something else, equally bad, but I don’t really think, from talking to Fahey, that Jerry’s got anything to do with this IRA thing at all. If he is, Fahey isn’t clever enough to keep it from me, and Fahey never said a word about him or even somebody that sort of sounded like him.”

“Son of a bitch,” Riordan said. “That’s kind of upsetting.”

“I don’t follow you, Pete,” Doherty said.

“Oh, no offense, Paul,” Riordan said. “I didn’t mean I was sorry your brother doesn’t seem to be tangled up in this. I’m glad if he isn’t. It’s just that I’ve been convinced for quite a while that he was, and I don’t like making mistakes like that. I dragged you into this mess and got you thoroughly worried for absolutely no good reason. I’m sorry.”

“Pete,” Doherty said, “you’re not going to duck out on me now, are you? No good reason?”

“I don’t follow,” Riordan said.

“Is there any doubt in your mind that Magro will go after Jerry if he gets out to steal those guns?” Doherty said.

“No,” Riordan said. “No, not in the slightest. Far as I know, that’s what he’ll do.” He stood up suddenly, skidding the chair back from the table.

“Where’re you going?” Doherty said.

“I’m not going anywhere, dammit,” Riordan said. “I just locked my damned knee, is all. That damned scrap metal gets in between the joints when I move in just the wrong way, and it locks on me.” He shook his leg awkwardly.

“Spike does that,” Doherty said, laughing. “He did that very same thing the night he peed on the Holy Water font.”

“I know it looks silly,” Riordan said, “but it works. That’s all I ask. There.” He sat down again.

“You ought to get that fixed,” Doherty said.

“There’s nothing anybody can do about it without dismantling my whole damned leg and putting me in traction for about six months,” Riordan said. “I can’t do that, for the luvva Mike. I haven’t got time.”

“I’ve got a good surgeon that’s a friend of mine,” Doherty said. “Ted Norman, at the New England Medical Center. He’s a thoracic specialist, but I’m sure he could find an orthopedic man for you. When it looked as though I might need a bypass, after the attack, Ted was the man I went to see to set things up for me. He’s very good. Known him for years.
Another fan of Vinnie Fahey’s. I must call Ted about this little meeting that I had with Vinnie. Tell him about Vinnie routing the Germans.”

“Some other time,” Riordan said, grimacing slightly as he stretched his leg out. “I’m busy right now. I may need this leg. You find anything out about this Emmett guy from Fahey?”

“Not much I didn’t know already,” Doherty said. “Once Vinnie mentioned him, it all started to come back to me. Emmett’s the power behind the University Club swimming team. Vinnie’s a great swimmer. Emmett, according to Fahey, is as crazy as Fahey is on the IRA stuff. He may be carrying Magro’s water in a bucket to the Council, but he’s not crooked and he’s not intentionally setting out to get Jerry killed. I don’t think. He’s just another dreamer trying to bring back the race of kings. The ones that lived in sod huts, and worshiped mud. I don’t think he’s much to worry about. Hell do it if Fahey asks him, and Fahey has asked him. Don’t misunderstand me, now. I embarrassed Vinnie, and I humiliated him, but I didn’t change his mind one single iota. He’s just as determined to get Magro out today as he was yesterday. And he still doesn’t know why I’m interested. The question’s probably never crossed his mind.”

“Okay,” Riordan said, “let’s think about it. First thing is, we’re not under any immediate pressure. Magro can’t get out this week because the Council has to meet again just to decide whether they should hold a hearing on his petition for commutation. They can’t do that before next Thursday. The earliest the hearing could be would be a week, more likely two, after that. So it’s at least three weeks before Magro could get out under any circumstances, and the Governor’d probably stall around for at least another week before he signed anything if the Council did decide to let Magro out. Make it a month. Magro is the guy you want to stop from killing your brother, and if what I get this afternoon and tonight checks
out with what you’ve got, Magro and this character Scanlan are the people who interest me. Not your brother. Therefore were not under any real time pressure.”

“I don’t know as I agree with that,” Doherty said.

“Well,” Riordan said, “I don’t mean we can just sit around and dawdle and wait for something bad to happen. What I mean is, we don’t have to do anything right off the bat. End up making a mistake because we hurried. If Ken Walker’s little gambit to screw up Magro’s recommendation from the corrections department works the way he hopes it will, and we won’t know that until the inmates come in—or don’t come in—from their furloughs this weekend, it could be six months or so that Magro’s got to wait before he even gets so much as another nip at the apple. We’ve got time enough to be sure.”

“In the meantime,” Doherty said, “what’re you going to do?”

“Paul,” Riordan said, “all I can tell you for sure is what I’m going to do today. This afternoon. Seats Lobianco must’ve spent half an hour on the phone with me yesterday. He’s been playing sleuth. He wants me to see a guy named Mattie at the State House this afternoon. I’m going to do that. From what Seats hinted, I’ve got an idea I’m going to have to go out tonight. For what, I don’t know. Until I’ve done those things, I don’t have any idea what I’m going to do next.”

“What about me?” Doherty said. “I’m on a hot roll here. It’s like playing golf and sinking every forty-foot putt you try.”

“What about you?” Riordan said. “Isn’t much more you can do, I can think of.”

“What about Jerry?” Doherty said.

“What about him?” Riordan said. “You say he’s not in it, and yours is the best information I’ve come up with so far. If, as and when Magro looks like he’s maybe getting out, we can decide then what to do. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“No,” Doherty said.

“No?” Riordan said.

“I don’t like it,” Doherty said. “Put yourself in my place. The man is my brother. He’s no good, but he remains my brother. I don’t want him killed. And I’m a priest, too. If any man has an obligation to his brother, a priest does.”

“You want to tell him,” Riordan said.

“I want to tell him,” Doherty said. “I want to tell him tonight. I want to meet him as he closes up the Bright Red and go home with him and tell him. Tonight.”

“Jesus,” Riordan said. “You know what he’ll do, don’t you? Brother or no brother, Paul, the Digger is a decisive man. You convince him that your information’s good, and you know what hell do. You really want that?”

“I think a man has a right to defend himself,” Doherty said. “I’m on firm scriptural ground there. Turning the other cheek is one thing. Getting ambushed’s quite another. Jerry has a family to support. He’s not much of a husband and he stinks as a father, but that family is his responsibility no matter how little attention he pays to them. He won’t even be able to do that, dead, and I don’t want to pick up his burdens for him. I told you that. So I’ve got some rights in this matter too, personal rights. Mine.”

“There’s self-defense and there’s self-defense, Paul,” Riordan said. “The Digger was a boss con. Unusual for a man serving a short stretch. Those gentlemen’re mostly lifers. If Digger was an equal, he was an equal with some guys that’re still in there and haven’t got a thing to lose. They know him. You think of self-defense as shooting back at a guy that’s shooting at you. The Digger may have a more generous definition. He can make arrangements from outside that’ll permanently screw up Monsignor Fahey, Councillor Emmett and maybe even the guy who calls himself Scanlan, but I don’t think that’s self-defense. Not in the usual meaning of the
word. I think it’s jailhouse murder. Useful murder, maybe. Save everybody a hell of a lot of annoyance if Magro got dead ’fore he ever got out. But murder just the same. Magro’s no threat to the Digger, long as he’s in. I think you’re jumping the gun, Paul.”

“Do you, now,” Doherty said.

“Actually,” Riordan said, “no. But I had to say so. I can’t endorse it, but I can’t see much difference between Magro planning to kill Digger and Digger planning to kill Magro. The one who gets it done first is a murderer, and the other guy’s a corpse. Other than that, there isn’t much to choose between them. The only advantage that either of them’s got, in my estimation, is that the Digger has you for a brother. He didn’t earn that edge, but he’s got it.”

“Mind you, now,” Doherty said, “I don’t propose to suggest to Jerry that he kill Magro on sight. Or that he have somebody else kill Magro while he’s still in prison. I don’t intend to do anything like that.”

“Paul, Paul,” Riordan said, “this is old Peter, remember? You won’t have to give him any tactical suggestions. You think Jesse James’s mother had to tell him how to rob the trains, once he found out there was payroll gold on them? Split a few hairs if you want, but let’s not go too far here.”

“You’re telling me not to do this,” Doherty said. “That’s maybe the best reason I could give you, Phantom, for starting your own family. You don’t know anything about the sense of responsibility that a man feels. As little as I know, you know less.”

“Wrong on both counts, Paul,” Riordan said. “I am not telling you
not
to do this. That is your decision, none of mine. And for reasons that I won’t go into, I am not the man who walks alone. That was a lie. I haven’t been for over three years now. I’ve got a woman and her daughter lives with us and I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do about that, because
it’s getting very complicated.” He laughed. “I must be getting old and mellow. I wasn’t ready for all of this. Just sneaked up on me. But don’t kid yourself. I’d kill for either one of those two, and I’ve got a strong notion that I never have to worry about my back when they’re lined up behind me. So, yeah, I know. I know what you mean.”

“I’m happy for you, Pete,” Doherty said. “How on earth does she stand it, knowing what you do? That you could get killed any minute.”

“She never mentions it,” Riordan said. “And as a matter of fact, the chances’re very damned small. It’s some poor cop in a cruiser that gets it, stopping a speeder on the highway and getting a bellyfull of buckshot when he asks for license, registration. Not guys like me. The only reason we carry guns is to discourage guys that we arrest from using their guns. I haven’t killed a man since Nam.”

“So,” Doherty said, “you understand. I’m going to tell him.”

“Yeah,” Riordan said, “but two, make it three, requests.”

“Shoot,” Doherty said. He grinned.

“First,” Riordan said, “tell me where I can get in touch with you later on this afternoon, after I see Seats. He may have something that could change things. Or maybe this guy Mattie will. I doubt it, but they might.”

“Around three-thirty,” Doherty said, “I’ve got to call the auto body shop in Brighton to see if my car’s ready. If it is, I’ll go in to the rental people and drop off that bucket of bolts I’ve been driving since the Electra went in. My God, how I’ve suffered with that thing.”

“The Avis?” Riordan said.

“You knew it?” Doherty said.

“Had to be yours,” Riordan said. “Can’t picture you in a Cad. You’re not a menopausal suburban matron, so you weren’t driving a Volvo. I saw the little red-and-white sticker
on the back window, I came in today. What’d you do, smash up the battleship?”

“No,” Doherty said, “I just decided to keep it. They don’t make those big solid cars anymore, and I don’t want one of the tinny little new ones. All that was wrong with mine was minor dents and scratches, so I decided to have it repaired. Supposed to be ready today. If it is, I’ll pick it up, come home, have some of Mrs. Herlihy’s awful food, get a little rest, and go out to Dorchester tonight in time to meet Jerry when he closes up. If it isn’t, I’ll just stay at the rectory and get some work done, then go out. One way or the other, I’ll be home around dinner.”

“Okay,” Riordan said. “Second: Since neither one of us knows what time he’s going to get home tomorrow morning, why don’t we plan to meet here for lunch again tomorrow? Compare notes. Can’t tell what we might pick up.”

“Good idea,” Doherty said.

“Third thing,” Riordan said. “Is there any chance of a club sandwich and another beer?”

“Very good chance,” Doherty said. “I’ll order two of each.”