Falling Glass by Adrian McKinty

Author:Adrian McKinty
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Profile Books Ltd
Published: 2011-04-26T21:00:00+00:00

chapter 11

the big sleep

KILLIAN WATCHED FROM THE CAR PARK UNTIL THE HOTEL LIGHT went off. Earlier than he’d been expecting. The phone said 10.33 and the Fiesta clock said 10.42 which was probably more or less the same thing. He figured Ivan for a night owl, but he’d seen him knock back five bottles of Bud and five double vodkas in the hotel bar.

He’d seen him go outside and bounce a rubber ball up and down ten times and then go back inside and get two more double vodkas.

A lot of booze and the fella was skinny…

He’d give him half an hour to toss and turn and take a piss before he’d try anything.

The rain had stopped. Rivers and seas boiling. Forty years of darkness. Earthquakes, volcanoes. The dead rising from their graves. The fucking rain had stopped.

He called Sean. “It’s gonna be a piece of piss,” he said.

“That’s right, just jinx it why don’t you,” Sean said.

“Any blowback yet?”

“None.”

“When do you think they’re going to find them?”

“I don’t know. We could call it in. But why would we.”

“Aye, we’re not doing that.”

“So you’re going to give this scheme a go?”

“Aye.”

“I don’t need to say it, do I?”

“No, once bitten and all that.”

“You should have put something in his drink.”

“Amateur hour. Patience is all you need.”

“Call me if there’s trouble.”

“I won’t.”

He hung up.

He got out of the car. His heart was racing. Adrenalin pumping. He wasn’t going to do anything for at least thirty minutes, but Ivan had clearly gotten under his skin, spooked him.

He lit a match. The phosphorous ignited with a white flare, fire kicking staccato backwards along the wood pulp and turning yellow as it cooled. He watched it, oddly fascinated. The damp air caught the smell of burning and smothered it in the stagnant earthy smells of the wet evening. With only a few seconds left in the match he pressed the hand-rolled joint reluctantly into the flame. It was his last one and it was too late now even to get a packet of ciggies. In a few seconds the cannabis was already dissolving in his blood. His hand stopped shaking, his head cleared, his eyes learned how to focus again. The match dropped out of his hands taking a long second to fall and die in the black leaves that had collected in the gutter. He crushed what was left under the heel of his shoe and took another drag on the Virginia tobacco, mixed with a touch of Moroccan hash.

Ivan’s hotel room was still dark.

A breeze was blowing off Lough Erne.

Nice place Enniskillen.

All traces of the big IRA bombing in ’89 were long since gone.

Nice place. But cold.

There was a pub on the other side of the car park which had a lot of empty seats. Some in the window.

And he felt cold inside too.

He wished just once he could have a real conversation with Sean, instead of business or blather. He wished again there was someone he could talk to, who would listen to the thoughts he overheard himself thinking.

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