Bobby checked his watch. It was after nine. He turned around and lifted his head over the hedge and looked down the drive. It was just a matter now of waiting, waiting like a hyena for his prey, fighting not to laugh out loud.
CHAPTER 53
I FEEL LIKE THERE ARE ANTS crawling across my chest,” said Kyle as he drove along a dark, private street.
“It’s just the tape,” said his father. “You’ll get used to it. I put it on tight so the thing won’t come loose in the middle of it all and give away the game.”
“I think they’ll figure out I’m wearing a transmitter when they see me scratching like an idiot.”
“Then don’t scratch. Show some control.”
“We should just tell the cops everything and let them deal with it.”
“That won’t do it. They’ll get away with what they’ve done, the two of them, if it’s only your words against theirs. In this world theirs count more. I should have known that the mother was involved. She might have been responsible for the killings without her son knowing. That would be quite politic of the old crone. Plausible deniability. Nixon still haunts the sordid edge of politics, I suppose. Will we never be free of that ghost?”
“What was so bad about Nixon anyway?”
“Ah, the sad ignorance of youth. But you’re a swift one, you’ll get her to admit everything, and I’ll have it right here on tape. Except don’t you dare forget, boyo, it only works if you bring out the money.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I told you, yes. That’s the key to everything. Tapes can be disputed, but the money is proof of their guilt. You bring back the money, and we’ll take it, along with the tape, to that police detective you go on about so much. That will jolt her career. She’ll be grateful, you can bet, and she’ll show it, too.”
“You sound like a pimp.”
Liam Byrne laughed. “Life is sweet, boyo, and you shouldn’t be denying yourself all of its pleasures. But reward or no, it’s a grand thing we’re doing here. Father and son, working together to right ancient wrongs. In all my days, I never thought I’d see it. I have to tell you, I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited.”
Kyle turned and looked at his father in the glow from the dashboard. His face was ruddy and beaming. One hand was shaking with excitement, the other was clutching the file on his lap. This was a moment Kyle would always remember, father and son on a bold mission of justice, bonded at last. No matter how it ended.
“And after?” said Kyle.
“Then it’s time for me to lie low. That’s why I already packed my bag. Just get me to a bus station, and I’ll be on my way.”
“You don’t want to maybe stay around a bit?”
“Too dangerous. They’ll be hunting me for sure.”
“Who?”
“The senator, his mother, that little killer the cops told you about.” He glanced to the side as if suddenly scared and lowered his voice. “Not to mention the first Mrs. Byrne, if she ever got an inkling of the truth. Trust me on this, that would be a frightening thing indeed.” “Tell me about it.”
“No, boyo, I’ve been too long here already. Remember the scare at Ponzio’s? It’s time I get back on the road.”
“Dad?”
“Kyle, son, I’ve got no choice. But you can come along if you choose. I’ve enough for two tickets. Have you ever seen the way the country unfurls on a slow trip west?”
“No.”
“It’s a grand sight, boyo, something to share and build on. But those considerations are for after. We need to focus on the here and the now. It will be dangerous in there. You need to keep your wits about you. And we’re agreed on the plan?”
“Sure,” said Kyle, “we’re agreed.”
“And everything’s clear?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. Now, that must be the gate. I’ll duck down so the cameras don’t catch me.”
Kyle pulled up to the gate, leaned over and pushed the button to the squawk box. There was no response, so he pushed it again. And again. He waited, figuring that a fourth time might be rude, but after a few moments he thought what the hell and pushed it once more. He looked around for the camera, saw it turning like a robot’s head above the gate. He gave it a wave, and at that very moment the gate slowly swung open. Kyle drove through.
The lawn was wide and open as it rose toward a cold stone monstrosity of a mansion with huge gray pillars and wings wrapped around it like a great Gothic bat. Lights dimly illuminated the circular gravel drive, leaving dark blobs of shadow across the pillars and the front door. The windows in front were all dark. Kyle drove into the circular drive, stopped in a gulf of shadows between two weak patches of light, killed the engine. He tapped his father’s knee, and his father sat back up in the front seat.
“I guess this is it,” said Kyle. He looked into his father’s eyes once more before he opened the door. The car beeped, and he pulled out the key to silence it. He pocketed the key as he climbed out of the car and slammed shut the door. He leaned into the open window.
“Whatever happens in there, I’m really glad you came back.”
“As am I, son.”
“Whatever happens, know that I love you.”
“Nothing but good will happen, don’t you worry.”
“Okay,” said Kyle. “I won’t.” Pause. “I suppose I’ll need the file now.”
“Of course, yes,” said his father as he raised his hand and offered the black folder. When Kyle took hold, it was the first time he had touched the file since he had given it to his father in his old house. He had to tug twice till the old man released it.
“Good luck, boyo,” said Liam Byrne. “And remember the plan.”
“I’ll remember,” said Kyle before straightening up, looking at the creepy old place. He heard something rustling to the left of the house. His breath caught, and his head turned quickly. He could just make out a small garden there, but nothing else. A squirrel, most likely. Or a chipmunk, a frightening little chipmunk. He took a deep breath to settle his nerves. This was delicate work, he couldn’t be so jumpy. Calm down, boy, he told himself.
Inside the car his father put on a set of headphones connected to the receiver. Kyle tapped his chest, his father raised a thumb. It was time. He took another deep breath, and then, with file in hand, he headed across the drive, up the stairs to the portico, past the pillars and to the front door. He knocked a couple of times, heard nothing, reached to the handle, pressed down the latch.