Farrell leaned lower on his elbows. “What’s on here, as I told the Commissioner, is that we have several citizens plotting to destabilize the government of the Irish Republic, and they’re willing to use violence to that end.”
“ ‘They’, though,” said Minogue. “The ‘they’ that’s trying to do this is an Opus Dei faction. It’s not necessarily an Army coup or the likes of that.”
“Right,” said Kilmartin, recovering with one of his favourite sayings at hand. “This isn’t a banana republic, you know, Tommy. We’re a democratic country with troubles, that’s all.”
“All right,” said Farrell quickly. “I’ve been on the phone to Army Intelligence half the day. I know that O’Tuaime had started a search of Army personnel files for yous, but it was pretty half-hearted. As of half-ten this morning he was relieved of that piddling assignment, and Army Intelligence has launched a real search now that they have two names to start with. Cunningham seems square enough, a follower. This Gibney’s a very popular officer all up and down the ranks.”
“Like Gorman… all things to all men,” muttered Kilmartin. Minogue thought of the friendly, open faces of Heher and Drumm.
“They think he might twig to the surveillance. Lookit, if they’re jittery, I’m hopping about like a bloody Mexican jumping-bean. The security of the State and its citizens can’t be waiting around for any of us to be playing with bits of files and phone lines to gather bullet-proof evidence.”
Which is probably exactly what he told the Minister and the Commissioner earlier, thought Minogue.
“So if yous think that your Squad has first dibs on this, you’d be wrong,” said Farrell bluntly. He nodded to Gallagher, who restarted the tape.
Farrell looked at his watch after five minutes.
“There you are now. We’d be waiting for ten years before we’d get any mention of the word ‘murder’ out of them.”
“No mention of Paul Fine or Kelly yet. We need to point a finger at a killer, or killers,” said Minogue.
“Killers, did I hear you say?” Farrell frowned.
“Murder in the first degree can be charged to more than the actual killer,” said Minogue. “If there was a concerted, coherent plan, assistance rendered, weapons secured for-”
“All right, all right,” Farrell interrupted. Minogue gave Farrell a level stare across the table.
“Listen,” he murmured in the stillness which followed, “we’re investigating two murders.” He paused and returned Farrell’s gaze of impatient scrutiny. “That’s where all this stuff flows from, plain and simple. These two victims-and I had better spell it out, that we suspect these two murders are connected-are, or were, individuals. I’m sure we’re all entitled to be alarmed by this group, this conspiracy, but I’m in there, and my colleagues are in there, to nail a killer or killers.”
Minogue glanced to Kilmartin, who was searching the ceiling, and then to Hoey who nodded once, but kept his eyes on his shoes.
“I hear you, Matty,” said Farrell in a tone soft enough for Kilmartin to look at him in some surprise. “Who do you see as the killers here? I mean the ones that actually did the dirty work?”
Minogue exchanged looks with Hoey.
“Out of this list…” he took a deep breath, “my hunch is Gibney.” Hoey nodded briefly, and Kilmartin kept his eyes on Minogue. “I see it like this: Brian Kelly hears or overhears chat about this scheme to push Gorman to the top and install a government that leans hard to the right. You heard the tape yourselves: it’d be nothing for people to make a pretext for getting troops out on the streets these days. You even hear upright citizens who should know better,” Minogue paused briefly to savour Kilmartin’s discomfort, “pushing for easy answers. ‘Crack the whip’ kind of attitudes. We’re always looking for the leader, the man on horseback, the hero, in this country. Anyway. Brian Kelly finds out about these plans. He may even have tried to talk people out of it, appealed to them. This kind of talk could have been floating around for years and then it got serious suddenly, so Kelly gets alarmed. He’s caught, because he has a loyalty to his pals in Opus Dei too, but it seems that the organization shuns him. So he’s torn about the whole thing, he needs to talk to someone. Maybe he tries again with this group, maybe even talks to Gorman. We may never know if he threatens to reveal what he knows, but I can see him doing that, if he’s upset. Think about it. Here’s a man who has invested so much in this organization. He’s sincere, he’s responsible, he’s devout…”
“He’s dead,” Kilmartin muttered.
“I wonder what way his mind works. Does he seek out a person from the media? Does he want someone like Paul Fine to do a surface story on Opus Dei, as a way of letting this outfit know that they’re now in the public light so they’d better rethink their plans? Does he tell all he knows to Paul Fine? It doesn’t seem like that to us, judging by what Fine had dug up. But did Gorman, or whoever, think their whole enterprise was threatened? Did Brian Kelly purposely seek out a journalist who was also a Jew, by way of a symbolic act?”
“Fine and well to be speculating,” said Farrell. “But the way you brought it up, you want specifics. Can you link these murders at all, as yet?”
Hoey sat up and intervened.
“The killer may have wanted to make Paul Fine simply disappear,” he said quickly. “That would be a stiff warning to Brian Kelly. I doubt that the killer ever planned to kill the two people. It was more a case of ‘let’s get the more immediately dangerous character out of the way’… the journalist, that is… and then maybe try to persuade or bully Brian Kelly into keeping his trap shut. Then, when Kelly didn’t buckle under, or when it looked like he’d do anything because he was in a panic after hearing about Fine being murdered…”
“Killed him,” said Farrell and looked around at the faces of the policemen. “All right, I see how your mind is working on it. But lookit, now,” Farrell narrowed his glance when it came to rest on Minogue, “you’ve had your say. You’ve stated your priorities. I’m just telling you that it is my duty to bag all these characters as soon as possible. You’ll get your man, but you may have to do your digging and burrowing after I have these people in custody. I’m not saying this’ll make your job any easier, but that’s the story, and that’s how it’ll have to be.”
Before Minogue could say anything, Kilmartin deflected him.
“Do you think Gorman knows about Fine and Kelly?” Kilmartin asked Farrell.
The head of the Special Branch held his palms up.
“I’m no psychologist, Jimmy. He may suspect it; he may know it; he may have been told but turned a deaf ear; he may pretend to himself that he doesn’t know it. Christ, there could be any number of things going on. If you ask me, I think Gorman is being led by the nose. By his own bloody ambition. He ran out of patience waiting for the Chief to step down, and now he wants the cake all to himself.”
“Well, it appears that the people we’ve been listening to are not aware of us,” said Gallagher quietly. “Not yet, anyhow.” The soft, earnest Donegal hiss seemed to soothe the tension.
“And whoever spilled the beans in confession has not alerted this group,” added Minogue. That’s what Tynan would have argued, he knew.
“That could change at any minute,” said Farrell. “If we only knew the source, we could sit on him and make sure he kept quiet until we had all these lunatics in.”
Gallagher’s finger tapped lightly on the tape spool as he waited for Farrell’s instruction.
“So, this evening,” said Kilmartin at last,
“Yep,” said Farrell decisively. “We just can’t wait any longer. Now the, er, Commissioner suggested that we include some representation from your Squad, er, Jimmy-being as you have some business in this line of work.”
There was Kilmartin’s ten pounds safe, Minogue knew. It was plain that Farrell didn’t like offering.
“Not exactly a joint task force, or anything now. No need to be formal after all, is there? We all know one another here,” said Farrell.