the end. He simply accepted that their child had never existed. That was perhaps the dichotomy between men and women. Now the question was, how could they work their way through this period? He bent to pick her up and felt a pair of hands on his shoulders moving him out of the way. He started to resist and found Helen McCann had re-entered the room.
‘Leave this to me,’ she said softly. ‘Kate is still raw, and you’re not the one who can apply the salve.’ She picked Kate up and cradled her in her arms. Then she led her to the bedroom.
Wilson fell back into the club chair. He bent his head and held it in his hands. Through the picture window, the sun was setting over the Lagan River and the city beyond. Wilson was oblivious to the sight. He had always considered himself a problem solver. However, he had learned that one could only solve the problems that one owned. He would give anything to have Kate back the way she was. But that would have to be Kate’s decision, and he was beginning to realise that he might not be part of the solution.
CHAPTER 11
Sammy Rice lifted his head and snorted hard to get all the cocaine into his nose. The white powder had an almost instantaneous effect. Deep in his brain the drug interfered with his chemical messengers, the neurotransmitters that nerves use to communicate with each other. It blocked norepinephrine, serotonin, dopamine, and other neurotransmitters from being reabsorbed. The result was a chemical build-up between nerves that caused euphoria. ‘Yes,’ he shouted as the high hit him. Rice had been using more and more cocaine since the death of his mother. As a major supplier of drugs in Belfast, he had always steered clear of his own product but over a period of a few months, he had gradually become his own best customer.
Big George Carroll and Rice’s new number two, Owen Boyle, watched as their chief strode up and down the living room of the house he occupied in Ballygomartin Road in West Belfast. Neither man dared speak. Rice had always had a hair-trigger temper, but the cocaine had led to an increase in his irritability and paranoia. He was the godfather of a major crime ‘family’ in West Belfast. The core of the family had been established during the ‘Troubles’, and that core had segued without difficulty from terrorism to criminality. In the process, Rice and his lieutenants became wealthy men.
‘What the fuck do you mean by it goes further?’ he shouted at Boyle.
Owen Boyle was as hard as they come but he wasn’t overjoyed at working for a man who would kill as quickly as he could praise. He cleared his throat. ‘We’ve had some smart arse look at the stuff we took from Malone’s and Grant’s places. It looks like Grant went outside for some financial advice. He passed all the shit that Malone gathered on to some accountant friend of his to do a forensic audit.’
‘Forensic audit my arse,’ Rice shouted. ‘I told you to clear this fucking mess up, and you told me that you’d done it.’
Boyle could feel his sphincter loosen. He looked at Big George and saw the spaced-out look on his face. Big George always seemed to be on another planet. Maybe that was the best place to be when Rice was on the rampage. ‘We thought that we’d got to him before he’d had time to do anything about the papers but we were wrong. The bastard had digitised everything that Malone had taken from the Infrastructure Agency and Grant had already emailed them to his mate.’
‘Digitised,’ Rice looked confused. ‘What the hell is digitised?’
‘He turned it into a computer file,’ Boyle explained.
‘So it could be rambling about out there.’ Rice stood directly over Boyle. ‘Does that mean we have to kill every bollocks in Belfast before we’re safe? Those papers get out, and I go to jail. Do you understand that?’ He grabbed Boyle by the throat and lifted him out of his chair. ‘And I’m not going to jail.’
Boyle stared into a pair of
‘Leave this to me,’ she said softly. ‘Kate is still raw, and you’re not the one who can apply the salve.’ She picked Kate up and cradled her in her arms. Then she led her to the bedroom.
Wilson fell back into the club chair. He bent his head and held it in his hands. Through the picture window, the sun was setting over the Lagan River and the city beyond. Wilson was oblivious to the sight. He had always considered himself a problem solver. However, he had learned that one could only solve the problems that one owned. He would give anything to have Kate back the way she was. But that would have to be Kate’s decision, and he was beginning to realise that he might not be part of the solution.
CHAPTER 11
Sammy Rice lifted his head and snorted hard to get all the cocaine into his nose. The white powder had an almost instantaneous effect. Deep in his brain the drug interfered with his chemical messengers, the neurotransmitters that nerves use to communicate with each other. It blocked norepinephrine, serotonin, dopamine, and other neurotransmitters from being reabsorbed. The result was a chemical build-up between nerves that caused euphoria. ‘Yes,’ he shouted as the high hit him. Rice had been using more and more cocaine since the death of his mother. As a major supplier of drugs in Belfast, he had always steered clear of his own product but over a period of a few months, he had gradually become his own best customer.
Big George Carroll and Rice’s new number two, Owen Boyle, watched as their chief strode up and down the living room of the house he occupied in Ballygomartin Road in West Belfast. Neither man dared speak. Rice had always had a hair-trigger temper, but the cocaine had led to an increase in his irritability and paranoia. He was the godfather of a major crime ‘family’ in West Belfast. The core of the family had been established during the ‘Troubles’, and that core had segued without difficulty from terrorism to criminality. In the process, Rice and his lieutenants became wealthy men.
‘What the fuck do you mean by it goes further?’ he shouted at Boyle.
Owen Boyle was as hard as they come but he wasn’t overjoyed at working for a man who would kill as quickly as he could praise. He cleared his throat. ‘We’ve had some smart arse look at the stuff we took from Malone’s and Grant’s places. It looks like Grant went outside for some financial advice. He passed all the shit that Malone gathered on to some accountant friend of his to do a forensic audit.’
‘Forensic audit my arse,’ Rice shouted. ‘I told you to clear this fucking mess up, and you told me that you’d done it.’
Boyle could feel his sphincter loosen. He looked at Big George and saw the spaced-out look on his face. Big George always seemed to be on another planet. Maybe that was the best place to be when Rice was on the rampage. ‘We thought that we’d got to him before he’d had time to do anything about the papers but we were wrong. The bastard had digitised everything that Malone had taken from the Infrastructure Agency and Grant had already emailed them to his mate.’
‘Digitised,’ Rice looked confused. ‘What the hell is digitised?’
‘He turned it into a computer file,’ Boyle explained.
‘So it could be rambling about out there.’ Rice stood directly over Boyle. ‘Does that mean we have to kill every bollocks in Belfast before we’re safe? Those papers get out, and I go to jail. Do you understand that?’ He grabbed Boyle by the throat and lifted him out of his chair. ‘And I’m not going to jail.’
Boyle stared into a pair of
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