Chapter 4

Jacky was a nice knacker.

One of the good ones, I’m sure.

Like the black Irish from Brooklyn, he was never afraid to open his arms to others when they were in need of immediate retaliation. Nor was he ever afraid to split a skull with a spade, for enjoyment, payment or otherwise.

Never afraid to join forces with those he hated. In order to avenge himself. In order to.

Indeed.

What tripe.

Jacky took a cab from Glasnevin, and gazed out the window, as it made it way towards the city centre.

He thought about his thinking.

It yielded nothing.

The funeral had been uneventful.

Unremarkable even.

Francis Murray.

An awful jackeen of a man.

But still.

Fuck him.

Let sleeping dogs lie. He was dead. So let him be forgiven. The dead are dead for a reason. The have left this god-awful place. They have redeemed themselves.

But there were a number of things that could not be avoided.

Retribution being one of them.

He saw in front of him things that were not there, things that never could have been there, strange imaginings, wishful thinking.

Or daytime nightmares.

A huge swirling mass of things: men with large heads and large feet, children with no heads, armless mother eating their children.

Such and such.

At the GPO, standing in the foyer, he raised the receiver to his ear and spoke.

—You want me?

—You got me message.

—Naturally.

—Indeed. It is an awful shame. I mean with regard to Francis.

With regard to. Where did he.

—Naturally. You want me then?

—Of course.

Of course of course.

The voice on the other end of the line coughed, violently, twice. A hacking hack of a cough. A splutter and a splat.

Near death.

Black bastard.

Are not we all.

Act accordingly.

You forget you words, then yourself. What do they call that?

—I want you to visit his family. Give them something from me.

There was a pause.

—That is it.

—That is all. We can leave it at that.

—Of course. How will I.

—I’ll get my driver to meet you.

—Where?

—I’ll get him to pick you up on Eden Quay. He’ll take you out to Dollymount.

—Good. What do you want me to give them?

—The driver will have it.

Before he could speak the voice on the other end of the line was gone.

Gone.

He returned the receiver to its holder and turned and walked out across the marbled floor, away from the phones, and in the direction of the door.

Large doors.

Light fell in upon the floor and made it glisten.

He turned and looked back upon the counters. Buying and selling. Posting. Letters. To who? To whom?

Shines. Light shines.

Outside, it was still raining, but there was still hope, he thought, for some sun.

Autumn after all.

Still a chance.

Something could still happen, out on the way to Dollymount. Might visit the strand he thought.

For a walk.

He hadn’t been there since he was boy. He hadn’t walked that way in a long while. A very long while. He could remember it all. Still.

Still.

He walked over O’Connell Bridge and turned right on to Eden Quay.

On Eden Quay, he waited, waiting for the man that was due to come. Waiting for him.

Waiting.

—Jacky!

The voice came from behind him.

He turned.

Well fuck me.

It was Farlo.

—Well fuck me.

They shook hands lightly, as gentlemen, and Farlo hand Jacky that thing which he was to give him.

That thing.

What was it?

It was a.

Of course it was.

Jacky got into the back of the car and Farlo got in the front. It was a nice car, a car that could go fast.

It sped away.

Down Eden Quay and out towards Dollymount.

They went south, through the Southside, through beautiful leafy suburbs, through tree-lined avenues: trees, that we must remember, were going to die.

But would they not be reborn?

Murray house appeared in the distance. They could see it. Both of them. Off the strand. Away from the wind.

—You know what to do.

—Of course.

Jacky entered the house and greeted Mrs. Murray with a smile.

Then he shot her.

Right in the eye.

—Did you?

—Of course I did.

Of course he did. He had left the children alive. Because the Bossman never killed children.

That was true.

That was the way it was.

So there.