The Sister(113)

They met in a pub car park at 11 a.m. Brooks was already outside, waiting. ‘Fuckin’ signals no good in there and my phone is shite,’ Brooks explained, showing him the mobile phone in his hand.

‘Thousands will be there today, the betting will be astronomical. There’ll be millions placed on the fight.’

Quinn made notes on a hand held recording device.

‘You got one of them mobiles with a camera on you? Leave it in the car. I’ll send you a few photographs once I’ve seen your book so far. I might not like it – you know what I mean?’ He took a swig of his beer and wiped the froth from his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘There’s a lot of excitement today, because for the main fight we got ‘The Boiler man’ settling a score with the Flynns. He fell out with the grandfather over a caravan Shaw’s father lived in. He says Shaw burnt it down. It’s taken him all this time to catch up with him. The grandfather, he’s in no fit state to fight, so he’s sending his son to do the job for him. The Boiler man’s got no kin or he could have passed it on himself. Anyways, the fight is on. The boy is thirty-five, and he’s no mug; Shaw is sixty-odd.’ He sipped and wiped at his white foam moustache again. ‘And there’s going to be big money changing hands on that one I’m tellin’ you. I’ll be having a flutter on it for sure.’

‘Will they stop it if the old man gets in trouble?’

Brooks spurted his beer back into his glass. ‘Are you trying to have a f*ckin’ laugh wit me?’ He looked with distaste at the foamy head growing on the beer. ‘I’m betting on the Boiler man. Jesus the man’s got more fight in him than an angry Pit bull, always will have, it will never leave him. They say madness took him over as soon as he was old enough to understand, cursing his father and his mother, too, though he loved her dearly – God rest her soul – because they passed on the hare’s curse to him. He got it double.’

‘Hare’s curse...what is that?’

‘What would you call it? A cleft palasy?’

‘Palate – I think you mean palate,’ Quinn said.

‘Palate?’ Brooks said it slowly. ‘Yes, both of them had it. When he was growing up all the kids bullied him for it, made a fighter out of him, and oh, that temper! Right now, I hear he’s madder than hell because he’s lost all his cash money on bad bets – he won’t lose.’ He tilted his beer back, trying without success to drink without dipping his nose in the foam.

While Brooks concentrated on his beer, Tanner was thinking. If Shaw had had an operation on a harelip, he must have had it done with the NHS – and if he did, he had to be traceable.

Brooks took a call and after a short conversation, said, ‘Come on, we’re going. Leave your car here.’

On the way, Brooks enlightened him with more talk of legends, based on real facts and folklore. Tanner recorded it all with his permission. Occasionally Brooks told him to turn the tape off while he let him in on things he didn’t want quoted. ‘So, he crossed the street, knocking on his door. When he opened it, he let him have both barrels. We don’t tolerate kiddie fiddlers, you see.’

Brooks had a tendency to switch between subjects and now he was back on Shaw. ‘I always thought he was smarter than he was lettin’ on. Behind his back, people said he was a divvy, but no one would say that to his face.’

‘What about women, I bet he had them flocking round.’

‘Aye, he did that, but he never seemed interested. Struck me as odd; ugly boy like that turning them down. One or two of the boys thought he might have been a homo; you know what I mean, getting his kicks outside the camp. No one really knew much about him, see, him always away from home and all.’

‘Shaw must have made a fortune. Did you say he lost it?’

‘Aye, he did that. Although he invested in two, three properties, so I hear. Lucky he did. Had a taste for the gee-gees, you see, only one man wins there.’ Taking a cigarette out, he offered him one.

‘No, thanks,’ he said.

‘Well, you won’t mind if I do.’ He lit it without waiting for a reply. ‘Got any money on you, Mr Quinn? If you have, put it all on Shaw. I heard he’s got a hundred grand to put on himself.’

‘I thought you just said he was broke?’

‘Are you trying to catch me out, Mr Quinn? I’m talking about cash money. Might be he sold some property, I don’t know. I’m not f*ckin’ his keeper.’

He decided not to question Brooks’ last statement.





After driving miles through the countryside down ever increasingly narrow lanes, they eventually stopped. Caught in the convergence of pick-up trucks, four-wheel drives, BMWs, Mercedes’ and horse drawn racing traps, they queued for ten minutes to get off the road. Although he had dressed down for the occasion, he stuck out like a sore thumb. They ranked among the roughest men he’d ever encountered. Peering into the car, they eyed him with open hostility and suspicion as Brooks’ passed through a field gate and parked. Tanner felt he’d intruded into an alien world, a world he’d never glimpsed before.

‘If we can’t get close enough to the fight, I’ll get us a copy film of it. Meanwhile, soak up the atmosphere, enjoy it.’ He grinned wickedly.

Now he was on his own, no car, no phone, no back-up. The air was charged with excitement and filled with menace, edgy like something bad was about to happen. He couldn’t escape the feeling that if something did, it would involve him. Tanner functioned on autopilot, watching himself from a safe distance.