“No,” said Seymour. “He was mine. And Keller helped to run him.”

“So why is he bleeding?”

“Maybe he was never really ours, Amanda. Maybe he was Quinn’s all along.”

Seymour watched as the car turned onto the M2 motorway and headed north. That’s the wonderful thing about our business, he thought. Our mistakes always come back to haunt us. And eventually all debts come due.

76

CREGGAN FOREST, COUNTY ANTRIM

THEY ASKED NO FURTHER QUESTIONS of Billy Conway, and he asked none of them. Blood flowed freely from his broken nose during the ride north to Larne, but by the time they reached Glenarm a crust of black had formed around the rims of his nostrils. Keller directed Gabriel inland along the Carnlough Road, then north on Killycarn. They followed it until it turned to gravel and shed its name. Then they followed it a little farther, until the last farm had fallen away and the Creggan Forest rose from the land. Keller told Gabriel to stop and kill the engine. Then he looked at Billy Conway.

“Remember this place, Billy? We used to come up here in the old days when you had something important to tell me. We’d drive up here in that old Granada and have a few beers while we listened to the guns over at the Creggan Lodge. Remember, Billy?”

Keller’s voice had taken on a West Belfast accent, Falls Road with a touch of Ballymurphy. Billy Conway said nothing. He was staring straight ahead. A thousand-yard stare, thought Gabriel. A dead man’s stare.

“We always took good care of you, didn’t we, Billy? We paid you well. We protected you. But you didn’t need protection, did you, Billy? You were working for the IRA the whole time. Working for Eamon Quinn. You’re a tout, Billy. You’re a lousy fucking tout.” Keller placed the barrel of the Glock to the back of his head. “Aren’t you going to deny it, Billy?”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Not so long,” said Keller. “Isn’t that what you told me the day we renewed our friendship in Belfast? The day you found Maggie Donahue for me. The day you set me up.” Keller pressed the barrel of the gun hard against Conway’s skull. “Aren’t you going to deny it, Billy?”

Billy Conway was silent.

“You were always honest, Billy.”

“You should have never come back here.”