“You’re a brave man to come back after all these years,” Conway said after a moment. “If they find out you’re in town, you’re a dead man. Peace accord or no peace accord.”

The door of the shop opened and several tourists—Danes or Swedes, Keller could not decide—came in from the street. Conway frowned and drank his coffee.

“The tour guides take them into the neighborhoods and show them where the worst atrocities happened. And then they bring them to Tommy O’Boyle’s to hear the music.”

“It’s good for business.”

“I suppose.” He looked at Keller. “Is that why you came back? To take a tour of the Troubles?”

Keller watched the tourists file into the street. Then he looked at Conway and asked, “Who was the one who interrogated you after I left Belfast?”

“It was Quinn.”

“Where’d he do it?”

“I’m not sure. I really don’t remember much except for the knife. He told me he was going to cut out my eyes if I didn’t admit to being a spy for the British.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Obviously, I denied it. And I might have begged for my life a little, too. He seemed to like that. He was always a cruel bastard.”

Keller nodded slowly, as though Conway had spoken words of great insight.

“You hear about Liam Walsh?” Conway asked.

“Hard not to.”

“Who do you suppose was behind it?”

“The Garda says it was drugs.”

“The Garda,” said Conway, “are completely full of shit.”

“What do you know?”

“I know that someone walked into Walsh’s house in Dublin and killed three very hard men without breaking a sweat.” Conway paused, then asked, “Sound familiar?”

Keller said nothing.

“Why’d you come back here?”

“Quinn.”

“You’re not going to find him in Belfast.”

“Did you know he had a wife and daughter here?”

“I’d heard rumors to that effect, but I was never able to come up with a name.”

“Maggie Donahue.”

Conway lifted his eyes thoughtfully toward the ceiling. “Makes sense.”

“Know her?”

“Everybody knows Maggie.”

“Work?”

“Across the street at the Europa. In fact,” Conway added with a glance at his watch, “she’s probably there now.”

“What about the kid?”

“Goes to school at Our Lady of Mercy. Must be sixteen by now.”

“Know where they live?”

“Just off the Crumlin Road in the Ardoyne.”

“I need the address, Billy.”

“No problem.”

20

THE ARDOYNE, WEST BELFAST