Dark Times in the City by Gene Kerrigan Read Free Book Online Page A

head at the offer of a smoke.
    ‘You work for that idiot?’ he said. Costigan from 257 Solutions was taking long, noisy breaths.
    ‘We’re freelance consultants,’ Rowe said. ‘We work for a lot of people, most of them far more clueless than our friend. He’s kept that company alive single-handed for the past year.’
    ‘You give advice?’
    ‘Mostly we take the blame. These days, the world’s full of corporate heroes who’re paid so much they’re terrified to make a decision in case it’s the wrong one. So they hire consultants to draw up reports and recommendations. Then they make a wild guess. If things go well they take the praise. If things go wrong they blame the consultants.’
    ‘Professional scapegoats?’
    Rowe smiled. ‘Very highly paid scapegoats. Consultants are God’s way of telling a company it has too much money.’
    ‘You get much work over here?’
    ‘Dublin’s been a gold mine for years. Things are tighter now.’
    An advance party of raindrops danced on the car roof. Callaghan leaned into the car and asked the 257 Solutions guy if he was okay.
    ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ There was an edge to his voice, as though the question was preposterous and offensive.
    Rowe took a last drag on his cigarette. ‘I’ll give you warning if there’s a problem.’
    Callaghan said, ‘Thanks.’
    When the phone rang, Lar Mackendrick ignored it, his attention focused on the book he was reading.
The Art of War
, written by aChinaman named Sun Tzu. It wasn’t an easy read. Mackendrick was rereading a paragraph that had puzzled him first time around. He let the phone ring, as he took his time with the troublesome paragraph.
    The phone finally stopped.
    Three minutes later it rang again.
    Lar put down the Chinaman’s book.
    ‘Mr Mackendrick?’
    ‘Who is this?’
    ‘Walter Bennett, Mr Mackendrick.’
    For a moment Mackendrick didn’t register the name. Little over twenty-four hours since Walter had survived Karl Prowse’s best efforts. The last thing Lar expected was a call from the little fucker.
    ‘Walter, how the hell are you?’
    Mackendrick wondered had the little man gone to the police after all, and was the phone call being recorded.
    Bennett paused, as though surprised by the warmth in Mackendrick’s voice.
    ‘I did nothing, Mr Mackendrick, nothing to deserve this.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Please, Mr Mackendrick—’
    ‘Is everything okay, Walter?’
    ‘I want to know why Karl Prowse tried to kill me.’
    ‘Jesus Christ!’
    ‘I did nothing wrong—’
    ‘Walter, what’s this about?’
    ‘I did nothing—’
    Mackendrick applied a layer of shock to his voice. ‘Please, Walter – from the beginning – when did this happen?’
    Bullshit
.
    No way he didn’t know
.
    ‘Walter?’
    Walter said nothing.
    ‘Please, Walter, what happened?’
    It was misting rain and Walter leaned back against the steel shutters of the flower shop. A couple of teenage girls, both slightly drunk, came chattering past. They went into the café next door. Walter had been having a late-night snack when the anxiety became too much. On an impulse he went outside to find privacy for the phone call. No answer. He felt relieved and went back into the café and ordered another pot of tea. He’d hardly sat when the anxiety propelled him back outside, making the call again.
    ‘There’s no way Karl – you
had
to know!’
    ‘Walter, I swear – obviously someone’s got hold of the wrong end of the stick. Whatever’s happened, we can sort it out. Now,
please
, Walter, what the fuck
happened
?’
    Mackendrick sounded pissed to be in the dark about this. Maybe—
    Karl – the shithead—
    If Mackendrick doesn’t know what happened, that means Karl’s been afraid to tell him. Fucker’s running a thing of his own
.
    ‘Swear to me, Mr Mackendrick.’
    ‘I swear to you, Walter, on my mother’s grave, that I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
    ‘Karl and someone else, I think it was Robbie Nugent, I