Bold Fenian Men
Chapter Twenty-Two
"How's Cillian?" Cearnaigh asked as he came in through Padraig's front door.
"He's OK." Padraig smiled. "Just a few knocks. I still won’t let him out of bed, though. They broke his arm for him."
"Did he say who done it to him?"
"William McAllister, the bastard." Padraig spat. "I'll fucking get him back. Trying to kill my best friend." Padraig's anger masked his fear. That had been too close. He had to eliminate McAllister before it was too late - before McAllister got him.
The newspaper article came back to him. They had assassination squads, waiting for a chance to kill him. Padraig felt a shiver go up his spine. He was scared. For the first time in his life he was scared. He had seen how close they were getting to him and he didn’t like it.
"So what brings ye here?"
"Nothing much. Just wanted to see if you're doing all right. I know Cillian must have scared you a wee bit."
"A bit." Padraig scratched his head. "They're getting a little too close for comfort, that's for sure."
"Don’t let them near you, Padraig. Seriously, don't be taking any risks now."
"Have I ever taken risks, Cearnaigh?" Padraig asked innocently.
"Don’t get me started." Cearnaigh laughed. There were footsteps on the stairs and then Cillian's head poked around the living room door.
"Get yourself back to bed, Donnelly," Padraig instantly said to him, not even having to look round.
"Awh, come on, Padraig. I've been a good boy." Cillian laughed despite his arm being in a sling, and he limped through and sat down on one of the armchairs.
"Just sit yourself still then," Padraig said, before going through to the hall and answering the phone, which had just begun ringing.
"Caraher?" A voice Padraig didn’t recognise answered as soon as Padraig picked up and said hello.
"Who's this?" Padraig asked, narrowing his eyes.
"That's not the point, Caraher. We nearly got your little friend the other day." Padraig felt his face harden.
"You! You dirty bastards … you're going to leave him alone, that's what you're going to do." The voice on the phone chuckled.
"Of course we're going to leave him alone, now. It's you we're after. Donnelly would have been a bonus."
"You've not got me yet." Padraig laughed, though he could feel his heart thumping.
"Perhaps it's time things changed, eh?" said the voice, and then the phone line went dead.
Padraig paused, and then he suddenly felt the blood rush from his face in fear. He glanced at the front door, and then he ran into the living room.
"EVERYONE GET OUT, NOW!" he yelled at them. Cearnaigh jumped and looked round, and Cillian nearly fell off his chair.
"What? Why?" he spluttered.
"No questions! Out! Now! Through the back!" Padraig herded them out through the back door, and then they were away up the alley behind Padraig's house.
"He's OK." Padraig smiled. "Just a few knocks. I still won’t let him out of bed, though. They broke his arm for him."
"Did he say who done it to him?"
"William McAllister, the bastard." Padraig spat. "I'll fucking get him back. Trying to kill my best friend." Padraig's anger masked his fear. That had been too close. He had to eliminate McAllister before it was too late - before McAllister got him.
The newspaper article came back to him. They had assassination squads, waiting for a chance to kill him. Padraig felt a shiver go up his spine. He was scared. For the first time in his life he was scared. He had seen how close they were getting to him and he didn’t like it.
"So what brings ye here?"
"Nothing much. Just wanted to see if you're doing all right. I know Cillian must have scared you a wee bit."
"A bit." Padraig scratched his head. "They're getting a little too close for comfort, that's for sure."
"Don’t let them near you, Padraig. Seriously, don't be taking any risks now."
"Have I ever taken risks, Cearnaigh?" Padraig asked innocently.
"Don’t get me started." Cearnaigh laughed. There were footsteps on the stairs and then Cillian's head poked around the living room door.
"Get yourself back to bed, Donnelly," Padraig instantly said to him, not even having to look round.
"Awh, come on, Padraig. I've been a good boy." Cillian laughed despite his arm being in a sling, and he limped through and sat down on one of the armchairs.
"Just sit yourself still then," Padraig said, before going through to the hall and answering the phone, which had just begun ringing.
"Caraher?" A voice Padraig didn’t recognise answered as soon as Padraig picked up and said hello.
"Who's this?" Padraig asked, narrowing his eyes.
"That's not the point, Caraher. We nearly got your little friend the other day." Padraig felt his face harden.
"You! You dirty bastards … you're going to leave him alone, that's what you're going to do." The voice on the phone chuckled.
"Of course we're going to leave him alone, now. It's you we're after. Donnelly would have been a bonus."
"You've not got me yet." Padraig laughed, though he could feel his heart thumping.
"Perhaps it's time things changed, eh?" said the voice, and then the phone line went dead.
Padraig paused, and then he suddenly felt the blood rush from his face in fear. He glanced at the front door, and then he ran into the living room.
"EVERYONE GET OUT, NOW!" he yelled at them. Cearnaigh jumped and looked round, and Cillian nearly fell off his chair.
"What? Why?" he spluttered.
"No questions! Out! Now! Through the back!" Padraig herded them out through the back door, and then they were away up the alley behind Padraig's house.