A Life for a Life
Chapter Twenty
Miceál jumped about a foot in the air with shock and whirled around to face Diarmuid.
"What the – how the -?"
"What are you doing?"
"I – I found him," Miceál said, his voice shaking like the rest of him, hatred still coursing through him. "The guy who shot D – Da, I know who it is, a – and I'm gonna go and finish h – him!"
"No, Miceál! Not now, all right?"
"I'm doing it, Diarmuid!" Miceál's voice was becoming firmer now, as he realised what had happened and his anger and hatred because to come through. "I'm going to fucking go in there and blast their heads off and I don't give a crap who knows it!"
"You'll be killed yourself!"
"THEY KILLED DA!" Miceál screamed.
"Shh!"
"No! They killed him – I'll kill them!"
"Miceál, cool it! Go back there, get names, and get where they live, we can do this properly and you won't be caught!"
"Get out of the fucking way, Diarmuid, or so help you God I'll shoot you now!" Diarmuid's eyes flicked to the gun in Miceál's hands. Miceál was clasping it in front of him with both hands, pointing it straight at him.
"Miceál, I promised you that you could do it, I know I did! But you have to wait. You can't do things like this. You just can't, all right? We need to work this out, you need to go in with a unit, and you can't just do it yourself. I've been in the business longer than you've lived, I think you need to just listen to me!"
" I CAN'T GO BACK IN THERE! I JUST CAN'T! I CAN'T GO IN THERE AND FACE THE BASTARDS THAT KILLED MY FATHER! MY OWN FATHER! AND ONE OF THEM IS THAT BLOODY POMPOUS OLD FOOL SMYTH! I'VE BEEN SITTING IN THE SAME BLOODY ROOM AS HIM ALL THIS TIME AND ALL THE WHILE HE HELPED THEM TO KILL DA!"
"Shut up, Miceál Callaghan!" Diarmuid said urgently. "Someone could hear everything!"
"Someone already did." came a voice from behind them, in the hallway. Diarmuid span round, and Miceál suddenly felt nauseous again, as he saw that the person was Smyth.
Diarmuid let out a groan.
"Shit." he muttered.
"Callaghan, then, is it?"
"Took you long enough to work it out, you idiot," Miceál spat, the hatred evident in his voice, made clear by the fact that he wasn't attempting to cover up his identity any longer.
"I've known a lot longer than you think."
"Obviously not. Else you'd have arrested me, wouldn't you?" Miceál laughed, a cruel bark of a laugh. "No, you're just saying that. You're trying to kid me that you knew all along, when in actual fact you're just as stupid as the rest of the bastards I helped take out!" Miceál was enjoying the anger on Smyth's face.
"I knew that there was something wrong with you, boy. Something didn't add up, did it?"
"Obviously not. But it's too late for that now, isn’t it? Too late to tell me all about your amazing intelligence when you oh so heroically worked it all out. All that time you peelers were getting shot up, and you didn’t even realise it was me all along. And youse were worrying about me, weren't you?" Miceál laughed again, not feeling an ounce of guilt at his betrayal. "You always wondered about me, and you never realised, you never realised until just now! Well, well done, lads, I'm impressed. It only took all this time and how many lives?"
"So now what, eh, Callaghan? Now what are you going to do? You're either going to be shot or go to jail, aren't you?"
"It'll be fucking worth it, taking out a few of the bastards who killed my father."
"And you, eh, Feeny? Not changed much in all these years, have you?"
Diarmuid didn't answer. He just looked at Smyth as though he was something incredibly unpleasant stuck to a toilet seat, and then spat viciously on the ground at Smyth's feet.
"So how did youse do it, eh? How did youse come up with the master plan?"
Miceál laughed.
"Oh no. I ain't falling for that one. You think I'm as stupid as you are?"
"I don't know what you mean, Miceál." Smyth said innocently.
"You know how long I've wanted to do this?"
Smyth only then saw the gun in Miceál's right hand. Taking no chances, he went for it, but Miceál was a lot quicker then his inexperience with weapons would have had him think. Even Diarmuid was shocked as there was a loud gunshot, and then Smyth was on the floor, bleeding from his stomach area. Miceál moved and stood over Smyth, pointing his gun straight down at Smyth's head.
"And you'll not be the only one I finish tonight." he hissed, hatred dripping of his words, and then he pulled the trigger. Smyth slumped onto the floor, and Miceál fired the gun several more times as Smyth lay on the floor. He wanted to make sure he wasn't going to get up again.
"What the – how the -?"
"What are you doing?"
"I – I found him," Miceál said, his voice shaking like the rest of him, hatred still coursing through him. "The guy who shot D – Da, I know who it is, a – and I'm gonna go and finish h – him!"
"No, Miceál! Not now, all right?"
"I'm doing it, Diarmuid!" Miceál's voice was becoming firmer now, as he realised what had happened and his anger and hatred because to come through. "I'm going to fucking go in there and blast their heads off and I don't give a crap who knows it!"
"You'll be killed yourself!"
"THEY KILLED DA!" Miceál screamed.
"Shh!"
"No! They killed him – I'll kill them!"
"Miceál, cool it! Go back there, get names, and get where they live, we can do this properly and you won't be caught!"
"Get out of the fucking way, Diarmuid, or so help you God I'll shoot you now!" Diarmuid's eyes flicked to the gun in Miceál's hands. Miceál was clasping it in front of him with both hands, pointing it straight at him.
"Miceál, I promised you that you could do it, I know I did! But you have to wait. You can't do things like this. You just can't, all right? We need to work this out, you need to go in with a unit, and you can't just do it yourself. I've been in the business longer than you've lived, I think you need to just listen to me!"
" I CAN'T GO BACK IN THERE! I JUST CAN'T! I CAN'T GO IN THERE AND FACE THE BASTARDS THAT KILLED MY FATHER! MY OWN FATHER! AND ONE OF THEM IS THAT BLOODY POMPOUS OLD FOOL SMYTH! I'VE BEEN SITTING IN THE SAME BLOODY ROOM AS HIM ALL THIS TIME AND ALL THE WHILE HE HELPED THEM TO KILL DA!"
"Shut up, Miceál Callaghan!" Diarmuid said urgently. "Someone could hear everything!"
"Someone already did." came a voice from behind them, in the hallway. Diarmuid span round, and Miceál suddenly felt nauseous again, as he saw that the person was Smyth.
Diarmuid let out a groan.
"Shit." he muttered.
"Callaghan, then, is it?"
"Took you long enough to work it out, you idiot," Miceál spat, the hatred evident in his voice, made clear by the fact that he wasn't attempting to cover up his identity any longer.
"I've known a lot longer than you think."
"Obviously not. Else you'd have arrested me, wouldn't you?" Miceál laughed, a cruel bark of a laugh. "No, you're just saying that. You're trying to kid me that you knew all along, when in actual fact you're just as stupid as the rest of the bastards I helped take out!" Miceál was enjoying the anger on Smyth's face.
"I knew that there was something wrong with you, boy. Something didn't add up, did it?"
"Obviously not. But it's too late for that now, isn’t it? Too late to tell me all about your amazing intelligence when you oh so heroically worked it all out. All that time you peelers were getting shot up, and you didn’t even realise it was me all along. And youse were worrying about me, weren't you?" Miceál laughed again, not feeling an ounce of guilt at his betrayal. "You always wondered about me, and you never realised, you never realised until just now! Well, well done, lads, I'm impressed. It only took all this time and how many lives?"
"So now what, eh, Callaghan? Now what are you going to do? You're either going to be shot or go to jail, aren't you?"
"It'll be fucking worth it, taking out a few of the bastards who killed my father."
"And you, eh, Feeny? Not changed much in all these years, have you?"
Diarmuid didn't answer. He just looked at Smyth as though he was something incredibly unpleasant stuck to a toilet seat, and then spat viciously on the ground at Smyth's feet.
"So how did youse do it, eh? How did youse come up with the master plan?"
Miceál laughed.
"Oh no. I ain't falling for that one. You think I'm as stupid as you are?"
"I don't know what you mean, Miceál." Smyth said innocently.
"You know how long I've wanted to do this?"
Smyth only then saw the gun in Miceál's right hand. Taking no chances, he went for it, but Miceál was a lot quicker then his inexperience with weapons would have had him think. Even Diarmuid was shocked as there was a loud gunshot, and then Smyth was on the floor, bleeding from his stomach area. Miceál moved and stood over Smyth, pointing his gun straight down at Smyth's head.
"And you'll not be the only one I finish tonight." he hissed, hatred dripping of his words, and then he pulled the trigger. Smyth slumped onto the floor, and Miceál fired the gun several more times as Smyth lay on the floor. He wanted to make sure he wasn't going to get up again.