Rory sounded near to tears. Which was weird. Rory never cried. He wasn’t an over-emotional man. He was always happy, always upbeat.
‘Yes. I told you so, didn’t I? That’s right,’ said Rory.
‘I know. I know. And he’s OK, is he? He’s not hurt?’ asked Rory.
‘What the hell does that mean?’There was panic in Rory’s voice now.
‘But we had a deal!’ Rory almost shouted.
‘Listen.’ Rory’s voice was low, urgent, angry. ‘I’ve done what I said I’d do. You have to let him go. Yes. He’s here. I told you, Rufus is here. Now you’ve to let Diarmuid go. You swear. You have to.’
Rory was silent for a while.
Rufus stood there, stunned. Orla was right. Rory had come here to betray him. His heart sank as he realized he’d been set up. Big Don had Rory’s nuts in a vice; he’d taken his son, threatened to harm him if Rory didn’t deliver Rufus. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Rory had gone searching for his old mate. And having found him, he’d waited, lulling the household into a false sense of security, until the time came to report back.
‘You see? You see?’ Orla was staring at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Rufus saw. Don would come here, and that would be it. He’d be finished. And what about Orla and the old folks, what would become of them? Don wouldn’t risk leaving any witnesses alive to tell the tale.
He let the hand holding the glass fall to his side. This was a bitter blow. And while he was standing there, wondering what on earth he should do, Orla pushed open the door and hurried inside.
‘Orla…’ he started, but she was already in the room, and Rory was there, sitting on the bed, replacing the receiver, his face a picture of guilt.
‘You treacherous shit,’ she spat at him.
Rory’s eyes were wide. He looked at Rufus, and his cheeks burned with shame at being discovered this way.
‘We heard,’ said Rufus. ‘That was Don, I take it?’
Rory caught his breath and seemed about to deny it: but then his shoulders slumped and he nodded miserably. ‘He’s got my boy, little Diarmuid. Snatched him from his mother, and then said I was to find you or else.’
‘All this time,’ said Rufus on a sigh, ‘I’ve been wondering why he’s left me alone. But he hasn’t, has he? He’s still after me.’
‘Rufe, I’m sorry, I really am. The man’s ill, they say. He’s losing it. He told me the one thing he wants to do before he dies is to find you. To have his revenge. He’s got my kid, Rufus. What else can I do?’
‘I’ll tell you what you can do, you worm,’ snapped Orla, looming over Rory. She snatched up the receiver. ‘You can call your hoodlum pal back and say that Rufus has moved on, caught a flight to the States or something. That he