He looked over at the Irishman, who was standing there, glowering at him. From the man’s expression, Devon wouldn’t have been surprised if he slit Devon ’s throat then and there if the ruse didn’t play out. Devon had seen the knife the man carried.
Finally, after an eternal moment, the guard came over the intercom again. “I’m not allowed to leave the security desk,” he said. “Do you know where it is?”
Devon winked at Liam and turned to face the camera. “Up on the main floor?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Take a left and then follow the signs for the men’s room. You’ll see it.”
“Okay,” Devon said. The buzzer on the door rang, and Devon reached forward to pull it open for Liam. He didn’t thank the guard; cops rarely thank the person they’ve just browbeaten. Besides, they needed the guard to remain nervous if they were going to pull this off. A lot still could go wrong. Bulger had given them a complete layout of the security system. Devon had never asked where it came from, but it made clear that the only point of contact with the outside world was at the security desk. If the guards managed to set off that switch, they were done. If they could get the guards out from behind the desk, though, the danger would be over. There were no other external alarms that would alert anyone to what was going on inside the place. Now it was all a mental game, and if Devon could out-duel the security guards, they would be fine.
He looked up at the security camera once more and shook his head, as though in utter contempt for the man at the controls. He hoped the guard was watching.
Ballick knew he was alone. He could have run; maybe he should have, but that wasn’t who he was. He accepted his fate with the same ambivalence he’d shown toward life. The precautions he’d taken had not been sufficient. It was enough, and he sat down in the chair out back of the shack to look out at the water and wait.
It didn’t take long. It was only a matter of minutes before he heard a footstep on the gravel to his right. “I figured you were coming,” he said simply.
“So it seems.” Ballick could hear the streets of Belfast thick in Kilbranish’s accent. “Only four? I feel insulted.”
“Who says there ain’t more,” Ballick replied. “Maybe inside.”
“No,” Liam replied. “We’ve been watching. Only four.”
“We? I thought you worked alone.”
“Aye. Except when necessary.”
“Like twenty years ago?”
“Like twenty years ago. Only it didn’t work out so well for me then, did it?”
Ballick heard shuffling off to the left of the building and glanced over to see a shadowy figure blocking any escape in that direction. “Maybe it’ll work out better for you this time.”
“That depends on you,” Liam said. He stepped forward and the thin beam of light cast by low-wattage spotlights hanging precariously from the corners of the roof bisected his face, showing his eyes but concealing his mouth and nose. It made him look like some sort of masked bandit. “Talk,” he said.
Ballick looked at Liam. The determination in his eyes seemed balanced on the edge of madness, and Ballick knew he’d seen his last sunrise over the water. He looked out at the bay, his sight drawn naturally to the horizon, where the dark steel of the water faded into the charcoal sky. “You’re not going to like what I have to say.”
“Try me.”
“We don’t know where they are.”
Liam was standing only a few feet from him now, and he raised his arm, pointing his pistol at Ballick’s head. Ballick hoped he would pull the trigger then and there, but knew it would be too easy. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“I’m telling you, we don’t know where they are,” he said again. “No one does.”
“Someone does,” Liam replied. He motioned toward the door to the shack with the barrel of his gun.
“It’s gonna be like that?” Ballick said.
“It’s up to you.”
Ballick stood. “Nothing I can tell you is gonna be of any use,” he said. Liam didn’t respond, but motioned to the door again. To Ballick’s left, the other man emerged from the shadows. He seemed large and shapeless, and he had a face from a child’s nightmare. He had a gun, too, and he moved with economy and confidence.
Ballick turned toward the water to take one last look. A stiff breeze kicked off the harbor and swept in, working over his face like a farewell. He inhaled deeply, letting the frigid air fill him to the core, closing his eyes in memory, feeling comforted.
Then he took two steps toward the door, and flanked by Liam and the other man, he stepped into the shack.
Devon led the way through the museum hallways and around to the security guard’s desk. He and the Irishman had discussed the fact that Devon was the only one who would talk. He had the thick Boston accent shared by the vast majority of the police on the streets. It wasn’t as though there were no cops in Boston with Irish accents, but it would stick out, and possibly give the guards cause for alarm. They couldn’t afford to take the risk. The Irishman had reluctantly agreed to allow Devon to do the talking.
Devon came around the corner first and saw the guard standing behind the security desk. That was bad. He was hoping the man might have come around from the back, and they simply would have tackled him to prevent him from setting off the alarm. Now it looked like Devon was going to have to lure the man away from his post.
“You the guy givin’ us such a hassle out there?” he yelled at the guard. The kid couldn’t have been older than twenty-two.
“Sorry, Officer,” the guard said. “I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to let the police in. I was told no one gets in after closing.”
“That’s the dumbest fuckin’ thing I ever heard,” Devon pressed. He looked at the Irishman. “You ever heard anything so fuckin’ stupid? It don’t even make any sense.” He turned back to the guard. “You wanna try again?”
The guard was nervous now, Devon could tell. That was the goal-make him nervous. Some ratty little pot-smoking musician-slash-security-guard would be naturally scared of the cops, and fear would make him compliant. “I don’t understand,” he said. “That’s what I was told.”
“Bullshit,” Devon shot back. He stepped in close and examined the kid. He was so close that the guard involuntarily pulled back from the security desk. “Don’t I know you?” Devon asked him.
“I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, I do. I busted you three months ago down on Mass Ave, right? Possession, or some shit like that. You never showed for your court hearing. Bad mistake; you probably would’ve gotten probation, but judges don’t like when you skip. We got a warrant out for your arrest.”
The guard shook his head so hard, Devon thought he might break a vertebra. “You’ve got me confused with someone else, Officer. I swear it.”
Devon made his eyes go dark and he moved toward the desk. “You little shit! You callin’ me a fuckin’ liar? I swear to God, if you are, I’ll make you fuckin’ pay. I know a bunch of guys down at Corrections; I make one phone call, and you’ll be fucked so hard in jail, you’ll shit spunk for weeks. You got that!”
“Yes, Officer, but I swear you never arrested me.” The guard was in a panic now, and Devon could literally smell the fear on him. For a moment he wondered whether the kid had pissed his pants.
“You got someone else here, a partner?”
“Yeah,” the guard stammered. “He’s just finishing his rounds. I called him, and he’ll be right down.”
“He better be, because you’re in a shitload of trouble, and we’re gonna have to deal with it. Is there anyone else here?”
“No, sir, just the two of us. I don’t understand why I’m in trouble.”
“Get your ass out from behind that desk,” Devon ordered. The guard hesitated. “Move, you little shit! Or I will make you wish you’d never been born, I swear it!”