When Lennon heard the news of McKenna’s death his first thought had been of Marie and Ellen. He’d considered phoning her, even went as far as punching the number into his mobile, but then he realised he didn’t have a clue what to say. He could ask to speak to his daughter, but he knew Marie would say no. And anyway, what do you say to a child who doesn’t know you?
It wasn’t for lack of trying on his part. For more than two years after Ellen was born he’d tried to initiate some kind of contact. He’d left her mother while she carried their child. He couldn’t forgive himself for that sin, so had no expectation of anyone else offering absolution, but Ellen was still his child. Marie refused every attempt, every approach. It was nothing more than punishment for his crime, and he knew he deserved it, but Ellen didn’t. He considered going through the courts, forcing Marie to give him access, but he’d seen how the system drove more families apart than it pulled together. Parents used their children as weapons against each other. He wanted no part of that. Eventually he decided it would be better to let the child grow up oblivious to him than make her the centre of a battle that wasn’t of her making.
Lennon’s own father had abandoned his family, leaving only vague memories of a man who would roar with laughter one minute and strike out in anger the next. He’d gone to America, Lennon’s mother had said, and when he had enough money he would send for his wife and children. Years later, she still had that spark of hope in her eyes every time the postman shoved paper through their door. The letter never came.
For Lennon, family did not mean warmth and comfort. It meant pain and regret. His family had cut him off for joining the cops; Marie’s family had done the same to her for taking up with him. Blood bonds were so easily severed, surely his child would be happier never having been tied to him in the first place.
But he never forgot.
Up until she moved away he had parked once or twice a week on Eglantine Avenue and watched Marie and Ellen come and go. Ellen looked like her mother, at least from a distance. He imagined getting out of his car, approaching them, hunkering down to see Ellen eye to eye, holding her small hand in his.
But what good could come of that? It would only confuse the child, and Marie would whisk her away from him. She kept that hardness in her well hidden. He’d touched it more than once when they’d been together. It felt like the bones beneath her skin, but colder and sharper. She knew keeping his daughter from him was the only way to punish him for what he’d done. Even if he did go to court and demand access, put Ellen through that circus, what kind of father could he make? No better than his own, certainly.
He shook the thought away and started reading again.
—all over the fucking place. Everybody knows there was more to all that. But it was forgotten about bloody quick.
JM: Jesus, you boys must gossip like a bunch of auld dolls at the bingo. None of that’s anything to do with you.
AR: Nothing to do with me? I’m losing a fucking fortune cause Michael McKenna went and got himself—
Half a page missing this time. Lennon scanned down.
—irl. And she’s not been seen since.
He stopped there, his mouth dry. He traced the blacked-out lines with his finger, looking for any sign of the letters they concealed. That last word, was it girl? He tried to find some moisture in his mouth to wet his lips, but his tongue rasped against the roof of his mouth.
Lennon pushed the papers aside and checked his watch. Almost lunchtime. He lifted the phone and dialled the C3 office. He asked for Hewitt.
‘You fancy some lunch?’ he asked when Hewitt answered.
‘With you?’
‘Yes,’ Lennon said. ‘With me.’
‘I gave you the files, Jack. That’s more than I should’ve done.’
‘Come on, for old times’ sake.’
‘Christ,’ Hewitt said. ‘What are you after?’
‘Just a couple of questions. And a bacon sandwich.’
Hewitt sighed. ‘All right, canteen in ten minutes.’
Hewitt picked over a salad while Lennon chewed cold bacon. The folder lay on the table between them. A squad of boys from the Tactical Support Group sat on the other side of the canteen, shouting and guffawing over their chips and beans. There must have been a raid planned for the afternoon, some house with reinforced doors and heated rooms for the cannabis plants, or a corner shop with smuggled cigarettes stashed in the back.
‘You weren’t joking about the redactions,’ Lennon said. ‘Most of it was blacked out.’
Hewitt took a sip of mineral water. ‘What did you expect? You’re lucky you saw any of it.’
Lennon spooned sugar into his tea. ‘I know. There’s only the one bit I’m curious about.’
‘Don’t even bother asking,’ Hewitt said.
‘Just this one bit.’ Lennon took a swig of lukewarm tea. ‘About that business with Michael McKenna, the feud, McGinty getting ambushed near Middletown.’
‘What about it? Everything was made public after the inquiry. McGinty’s faction fought amongst themselves, and the dissidents got involved. It was a bloody mess, but it’s all over with.’
Lennon struggled with the bacon. Hewitt waited patiently. Eventually, Lennon swallowed and asked, ‘Then why’s it all blacked out? Why the secrecy if it’s all in the public domain anyway?’
Hewitt put down his fork and wiped his lips with a napkin, even though his mouth was clean. ‘Look, Jack, I let you see those notes as a favour. I’d be in trouble if anyone knew I’d let you get anywhere near them. Don’t push your luck.’
You heard about Kevin Malloy? What happened to him night before last?’ Lennon asked. ‘He was one of Bull O’Kane’s crew. Bull O’Kane owns the farm where McGinty got killed.’
‘That Malloy thing was a robbery gone wrong,’ Hewitt said. ‘Besides, it’s nothing to do with us. It was on the other side of the border. The Guards can take care of that one. You’re fishing. What for?’
Lennon took a chance. ‘What do the notes say about Marie McKenna?’
Hewitt paled.
‘In the Rankin interview,’ Lennon continued, not giving Hewitt a chance to sidestep. ‘Right at the end, he mentions her.’
‘No he doesn’t,’ Hewitt said with a weak laugh. He picked up his fork and stabbed at soggy lettuce leaves.
‘He does,’ Lennon said. ‘Right at the end.’
Hewitt dropped the fork and reached for the folder. He pulled out loose pages and flipped through them. He found the Rankin interview and traced the lines with his fingertip. After a few seconds of page turning, Hewitt said, ‘It doesn’t mention Marie McKenna anywhere.’
‘Nope,’ Lennon said. ‘Made you look, though, didn’t I?’
Hewitt stared hard across the table at him, his cheeks flushed, before stuffing the pages back in the folder. ‘I’ll hang on to these,’ he said, ‘make sure they’re properly disposed of.’
Was Marie involved in any of that?’ Lennon asked.
Hewitt stood. ‘I’m not having this discussion with you, Jack.’
‘I drive by her street sometimes,’ Lennon said. ‘Not in a dodgy way, you understand, just if I’m passing. Her windows have been boarded up for a while now. I asked around, at her work, places like that. They said she’d moved away, they didn’t know where. She went in a hurry.’
Hewitt moved around the table to Lennon’s side. ‘Jack, if you want any more information from our files, you can make an official request.’
‘She moved away with my daughter,’ Lennon said. ‘You know my family disowned me when I joined up. Personnel have my next of kin down as a cousin I only talk to once a year, for Christ’s sake. Ellen’s the only mark I made on the world. The only family I’ve got, and she doesn’t know who I am. I just want to know where she is.’