Winterland Read online

  At the site, Norton parks on the street, and they get out of the car. There is a wide paved concourse in front of Richmond Plaza, and as they walk across it, Gina leans backwards and looks up. Most of the building has external cladding in place and looks finished. The very top levels, though, seem more exposed, and dissolve into a blur. At the base of the building there is an arched glass entranceway, with space on either side for what will probably be large retail units.

  Leading the way, Norton goes left across the concourse towards a sectioned-off area. Here, behind the wooden hoarding, it looks like a proper building site, with mud and cables and diggers and Portakabin huts. There is a gigantic tower crane on its concrete base. There are construction workers everywhere. Norton and Gina make their way to a row of prefab structures, one of which is an office. Norton signs in and introduces Gina to the project manager, a thin, earnest man in his late forties. They don hard hats and safety jackets, and the project manager then takes up where Norton left off – rolling out specs and statistics.

  They go back across the concourse and enter the building proper. It takes Gina a moment to realise, as she looks up and around her, that what they are standing in here is a colossal atrium. It must extend to at least ten levels above them. Through the scaffolding and hanging power cables she can see that it’s going to have galleried floors on three sides, with Plexiglas elevators, probably, on the fourth. On one of the sides, reaching up diagonally to the next level, there is an escalator frame, not quite locked into place, that looks like a huge dinosaur skeleton in a natural-history museum.

  They cross the atrium, passing a bank of six more elevators over to the right, and walk along a dimly lit corridor, eventually coming out at a large service elevator next to a loading dock. When they get into the elevator car, the project manager hits an unmarked switch. The car lurches slightly, starts moving and then picks up speed.

  A few moments later, the door opens and they step out. ‘Level 48’ is painted on a partition directly in front of them. To the left there are five or six construction workers standing around and next to them on the floor are some loose sections of what look like air-conditioning ducts.

  The project manager leads the way, taking Gina and Norton around the partition. Except for the core section and a grid of supporting steel columns, Level 48 is an open space. Its left and right sides have wall units and glazing frames already fitted, but the far end, with only a few interlocking steel girders and protective barriers, looks very exposed.

  ‘It’s not safe to go up on the roof,’ Norton says, ‘but I think you’ll get the picture from here.’

  The project manager is about to say something when his mobile goes off. He answers it, listens, nods. After a moment, he gestures at Norton, pointing downwards. He turns to Gina, shakes his head apologetically and then scuttles back towards the elevator, the phone still at his ear.

  ‘Impressed?’ Norton says.

  ‘Yes. Yes. It’s … amazing.’

  ‘Of course, a project of this sort is all about teamwork and collaboration, that goes without saying – but don’t be in any doubt, Gina, your brother made his contribution here, and you should be proud of him.’

  As Gina turns to look at Norton, her eyes well up. ‘I am,’ she says in a whisper.

  Norton puts a hand out to her, but Gina moves away. She quickly regains her composure, takes a paper tissue from her pocket and blows her nose. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Norton says. ‘For what?’

  ‘Oh, you know. I suppose. I don’t know. Look, er …’ She hesitates, dabbing her nose with the tissue.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We were … talking on Thursday evening –’

  ‘Yes.’ Norton straightens up. ‘Yes indeed we were.’

  ‘So I just wanted to ask you –’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, the thing is, you see, I’m finding it hard to accept that the two deaths … well, that they were entirely unconnected.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, you know what kind of activity my nephew was involved in, right?’

  Norton nods.

  ‘Well, I can’t help feeling that his killing may in some way have led to, or caused, my brother’s death.’

  ‘Oh. Oh. I see.’ Norton appears to relax a bit. ‘But what are you basing this on? I mean, Noel’s death was an accident, surely?’

  ‘Yes, but … I don’t know. What I wanted to ask you was – and maybe this is totally out of order, please tell me if it is – but … could there be any links between the building trade and gangland crime … I don’t know, with unions, or suppliers, or …’

  She feels totally out on a limb with this, even more so than when she put the same question to Terry Stack.

  ‘Gina,’ Norton then says, indulgently, not quite smiling, ‘maybe that’s the image you have of the building trade from TV and movies, but let me tell you, the reality is quite different. These days it’s a very regulated industry. The contractors I use are crucified with regulations and directives and what have you.’

  Gina nods along.

  ‘So really,’ he goes on, ‘I think what you’re suggesting is …’ He decides to leave it unsaid.

  Gina continues nodding.

  ‘Look,’ Norton then says, ‘I know it’s hard to accept, but this was a road accident. Noel was tired, he was stressed out. You said so yourself.’ He pauses. ‘Didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Stressed out about work, you said.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Norton stares at Gina. Is he waiting for her to expand on this? He seems to be.

  ‘Well,’ she says eventually, ‘there was that problem, that … situation, some engineering thing he said … he didn’t go into it, but –’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ Norton looks down at the floor. ‘That was sorted out. It was just a minor hitch, one of many along the way, believe me.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Gina goes on, ‘what’s really bugging me is this idea that he was drunk. The Noel I knew wouldn’t drive –’

  Norton looks up again. ‘Listen Gina,’ he says quite firmly, ‘all I know is – and this may not be easy to accept either – all I know is … I was with him in town earlier, and he did have a couple of drinks.’

  ‘Yeah, but –’

  ‘And the police have said that he was over the limit.’

  ‘But –’

  She stops there. What’s the point? Noel wasn’t even remotely drunk when she spoke to him outside Catherine’s house. So what does she do now? Call Norton a liar? Or a fool? Call the police fools?

  After a moment, another question occurs to her. ‘When Noel left you, he went out to my sister’s house, yeah?’

  Norton nods.

  ‘But then he went back into town. He told me he had to pick up something. Do you have any idea where he might have gone … or who he might have seen?’

  Norton shakes his head. ‘No. I’m sorry. I have no idea.’

  Gina’s eyes plead for more.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he says, ‘really. But I’m afraid something you can’t discount, Gina, is the possibility that wherever Noel did go –’

  ‘– that he had more to drink there?’

  ‘Yes,’ Norton says, and shrugs.

  Stung by this, Gina doesn’t know what to say next. Her stomach is churning. Also, in her skirt and jacket she’s not exactly dressed for the occasion – it’s windy up here and very cold. Not about to give in, though, she points at the far end of Level 48 and says, ‘Can we take a closer look?’

  ‘Of course.’

  They walk the length of this huge space in silence. As they get nearer to the south-facing end, the view rises up to meet them. They stop in front of the protective barrier, with about a yard to spare, which is plenty, because spread out below them – half framed by the crane’s tower and jib sections – is the whole of Dublin city. It is spectacular, and Gina begins to feel a little overwhelmed. Visible everywhere are landmark buildings, church spires, pa
rks, squares, housing estates – with the river, like a deep, irregular gash, dividing it all in two.

  She looks for her apartment building along the quays. She then locates where Dolanstown should be, and stares at it in amazement. Unreal, dreamlike, this is an entirely new perspective on where she grew up.

  ‘It’s incredible,’ she says.

  ‘Yes, it is. But it’s only the start, you know.’

  Gina turns to look at him. ‘The start? What is?’

  ‘This,’ Norton says, ‘Richmond Plaza. I see it as the first in a cluster of riverfront skyscrapers.’ He raises his arm in a grand gesture to indicate the entire docklands area. ‘I see all of this being developed. I see it becoming a sort of new Hong Kong on Europe’s Atlantic rim.’

  Gina nods. Her expression is neutral.

  ‘This downturn won’t last,’ he goes on. ‘It can’t. There’s too much left to do. And besides, development like this will stimulate a new wave of inward investment from the US. So we can do it. I mean, look at what they did in Shanghai ten years ago. It was phenomenal.’ He pauses, as something seems to occur to him. Then he says, ‘Of course, Noel was there, he saw it, back in the late nineties –’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, on trade delegations, with Larry Bolger … it was in some sort of advisory capacity, I think. Anyway, he said that across from the Bund you used to see only fields and maybe a warehouse or two. Then suddenly it was all bamboo scaffolding and green safety nets. Then before you knew it, wham, they had a skyline.’

  Gina remembers these trips now, but only vaguely – because what would she have been doing at the time? Studying for her diploma? Starting her first job? Glued to a computer terminal in some windowless office? She didn’t see Noel very often back then.

  ‘Or look at Dubai,’ Norton is saying. ‘There’s no reason why we can’t do that in this country, if we hold our nerve, no reason at all. And Noel saw these possibilities too, you know. It’s just …’ He pauses, shaking his head in what seems to be exasperation. ‘It’s just that a grand-scale project like this requires more than vision. It requires, if you’ll excuse the expression, balls of steel –’

  Gina gets the feeling he’s no longer talking about her brother.

  ‘– because you can’t let anything get in your way, you can’t let anyone get in your way …’

  Norton is interrupted here by a sudden burst of baroque concerto music. Gina is startled and it takes her a moment to realise that it’s a mobile ringtone.

  She watches as Norton pulls his phone out and checks the incoming number on the display.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says, holding up a finger. ‘I’ll … just a moment.’ He turns away and cuts the Vivaldi off. ‘Larry, what is it?’

  Gina turns in the opposite direction. She takes a couple of steps closer to the protective barrier – which hardly comes up to her waist – and looks down. Far below she can see tiny cars streaming along the quays.

  Behind her, she can hear Norton talking.

  To Larry Bolger?

  ‘… yeah the Wilson, it’s up on Madison Avenue, in the low seventies I think …’

  Gina was surprised to find out the other night that Larry Bolger and her brother knew each other so well. She is surprised to find out today that they went on trade delegations together to Shanghai.

  ‘… and remember he’s an old man, he’s been around a long time …’

  Gina is beginning to realise just how many things there are about Noel that she doesn’t know.

  ‘… look, meet him tomorrow and we’ll talk afterwards, OK?’

  She turns around. Norton is putting his phone away.

  ‘Who was that?’ she says. ‘Larry Bolger?’

  Norton looks surprised. ‘Yes, it was, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘He’s at the airport.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Heading off to the States, on a junket. It’s another one of those trade delegations, actually.’

  Gina nods. ‘So he and Noel knew each other pretty well?’

  ‘They did, yes.’

  ‘When I spoke to him on Thursday, he said they played poker together. Is that right?’

  ‘Yeah, Noel ran rings around him, I’m afraid. Took him to the cleaners. Poor Larry’s probably going to be the next taoiseach and the man is an alcoholic and a compulsive gambler. God help us all.’ He stops suddenly and stares at Gina. ‘I didn’t say that … you didn’t hear that from me.’

  Gina gives her head a quick shake, as if to say, Don’t worry about it.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Norton says, ‘I’m sorry. Larry’s a good friend of mine, I’ve known him for twenty-five years. It’s just that, well, impulse control wouldn’t be his strongest suit.’

  Gina nods along.

  ‘But he’s on the straight and narrow these days. He really is. He’s doing well. He’s sober and … whatever. Why are we talking about Larry Bolger?’

  Gina doesn’t know. She shakes her head.

  Norton glances at his watch. ‘Listen, I’ve got a meeting with some letting agents, so …’

  ‘Of course,’ Gina says.

  He starts to move.

  But she can feel another opportunity slipping away here. If she’s going to persist in this, she needs to be more focused, more direct.

  ‘Er … Paddy,’ she says, ‘you worked with Noel, you knew him, or at least talked with him, right?’

  Norton stops, tensing a little, and turns back. ‘Yes.’

  Gina takes a deep breath. ‘Did he ever mention … our nephew?’

  Norton puts on a pained expression. ‘Look, Gina –’

  ‘Or Terry Stack, or …’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  There is a shift in his tone here.

  ‘Well,’ Gina says, pushing on, ‘I don’t know, can you think of a reason, any reason at all, why –’

  Norton throws his eyes up. ‘Why what?’

  ‘– why anyone might want to kill him?’

  ‘Gina,’ Norton says, openly impatient now, ‘for God’s sake, no one wanted to kill your brother, and no one did kill him. It was an accident.’

  Gina swallows. ‘I’m afraid I just don’t accept that.’

  Norton takes a couple of steps towards her. ‘Well, you’re going to have to accept it. People die on our roads every day of the week.’

  When he’s standing directly in front of her, he reaches out and takes a firm grip on her arm. He stares into her eyes. Gina isn’t comfortable with this and would like to move. But it’s awkward. She’d have to pull away and step around him.

  Because she can’t very well step backwards.

  He tightens his grip. ‘Do you hear me?’

  Gina meets his stare.

  Up close like this, there’s something a little unsettling about the way Norton looks. She’s only noticing it now. His fleshy face has a pale, almost greyish, complexion. The pupils of his eyes are like pins, and seem to be dilating. She is also surprised – despite the cold – to see a bead of sweat on his upper lip.

  And she can smell him.

  It’s a pungent mixture, though of what she’s not sure – cologne anyway, cigar smoke probably … and something else, mouthwash possibly, or mints.

  ‘Gina?’

  She nods. ‘Yes, I hear you, but I don’t – I can’t – accept it.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Norton says, close to shouting now, ‘why does everything have to be a bloody conspiracy these days? The man was drunk, behind the wheel of his car. Isn’t that enough?’

  Gina stares at him.

  Enough for what?

  Her arm is starting to hurt.

  She can feel the barrier pressing against the back of her legs.

  Another couple of seconds pass and then Norton steps away suddenly, pulling her towards him. ‘It’s dangerous there,’ he says, releasing her roughly. ‘You were too close to the barrier.’

  He turns and walks off.

  Gina looks over her shoulder,
heart pounding, and catches a glimpse of the city below. The view is shifting, almost kaleidoscopic, and it makes her feel a little dizzy. For the first time up here she can actually imagine losing her balance.

  When she looks back, Norton is already halfway to the service elevator at the other end.

  She follows him.

  On the way down neither of them says a word.

  Gina closes her eyes.

  What is it, she wonders … with Norton, with her sisters? Everyone seems to be pissed off at her. Yvonne and Michelle she can understand, in a way – they’re not ready to face this yet, and that’s fine. But Norton? What’s he afraid of ? Some perceived threat to his precious business interests? The negative publicity that a possible link with a gangland killing might generate?

  As the elevator comes to a halt, Gina opens her eyes.

  But what if her suspicion – or theory, or whatever she wants to call it – is confirmed?

  What if there is a link?

  They walk in silence through the atrium and out of the building.

  But then again, what if there isn’t?

  They go back to the prefab office, where they hand in their hard hats and protective jackets.

  Out on the street, Gina does her best to ignore the shift in mood and thanks Norton for the tour of the building.

  He grunts something in reply.

  When they get to his car, he asks – staring at the pavement – if he can drop her off anywhere, but she says she’s OK. She lives on the quays, up towards town, and will walk.

  Norton hesitates. ‘I’m sorry about before,’ he says. ‘It’s just … this is all very upsetting.’

  ‘I know. I know.’

  ‘I just … I think the man should be allowed to rest in peace.’

  ‘I know.’