“Now,” Johnny says, relaxing back on the banquette, his face shining with glee, “we’ve got him. That fella’ll do whatever it takes to get stuck into the serious digging. All we haveta do is take the cash and let him at it.”
“If there’s anything worth having on my land,” Francie says, “and I’m not saying there is, I don’t fancy waking up one morning and finding out I’ve handed over the rights to millions for a coupla grand.”
“Fuck’s sake, Francie,” Johnny says, exasperated. “What is it you want, at all? If you think there’s millions on your land, then ask Rushborough can you buy into his company and get your share. If you believe there’s nothing there, then take the few grand for the mining rights, and let him dig his wee heart out. You can’t have it both ways. Which is it?”
Cal is becoming clearer on the next step in Johnny and Rushborough’s plan. He stays quiet, letting things play out a little longer. The more Johnny says, the more the guys will have to chew on, after Cal throws his grenade.
“It’s none a your business, is what it is,” Francie tells Johnny. “Ye can all do whatever you want. I’m only saying, he can’t walk onto my land and take what he likes.”
“Jesus fuck, you’re some dose, d’you know that?” Sonny explodes at Francie. “Here’s everything going great guns, and you sitting there with a puss on you that’d sour milk, looking for holes to pick. Would you not shut your gob just for the one evening, and let the rest of us enjoy ourselves?”
“He’s thinking a-fuckin’-head,” Senan snaps. “You should try it yourself sometime.”
“He’s being a fuckin’ moan.”
“Arrah, shut the fuck up, wouldja, and let the men with sense do the talking—”
All of them are too loud and too quick off the mark. Cal can feel the electric charge jittering through the air. Someone is liable to get his ass kicked tonight. Cal is aware that, once he says his piece, there’s a fair-to-middling chance it could be him.
“D’you know something?” Bobby demands suddenly, of Senan. “You’re awful fond of telling people to shut up. No one made you king of this place. Maybe you oughta shut up yourself, once in a while.”
Senan stares at Bobby like he just grew another head. Bobby, terrified by his own new daring but not about to back down, pulls himself up to his full height and stares back. Mart looks like he’s having the night of his life.
“Sweet fuck,” Senan says. “If this is what just the smell of gold does to you, I’d hate to see what you’ll be like if anything’s found on your land. You’ll lose the run of yourself altogether. You’ll be swanning around with a tiara and a big diamond ring on you, expecting people to kiss it—”
“I’m only saying,” Bobby tells him, with dignity. “He’s as much right to an opinion as you have.”
“Sir Bobby, will it be? Or Your Lordship?”
“Ah, lads, lads,” Johnny says soothingly, raising his hands to quell the argument and bring everyone back on track. “Listen to me. Francie here’s got a point. The man just wants to be sure he’ll get value. What’s wrong with that? Don’t we all?”
“Fuckin’ right,” Senan says.
“Sure, I wouldn’t want your man walking away with the lot, either,” Con says. “Not off my land.”
A shift runs through the other men, a low mutter of assent.
“Do we haveta let him?” P.J. asks, worried.
“You don’t haveta do anything you don’t wanta,” Johnny reassures him. “Have a think about it. Take your time. The only thing you oughta keep in mind is, let’s say you reckon there’s gold there, and you decide to ask Rushborough can you invest in his company: you’d want to do it soon. Once he finds gold, them shares’ll get an awful lot dearer.”
This silences P.J.; he takes refuge in his pint while he tries to disentangle it. Sonny and Con glance at each other, questions passing between them.
“How much would it be?” Dessie asks. “Investing, like.”
Johnny shrugs. “Depends, man. On what percentage you want, how much he reckons he’ll find, all that. I threw in a few grand and that got me a fair aul’ chunk, but that was when all your man had was some fairy tale off his granny. He might rate it higher now, after today.”
“If we all stick together,” Senan says, “he’ll rate it at whatever we say, or he can do his digging in his own back garden.”
“I’m not promising he wants investors at all,” Johnny cautions them. “He’s got other lads sniffing around, back in London; he might not have the room for anyone else.”
“Like I said. If there’s the lot of us in it, he can take it or leave it.”
“Who says I want to invest anything?” Francie demands.
Sonny throws himself back on the banquette with a roar of frustration. “Fuck’s
“Lads, lads,” Johnny says, soothing again. “No one needs to decide anything tonight. Just talk to Rushborough. Nice and delicate, now; don’t go wading in like you’re dealing with some aul’ bull of a lad at the cattle mart. Just put out the feelers, and see what he says.”
