Lost for Words

Hook, Line, Sinker

None of us had expected Liam to turn on his comrades. But, when he turned up at the Lisburn Road police station early one morning, asking to speak to a senior officer, we paid attention. Touts didn't have a long lifespan. The low-level ones tended to end up with broken kneecaps and fractured skulls. Once word got out of Liam's antics, he would have had a price on his head.

So, it wasn't surprising that when Liam was told that he was going to be taken somewhere safe, he only had one question. "Does it have good fishing?" And his eyes twinkled.

We took turns babysitting Liam, never leaving him unattended. It was also a good opportunity to get to know him and to gain his confidence. After all, the more he trusted us the more likely he would be to open up. Just in case he said something, there was always an old-fashioned cassette deck handy to record him.

One day I was sitting with Liam at the lakeside. He was perched on a nearby rock, dangling a fishing rod over the water. It was perfect fishing weather - an overcast sky and almost no wind to disturb the water. From where I was sitting, Liam looked like a malevolent garden ornament.

Curiosity struck me. "Why'd you take up fishing?" I asked.

Liam twitched his rod before answering. "Everybody needs a hobby," he said.

"Ach - come on Liam." I looked up at him, hoping I could keep the conversation going if only to fill the silence of the afternoon. "You must have a reason. Look at me. I read. I do it to improve my mind."

Liam reeled in his line and inspected the hook at the end. It was empty. He snorted, then raised his rod and sent the lure spinning through the air. "You really want to know?"

"Wouldn't have asked otherwise."

"Your funeral." Liam stared out across the lake to the trees on the far shore. "You remember Vince Peel?"

I reached for the cassette deck, hoping that I could turn it on in time to get this. "Peel? Who went missing six years ago?"

"That's him. Well, I was one of the people involved."

"How did you ... ?" I didn't want to sound too eager.

Liam glanced down at me. "We took him down the coast to one of those fish farms. We knew somebody who had a set of keys. Do you know what they feed the fish in those places?" I shook my head. "They grind up other fish and drop the muck into the pens. Bloody disgusting. So, we took Vince to the farm and fed him feet first into one of the grinders."

"Dear God."

Liam nodded. "It was a bit."

I swallowed to suppress the bile rising to my throat. "So, what has this got to do with fishing?"

Liam looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes. "Well, do you think after all that I'd eat something I hadn't caught myself?"