The twenty-first century belonged to men like McGinty and his nose for a headline. Thus, as his sixties edged towards his seventies, the Bull seemed content to retire and let McGinty and his political colleagues take the reins. Apparently not, Campbell thought. McGinty and O’Kane were two sides of the same coin. O’Kane still commanded the loyalty of the old foot soldiers, the Eddie Coyles, and McGinty and the party leadership relied on them for their power on the street. At the same time, the party’s political influence had allowed the Bull to operate his fuel-laundering plants in relative peace for the last ten years. Each needed the other, and it was a precarious balance between the old ways and the new. Now Fegan was tipping that balance. Whatever insane vendetta he was bent on had the potential to wrest the wheel from the politicians’ control altogether. If Campbell’s hunch was right, and Fegan managed to get to McGinty, it could tear the party wide open. The party could fill his position, all right - in fact, rumor had it they had someone lined up to take his place if they could find a way to sideline him - but McGinty’s crew wouldn’t stand for it.
