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“I’m not sure — ”

“Ah, quit the pretending, Matt! The whole duty thing, the decency thing — what you and me grew up with as part of our bloody genes — the pay-your-way, rear the family, save your money, be polite — that it’s all a fucking con?”

Minogue glanced at him.

“Keep going there. Yeah, through Sutton Cross. O’Riordan’s is up Thormanbury Road there. His palace. Where was I? Shaughnessy. So yes, if that’s what you’re asking. I went out to get him. Outside of Lacy’s Pub there in Kinnegad. He’d had the sense to lay low awhile there, but was up in a heap when I got there. He actually asked me if I could put him in touch with someone who’d sell him coke. Me, a policeman…! And I knew this prick had murdered a woman. He’d promised her the sun, moon, and stars to get ahold of this rock. His da would pay this and his da would do that — and then he starts in on me, what he’d pay, what his da would do for me. I just about nailed him then. I got him out to a place the far end of Inchicore. A lockup there. Told him we had to hide it until I took care of his car and everything. That I had a fella waiting to bring it into the airport. I don’t know if he believed me or not. Look: he didn’t know what hit him. And the airport? I’ve been in and out of there a half a dozen times since Christmas. Training runs, we have to work up to the standards coming in from Brussels now, the new standards. Thank you, Eurocrats. Can you credit that, they have regulations on Civil Defense emergency communications, and we fall under that too. Anyway. I know me way around the airport. Happy?”

A fine mist began to glisten on the windscreen. Little reached over and flicked the wiper stalk.

“Get a move on,” he said. “And turn up the radio, if they’re looking for you.”

The reflective stripes on the side of the squad car ahead were nudging out from a driveway ahead. Little stared.

“Who the hell are these fellas?”

“I don’t know,” Minogue said.

“Hey,” said Little. He took the gun out from under his jacket. “You didn’t call for checkpoints, did you?”

Minogue shook his head. The back of his neck prickled.

“What have you done? Did you call this?”

Minogue eased his foot off the accelerator. The ache he’d felt growing under his arms vanished.

“I didn’t,” he said.

“Two I can see,” said Little. “There’s one up there on a car. There must be more of them. What is this? Breathalyzers, this time of year?”

The Guard with the flashlight was decked out in the reflective coat for spotchecks. Two cars had parked the footpath the far side of the checkpoint. A Rover, it looked like, a Fiat.

“There was a — that woman was killed last month,” said Little. “Out walking, her and her husband, the hit and run?”

He tugged his coat out from behind him to cover the gun again.

“Get out your card,” he said.

For a moment Minogue thought the noise was the engine. Malone groaned again. Little turned.

“Shut up, Tommy!” Little shouted. “So help me, I’ll blow your brains out!”

Minogue’s fingers slid across the top edge of his wallet. His chest was locked tight. He had to remember to breathe. Malone seemed to be moving now.

“Not a word, Tommy!” said Little. “And don’t move an inch. This is for keeps tonight.”

“He has claustraphobia, Damian — ”

“I don’t give a flying — ”

There was panic in Little’s eyes. He lifted out his wallet and thumbed it open.

“Christ,” Little hissed. “What’s he waving us in for? Can’t he spot an unmarked?”

He nudged Minogue’s arm with the pistol.

“Don’t play hero, Matt. There’s a lot in this tonight — I’ve got them where I want them for this. All of them: O’Riordan, those fucking stars — There’ll be no more after this, no need — and you can be part of this, you and Tommy. But I’ll do what I have to do, no matter what. You hear that, Tommy? Did you? There’s plenty for everyone in this, so think about that, you hear me?”

Minogue geared down to second. Little took two deep breaths and sat back. Minogue let his fingers off the card.

“Damn.”

“What?”

“I dropped me card.”

“You — where? The gearshift, where?”

“Let me see.”

His fingers ran over the end of the handbrake and dropped to the carpet. Nothing. Little leaned against the door to watch.

“It’s all right, just leave it,” he said. “Give him mine! Stop it! Just leave it there, for Christ’s sake. Come on, here he is.”

The Guard had stepped out in the road. He stared in at the two. Minogue’s fingernails slid along the carpet. Tiny pebbles, he registered, grit, a cigarette butt.

The Guard eyed the tax disk as he came around. Minogue’s fingers stubbed the seat rails. The pistol must be right up at the front. Little elbowed him.

“Take mine,” he said. “Quick!”

The Guard had a wispy mustache. The collar on his fluorescent jacket was high up alongside his cheek. He let the flashlight run across the interior.

“Are you aware you’re driving with only one light, there?”

“We had a bit of a ding not long ago,” said Little. The Guard took the photocard. He looked in at Little.

“I thought the car had the look of one.”

“We’re active at the moment,” said Little. “I’m CO.”

“Right so, right,” the Guard murmured. Minogue let his hand down the handbrake again.

“Take care, lads. Er, Superintendent. No comment on the belt situation, there.”

“What?” Little said. “Oh, right. Thanks.”

The Guard nodded. He nodded toward the backseat.

“You have something the matter with your seat back there.”

Minogue stared at him. The Guard bobbed to look into the backseat again.

“Is there something loose maybe?” he added. “See? The back there, look.”

“What,” said Minogue.

“Let’s go,” said Little. “Sure it’s falling apart, this heap. Come on. Thanks.”

The Guard took a step back. His eyes finally met with Minogue’s. The inspector let the eyes flicker toward Little.

“Let’s go,” said Little again.

“Damian — ”

“Shut up! Not a fucking word!”

Minogue let out the clutch slowly. The Guard had backed off a few steps. He was speaking into his collar mike. The Guard by the Fiat looked over. Sergeant’s stripes, forties; a wide, ruddy face, a hard stare. He cocked his ear and stepped out onto the roadway.

“Go around him,” said Little. “Move!”

The sergeant’s stare began to dull. His arm came up, his fingers spread out.

“Go!”

Minogue eased his foot off the clutch. The Guard held up a flashlight, waved the beam toward the footpath. Minogue turned the wheel more. The Guard said something. Minogue waited until they drew level, and stamped on the brake.

The Opel shuddered and bucked twice before the engine stopped, and they rocked to a standstill. Minogue lunged with his left hand and clamped it on the muzzle. The seat belt rumbled out of its drum and ran up to his neck as he followed up with his right hand. He shouldered Little against the door.

He felt Little’s sinews strain under his grip, water oozing from the leather sleeve. He pushed the gun harder into Little’s leg. Little’s right arm squirmed behind Minogue’s shoulder and slowly rose to his shoulder blades. The car began to shake. Minogue kept shouting for Malone. Little’s right arm broke free over his shoulder. The first blow, more knuckle than fist, hit him in the neck. Something gave way in the car then and hit the back of his seat. He heard shoes scraping.

Little was suddenly gone. The light dazzled Minogue. A cold breeze brushed across his face as he came up, stabbing at the belt release. The chimes were slow and squeaky. Malone’s face appeared between the seats. Someone was on the road just outside the door. Little was shouting. Malone was scrambling out the back door. He heard Little shouting for someone to get away.