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Tierney fell into step beside him.

“How about what, Terry?”

Malone threw an arm around his shoulder. He felt the arm tense. Still had the build, the strength. He must have kept up the training in the nick.

“Look, man, do I have to spell it out for you? Get this: I don’t care who did what.”

The arm around his shoulder had crept up to his neck.

“Get with it here, man! It’s your one and only chance. It’ll never come again. Hickey mightn’t make a showing over at Eddsy’s at all. I mean, a lot of things can happen on the way, can’t they? So, does Eddsy or Martin need to listen to all of what Leonardo’s going to be throwing around? I mean, would one of them get just that little bit suspicious? I don’t know. It’s a gamble, isn’t it?”

“Wait a minute, wait. Terry…”

Even with the discoloured eye, the mockery was plain on Terry Malone’s face.

“Wait for what? Here-I’ll spell it out, Jammy. Real slow. Number one: get the fucking money or whatever it is he took off her. Okay. Did you get that? Number two: give it to me. Tonight. No Eddsy, no Bobby. No Martin. No Leonardo. No problem. Number three: shut up. Now and forever. It’s between you and me. You want to know why? I been inside too long, that’s why. You can’t buy time. There’s no price you can pay. Eddsy Egan thinks I’m stupid. Didn’t want to know me inside, but when I get out, they can use me. The movie-star treatment-yeah! But only so’s I can do their dirty work!”

Tierney looked back at the van, the lights of the offices further down the banks of the canal. The air was very still. There was a strange smell in the air too.

“And you know what pissed me off the most? It wasn’t the rotting away in the nick even. And it wasn’t Eddsy slapping me on the back the day I get out. It wasn’t even them trying to use me to get at Tommy. No, what really got to me was them thinking they’d fooled me, that I bought into all this loyalty shite. ‘We didn’t forget about you, Terry. We’ll look after you, man.’ They took me for a gobshite!”

He spat quickly down on the path and laughed.

“Stuck for words again, Jammy? You don’t look too good there, man.”

He laughed again.

“If Eddsy really thought you had tried to put something over on him, you’d be in the back of that van there with Hickey. Loyalty, huh. Eddsy talks about it because he doesn’t have any. Outside of Martin and Bobby, I mean. He’d turn on anyone. But I done my time. I’m not going to shovel any shit for anyone. I’m going to get my own gig going. So you bring whatever you got. Whatever Leonardo left with you.”

“Terry-”

Malone let go of his neck and pushed him away.

“Shut fucking up, Jammy! I’ve fucking had it here, man! What have I been talking about here the last five minutes? Look, she’s dead. Leonardo’s gonna be brown bread. So who cares? The rest, I don’t want to fucking know!”

He stepped forward again and grasped Tierney’s jacket.

“So, decide. Now! One hour, max.”

Tierney shook his head. His arms came out from his side.

“Terry,” he began but stopped to swallow.

“End of fucking story, Jammy! You know what I’m talking about. Pal Leonardo either gets to see Eddsy or he doesn’t make it. Look. I’m going to be up in Phoenix Park with this van in an hour. That’s where he was all the time, sleeping rough, did you know? You know the far end of the Park, that lake with the island in it? The woods? One hour. I’m not going to sit on what’s in the van for one minute longer. One hour.”

TWENTY-SIX

What if I were to tell you something?” said Kilmartin. Minogue studied his sandwich. “The Dublin crowd are all right.”

“Am I hearing you right, Jim?”

The barman put two pints on the counter in front of them.

“Thanks, Sean,” said Minogue. Kilmartin’s hand was on his arm.

“No, no, no! Matt! Your money’s no good now. My twist.”

Minogue caught the barman’s eye.

“Get the camera, Sean.”

Kilmartin looked up from the bills he had in his hand.

“What was that?”

“Bag of crisps, please, Sean.”

Kilmartin was maudlin and Minogue didn’t know why. He looked at his watch again.

“What’s the matter? Am I keeping you from your job or something?”

“No. You’re all right. Go on.”

“I’m serious,” said Kilmartin. “What was I saying? Oh, yeah. The Dublin crowd. They’re all right, you know. I mean to say, there’s the perfect example in Kathleen. Always liked Kathleen. Always. The minute I laid…”

The Chief Inspector paused to take his change from the barman.

“You’d better finish that sentence, Jim.”

“What? Oh, yes. Kathleen. The heart of the road. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“I do, I think.”

“I’m happy that she’s expecting now, you know?”

Minogue frowned. Kilmartin’s grin was spreading.

“Expecting Iseult’s fella to get a job! Ah, ha ha ha! Do you get it? Ah, ha ha ha!”

He punched Minogue in the arm. The Chief Inspector stopped and stared glassily at Minogue when the phone went. For a moment Minogue forgot where he had put it.

“Yes?” he said after the second trill. “Yes?”

He studied Kilmartin’s face while he listened.

“Okay. Yes.”

He put it back on stand-by. Kilmartin kept looking at him.

“I didn’t know you could speak in Morse code there, pal.”

“Nothing to concern yourself with there.”

Kilmartin’s gaze was broken by a sizable belch finding its way up through his oesophagus. He bowed slightly, tapped himself on the chest and barked.

“Ah, by God,” he sighed. “If it’s not one end, it’s the other. Never been the same since that shagging surgeon got his hands on me.”

He tapped Minogue with the back of his hand.

“You know you’re gone fifty when things are either drying up or leaking, hah?”

The barman saved Minogue the need to feign a laugh.

“Hah, Sean? Sean knows what I’m talking about, don’t you, Sean? Ha ha hah!”

Kilmartin’s laugh turned to a cough. Minogue caught the barman’s eye.

“So,” said Kilmartin finally. “What do you think?”

“I’m betting on rain.”

“The bloody case, man! Come tomorrow, I’m going to start a rehash. Right from the start. Fresh.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, yourself. Yes. And I’m going to sort out Keane and all the anti-racketeers we have over in shagging Harcourt Square in short order. Enough is enough: the hard tack and the iron discipline now, let me warn you. They can’t be holding us back any more. They say they can produce for us-‘it’s all grist for the mill’-but when do we actually get to sit down and talk hard to any of the Egans?”

“They’re alibied, Jim. Did you forget that? The surveillance logs.”

Kilmartin chopped at the counter-top with the side of his hand.

“Oh, come on there, will you? I mean getting hold of other Egan cronies, putting them to the wall. Those bloody fellas haven’t stayed out of jail for so long by being stupid now! There must be middlemen there between the Egans and selling stuff on the bloody streets, man. Have we been allowed into those files? We have not. Is that how we close cases? It is not. Is it good for morale? It is not. Will I put up with this much longer than dinner-time tomorrow-”

“You will not.”

“Bloody right, I won’t. Now you get the idea.”

Minogue was staring into the mirror behind the counter. Dusk was on the windows behind him now. The customers in Ryan’s seemed to be moving so slowly. Was the yellow tinge to everything his own tiredness? Even the laughter was muted.

The crash resonated in the windows and on the counter in front of him. An empty juggernaut hopping over a bad patch of road outside, was his first thought. The barman stood up from emptying the dishwasher, the steam issuing up into his face. Kilmartin turned his head toward the open door of the pub.

“Name a Jases,” he said. “I better cut down on the jar. That sounded too much like a bloody shotgun to me.”