The Judas gate

'Then what?' Kelly asked.

'Get one of the men to give you his car and we'll take a quick trip to Collyban, just you and me.' At the garage, Mickeen found O'Rourke brushing the floor. 'I'll finish Father Grady's car in the morning,' he said. 'How were the service and the cremation?'

'It was like a Provisional IRA convention, with Jack Kelly and a few of his men from Kilmartin discouraging the public from going in the chapel. It didn't seem healthy to stay around, so I came away. Get off with you now and I'll see you later for a drink.'

'I'll do that,' Paddy said and went out.

It was after five, and Mickeen stood there thinking about what had happened. The presence of so many old IRA hands had given him a shock. People like that were still a power to be reckoned with. Paddy had left the priest's car on the jack so, with nothing better to do, he switched on the inspection lamp, eased his old bones down, his back on the trolley, and rolled underneath the car.

He was aware of footsteps approaching and stopped his inspection. 'Can I help you?'

He had turned his head and seen two pairs of shoes and started to roll on the trolley but, as his head appeared from underneath the car, he stopped as a foot stamped beside it.

'Stop right where you are,' Justin Talbot told him. Mickeen stared up at him, suddenly afraid. 'Do you know who I am?'

'Yes, Mr Talbot.'

'And you know me well enough,' Jack Kelly said, and Mickeen nodded.

'Why did you try to come to my grandfather's funeral?' Talbot demanded.

'Sure, and I thought it would be open to anyone.'

'And how did you know that it was happening when it was?'

'Everyone in Collyban knew, Mr Talbot. They were all talking about it in the Green Man. Somebody you thought you could trust must have blabbed.'

And because he knew very well that was the logical explanation, Talbot become even more incensed. 'And what about your nephew, Sean Dillon? I know you've spoken to him earlier. What was that all about?'

'Nothing at all, Mr Talbot.' Mickeen was desperate. 'He's family. He just called me from London to say hello.'

'You're lying,' Talbot shouted. 'There's more to it than that. Tell me, damn you.'

He kicked at Mickeen's face, catching the edge of the trolley, sending him swinging further under the car. He almost fell over himself, grabbed at the raised handle of the hydraulic jack, releasing it, and the car subsided. Mickeen cried out in agony and then there was only silence.

Kelly shoved Talbot out of the way, reached for the handle and quickly raised the car. He crouched, picked up the inspection lamp and leaned in. Mickeen's face was covered in blood, there was torn flesh on the forehead and he detected bone. It was a dreadful sight and he moved back.

'You've done for him.'

'Are you certain?' Talbot said.

'See for yourself. Would you think anyone could survive injuries like that?'

'I've seen men wounded in battle survive some terrible things, and not just when I'm Shamrock. It would be simple to make sure if I had a pistol.' Talbot was strangely calm now. 'Do you have one?'

'No, I don't.'

'I assumed you always carried.'

'Not any more,' Kelly said. 'Only on certain occasions, and today wasn't supposed to be one.' He checked Mickeen again. 'No, I say he's dead.'

He lowered the car again and Talbot said, 'Why are you doing that?'

'So that when they find him, they'll think it was an accident. Now let's get out of here.'

They ran through the rain to the BMW and got in. As Kelly drove away, Talbot said calmly, 'Well, that's taken care of that. Dillon won't be pleased about his uncle, but the stupid old bastard had it coming.' He turned to look at Kelly, that strange cold smile on his face. 'Don't you agree?'

And Jack Kelly, not happy at all, managed a nod. 'Yes, I suppose you're right.'

'Good, then let's get back to the house as soon as possible. They'll be wondering what's happened to us.' It was Paddy O'Rourke, walking down to the pub, who noticed that there were no lights on in either the house or the garage and went to investigate. What he found when he raised the car again horrified him. Like Kelly, he assumed the worst, but called the county air ambulance service, which served remote country areas.

For some reason, he didn't want to leave his old friend, so didn't go seeking help, just sat there holding Mickeen's cold and apparently lifeless hand. After twenty minutes, he heard the sound of the approaching helicopter. He had switched on all the garage lights and went out and waved frantically, and a Chinook helicopter settled on the forecourt, bringing out all the customers in the Green Man, headed by Martin Curry.

The paramedics wasted no time, examining Mickeen, then pulling a kind of turban over his head, strapping him to a special stretcher and taking him inside the Chinook. As O'Rourke watched, they worked on the old man until he was festooned with tubes and bottles.

One of the paramedics shouted, 'You're the one who found him? Give me your name and phone number. The police will want to speak to you. It's a good thing you found him when you did.'

'I thought he was dead,' O'Rourke shouted.

'Almost.'

'Where are you taking him, Newry?'

'No, the Seaton Hospital in Belfast. They have a great neurological unit. Only forty miles. We'll have him there in no time.'

He scrambled back inside, the Chinook lifted and was away. The crowd moved back to the pub. Curry said, 'What happened?'

'He was working under the car and the jack slipped or something and the car fell on him.'

'Where did they say they were taking him?'

O'Rourke told him, and Curry said, 'That's a great hospital. They'll look after him. Anyway, you've earned a drink this night, Paddy, so join me in the pub.' The wake was in full swing and half the village seemed to be there, enjoying the spread offered by Emily and her helpers on the well-stocked tables. And drink was taken, of course, as one would expect at an Irish wake.

Jean Talbot was working her way through the tenants and she paused to greet her son. 'Where have you been? I was worried.'

'Something Jack and I needed to sort out, didn't we?'

Secrets again. She knew instantly from his heightened colour and his glittering eyes. 'Whatever it is, just calm down. Have a word with Father Cassidy, I really think you should.'

He was exasperated and sounded it. 'If that's what you want.'

Young Jane was passing with a tray of glasses of champagne. He took two. 'Good girl,' he said and, as he turned away, emptied one glass in a quick swallow. He looked around the room, saw no sign of the priest. The study door had been closed for privacy, but he found Cassidy in there, sitting in a wing-backed chair leafing through a book.

'Too noisy for you out there?' Talbot said as he closed the door.

'I'm getting old; the years are overtaking me. How are you bearing up, you and your mother?'

'As if a very great weight has been lifted from our shoulders.' Justin tossed back his champagne.

Cassidy glanced up at the empty wall above the fireplace. 'I see you haven't wasted any time in taking down your grandfather's portrait.'

'They have a weekly bonfire behind the stables. I had considerable pleasure in consigning the portrait to the flames personally.'

There was a certain amount of pain on Cassidy's face. 'The man has passed on, Justin, let go, renounce this continuing hatred.'

'Forgiveness, is that what you're preaching today? Forget how I suffered, Father – the way he treated my mother was abominable.'

'Forgiveness is everything. Christ even forgave Judas when he stepped in through the gate at the Garden of Gethsemane to betray him.'

'Well, as he hanged himself, it didn't do him much good.'

'Because he couldn't forgive himself,' Cassidy said. 'Once he stepped through that gate – the Judas gate, as it has become known – there was no going back. It's the same for all of us when our actions betray our loved ones, we also betray ourselves.'

Talbot took it badly. 'Are you suggesting this applies to me?'