garages and sheds which had formerly been servants' quarters, stables and the like. Now they were used as storage buildings or for parking. Often they were gutted and turned into pricey mews houses. They wondered if they hadn't gone to the wrong lane. There was nobody about, no cars. A man in a light raincoat stepped out from the shadows.
'Sergeant?' he said.
'Hello. Special Branch. Yes. We're just in from Blackrock. What's the story?'
'Very discreet. We met a fellow up the lane who has an electrical shop there. He knew the place.'
'Are you sure?'
'I am. He even remembers walking by and the door was half-open. Said he saw the Mercedes in there.'
'See anyone?'
'He didn't. We haven't seen anyone either. There's men over beyond and a few in the garden there with night glasses. We're ready to go.'
The way he said it irked Moroney. These fellows were more like paramilitaries. They didn't let you know they were in the area half the time. Strolling about the place with submachine guns, like they were out walking the dog.
'Hold on there now. What's the chain of command here?'
'We were called in sir. Told to wait for your instructions.'
'Who?'
'Superintendant Reynolds.'
Moroney almost smiled. They had been given a surprising amount of leeway. That'd be one in the eye for those yobbos.
'And you're…?'
'McAuliffe, sir.'
'Right McAuliffe, give them the billy.'
McAuliffe fingered his earphone more securely into his ear. He turned back a lapel and bent his head toward the mike.
'We are going when I say. Have you got a clear field up there? O.K. Back up 1 and 3. Clear? Any lights in there? Right 9 and 10, back door to yard opens inward all right? Ready units 2,4 and 6. What? Yes, jemmy it.'
He paused and looked down the silent lane. Only the centre of the lane was in light.
'Stand to the side, gentlemen,' he whispered to the two detectives.
Leaning to the mike, he said 'Go, now.'
He reached under his coat and drew the sling tight to his shoulder as he poked a Uzi out. He ran on his toes down the lane.
The detectives saw a half dozen men sit upright on the roofs of sheds to the front and sides of the garage. Three more men in what looked like jogging suits ran to the door. One produced a crowbar and levered a crack between doors until a loud splintering sound echoed down the lane. The man swore and quickly inserted the crowbar again. This time the doors gave way and the crowbar fell to the ground. Another figure yanked open the door and leaped in, shouting. The men on the roofs jerked their heads slightly from side to side, listening intently to their earphones, all the while training their weapons on the doors. A can was kicked over inside. The shouting died down. A light went on. Still no one appeared in the lane. No one had noticed, the Special Branch men realised. They recognized McAuliffe's silhouette in the light which spilled from the door. He beckoned to them.
Inside, the men who had stormed the place stood around looking both disappointed and relieved. One of them was speaking into his radio and staring off into space as his head inclined to listen to the reply.
The garage was not really a garage. It was a dusty shed. Some planks lay haphazardly on the floor. They could see right up to the rafters. There was a faint smell of paint. Some rusted garden tools lay piled in a corner. A homemade stool made of rough plank scraps lay on its side. A car pulled up outside. In it were two uniformed Gardai. A small old man sat in the back.
'He's the one up the lane. The electrical shop,' McAuliffe said.
The detectives walked over to the car.
'Hello. We're police officers,' Moroney said, leaning in the window.
'You're the man who spotted that the place was being used as a garage…?'
'I am that.'
'Anything unusual at all lately?'
'Not to speak of. No. But didn't I see a fella working on that Mercedes Benz the other day.'
'Yesterday, like?'
'The day before.'
'And did you know him? Did you know his face, like?'
'You know, I never even seen him. I saw his legs I think. He was doing something at the front of the car, down near the bumper. 'Hello I says to him.' And he says 'Hello' back. That was it. The only time I seen him and I didn't see him at all.'
'Never saw his face at all?'
'Not a bit of it,' the old man said with a look of satisfaction.
Moroney looked away to his colleague. The two Gardai remained in the front seats listening to the dispatcher on the radio. Galvin's eyes went toward a heaven he privately doubted.
'Tell you what,' the old man said suddenly. 'I saw him, or actually didn't see him fiddling with another car.'
'And…?'
'And nothing. I don't know what class of car it was at all.'
'No idea? When was this?'
'Early in the week. He had it up on one of those jacks. He had the back up, I know that. He had the car backed in that time. I heard him wriggling around under the back. 'Hello' I says-'
'— and he says 'Hello back,'' Galvin interrupted.
'How did you know?' the old man asked.
'Was there a colour?'
'Let's see. You know when something is crimson and purple at the same time…?'
'Magenta?'
'Ma what?'
'Was it new?'
The old man's face took on an indignant look.
'And how would I know? Do you think I'm an encyclopaedia of cars or something?'
'How well you know the Mercedes, though.'
'Sure that's a quality car, mister. There was a singer in Dublin by that name back in the thirties. Would you credit that? Mercedes McNamara. A bit of an actress too. Before your time, I'm thinking.'
Moroney looked down the lane. He was aware of McAuliffe standing next to him.
'Will you be wanting the fingerprint brigade in, sir?'
Moroney wondered if McAuliffe was being bloody-minded. 'And should I try picking my nose, sir? Or maybe will I let a fart, sir?'
'Where are they?'
'The van's out on Baggot Street, sir. I think you passed it on your way in,' McAuliffe replied.
Moroney scrutinised McAuliffe's face for any visible trace of insolence. He could find none and this irritated him all the more. These lads had been trained in leaping about like the Chinese, living off the bog, killing people with paper cups and that sort of effort. Very modern men entirely. Toughs who'd probably never have to start on the beat and get promoted into plain clothes.
'I'll be needing you to bring this man here to the station and go through the car book with him,' Moroney said.
'I took the liberty of assigning that work to the two Gardai here from Harcourt Street station. It's my understanding that we've done our part,' McAuliffe said.
'What?' said the old man in the back of the car.
'Here, leave me off at the bus, the number 10. I have to get home. The missus'll be wondering if I've run off
