'But you would have missed the car if I hadn't come up with Allen,' Minogue protested.
'If, if,' Scully repeated, looking out into the darkness. 'Fair dues to you, we would have missed him all right. I'm not saying we're not beholden to you for it. That's why you get to be here, sitting next to me,' Scully murmured.
He turned abruptly to Minogue.
'A day here, a day there, what does it matter in the end? We're all on the same side, Minogue.'
Panic ran up from Minogue's knees and prickled his scalp. He looked at the red lights of the car. He heard the engine pick up speed. Scully ignored Minogue and looked at the car too.
When Minogue heard himself speak, the voice seemed to belong to someone else. Scully's frown had eased as he stared at the small bowl of light in the distance.
'What if he tries to run it, Scully?'
'He'd want to be a terrible stupid gobshite to try that class of a stunt, I'm thinking,' murmured Scully. 'Their border lads are sharp little thugs.'
Scully hadn't taken his gaze from the car lights ahead. Doesn't care, Minogue realised dully.
'The girl,' Minogue said. 'The girl in the car with him, she's-'
'The girl in the car is the girl in the fucking car, Minogue. For all you know, she's in cahoots with him somewhare along the line,' Scully snapped. 'Maybe you didn't twig to her.'
'She's not, I tell you,' said Minogue hoarsely. 'I know she's not.'
'We'll find that out then, won't we? Let them sort it out.'
Minogue grasped Scully's arm. He felt the muscle tense. Scully turned to him.
'Get your shagging hand offa me or I'll drop you, Minogue.'
'These are cowboys, these border patrols, Scully. You know that. They're trigger-men. They're volunteers, they're just itching to take the law-'
'Get back in the car, Minogue. I've had enough of this rubbish. I'm going to lodge a slip on you for this. Shut up and get-'
Then Minogue ran.
He heard Scully's shout hang in the air behind him as the night air brushed over his face. With the glare ahead, Minogue was running blind. The road thumped the soles of his leather brogues. His coat flapped behind him. The raised voices behind him mixed with the sounds of air rushing into his nostrils. His shins cracked with each slap of his |eet on the tar. Beneath him was darkness and all around darkness, just the glow of light ahead, like a magnet drawing him. It occurred to Minogue that he might well be shot at. The night seemed full of his breathing and flapping. Ahead of him the tail-lights glowed stronger as the brakes were applied.
Minogue prayed for the brake lights to stay on. He saw a figure step into the light ahead. It looked like the figure was carrying a stick, a hurley maybe. Minogue's chest was bursting, his legs jellying. Old, old. He was slowing. Spots of light danced all around him, a crazy swirl swarming around the lights ahead too. As though floating, Minogue took note of the low hedge running along beside him. For an instant Minogue thought the dream would end. He was getting no nearer the lights. It was an endless treadmill where he lost ground quicker than he gained it. He hoped he wouldn't trip. He knew he wouldn't be able to talk if he caught up to the car and that could be dangerous. The thing was, he must get her out of the car.
Allen felt as if his chest was being squeezed. From the recesses of his mind, he observed himself there in the car, slowing. He saw the soldier bulked with a flak jacket step into the light. Allen wondered where the RUC were. The soldier was holding the automatic rifle almost level. Off to his left Allen caught a glimpse of a vehicle in the ditch, a Land Rover. Where were the RUC?
Agnes turned around and looked out the back window.
'Do you see it?' she said.
Allen was rolling down the window. She looked at him and he turned to her. He saw her frown and her face go loose. Now she knows, he thought. This is it, all of it. She tried to say something but couldn't. Her back pressed into the door, looking across at Allen.
There was no traffic. The car was rolling to a halt, endlessly. Allen felt blood rush around his head. He looked out at the soldier who was not moving toward the car. Allen could see the kid's face clearly. He was no more than twenty-five. He wore his beret low on his forehead. Allen grasped the slicked wheel with both hands. His upper arms began to tremble. He thought something passed behind the car, a flicker in the mirror. The car stopped and rocked back slightly as the suspension returned it level after the braking. All Allen could hear was the regular infuriating tick over of a well-tuned car.
'Switch off the engine. Then step out of the car,' the soldier said. Allen couldn't take his eyes off the rifle.
'Surely-' he began.
The soldier looked over the roof of the car. He glanced at Allen again.
'Out.'
'Really,' Allen said. 'Is this neccessary? Don't you-'
'There's something out there,' Agnes whispered.
The soldier backed away from the car and levelled the rifle.
'Out of the car!' he shouted.
Allen saw the soldier look behind the car again, frowning. Time stopped for him. A rush of understanding settled on him. He felt a finality, close. Something was wrong. He could feel Agnes' alarm. It was dark outside this bowl of light. Was there nothing outside this terrifying oasis? He laid his hand slowly on the gearshift and looked to his right.
Minogue wondered why nobody had stopped him. Each of his feet was landing flat and heavy now. His breath was in hoarse gasps. Maybe if he shouted, they'd hear him from there. A stitch like a cold knife was slicing under his ribs, jabbing. He saw the man with the stick move back from the car. Another two men came up behind the car, sticks raised to their shoulders. Minogue stopped. He was within a hundred yards of the car. He saw the back of the car dip. The tires squealed. Minogue shouted with all the wind he could hold. The light was pulsing in front of him. He swayed with the effort.
'Wait! Police!' he shouted. 'Wait!'
The soldiers turned and crouched. Minogue shouted again. One of the soldiers turned back and Minogue heard the pop pop, a staccato. Minogue dropped to the ground. Seconds ticked by. He heard more shots. The car lights were moving from side to side. Then, lazily, the tail-lights straightened out their course. Minogue heard shouting. The lights leaned to the left and followed, shuddering, the grass highlighted by the beams ahead of the car. Floodlights froze the slowing car in their glare. Minogue leaned on his elbows in the road, dumbfounded. The red lights leaned more as the car mounted the ditch and came to a standstill.
Figures ran to the doors and pulled them open. Minogue saw them pull the two passengers out to the ground. He heard more shouting. Suddenly he was blinded by light.
'Stay where you are,' he heard the English accent through the loudspeakers. 'Do not move or you will be fired on.'
Minogue heard the siren warbling stronger from behind. He felt completely vulnerable, spreadeagled on the road. He waited for the whack of a bullet. Minogue thought of all the minute indentations in the tar. It smelled of petrol and rubber and farms. He closed his eyes. A car pulled up behind him.
'Police!' someone shouted, an Irish voice. 'One of ours! Police!' Minogue heard footsteps in the ditch next to him.
Again the voice, 'Police, don't shoot!'
A faint blue light swept around in the glare. To his left Minogue saw a British soldier. He looked around and saw Scully cupping hands to shout again. The soldier's face was blackened. He was squinting down the sights of the rifle. Under his eyes, the small black hole of the muzzle seemed to rest on his hand. Minogue wondered if this boy was going to shoot him. He couldn't miss. Minogue could hear the boy's breathing.
The soldier said, 'O.K.' and lowered his rifle. 'O.K.'
'He's one of ours. He's O.K.'
'O.K.,' the soldier said. 'Just get the bastard out of here. Just get him out of here.'
Minogue elbowed onto his knees. The soldier was shaking his head. Another soldier appeared from outside the glare.
