know it. We should pull the plug on them fast. Get the patrols on it.'
Corrigan snorted. He licked his lips before talking into the mike.
'— Central, this is Control for Operation Melody. Delaney, are you still on here?'
'— Yes, sir.'
'— Delaney, I need a lot of stuff now, the whole shooting gallery. Are you listening to me?'
'— Sir…'
'— All Dublin Garda frequencies, all right? If you have to wait for air, get South Dublin first. I need Gardai at all suburban rail stations. All stations, from Bray to Howth. For immediate apprehension and detention of male passenger or passengers, possibly two, repeat, two males. Individually or together. Every station, do you follow?'
'— I copy.'
'— First possible suspect, male, aged mid-thirties. English, name Moore, Edward Moore. I'll give you a description now in a minute. Second suspect, probably English, driving a navy blue Rover. It's a diplomatic plate.'
'— Two Englishmen, sir?'
'— Yep. Two. Either or both suspects will be carrying envelope containing photographic material. Immediate detention subject to my arrival. Sit them in the car and don't let anyone near 'em.'
'— Dip? Or consular staff, sir?' Delaney asked cautiously.
The three policemen knew that Delaney wanted it on the tape.
'— Immediate detention. Gardai can cite descriptions of two suspects wanted in a bank robbery on south side. I'll settle it when I get there. Over.'
'Be creative for the love of Jases, Delaney,' Corrigan muttered with his thumb off. Dunne laughed aloud.
'— Read you, Melody control. Descriptions please. Over.'
'— Here's one. Both may be travelling together for one stop and no more. Hold.'
Corrigan turned to Minogue. The grey eyes were bigger now. Minogue saw the sweat gathering under Corrigan's thinning hair.
'Give them something to ID Moore, Matt.'
Minogue took the mike. The radio cawed before he thumbed to transmit.
'— He's going down the station road… Slowing… seems to want to park. It's tight for us to just follow him right down, Control…'
Corrigan responded immediately.
'— One of you out with a brief-case and a handset. Go down on foot and be ready to get on a train after them. We're coming up to Booterstown ourselves. Give us a minute. Car One is about three minutes back. Hold position, observe and wait for me. And don't forget that Moore character is probably stuck in there somewhere in the carpark. Over.'
'— Copy.'
Corrigan thrust the mike back to Minogue.
'— This is Central, standing by for description from Melody Control. Over.'
'— Here I am. Melody Control, that is,' said Minogue. He didn't know where to begin.
'— Moore's close on six feet. Well-dressed… very well-dressed. Suit, dark. Driving a hired Mini, yellow… Moore is thirty-five or six, I'd say. Pasty-faced. Sort of distinguished, you might say. Doesn't have much of a sense of humour. Pronounced accent… Let me see, what else…'
CHAPTER 15
Murray let the Rover freewheel down the gentle incline toward the station. Save for two schoolchildren already stepping onto the footpath, the station seemed to be deserted. One boy's face was streaked from crying, his school-bag dragging along the path. Murray saw the panels of the red lorry over the rows of parked cars. Coke, the ubiquitous banner of American civilization standing out against the pastels of sea and sky. Moore was to the sea-side of the lorry.
Murray braked and turned the Rover into the carpark. As he turned, he noticed a car turn in off the coast road behind him. A bolt of alarm ran down his back. He stopped just inside the carpark and waited. The car pulled into the curb. A casually-dressed man stepped out from the passenger side. He carried a soft-sided briefcase and a newspaper. He smiled at the driver, seemed to crack a joke, and strode on toward the station. Murray watched the car in his mirror as it turned back onto the coast road.
Murray waited until he saw the passenger pass the entrance to the carpark. Then he reversed the Rover to the end of a cluster of cars. Out of sight of the station now, he could get to the lorry, walk to Moore's car from behind. Murray's fingers slipped as he leaned across to unlock the passenger door. His hands were moist and they trembled. He placed the keys under the front seat and wiped his hands with his handkerchief. He couldn't keep his hands steady. He took the silencer out of his pocket and matched it to the muzzle of the automatic. Sure he had a purchase on the thread then, he rolled the silencer with his palm. The cylinder fell off and landed between the seats. Murray swore. He reached down and tried again. He tightened it this time, using the handkerchief for grip- Murray stepped out of the car. He felt he was entering a different world. Small polka dots sailed down in his vision and burst. He held the door from slamming and braced his knees to banish the feeling of feebleness in his legs. Have to do it, his mind was shouting furiously. He felt vulnerable as he started walking. He stared intently at cars, expecting some to be occupied but none were. The grilles of the cars seemed to be animate presences, vague threats as if they'd spring into motion. The lorry was about ten cars down from where Murray had parked. The pistol scratched his thigh, the five inches of silencer jammed under his belt to secure the gun. Murray looked down at his fly tt) see if the outline of the silencer was visible as he walked. He approached the car next to the red lorry and paused. He looked around. Nobody.
Christ, he thought, Moore is in too deep: he'd never come over. Not a chance. If only he could have ten minutes, though, he could… Useless, couldn't think like that now: he must commit himself to action. Murray stopped again by the back of the lorry and edged out to take a look down toward the station.
Over the car roofs he could see the white roof of the Ford, still by the station entrance. A puff of smoke escaped from the driver's window. He heard fragments of pop music. The newspaper flapped, page turned. It dawned on him that he'd have to kill Moore right in his car.
Murray thumbed the safety off and walked around the back of the lorry. Make it quick, in and out. He felt the ice-pack grip him tighter around the chest and hold. Moore spotted the movement in the mirror right away. Murray saw the head turn to look through the back window. He heard a car engine from the carpark behind. Too late now to back around the damned lorry to check, he knew. Murray kept walking instead and grasped the passenger door handle of the Mini. Locked. Moore's face appeared in the window as he leaned across the passenger seat to unlock the door. Murray tried hard to smile but his face felt set, frozen. Moore's puzzled gaze searched Murray's face.
'Hello, Moore,' Murray managed to say in a choked voice. Moore blinked. His eyes darted down from Murray's face as his fingers closed on the golf-tee stalk for the lock. Murray saw the manila envelope on the seat below him, half-covered by the stretching Moore. He tried the door again, but too soon: Moore's fingers had slipped. Moore suddenly froze, his fingers tight on the lock now. Murray wondered what he was staring at.
Murray looked down. A wrenching tremor seized at his heart when he saw that the grip of the automatic had slipped sideways in his belt. Moore had seen it. Both men stayed perfectly stiff for several seconds.
Murray broke the spell first. He grasped the automatic, drawing it cleanly from under his belt. Moore was turning the ignition key. Murray yanked at the doorhandle in one last try. The Mini's engine came to life, the roar of the small engine's revs rattling the tappets. Murray let off a shot as the Mini lurched forward. The glass whitened in the rear passenger window, but the Mini was still squealing away, engine screaming. Murray crouched and fired through the back window. The Mini turned sharply but still accelerated, shedding pellets of glass. Murray stood, uncertain. He thought about his own car and turned to run around the rear of the lorry. Rounding the lorry, Murray heard the squeal of tires, the crash of metal and glass.
'Mother of the Divine Jesus!' Corrigan shouted.
The yellow Mini rocketed out from behind a lorry. The driver of the Mini almost lost control as he swerved.
