heard him talking but couldn’t hear the words. Malone hunkered down again, gasping.
“He’s over by the footpath,” Malone said and gasped again. “Boss?”
Minogue scrambled on his knees over to the edge of the footpath. He put his hand out on the bumper to steady himself and took a quick look down the path. Those boating shoes Americans seemed to be in love with, he thought first, not wanting to take in the sight. There was something dark on the footpath beside where Freeman lay. A line led crookedly out from it to the edge of the footpath.
Malone’s hand grasped his upper arm but he hardly noticed. He looked up to where Malone was crouched above him now.
“They went after him,” Malone said in a whisper. “They went after Freeman. What are we going to do?”
“There he is,” said Dolan. “The boss man himself.”
Minogue turned his head slowly. Even at this distance, he recognized O’Leary stepping out. Tynan was out then, putting on his hat. Something about the way he put on the hat seemed ridiculous to Minogue. He watched the television crew pushing forward by the cordon at the end of the street behind. Tynan stooped to get under the tape.
Minogue shifted in his seat and exchanged a glance with Malone. Malone sighed and stared at the fluttering tape, the small crowd milling behind the squad cars drawn up at the end of the street. Minogue tried again to stretch. No go. In the half hour since Sergeant Malachy Dolan had shepherded them into the unmarked car at the far end of the area, his neck and shoulders had gone stiff.
Dolan hadn’t annoyed them much with questions, especially after Malone’s angry reply to a question asked more than once: he didn’t know if the other fella or fellas had all jumped into the frigging Golf, because he was busy ducking bullets from one of them to cover their getaway, for Jases’ sake. Dolan didn’t seem to take this badly at all, and had sat behind the wheel, monitoring the radio for news of the Golf with them. Nothing was showing up.
Minogue fingered the plaster on his palm and tried to flex his knee again. It wasn’t swollen, but it had gone warm and numb. He watched Tynan study the footpath, incline his head to listen to Murtagh.
“Let’s have our say, Tommy,” he said, and opened the door. “And get out of here.”
The handle felt odd: tight, well-made, too springy maybe. The strangeness of everything now. He felt the beginnings of a laugh, then panic. Dolan looked over when he didn’t step out
“Are you all right?” he asked.
His chest was still full of that airy, swollen feeling. Maybe he should have gone in for observation for a few hours. Malone was waiting for him to step out too.
“Boss? We’re not carrying the can for this, right?”
Minogue was up now. Tynan had spotted them, and had ducked back under the tape and was heading toward them
“They knew,” Malone went on, “they knew, there was something else going on with all this. Right? And they didn’t say a fucking word to us, so they didn’t. It’s all up to them then, isn’t it? The bastards.”
Minogue nodded. Malone’s bastards were Hayes and company, he supposed. Tynan covered ground quickly, he thought. The handshake, unexpected, reminded Minogue of the loser in a close bout.
“Matt?”
“Well I’m on me feet.”
“Tommy?”
Malone shrugged, took the handshake. Tynan stared at Minogue.
“At least get a lie down, will you?”
“No. I’m okay.”
Minogue stared at the crowd standing by the tape. Dolan had followed them from the car. He stood back now.
“No.”
Tynan looked back at the sheet covering Freeman, Murtagh writing something.
“You knew straightaway?” he asked. “After the shooting?”
Minogue nodded.
“Can you tell me what happened? The lead-up.”
“The fella behind was tracking us,” said Malone. “He was good. I only spotted him later on.”
Minogue shivered.
“But they definitely went after Freeman,” he said.
Tynan frowned.
“You don’t think they put him as one of yours? Ours, I mean. A Guard?”
Minogue waited for Tynan to out with it.
“Smiths?” he murmured finally.
Minogue shrugged and looked over at Malone, who shook his head once.
“They’d know us,” he said.
“I’m still going after each and every one of the Smiths’ crowd,” Tynan said. “Every last little hanger-on and gofer, every little worm that ever had anything to do with them.”
Tynan turned to Dolan.
“Can we clear these two to go?”
“Yes, sir,” said Dolan. “We can get a car in for them soon’s we get the word.”
“Please,” said Tynan. “And would you go into that bashed-up Nissan there and take out an envelope, a big one, with some fancy letterhead printed on it, and get it for us?”
Tynan watched him quickstep it back to the car. Minogue looked over at the Nissan and the roadway beyond. The chalk circles around the bullet casings looked like eyes.
“Did you sign over your pistol?” Tynan asked Malone.
“I did. To John Murtagh, he bagged it.”
“Good,” Tynan said. He threw a glance Minogue’s way. “I won’t bother asking you. Have you changed your bloody mind after this, then?”
Minogue said nothing.
“Now,” said Tynan. “We need to clear the decks sometime soon here. We’re going to sit down very shortly and sort out, try and sort out, what happened in that hotel room.”
Minogue tugged at the edge of his plaster again. He was aware that Malone was standing very still beside him. He didn’t want to look over at him for a reaction.
“Because that’s when things started to fall apart,” Tynan added. He waited until Minogue looked at him.
“What were you doing in this part of town, with Freeman in tow?”
“We were headed for the squad,” said Minogue. “An interview.”
Tynan looked from Minogue to Malone and back.
“Those papers Freeman had for you,” he said. “I know what’s in them. So did King, and so did Hayes.”
Tynan looked at the two site technicians by the Mondeo. Callaghan, one of them.
“Aren’t you surprised?”
“I am and I amn’t,” Minogue said. “I thought we were first in.”
“So did Freeman,” said Tynan. “He had called Boston to get the go-ahead after our Mr. Leyne took a turn and was put on the life support. He got the go-ahead to go to you. But we received a phone call here from the principals too.”
“Who, you?” Minogue asked
“No. Justice. Mr. Declan King.”
“Hayes?”
“That went around me completely,” Tynan said. “That’s why you and Head-the-Ball are not being given the treatment here at this very moment. At least your contrariness was out in the open — ”
“They were running us, John. They were trying to turn the case.”
Tynan set his jaw and looked over at Malone.
“Are you picking up on all this, Detective Garda?”
Malone nodded.
“Your CO here arguing the toss with the commissioner? At a murder scene? Right in front of a detective
