“Go after him,” he snapped. “Take the missus in too. Aiding and abetting will do for a start.”
The drizzle had eased. He stared through the drizzle on the window at the lights of the van.
“Look,” said Malone. “He’s on the phone again. I’d swear it. Look at the head going up and down. Let’s take him now, boss.”
Minogue’s eyes were stuck on the lights.
“We take him, boss. Right?”
“Give me a minute ”
“Look, he’s talking. See him? He’s got the phone on the seat ’cause he knows we’re on to him.”
Minogue flipped to Tynan’s number and began to dial. One ring
“Ah, shite,” Malone cried and stood on the brakes. The belt snapped taut against Minogue’s collarbone. Not again, was his first thought. He heard O’Leary’s voice from the phone again.
The glow from the brake lights on the Mini flared across the windscreen. Minogue got his hands on the dashboard as the Opel slid. The Mini hopped as they hit. A shower of plastic from taillights flew up on the bonnet.
Malone was trying to reverse. The van was turning. Malone stabbed at his belt release, shoved open the door. The van’s back tires spun on the wet road as it went by. Malone rolled back in and grabbed the gear stick again. The driver of the Mini was a bewildered middle-aged man with a woollen hat hanging off the back of his head. He placed his two feet on the road, paused, and elbowed himself upright. Minogue’s fingers went to his pocket. Two cars had stopped behind.
“Out of the way!” Malone called out. “Gardai! Stay where you are, mister, we’ll get a car out to you and sort it out. We’re chasing someone. Out of me way!”
A lorry driver leaned on the horn as Malone began his turn. It slowed to walking speed as it drew alongside the front of the Opel.
“Ya bleedin’ maniacs,” Minogue heard. Malone leaned on the horn and began shouting. Minogue lifted the phone again. Dead: he’d hit the wrong button somehow.
The car swayed as Malone launched himself out, shouting. Minogue stared down at the pieces of colored plastic glittering on the bonnet, and he swore.
CHAPTER 30
Minogue redialed. He still couldn’t get his thoughts to line up.
“Sorry, Tony, it’s Matt Minogue again.”
“Are you okay there?” O’Leary asked.
The lorry had stopped. Malone had grabbed the walkie-talkie and launched himself onto the roadway. He watched Malone waving the walkie-talkie and telling the driver to get the fuck out of the way or else. This driver, Hackett, knew what he was doing. If they couldn’t catch him, Daly could walk away laughing behind a half-decent barrister. That was even if they could get the DPP to come up with anything that’d stick. Botched and bollocksed, a squad investigation that blew up because Minogue had kept it an inside job. Gemma O’Loughlin could paste this on readers’ eyeballs to sell more papers too.
“I am, Tony, sorry.”
“What’s going on there? Are yous in a scrap or something?”
“In a manner of. I’m out on the Howth Road. We were in a pursuit but it’s gone jammy. We’re after walloping a car a bit here. We need a bit of help but no questions until the dust settles.”
Over Malone’s shouts of take your fucking complaints and stick them up your hole and the noisy revving of the lorry’s diesel, Minogue heard a paper being turned at O’Leary’s end
“A pursuit?”
“Don’t ask yet, Tony. We need a few cars out here. The van we were after made a run for it. He’s carrying something from the airport. To do with the Shaughnessy murder. ”
“What, the American thing, Leyne again?”
“We were tracking this van, two of ours, but he made a drop-off. The other team stayed to cover that.”
“What kind of a setup is this fella, a van you said?”
Malone sat back in behind the wheel and accelerated around the Mini before taking a U-turn. Minogue stared at the roadway ahead. All he could see were the lights of the center city and docks, the oncoming headlights.
“He seems to be wised up with the electronic gear,” he said to O’Leary.
“Armed?”
“Doubtful,” said Minogue. “But can’t say for sure. I want you to call out for North Central cars.”
“From the boss, like?”
Minogue listened to the ticks he heard from the engine as Malone took it to sixty in third. He couldn’t tell if the headlights were still intact.
“I don’t have time to explain, Tony. That’s why it’s you I’m calling. We need this van. Here’s the registration.”
Malone braked behind a newish Volvo, swearing. A horn from an oncoming car trailed off behind as it passed. O’Leary asked for the number again.
“The Howth Road, where?”
“Coming up to the lights where it goes up to Raheny.”
“Decision time,” said Malone.
“Give me a minute there, Tony. Sorry.”
He strained over the dashboard to look up the Howth Road. Nothing. The Raheny Garda station was a mile up there. Was he trying to double back to the airport, to throw them off? He grabbed the map again and squinted at it.
“He wouldn’t have many outs that I can see if he headed up to Raheny, Tommy.”
“What,” said Malone, “go along by the sea there? What do you think?”
Four cars waited on the red light to turn up to Raheny.
“Go the Clontarf Road,” Minogue said. “Whatever it’s called.”
Malone pulled to the left. There were taillights in the distance. Minogue took his hand off the mouthpiece.
“Tony. We’re heading down the Clontarf Road. Into town, like.”
“Have you radio?”
“I was using a branch frequency. I’ll switch over. I was using Mazurka. Will you feed us to Dispatch then?”
The slaps from the joints in the roadway came like a slow drumbeat up from the wheels.
“I’ll get back to you,” said O’Leary
The thumping grew faster. Eighty miles an hour, Minogue saw.
“We’ve only the one headlight,” said Malone. “Which traffic lights are these ahead? The park there, St Anne’s?”
Minogue turned the map.
“No,” he said “That’s the road onto Bull Island. A golf club out there, isn’t there?”
“Yeah. But it’s a dead end though.”
“But there’s another bridge at the far end though,” said Minogue. “Isn’t there? Dollymount?”
“Yeah, but for cars, I mean,” said Malone “They blocked off the strand with them rocks to stop people racing down there. Years ago. How you go in is how you go out, see.”
Minogue tried to shield his eyes from the glare of the streetlamps as Malone eased his foot off the accelerator The lights of the south city, and the more scattered and dim points from the hills, were soon cut off by the dunes that rose from Bull Island.
Minogue looked at the streetlamps over the causeway and the darkness beyond.
“If he knows his stuff he’s not going down there,” said Malone.
Minogue saw the pedestrian light flashing ahead. This light must have been green for a good long while. The
