dream, but you are still here in this bus, in this strange city.
Her eyes met his. He nodded and made a small smile that he hoped conveyed understanding that she, like he, was tired. Her gaze stayed on him longer than he expected, and it sent a small current around his chest. Maybe she was wondering if she was really awake. Cheer up, he thought. She might have it bad waking up so far from home, but he was continually waking up in this strange place too.
She looked away. The others were craning their necks now to see what the flashing blue lights ahead could mean. Fanning looked down at the car next to the bus. A woman was driving — or rather not driving: she was on her mobile. In the back seat he saw a child with one of those Nintendos. An ambulance passed on the wrong side of the road.
This Promised Land idea could turn into the kind of thing that Breen expended cliches on: quirky, fresh, heart-felt. There’d be plenty of comedy available in the wings, of course, with Ireland meets the Maghreb. Maybe one of the three would fall for an Irish fella, and the other two would try to persuade her to go back and marry whoever had been picked for her…?
The women were talking again. He stopped writing and looked over. The one who had been dozing was murmuring something to the others. One of the two began to turn her head, but she stopped. When he looked down at the notebook again he was sure that he was now being watched. The dozy one laughed and the others joined her.
Embarrassment flared up in him. So they were amused at him being curious about them. They might even think he was giving them the eye. It was a major crime where they come from, no doubt. He turned back to his notebook and pretended to read what he had written.
One rose slowly and pressed the bell. The others got to their feet then, and followed her to the door. Fanning watched them shifting their grip from the bars overhead to the upright ones by the door, and back. The bus driver braked hard, and the doors hissed open even before the bus came to a full stop. The trio detached themselves from the railings and from one another after their stumbles. One giggled a bit. They stepped gingerly onto the footpath, and then began to walk back alongside the bus. Fanning pretended to be intent on his notebook.
The woman who had been dozing in the bus seemed fresh and energetic now. She cast him a quick glance, a mischievous one, he was certain, in passing. He abandoned his ruse with the notebook, caught her eye and smiled. She tried hard not to laugh outright and skipped ahead followed by the others. Something else began to leak into his thoughts now.
The bus moved off and he turned to look out the back window. They were having a great time of it now, staggering with laughter. They did not bother to hide their glances.
He turned back and closed his notebook. It wasn’t embarrassment now, it was more like a draining feeling.
It was a while before the traffic finally moved again.
Chapter 26
Legal aid was a man in his thirties. He knapsack for a briefcase. Minogue almost heard Kilmartin’s dry, sneering murmur: “Oh, so we’re dealing with one of those, are we now.” The abundance of lustrous, chestnut- coloured hair gathered in his ponytail struck Minogue as an affectation.
“Cormac Mahon,” he said. He seemed to know that handshakes were out of the question.
The Garda who had let Mahon in made sure that Minogue and Wall witnessed his Mona Lisa smile.
“Your client had a cup of tea and a ham roll,” Minogue said. “And a visit to the toilet, into the bargain.”
Mahon unslung his knapsack.
“I’ve been in touch with his parents. His mother is on her way.”
Minogue began to clean up the crumbs from his ham roll. The indigestion was already announcing itself just below his ribs.
“He wasn’t brought for questioning first?”
“No,” said Minogue. He tried not to notice how Mahon flicked his ponytail.
“You went straight for an arrest.”
“Just so.”
“Serious concerns?”
Asked so innocuously, Minogue was nearly caught flat-footed. He decided he had to kick for touch, while he pondered how to deal with any subliminal advantage this ponytail had allowed its owner.
“Ipso facto,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“A sine qua non really,” Minogue added.
“An arrest without a warrant?”
“Yes,” said Minogue, “Section Two.”
“Of the…?”
“Drug Trafficking Act, 1996.”
“The time of arrest?”
“An hour and a half ago.”
“Objections to release?”
“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it, Mr. Mahon. There’ll be other charges in due course.”
“There’s someone else involved?”
“Let’s have a wee chat after you see your client.”
Mahon stopped taking a folder out of his bag to give Minogue a skeptical look.
“I get it,” he said.
“I didn’t mean to sound unhelpful. But we go one step at a time.”
Mahon nodded as if he now understood something vital. He took his jacket off and laid it over the back of the chair.
“Goretex?” Minogue asked.
“I’ll disclose that during our information exchange,” said Mahon.
“Good one. I’m only asking because I’m destroyed half the time with the gorse. Savage growth this year again. It must be global warming.”
“In Wicklow?” Mahon asked.
“ actual fact. I’m nearly ready to stay home.”
Mahon sat down and looked from Minogue to Wall and back.
“What are the other charges you’re considering here?”
“We have several in mind.”
“They would be?”
“Trafficking in drugs. Sexual exploitation.”
“That’s to keep him. What’s the one you want to put on him?”
“I’m thinking Mr. Twomey would have confided that in his phone call?”
Mahon didn’t give any sign he was miffed.
“But in the heel of the reel,” Minogue added then, “it’ll be murder.”
Mahon bit his lip and looked down at his shoes for several moments.
“Well,” he said, “it’ll be a long evening.”
Minogue smiled.
“It doesn’t need to be,” he said.
“You badly want him remanded, don’t you?”
“I certainly do,” said Minogue. “A man was kicked to death. A visitor to our country of Saints and Scholars. Looking for a better life apparently, a wee share of our Irish good fortune.”
“A tragedy,” said Mahon. “You’ll know then that there are plenty of Irish people, people in certain Dublin neighbourhoods especially, looking for the same thing.”
Minogue couldn’t disagree.
