A Terrible Beauty

'Nowhere at all. It's a dead end. You've missed the turning for Sheehan's Nurseries, but it's been closed down for months now.'

'I see. So the place is empty now, is it?'

'Sheehan's not there anymore, no.'

'Isanybodythere?'

'I don't know. Maybe. I saw a car up there not five minutes ago.'

'Oh, yes? What kind of car?'

'Wouldn't know that, couldn't see it proper through the hedge.'

'All right, thanks. You're not hurt, are you?'

'I rolled, like. I'm a bit besmirched but I'll live.'

'I'm sorry about that. Here's my card. If there's any damage to your bicycle, get in touch. Or, you know, if your coat needs cleaning.'

'Oh, it's only an old thing, like me.'

Katie returned to her car. She carefully backed up, her transmission whinnying, and it was only then that she saw the narrow, overgrown lane that led off to the left, into total darkness.

She backed up a few feet farther, and turned the car so that its headlights shone directly up the lane. She could see several fresh tire tracks glistening. The lane wasn't used regularly-she could tell that by the way the grass and weeds had overwhelmed the verges. But it had been used quite recently, and several times.

She drove up the lane, trying to keep well to the left so that she wouldn't completely obliterate any of the existing tire tracks. The lane was rutted and rough and full of potholes, and several times the suspension on her Mondeo gave a loud, brutish bang. At last, however, she saw the silhouette of a large tree on the horizon ahead of her, and next to the tree she saw a cottage roof, and a chimney. As she drove nearer, she could see car sidelights, too, glimmering through a hawthorn hedge. She cut her own lights in case she was seen.

She steered the Mondeo into the side of the lane, almost up on the bank, and turned off the engine. She sat still for a while, watching the cottage and the car parked outside it. After three or four minutes, she saw a muted light flicker in one of the cottage windows, as if somebody were searching around inside it with a torch. She was tempted to call for backup, but then she couldn't yet be certain that she had come across anything suspicious, and the last thing she wanted to do was waste police time.

She climbed out of the car and closed the door quietly. The cottage was right on top of the hill, and the chilly wind fluffed and blustered in her ears. She walked across the lane until she reached the entrance to the cottage grounds. The gate was open, and the car outside the cottage had been turned around, so that it was ready to be driven out. She hesitated for a moment, and then she went in, staying close to the laurel bushes on the left-hand side. Now that she was closer, she could see that the car was a Mercedes 320E.

The torchlight flickered in the window again, and then she heard the clatter of somebody knocking a chair over. She edged her way across the yard until she reached the front porch. Then she drew her gun out of its belt holster and cocked it.

The front door of the cottage was half open. She approached it cautiously, making sure that she wasn't silhouetted against the sky. She had almost reached it when it suddenly opened wide, and a man stepped out, carrying a torch.

'Freeze!'she screamed at him. 'Armed garda!'

The man said, 'Jesus! You scared the fucking life out of me!' He shone the torch toward her, but Katie stepped sideways, and shouted,'Drop the torch! Drop it!'

Immediately, he dropped it, and raised his hands.

'Are you on your own?' Katie demanded.

'What does it look like? Jesus.'

Katie said, 'Step back.' He did as he was told, and she quickly bent down and picked up the fallen torch. She shone it in his face and she recognized him at once. He was very tall, nearly six feet four, with long black dreadlocks like a headful of snakes, and his long, narrow chin was dark with stubble. His eyes were so deep-set that it looked as if he didn't have any eyes at all. He wore a long black overcoat with muddy tails, and muddy black leather riding boots.

'Tomas O Conaill,' she said. 'I haven't seenyouin a very long time.'

'Who's that?' he asked, in a hoarse, whispery voice. 'That looks like Detective Sergeant Katie Maguire.'

'Detective Superintendent these days. You should read the papers.'

'Papers, you say? A fellow like me never has the time to read the papers. You know how hard I have to work to make ends meet.'

'This your car?'

He turned his head and frowned at it in mock surprise. 'Never seen it before in my life.'

Katie took two steps backward and opened the Mercedes's door. It chimed softly at her to remind her that the sidelights were still on. 'The keys are still in it,' she said. 'You don't expect me to believe that somebody just left it here.'

'It's a bit of a mystery to me, too. I was just strolling along the track here when I saw the car stood in the yard with its lights on.'

Katie switched the Mercedes's main beams on. She walked around to the front of the car and saw that the offside headlight wasn't working.

'What were you doing inside the house?' she asked.