A Terrible Beauty

'Oh, yes? And what have you managed to find out?'

'Nothing-nothing important. For God's sake, you're hurting me.'

'Something about those bones up at Knocknadeenly, was it? Something about Fiona Kelly?'

'I'm not telling you. You can do whatever you like, I-'

The man gripped Gerard between the legs and twisted. Gerard let out a cry of agony that sounded more like a tortured dog than a man. The man twisted him again, even more fiercely, and this time Gerard babbled out, 'I found out who killed all those women! That's all!'

'And what about Fiona Kelly? Did you find out who killed Fiona Kelly?'

Gerard shook his head. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and if the man hadn't been holding him up he would have collapsed on the carpet.

'I'm asking you again. Did you find out who killed Fiona Kelly?'

'I don't know, I swear to God. The gardai still think it was Tomas O Conaill but if it wasn't Tomas O Conaill then I don't know who it was.'

'You'd better be telling me the truth.'

The man released his grip, and Gerard crouched his way over to the sofa and lay down with his knees drawn up under him, coughing.

The man went into his study. All around Gerard's computer, his desk was heaped with books and magazines and spring-bound notebooks. The man picked up a notebook on top of the heap and said, 'What's this? Does this have anything to do with it?'

'Gaelic legends,' Gerard coughed, miserably 'Preparation for a lecture on Friday. Nothing to do with- Knocknadeenly.'

The man tossed the notebook aside and swept the papers onto the floor. Then he lifted up Gerard's computer and threw it against the wall. The monitor imploded with a dull bang and a shower of glass. The man stamped on the drive unit, denting the case and breaking the plastic inlets. Then he came back into the sitting room.

'Up, come on.'

'What?'

'You heard me. Up!'

One-handed, he heaved Gerard off the sofa. He jostled him out of his front door, along the landing, and down the high Victorian stairs. Gerard did everything he could to resist, flapping his arms and trying to make his legs turn to jelly, but the man was frighteningly powerful, and when his legs collapsed beneath him the man simply picked him up by the scruff of his Kerry sweater and made him dance along like a puppet.

'Where are we going?' Gerard panted, as the man forced him along the corridor that led to the back door.

'Shut up.'

He opened the back door and pushed Gerard out into the narrow courtyard at the back of the house. It used to be part of a larger garden but now it was all tarmacked over and Gerard used it to park his old red Nissan. Through the teeming rain, Gerard saw a large white car parked only inches away from his.

'Where are you taking me? You can't do this?this is abduction!'

'No it isn't,' the man assured him.

'You can't take me away against my will!'

'I don't intend to. Now, shut up.'

The man pulled Gerard to the back of the car. He unlocked the trunk and took out a length of nylon washing line. Then he kicked the back of Gerard's calves, so that Gerard dropped to the ground like a knackered cow.

'What do you want? Who are you? I haven't done anything to anyone.'

The man said nothing. He bent over Gerard and deftly tied his wrists together. He cut the washing line with a craft knife, and then he looped Gerard's wrists over the car's towing hook.

'What the hell are you doing to me?' Gerard protested. 'If you think you're going to drag me along the road-'

'I'm not,' said the man. 'So shut up.'

'Look, I don't know what this is all about, but if there's something else that you're after?'

'Shut up,' the man repeated. He took the rest of the washing line and tied it to Gerard's ankles. Then he knotted it tightly around a sign sayingResidents Parking Only.

Gerard lay on the ground and looked up at him, so terrified that he could hardly breathe.

'What are you going to do to me? Are you going toleaveme here?'

'Some of you, I expect.'

'What are you going to do to me?'

The man stood over him for a while, and Gerard could see the raindrops sparkling all around his head, caught in the streetlights so that they looked like an endless shower of tiny meteorites.

'Help!' Gerard called, but he was so frightened that his throat closed up and he could only manage a hoarse whisper. 'Somebody help me!'

The man went back around the car and climbed into the driver's seat. There was a moment's pause and then