Brute Force

Remember Christ, our Saviour,

Was born on Christmas day

I checked Tallulah. She gave me a fleeting smile.

To save us all from Satan's power

When we were gone astray

I grinned. 'Quite a big ask for one bloke . . .'

Tallulah shot me a tense, not-in-front-of-the-children look. 'Maybe he just needed more friends to help him.'

O tidings of comfort and joy,

comfort and joy,

O tidings of comfort and joy.

I didn't know her well enough to respond. Best to look at the road and shut up. By the time we'd hit the city outskirts half an hour later, Ruby was asleep.

13

We turned off the N14 at Letterkenny and onto the N56 for the next fifty miles to Dungloe. The cottage was just a couple of miles beyond that.

As Tallulah nodded off too, my thoughts drifted to Little Miss Camcorder on the ferry. If she was working for Richard Isham, I was glad Tallulah had stopped her getting any more footage.

Richard Isham had joined the IRA at the age of twenty, a couple of years after the Troubles broke out. By the time of Bloody Sunday he was already high up in the Derry command.

When he was convicted of terrorist crimes by the Republic of Ireland's Special Criminal Court in 1974, he declared he was a member of PIRA and proud of it. They sentenced him to nine months' imprisonment.

After his release, he became increasingly prominent in the political arena. Our paths had crossed when he was in contact with the Firm during the hunger strikes in the early eighties, and later in the early nineties, by which time he was a fully fledged member of the IRA Army Council.

We never had the proof, but were pretty sure that Isham was responsible for a string of murders of members of the security forces, Protestant paramilitaries and alleged PIRA traitors.

Worst of all, in my book, he was a high-ranking member of PIRA's Northern Command in 1987, and had advance knowledge of the Enniskillen bomb. He and his mates could have stopped the carnage if they'd wanted to.

There was a lot of blood on Isham's hands, and if the lovely Mairead really was his press secretary, she was doing a good job at keeping it under wraps. After the Good Friday Agreement, any media investigation into his background had been actively discouraged, if not suppressed, and his membership of the Good Lads' Club was being protected on all fronts.

Which made me wonder briefly where the heavy in the front of the BMW fitted in. I had a feeling PR wasn't his game.

14

Ruby had fallen asleep again after our last 'comfort stop', as Tallulah called them, and Tallulah had finally come up front to get a better view.

'Knocks spots off Herne Hill.' She turned and looked at me, doing her best to relax.

I wanted to tell her that she didn't have to try so hard, that I knew coming with a relative stranger on this trip was a big deal, but I didn't know how.

'This is so good of you, Nick.'

'What? Agreeing not to sing?'

'You know very well. I want you to know . . . well, I couldn't have faced . . . Ruby's really excited.'

'So am I. I can't wait to play with the present I got you. I'm glad she's asleep.'

'Why?' She looked concerned.

I nodded towards another road sign. An Clochan Liath. 'She might have asked what that meant.'

Tallulah smiled. She hadn't just bought Top Of The Morning or whatever Irish Hello! was called – she'd also got herself a guidebook. 'I don't know how to pronounce it, but it's how they write Dungloe – it refers to the grey-coloured stepping stones which the townspeople once used to cross the river.' She read on: ' 'The hills and cliffs of North West Donegal are still relatively unfrequented and little restraint is put on walkers. There are walks to suit all ages and interests. In the immediate vicinity you will find stunning unspoiled beaches, forest walks, quiet country roads and a wealth of historical sites to explore.' '

'And a wide selection of pubs. I've done a bit of research too . . .'

'No you haven't. That applies to every village in Ireland.' She gave a little laugh. It was a rare thing, and sounded good.