other crimes against known villains. It was Mulryne's way of restoring what he called the balance of society. In his heart, he was still a kind of policeman and that was why the present situation had so much appeal for him.
Having crossed the Channel the previous evening, they had spent the night in Le Havre before taking the train to Mantes. Mulryne was a much livelier companion than Victor Leeming. It was his first visit to France and he was thrilled by everything he saw. When the train rattled over the Barentin Viaduct, he gazed down with awe.
'Be-Jesus!' he exclaimed. 'Will you look at that? It's almost as if we was flying, Inspector.'
'Thomas Brassey built the viaduct.'
'Then I'll be happy to shake his hand.'
'Not too hard,' advised Colbeck. 'You've got the biggest hands I've ever seen on a human being. You can crack walnuts with a gentle squeeze. Go easy on Mr Brassey.'
'I will.' His face crumpled with sympathy. 'But I'm sorry to hear about Sergeant Leeming.'
'Victor was unlucky.'
'He taught me a lot when we were both in uniform.'
'You're a detective now, Brendan, in the Plain Clothes Division.'
'Well,' said Mulryne, emitting a peal of laughter, 'clothes don't come any plainer than these.'
He was wearing the same moleskin trousers, canvas shirt and tattered coat that had served him in the docks, and his hobnail boots were also suitable for work on the railway. A shapeless hat completed the outfit but he had removed it when they boarded the train. Mulryne was tickled by the fact that he was dressed like a typical navvy while travelling in a first class carriage.
'I'll be carrying on the family tradition,' he said, proudly.
'Will you?'
'Yes, sir. My father was a navvy in the old days when the word had its true meaning. Father – God bless him – was a navigator who helped to cut canals. I was born in a navvies' camp somewhere along the line.'
'I never knew that, Brendan.'
'I'm a man with hidden secrets.'
'You'll certainly have to hide a few when we get to Mantes.'
'I'll soon charm my way in.'
'That's what Victor thought but they found him out.'
'It takes an Irishman to beguile the Irish, so it does.'
'It's the reason I chose you. Most of them are decent, honest, hard-working men and they couldn't have a better priest than Father Slattery.' He saw Mulryne's glum expression. 'What's wrong?'
'I didn't know I'd have a priest to worry about.'
'Father Slattery is a dedicated man.'
'Yes – dedicated to stopping the rest of us having a bit of fun. It's the reason I couldn't stay in Ireland. It's so priest-ridden. You only had to fart and they'd make you say a novena and three Hail Mary's. The place for a man of the cloth,' he declared, soulfully, 'is in a church and not on a railway.'
'He does valuable work,' said Colbeck. 'More to the point, he knows everyone. That's why you ought to meet him, Brendan. He can introduce you to the others. Father Slattery is a way in.'
'And will I be seeing you at the service on Sunday, Liam Kilfoyle?'
'Yes, Father.'
'You said that last week and the week before.'
'It slipped my mind,' said Kilfoyle, evasively.
'St Peter has been known to let certain things slip his mind as well,' cautioned the priest. 'How will you feel when you reach the Pearly Gates to find that he's forgotten all your good deeds?'
'I'll remind him of them.'
'The best way to do that is to attend Mass.'
'I worship in my own way, Father Slattery.'
'That's wonderful! When you come on Sunday, you can give us all a demonstration of how you do it. We can always learn new ways to pray, Liam.' He beamed at Kilfoyle. 'I'll see you there.'
'I hope so.'
'Are you going to let the Lord down yet again?'
Kilfoyle swallowed hard. 'I'll try not to, Father.'
'Spoken like a true Catholic!'
The old man chuckled and went off to speak to a group of men nearby. It was the end of the day's shift and Slattery was trying to increase the size of the congregation in his makeshift, outdoor church. Kilfoyle was glad to see him go. A wayward Christian, he always felt guilty when he talked to the priest. Memories of sinful nights between the thighs of another man's wife somehow thrust themselves into his mind. It was almost as if Father Slattery knew about his moments of nocturnal lechery with Bridget.
'What did that old bastard want?' said Pierce Shannon, coming over to him. 'Did he want you to train for the priesthood?'
'Nothing like that.'
'Be careful, Liam. You'd have to be celibate.'
'Then the job'd not suit me. I've got too much fire in my loins for the church. Father Slattery will have to look elsewhere.'
'Well, it had better not be in my direction.'
'Why not, Pierce? You might end up as a cardinal.'
'If I'm a cardinal, you're the Angel bleeding Gabriel.'
They traded a laugh. Shannon stepped in closer.
'By the way,' he said, casually, 'it's a shame about that friend of yours, Victor Leeming. He could have been useful to us.'
'Not any more.'
'I suppose the truth is that he just didn't fit in here. Pity – he was a good worker.'
'Victor won't be doing any work for a while.'
'I liked the man. He had a good punch.'
'He was certainly a match for you, Pierce.'
'Only because he caught me unawares that one time,' said Shannon, thrusting out his chest. 'In a proper fight, I reckon that I could kick seven barrels of shit out of him.'
'Don't try to do that to Brendan,' warned Kilfoyle.
'Who?'
'Brendan Mulryne. He was helping us to shovel spoil into the wagons today. He's got muscles bigger than bloody pumpkins. He made me feel puny beside him. Brendan could fill two wagons in the time it took me to fill one.'
'What sort of man is he?'
'The best kind – joking all day long.'
'I prefer a man who keeps his fucking gob shut while he works.'
'Then stay clear of Brendan. He can't keep quiet. We got on well together. He feels the same about priests as me. He'd rather roast in Hell than be forced to listen to a sermon.'
'Where's he from?'
'Dublin.'
'And he's a real navvy?'
'With hands like that, he couldn't be anything else.' Kilfoyle saw the giant figure ambling towards him. 'You can meet him for yourself, Pierce. Here he comes.'
Shannon turned a critical eye on Brendan Mulryne, who was smiling amiably at everyone he passed and making cheerful comments as he did so. When he spotted Kilfoyle, he strolled across to him. Mulryne was introduced to Shannon. As they shook hands, the latter felt the power in the other's grip.
'I'm looking for somewhere to sleep tonight,' said Mulryne. 'The ganger told me there'd be room at Pat O'Rourke's. Do you know him?'
'Yes,' replied Kilfoyle, pointing. 'He owns that stone house at the end of the row. Pat will look after you. Built
