And then they were over the scrub in tandem, leaping, snarling, closing. I shot the dog on the right in the centre of its ribcage and swung left. But the second dog was on me. The force of impact twisted the pistol out of my hand.

I put both hands up. The dog’s teeth bit into the right sleeve of my T-shirt. Don’t run. But never stop moving. I turned in a tight circle and swung my left leg over the dog, purposely falling across its body and then twisting on to my back. I folded my arms around its neck and held its muzzle to my chest as I rolled on the ground, wrestling eighty pounds of compressed power. I got my arms up higher under its neck and spun both of us on to our fronts. Its head was trapped hard against the ground. I rolled further and felt its spine snap under me.

And then I was up again. There was no time to look for the Browning. I kept running. Rifle rounds zipped overhead. A ditch running to my left snaked in front of me, looming up out of the dark. I heard Colonel Ellard’s voice in my head.

‘That’s not a ditch. That’s cover. Now get in it.’

And so I did. I squirmed down into the reeds and wild water mint and waited.

They came soon enough.

LEDs combed the fields, hedges, ditch. Boots in the air over me. Heavy footfall running ahead. And then quiet. I looked up at the low cloud scudding against the waning moon. My oldest friend was dead. I’d been shot twice and killed no one. So far everything was going to plan.

But whose?

I lay on my back and dug my phone out of my jeans’ pocket. Frank had said no comms. But Frank had warned me to get clear. I dialled his number through the waterproof cover. Three notes beeped, and then a woman’s recorded voice told me that the number I had dialled was unavailable. It was the first time he’d ever failed to pick up, the first time he’d ever been unresponsive. I switched off.

Up and moving again, slowly, deliberately. Once an operation like that starts, it doesn’t stop. The Gardaí would double back soon enough, and get another bird up, too. I turned hard left and made straight for the little hamlet. Dripping, bleeding, stinking, I came out on to the road and two parked cars: a brand-new Cherokee and a rusting Mondeo. I tried the door of the old Ford. It was unlocked. I climbed in and reached down for the ignition column.

And then the lights went out.

5

Motion.

I saw nothing. Felt nothing. Suspended in darkness. Floating. I moved. Air moved. The world moved. I was suspended in darkness. Falling, maybe. Flying. Spinning.

I was moving. But I could not move.