‘You’ll never lose me. I’m still here after today, aren’t I? And you won’t lose Anne, either,’ Michael said firmly. He turned to Duffy. ‘Is Anne here, too? Is she coming with us?’

Sarah felt a flicker of nerves. Michael had misunderstood her reference to family.

‘Who’s Anne?’ Duffy looked confused.

‘She’s Michael’s sister-in-law,’ Sarah answered. ‘She lives with us, although she’s back in Ireland at the moment. But she’s not who I meant when I said family.’

Sarah placed her hands on her abdomen as she spoke and looked at her fiancé with a smile.

Michael’s brow furrowed for a moment.

And he finally understood.

‘You’re bloody joking?’

Sarah could hear the emotion that filled his voice. He forced his body upwards, his face a mix of disbelief and happiness.

Sarah met Michael halfway, her arms once again around his neck.

‘It’s true,’ she whispered. ‘It’s true.’

Michael took the embrace and all the pain and the tears that came with it. And when it was done, he held Sarah close and looked to Bull.

‘OK, whatever you need us to do. Wherever you need us to go. We’ll do it.’

SEVENTY-ONE

Dempsey opened his eyes at the sound of approaching footsteps, bringing himself from sleep to full consciousness in a heartbeat. An instant later and he was on his feet, his pistol gripped in his good right hand.

The sound of a light tap on the door made him lower the weapon. The UN Assistance Mission compound was secure enough. And assassins rarely knocked.

‘Who is it?’

‘It’s Eden.’

‘OK. Wait a sec.’

Dempsey grabbed a black undershirt from the fully stocked cupboard Olivia Henson had arranged. He pulled it on slowly, careful to preserve the surgical-standard dressing that was finally protecting his left shoulder. Then he turned to his new, fibre-optic framed sling.

The specialists had taken their time with this one. They had ensured that it supported Dempsey in all the ways he wanted, allowing him to continue with his mission despite his injury. But for it to remain effective required care, and so Dempsey had paid close attention to exactly how the sling was to be worn.

Grace had a quizzical look on her face when he opened the door. She seemed to find the sight of a now fully dressed, mission-ready Joe Dempsey amusing.

‘You always take that long to get dressed?’ she asked, her tone mocking.

‘You’d rather I was still in my underwear?’

‘Like I’d even notice.’

‘I guess that’s a fair point,’ Dempsey replied. ‘So what’s up?’

‘Jangi Shah.’ The change in subject removed all humour from Grace’s voice. Back to business. ‘He’s on site.’

‘About time.’ Dempsey looked at his watch. ‘He was only supposed to be a few hours. It’s been almost ten. Has he given anyone an explanation for the delay?’

‘Henson says he’s been in Tootkai,’ Grace explained. ‘And she says he has big news.’

The answer was not unexpected. They had been told on arrival that Shah had taken the news of Quilty’s death badly; that it had compelled him to carry out his own investigation. It made sense that it would end where it had begun.