‘Your dog wants a walk,’ she repeated. Mary Hennessy looked a good deal less than her forty-six years, tall and slim with dark brown, lightly curled hair in a pageboy cut. Hennessy looked at her appreciatively as he took the mug. She didn’t look like a woman who had two teenage children. Her skin was smooth and lightly tanned and the few wrinkles she had made her look all the more beautiful. She still turned the heads of men half her age and she knew it. There were times when he was so afraid of losing her that his stomach churned.

‘Our dog,’ he corrected.

She nodded at the setter as it sat at his feet looking up at him with undisguised love. ‘Just look at her,’ she said.

‘I can remember when there was a look not unlike that in your own fair eyes,’ he teased, and she laughed. The phone rang and she ran across the lawn to the house. She runs, for God’s sake, thought Hennessy, she runs like an excited child and she laughs out loud. He tried to remember when he’d last laughed out loud. He couldn’t recall exactly when it was but it was after hearing Ian Paisley being interviewed on television and it wasn’t a gentle, lilting laugh like Mary’s, it was sarcastic and biting.

‘Jackie,’ he said, ‘I am getting old.’

The red setter looked up at him and woofed as if agreeing and he reached down and patted her on the head.

‘There’s no time for a walk, old girl. The car will be here any moment, sure enough.’

Jim Kavanagh and Christy Murphy were at Hennessy’s side all day and most of the evening, but during the night they went home to sleep and their places were taken by two men from a pool of about a dozen trusted volunteers who stayed outside his house in whatever car they were using. Jimmy McMahon took the black Jaguar to his own house in north Belfast and brought Kavanagh and Murphy with him first thing in the morning. Hennessy looked at his watch. They were late.

Mary appeared at the back door and waved to him. ‘It’s Christy,’ she shouted.

Jackie’s ears pricked up and she romped towards her in the mistaken belief that she was being called in for some titbit. Hennessy walked after her, cursing under his breath and taking care not to spill his tea. The Jaguar had only just come out of the garage after a very expensive service and he hoped it hadn’t been in an accident.

Mary handed the phone to him. Murphy sounded short of breath. ‘The bastards tried to kill us,’ he said.

‘What are you talking about?’ asked Hennessy.

‘The bastards tried to blow us up.’

‘Calm down, Christy,’ Hennessy soothed. ‘Just tell me what happened.’

He heard Murphy take a deep breath before speaking. ‘We went to get the Jaguar out of Jimmy’s garage. He got into the driving seat and was just about to start up the sodding thing when we saw it. Holy Mary, mother of God, if we hadn’t spotted it we’d all have been . . .’