‘The truth?’ Karen snapped. ‘Whose truth? You’ve heard us these past few hours; we can’t even agree on our memories of back then, we all remember what happened so differently.’

‘There’s some things none of us will have forgotten,’ Duggan said, stealing a glance at Mullan. ‘No matter how many versions of the past we’ve heard since.’

‘Whatever you think is going to happen in here, Hugh,’ Mullan said, ‘you’re wrong.’

‘We’ll see.’

They moved their way into the edge of the woodland. Tony had wondered on the way across whether he might recognise anything in particular, but the truth was, it could have been any woodland anywhere in the country. Sycamore, beech and alder predominated. The air beneath the canopy was chilled and damp, rich with the tannic scent of last autumn’s leaf fall mushed from winter snows. It hadn’t rained for a week or so, yet the ground was still soft beneath their feet, the clay clinging to the grips of Tony’s boots as he made his way deeper into the speckled shadows the late spring sunshine scattered over the woodland floor.

‘It’s the wrong season,’ Tony said.

‘What?’

‘We came here in winter,’ he explained. ‘The trees were stripped. It’s going to look different.’

‘We’ll be alright,’ Hugh said. ‘We headed due north for about half an hour. That’s enough to get us started.’

They fell into natural groups: Karen and Mullan walked ahead, deep in discussion. Tony guessed she was quizzing him about how much he’d known about Duggan’s planned mission and, perhaps more importantly, what they could do about it. Tony wondered at how stoically Mullan had taken Duggan’s revelation of the gun. Perhaps a lifetime spent using them or in the company of those that did had inured him to them. Or else, he had suspected all along that this was Duggan’s plan – that the events which began, for Tony at least, with an army Land Rover blindly careening down a street just as his brother walked around the corner, could only reach their natural conclusion in this woodland, in this way.

Rather than asking the man himself, Tony slowed his step a little, to walk alongside Barr, Duggan trailing them by some seven or eight feet.

‘How are you holding up?’ Tony asked, assuming the youth to be frightened by the turn of events.

‘All good,’ Barr said. ‘Good to have Uncle Sean here.’

‘This wasn’t your fault,’ Tony offered.

Barr looked at his quizzically. ‘What wasn’t?’

‘All this. No one could have guessed what Duggan was planning. It’s got a bit out of hand.’

‘Hugh’s had his problems,’ Barr said. ‘Uncle Sean will take care of all this. Don’t be worrying.’