‘Everyone confesses in the end,’ the unnamed man said, sitting behind the table in Betty’s back lounge. ‘But if you’ve done nothing wrong, you’ve nothing to worry about. All we’re going to be doing is asking a few questions.’

Tony swallowed dryly and nodded. ‘What do I call you?’

‘Nothing, son,’ the man said. ‘My name doesn’t matter. Let’s talk about your Danny, shall we?’

The topic threw Tony a little. He’d expected them to talk about Hamilton, about Alice. He’d been ready for that.

‘How did you feel about what happened him?’

‘Sad,’ Tony said, aware of the inadequacy of the word.

‘Sad?’ the man asked, skeptically.

‘Angry. Hurt. Sad for my loss,’ he said, keen to appear forthcoming. ‘A little jealous, I guess,’ he added.

‘Jealous?’

Tony didn’t know why he’d said it, why he’d felt compelled to admit something that still shamed him. He had felt a little jealous, not of Danny’s death, but of the outpouring of love for his brother which had followed, for the effect Danny’s passing had on his parents, the void which was left, the displaying of pictures long consigned to drawers and boxes, now revisited, reappraised, as if their value had changed irrevocably. It was not a part of him he wished to acknowledge. ‘Jealous of those who could do something about it,’ he lied.

The man nodded, more in acknowledgment that Tony had answered than in acceptance of his explanation, but did not speak. As a result, Tony felt he needed to keep talking, to fill the silence, to distract the three faces staring at him across the desk, as if his words might stop their unflinching gaze.

‘I wanted someone to pay for it,’ he said.

‘Your father didn’t,’ the man said. Tony glanced at Mullan, clearly the source of this information, but his expression was implacable.

‘My father didn’t want anyone else to suffer.’

‘Why? Does he not support the cause?’

Tony shrugged. ‘He believes in civil rights. He’s a pacifist.’

‘Are you?’

‘A little,’ Tony said.

‘Yet you still got involved?’

‘I was angry. Like I said.’

‘Was angry?’

‘Am?’

‘You sure?’

Tony nodded.

‘So you don’t share your father’s views?’

‘A little,’ Tony said, frustrated at the circular nature of the conversation. ‘But I wanted someone to pay for Danny.’

‘You spoke to Hugh last week about your concerns with the recent mission.’

This was Mullan speaking now, his first time having done so since the questioning had started.

Tony nodded, glanced at Duggan, expecting to see some response, but, like the others, he remained impassive, staring at Tony.

‘What was the content of that conversation?’

‘Hugh’s obviously already told you. Ask him,’ Tony said, beginning to feel a little riled at the manner in which they were treating him. ‘He’s sitting right there.’

‘We’d like to get your version of events.’