The gang member behind the counter lifted up his Ruger again, swung it around and fired two shots at the armed response officers. One of them was hit on the collarbone and knocked sideways, colliding with Katie and bringing down two chairs with him as he sprawled on to the floor. Katie was thrown off balance for a moment, until Detective O’Donovan took hold of her shoulders and steadied her. Before she could fire back at the gang member behind the counter, two of the armed response officers had let loose an ear-splitting salvo of bullets at him. They hit him in the head and the chest so that his eyes exploded out of the holes in his balaclava and he was thrown backwards with such violence that he crashed into the rows of bottles on the shelves behind the bar. He dropped down and disappeared from sight in a shower of broken glass and cascading whiskey.

The armed response officers jostled the three surviving gang members into the centre of the bar, fastened handcuffs on them and pulled off their balaclavas. One of them she recognized: it was Gavin Garvey, one of Barry Riordan’s longest-serving thugs, with a record for drug-dealing and theft and assault causing bodily harm. She didn’t know either of the others, although she could tell by the glazed, unfocused look in their eyes that both were under the influence of some drug or other, probably crack.

‘All right, get them out of my sight,’ said Katie. As they were ushered away, Katie heard shouting from the next bar, and a strange self-pitying moaning, like a woman begging for a man to stop beating her. Together with Kyna and Detective O’Donovan she went through to see what was happening.

Two gang members were lying on the floor, one with his head half-hidden underneath a table. A third was crouched beside them, the knees of his jeans soaked in blood. He was clasping his hands together and bowing up and down like a penitent at prayer. As Katie came into the bar, he was still moaning, but more softly now. The three remaining armed response officers were standing around the bodies, including Sergeant Mullally. He was talking on his radio, giving an update to the paramedics who were stationed in one of the four ambulances that Katie had arranged to have on standby.

‘Two deceased – no, I’ve just been told three – and one of us is badly bruised apparently. Otherwise no other injuries. I’ll get back to you as soon as we’re happy that the premises are totally secure, but at the moment it looks like you won’t be required. Except for carting the bodies off to the morgue, in due course.’

Katie said, ‘What’s the story, sergeant?’