‘There’s a farmer I know up there who owes me a mortal favour, Cronan O’Brien. He was the fellow I was trying to ring before we dumped O’Malley, but he was away on his holliers in Lanzarote and he only came back last night. A couple of years ago he built himself a new farmhouse about half a click away from the old one, and knocked the old one down, but of course the old cesspit’s still where it always was. That’s a perfect place to hide dead bodies that you don’t want nobody to find, as any nun from the Tuam mother-and-baby home will tell you.’

‘I hope that Feargal Grífin is out and about soon,’ put in Milo. ‘I owe him a mortal favour or two, I can tell you. I was out walking my dog Pooka last St Stephen’s Day and he came up with two of his gobshite pals and started giving me all of that. I told him to feck off out of it and he pulled out his gun and he shot Pooka in the head, right in front of me. So what could I do? It was no use calling the guards. But if we’re up for putting a bullet in Feargal Grifin, I’ll be first in the queue.’

‘Right,’ said Thomas. ‘So soon as you see one of Riordan’s gang, no matter where it is, even if he’s sitting in McDonald’s stuffing his bake with an Egg McMuffin, ring me. I’ll tell you what to do next. We’re going to extermify them Riordans, every one of them.’

*

At the same time that Thomas O’Flynn was holding his council of war in Quinlan’s, Katie was talking on the phone to Dr Curran, the consultant at the Mercy who had been treating Feargal Grífin for his bullet wounds.

‘He’s in reasonable shape now. Neither wound caused any lasting damage, although for a while he might experience some stiffness in his hand and find that he’s walking with a slight limp. He was experiencing alcoholic withdrawal delirium last night. As far as I could make out he imagined that he was in a monastery and that we were all monks who were plotting to poison him. But this morning he seems to have got over the AWD and I’m told that he’s managed some toast.’

‘When do you think we’ll be able to come in and interview him?’

‘He’s under sedation and he’s asleep now, but I reckon he should be awake and compos mentis by early this evening, say about six o’clock. If and when he’s fit enough, I’ll have one of the advanced nurse practitioners ring you so.’

‘Thanks a million, doctor.’

Katie put down the phone but immediately her iPhone rang. She picked it up and it was Kieran.