They had nearly reached the corner of Oliver Plunkett Street when there was a piercing two-fingered whistle from behind them and a loud voice shouted out, ‘Hey! Stop! What the hell’s going on there? Gavin?’

Gavin twisted his head around. Big Rory Madden had just emerged from The Poor Relation, buttoning up his coat. Big Rory was one of Barry Riordan’s hardest enforcers. He spent most of his evenings around the clubs in the city centre, making sure that the Riordan drug-dealers weren’t harassed by gardaí or other gangs. He was well over six feet five inches tall, with shoulders as wide as a beam engine, a Neanderthal jaw, and jet-black hair that was brushed straight up and made him look even taller.

He started to stride towards Milo and Gavin and Darragh, but Gavin croaked out, ‘Rory! Stall it, will you, boy! He’s a nine on me!’

Big Rory didn’t hesitate. He pulled an automatic out of his inside pocket and fired at Milo from less than five metres away. Milo’s right ear was blasted off in a spray of blood and he pitched sideways on to the pavement.

Darragh swung Gavin around so that he would shield him, but for all of his bulk Big Rory was quick on his feet, and he feinted to the right like a rugby player and shot him in the shoulder. Darragh shot Gavin in the side at point-blank range and the bullet burst inside his liver. Blood spouted out of his mouth and he dropped on to his knees, clinging at Darragh’s coat.

Big Rory fired again, twice. The banging of gunshots echoed all the way around Parnell Place and had people stopping in the middle of the street to see what was happening, or ducking into shop doorways. Darragh toppled backwards, but as soon as he struck the pavement he fired back at Big Rory.

Big Rory stood utterly still. Darragh fired at him once more before his head fell back and his fingers slowly opened up like a dying crab so that his pistol clattered on to the concrete.

There was a strange silence. Four or five cars had stopped and several drinkers had come out of The Poor Relation, but when they had seen the bodies lying on the ground, nobody had dared to come any closer.

Big Rory turned slowly around and started to walk back towards the pub. After only three steps, though, he started to sway. He managed three more steps and then he stumbled forward and crashed face down on to one of the benches outside the entrance.

A few minutes later, the night air was screaming with the sound of sirens, first of all from the south, as three Garda squad cars crossed over Parnell Bridge with their blue lights flashing, and then from the west, as two ambulances that had been waiting outside the Mercy Hospital came speeding along South Mall.

*