The farmer came forward again, his hand raised like a boy in school. ‘There’s something I didn’t tell you. When I heard the first badoom, like, there was another car stopped right in front of this one. It went shooting off straight away, though, so I didn’t get much of a look at it.’

‘What type of car? Any idea?’

‘No, I couldn’t tell you. It was a fair old size, though, do you know what I mean? One of your VSUs I’d say. Silver, or grey. But I couldn’t say what make or nothing like that. Maybe a Toyota, or a Range Rover – something like one of them.’

‘And which direction did it go in?’

‘That way… down towards Ferncarrig.’

Two of the firefighters approached them now. One of them took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm.

‘There’s only the one occupant, sir,’ he told Station Officer Hogan. ‘Still strapped in his seat belt. If he had any ID on him I’d say it’s been thoroughly incinerated, along with him.’

‘Well, I’ve already called in the reg number, so we may find out who he is in a minute or two,’ said Garda Phelan. ‘I’ll be after calling in a description of that other vehicle, too – the SUV. It could be that somebody spotted it going through Ferncarrig, especially if it was speeding along real quick. You never know.’

The five of them walked towards the blackened wreckage of the Jaguar, although Garda Phelan turned around to the farmer and said, ‘If you don’t mind staying back, sir. I’ll be taking a statement from you later so.’

‘I’ve seen burned bodies before,’ the farmer protested. ‘My cousin worked at the Rocky Island crematorium.’

Despite saying that, he held back as Garda Phelan, Garda O’Connor and Station Officer Hogan approached the car. Both of its rear wings had been blown upward in tatters, so that it looked as if a monstrous crow had landed on it.

‘You were spot on about them two petrol tanks, Neasa,’ said Garda Phelan.

A stooped figure was sitting in the driver’s seat, charred completely black. From its apparent height, it was more likely than not to be a man. He was wearing an epaulette of foam on each shoulder and a foam wig on top of his head, which was gradually dripping down on each side, where his ears had been. He was still wearing steel-rimmed spectacles, although the heat had melted the plastic lenses so that they were drooping down from the bottom of the frames like teardrops.

For almost half a minute, none of the officers spoke. Then Station Officer Hogan turned to the firefighters and said, ‘Give it all a while to cool off, like. Then haul the sheet over it. It looks like rain’s on the way.’