'Did they see Jordan?' Brian Carson asked.

'They've just left after a long chat. I heard everything.'

Which she hadn't, of course, for the conversation concerning the possibility of transferring Mickeen to London in the air ambulance had taken place outside his room at the other end of the corridor.

'So what did the doctor have to say?'

'That they'd operated for four hours and there's brain damage. It's the kind of situation where if he died five minutes from now, no one would be surprised. On the other hand, he's not just unconscious, he's in a coma, and he could stay like that for ages. Nobody knows how long, but Mr Jordan said that when such people do awake, they've often lost their memory.'

'Well, dying would be better, but the situation could be worse. My friends will have to accept how things are.'

'They came in a private jet. They must be big operators.'

'That's an understatement. If I told you they were both Provos in their day, would it surprise you? Hell on wheels, those two.'

'Holy Mother of God,' she said.

'You've done well, Molly, it will be noted. Goodnight to you.' Justin Talbot was sitting in a wing-backed chair on a dais in his mother's studio. He wore an open-necked black shirt and black velvet cord trousers, his arms folded, hair tousled. He'd been there an hour while his mother worked on a new portrait. She was standing at her easel, only a few feet away in her paint-stained smock, a palette in one hand, a brush in the other.

'For God's sake, how much longer? It's been an hour already.'

'It's difficult, love,' she said. 'I can't get exactly the expression I want.'

His mobile trembled in his breast pocket. He answered it and Kelly said, 'Are you alone?'

'Just a minute.' Justin got up. 'I've got to answer this.'

'Really, Justin.' She was annoyed.

The studio was above the east end of the stable. There was an exit door that opened on to a metal platform and stairs down to the cobbled yard. He closed the door behind him. Jean went to the sink in the corner and pretended to be cleaning brushes as she pushed the window open enough to hear him. Not that she learned much, except that he was angry.

Kelly, having told him everything Carson had to say, said, 'It could be worse.'

'Come on, Jack,' Justin said. 'The little bugger might decide to wake up at any time.'

'So what do you suggest?'

'Couldn't your people get someone to pull the plug on him? That would take care of the whole damn business.'

'Very risky. Let's just wait and see for the moment.'

'All right, but nothing'd better go wrong, you hear me?' He switched off in exasperation.

Jean was back at her portrait in an instant. 'Bad news, darling?'

'No, just a problem with the farm. Look, can't we call it a day? I'm tired.'

He was angry and mutinous. She laughed. 'That's the expression I'm after: it's absolutely perfect. Just another half-hour, darling.' Dillon called Roper and explained the situation to him.

'I can't believe what I'm hearing,' he said, when Dillon was finished. 'Ferguson will have a fit. He gave you explicit instructions not to go to Ireland at the moment, and that ambulance plane will cost a fortune.'

'It was a bloody emergency,' Dillon said.

Holley boomed in. 'And I've already said I'll pay for the damn thing.'

'So forget Ferguson,' Dillon said. 'Will you kindly take Frank Jordan's mobile number, call and make the arrangements? Next, contact Professor Charles Bellamy at Rosedene. Make everything a matter of extreme urgency, so that by the time Ferguson arrives, it's a done deal.'

'All right, I'll get on to it, but only because I can't wait to see Ferguson's reaction when he finds out. Presumably you're coming back in the morning?'

'We'll see. For the moment, all we're interested in is some supper. Take care, Roper.' The two-bedroom suite at the Europa Hotel had a dining room, and Dillon and Holley ordered room service – a lobster salad apiece, new potatoes, cabbage with bacon – and drank ice-cold non-vintage Krug champagne. It was touching midnight when the waiter reappeared and cleared.

'What time is Ferguson's Gulfstream getting in?' Holley asked.

'I don't know and I don't care,' Dillon said.

'You've got to go back and face the old man's wrath some time,' Holley told him.

'But not just yet.' Dillon yawned. 'We could stay on for a day or so, since we're here. Roper will take care of everything for moving Mickeen. We could rent a car. Go for a drive.'

'To where?'

'My mother died giving birth to me in Collyban. I lived with Mickeen as a child, while my father was away working, then he returned and took me away with him to London when I was twelve.'

'So you haven't seen much of your uncle over the years?'

'Two or three times by night when I was on the run during the Troubles, and I paid him a flying visit the other year on business for Ferguson. The truth is, the old sod's the only close relative I've got left. I was surprised at the sense of loss I felt looking at him in that hospital bed.'

'So where is this leading?'

'Paddy O'Rourke, his mechanic at the garage, found him. I wouldn't mind going to see him. I could let him know how Mickeen is.'

'You're talking nonsense, Sean, that would only depress him. What's really eating at you?'

'Okay, so I hadn't been in touch with Mickeen since God knows when, and I phoned him on a whim because I thought he'd be able to tell me the time and place of the Talbot funeral.'

'And he could. So what's that got to do with anything?'

'I don't know, except that somehow I feel responsible.'

'I don't see how you could be, but if you feel like that, give O'Rourke a call and we'll drive down and see him. How far?'

'Fifty miles, here or there. I'll get in touch with him in the morning. Are you carrying?'

'One of the advantages of diplomatic privilege.' Holley pulled up his right trouser leg and showed the ankle holster with the Colt.25. 'No well-dressed man should be without one.'

'I couldn't agree more.' Dillon put his foot on a chair and showed an identical Colt. 'Silenced, with hollow points.'

'Why settle for less? That will always do the job. But why are you asking?'

'Collyban was always Republican territory, IRA bandit country. I used to be a hero to people there who'd never even seen me, and then Ferguson came along and somehow I doubt they'd still be feeling the same.'

'Once in, never out – that's been the motto of the IRA since its inception, hasn't it? So screw them, we're still Provos, whether they like it or not,' Daniel told him. 'I'm away to bed.' At eight o'clock the following morning, they were working their way through breakfast in the cafe when Roper called Dillon.

'Ferguson got in just after three this morning. He asked me if I had anything special to report.'

'And you said nothing, I presume?'

'Exactly. I just hope I don't regret it. Anyway, your Mr Frank Jordan doesn't let the grass grow under his feet. Mickeen Oge Flynn will be picked up at nine and taken to Belfast City Airport to board the air ambulance for London. Rosedene is waiting for him.'

'Excellent.'

'In fact, Jordan has decided to go along. He said he'd like to keep an eye on Flynn, and, besides, it's costing so much he might as well get something out of it!'

'Roper, you've done wonders,' Dillon said. 'I'm truly grateful – and hopefully, so will be Mickeen.'

'So what are your plans?'

'We've ordered a car and we're driving down to Collyban.'

Roper was concerned. 'What in the hell are you up to, Sean? I'd have thought it very unwise to visit anywhere in that area. And, dammit, you're only fifteen miles from Crossmaglen where Holley's mother was born, so he's as bad as you are. What's this obsession with living dangerously?'