‘They’re all the same, every damned one.’
‘This just isn’t your day, Morgan,’ Rogan said.
Colum O’More let out a great gust of laughter. ‘If you could see your face, you scut. Somehow, it makes the whole damned thing worth while.’
‘This is your fault, you bastard,’ Morgan spat at him. ‘The whole bloody thing was a waste of time from the start. We’d have known that if your information had been right.’
‘We all make mistakes, lad,’ Colum O’More said, and pushed himself up.
Morgan shot him twice in the body, the force of the bullets knocking him back into the chair. As Hannah screamed, Rogan flung himself headlong under the table, his hand reaching for the butt of the automatic.
Morgan jumped back to get a clear view of him, but he was too late. Rogan’s first shot caught him in the chest, the second in the stomach, knocking him back against the wall. He dropped his revolver and crumpled to his knees, his face wiped clean of all expression, then fell forward.
Colum O’More was doubled over in pain. Hannah, on her knees beside him, tried to lift his head. Rogan dropped the automatic on the table and pushed the old man back into his chair. His eyes were tightly closed, teeth clenched against the pain and his forehead was beaded with sweat.
Rogan shook him gently. ‘Colum, listen to me. How bad is it?’
The old man opened his eyes and Death stared out at them. ‘As bad as it’s ever likely to get, lad.’ He looked beyond them into space. ‘The long road I’ve walked, a road I was proud to be on, and now this.’ He coughed and a trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth. ‘It wasn’t me, Sean, it wasn’t the Big Man. It was the sickness inside me. I think a little of it must have touched my brain as well.’
Rogan stood up and turned to Hannah. ‘Hang on here. I’m going for a doctor.’
‘You’re wasting your time,’ Colum O’More called and Rogan stepped over Harry Morgan, and moved along the passage.
He heard the cars up on the main road as he opened the outside door and the furious jangle of the bell through the trees, muffled by the fog, as the first one braked hard and swung into the track. He slammed the door shut, bolted it and ran back into the living room.
‘The peelers are here.’ He grabbed Hannah by the arm, ran her into the kitchen and wrenched open the back door. ‘You know the way to the boat. Get down
there fast and wait for me.”
She tried to protest and he shook her brutally. ‘Do as you’re told. Haven’t I enough to worry about?’
He pushed her into the fog, slammed the door and ran back into the living room. ‘They’ll be here soon, Colum. They’ll be able to do more for you than I can.’
‘There’s no help for me on top of earth/ the old man said through clenched teeth, ‘but there is for you. Now pass me that gun and get to hell out of here. Harry Morgan’s death can be on my conscience, not yours.’
‘For God’s sake, Colum…’
‘That’s an order, damn you,’ the old man spat at him. As Rogan passed him the gun a car braked outside and footsteps pounded across the cobbles. ‘Get out of it!’ Colum O’More shouted and Rogan ran through the kitchen and wrenched open the back door.
He was halfway across the yard when a young constable came round the corner on a dead run. Rogan swerved, his fist glanced off a cheekbone and the man grunted and went down. As cries broke out behind, he reached the shelter of the trees and was swallowed up by the fog.
Morgan pushed himself up slowly and fell back against the wall. His entire body seemed to be one great pain and there was blood in his mouth. He focused on Colum O’More and gave him a ghastly grin.
‘I’ll hang on, you old bastard. Long enough to make sure Rogan swings for me.’
‘Is that a fact now?’ Colum O’More said and shot him through the head. As the outside door gave, the automatic slipped from his grasp and he fell forward.