“Oh, Dermot, what have I done?” Bridget said and started to cry bitterly.
At High Meadow with the ewes, Dermot saw the flash of silver on the track below and knew he was in trouble. He hurried into the barn, Karl following. He couldn’t take the dog with him to the secret room, for any kind of a whine would give him away, never mind barking.
“Off you go, boy, home to Bridget.” Karl hovered uncertainly. “Go on, get moving!” Dermot told him.
This time, the Alsatian did as he was told. Dermot climbed the ladder to the loft, then clambered over bales of hay and got the secret door in the wood paneling open. He climbed inside. It was dark, just the odd chink of light, and he waited.
When Barry and Bell got out of the BMW, the Alsatian sat looking at them. “Get rid of that for starters,” Barry said, and Bell took out a Smith & Wesson revolver.
The moment he pointed it, Karl took off, scattering the sheep, making for the valley below. Bell laughed and put the revolver back in his pocket.
“A smart bugger, that dog.”
“Well, let’s see if Dermot is,” Barry said and led the way inside.
They stood looking up at the loft crammed with the bales of hay and Barry called, “We know you’re there, Dermot, so you might as well come out. Bridget was very forthcoming after a little persuasion.”
Dermot, in the darkness, almost choked with rage, but he didn’t have a gun, that was the thing, couldn’t take them on.
It was Bell who spoke now. “There’s a lot of straw in here, Dermot, not to say hay. If I drop a match, you’ll be in serious trouble. Of course, if you want to end up like a well-done side of beef, that’s your affair.”
A moment later, the secret door opened and Dermot scrambled out. He made his way to the edge of the loft and stood looking at them.
“You bloody bastards,” he said, “if you’ve hurt Bridget, I’ll do for you.” Then he climbed down the ladder.
Barry grabbed his arms from the rear. “You shouldn’t talk like that, you really shouldn’t.” He nodded to Bell. “Just his body. I want his face to look normal when he’s sitting in the back of the car on the way back to Dublin.”
“My pleasure,” Bell said and punched Riley very hard beneath the ribs.
When the rental car pulled up in the farm yard, Blake Johnson was at the wheel. The kitchen door was open and Karl erupted, jumping up at the car, growling fiercely. Dillon opened a window and whistled, a low and eerie sound that put the teeth on edge. Karl subsided, his ears flattening.
“Jesus, but I taught you how to do that well,” Devlin said.
As they got out of the car, Bridget appeared in the doorway. She looked terrible as she tried to staunch the blood from her nose with a tea towel.
“Liam Devlin, is that you?”
“As ever was,” Devlin said and put an arm around her shoulders. “Who did this to you?”
“Barry and Bell. They were here yesterday seeking Dermot. I told them he wasn’t here.”
“But he was,” Dillon said and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m Sean Dillon. I fought with Dermot in Derry in the old days.”
She nodded vacantly. “They turned up a little while ago, beat me and burned me with a cigarette.”
“The bastards,” Devlin said.
“The thing is, I told them where Dermot’s hiding. Half a mile up the track. The barn at High Meadow.” She was crying now. “I couldn’t help it, the pain was terrible.”
“Go in, make yourself a cup of tea. We’ll be back with Dermot, I promise you.”
She did as she was told, and Devlin said grimly, “I think a lesson is in order here.”
The three men got in the car, Blake taking the wheel again. Dillon took out his Walther, checked it, and screwed on the silencer.
“Take it nice and easy and let’s see the lay of the land. It could be a hot one. They’ll be carrying, and they’re good. What about you, Liam?”