Crowe watched the steam from the cups swirl and evaporate. Tom stood there, uncertain whether to bring the tea to her or wait for her to come over. He settled on pushing the cup across the counter top.
‘Work?’ he asked tentatively.
Crowe looked through him.
‘Yeah, shit on top of shit,’ she said, dialling a number.
She didn’t hate Tom. He was just a man, a weak fool of a man. No, it was more she resented him. Not just for what he had done, but how he made her feel about herself and her own part in their relationship.
‘Crowe.’
‘DI, we may have a situation with the Canal Gang.’
‘Is that right?’
She filled Tyrell in on what she knew.
There was a pause on the line.
‘Give me the number and we’ll try and get a trace going. Go to the house and assess the situation.’
Crowe gave him the number, then stopped, hard thoughts creeping back in.
‘Some people would say leave them at it,’ she said, ‘after all that they’ve done. Even the boy. You said yourself, it’s already too late to save him.’
Another pause.
‘Yeah, I did,’ Tyrell said slowly, ‘but, that was based on my experience, not yours.’
She needed more. She thought she heard something tearing on the line and a soft sucking sound.
‘Crowe, some might well say, “Fuck them, let them wipe each other out, after everything.” And they might be able to live with that. But,’ he said, tossing something in his mouth, ‘would you?’
She felt a rip of electricity down her spine, like a zip opening.
‘Give us a ring, Crowe, when you’re there. I’ll see about the trace.’
Tyrell hung up. Crowe was still vibrating from being reminded who she was.
She went over to the counter, fastened her holster and grabbed her bag, ignoring the steaming cup.
‘Hey?’ Tom called.
‘I have to go,’ she shouted over her shoulder.
‘Be careful.’
Crowe crossed the Liffey and sped down the quays. Whatever was going to happen tonight, what home was she going back to? She pushed out thoughts of Tom masturbating as he listened to his fantasy woman breathing at him to fuck her. Nothing would be the same again. She had to summon strength to keep going. She took a short cut through the narrow cobbled streets under the shadow of John’s Lane Church. He’ll have to move out, she told herself.
But he’s got no money. He’ll be living on the streets.
Blocks of flats flanked her as she accelerated. She sped past flames and blurred silhouettes. Approaching the canal, she blinked at a bonfire, the blazing hulk of a car inside and a mass of figures circling it.
Kids scampered in all directions, forcing her to break. Some were dragging bins out of driveways, the bins twice the size of most of them. She manoeuvred bends and roundabouts until she came to Evergreen Close.
She pulled up outside Jig’s house. Getting out, she caught an eyeful of Shay. He looked like he’d been hit by a bus.
‘Who did this to you?’ she asked.
‘Myself.’
She tilted her head at the reply. Shay looked half-deranged. But she didn’t have time to dwell on him.
Fireworks and bangers exploded from all directions. She scrunched her nose at the toxic stench in the air. She walked up to the door and banged hard.
A blonde woman opened it.
‘Donna, is it?’ Crowe asked.
The woman nodded, her arms tight across her chest.
‘I’m Detective Tara Crowe. These gentlemen,’ indicating behind her, ‘have reason to fear for Jig’s safety.’
‘Jaysus, this is for fucking real.’
‘You speak to Ghost?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What did he say about where they were going and why?’
‘Nothing. He gave Jig a set of clothes to change into and told him to leave his phone here. I got worried at that, that’s why I slipped my phone into his pocket.’
‘Ghost see you doing that?’
‘No. But Jig’s not answering. The phone’s on vibrate, though. Jaysus, maybe I put it on fucking silent,’ she said, holding a hand to her face. ‘No wonder he’s not picking up.’
‘You did well,’ Crowe said.
But Donna didn’t hear, her face twisting with another thought. ‘Don’t fucking tell Ghost any of this, right, or the gaff will be torched, with all us in it.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Crowe assured her.
‘I’m fucking serious, he would.’
‘Okay. I hear you.’
Jig’s ma emerged, her hair trailing wildly down the side of her face, her eye sockets all red. She pushed Donna back and stiffened when she saw Crowe.
‘Ya know what? Yer like a bad fucking penny.’
‘There’s reason to believe your son may be in danger –’
‘What?’ she shouted. ‘Yer concerned for his welfare all of a fucking sudden.’
She pointed her finger at Crowe, jabbing her in the chest.
‘If anything happens to my Jig, it’s on yer head.’ She slammed the door.
Before Crowe could say anything, her phone rang. It was Tyrell.
‘We’re trying to get a location. Get ready to move.’
‘Okay.’
‘Guess you’re getting the usual five-star reception.’
‘She’s off her rocker,’ Crowe replied, ‘but her daughter, Donna, seems reasonably sane. She confirmed what Shay said. Ghost brought over clothes and got Jig to change into them. Told him to leave his phone behind.’
‘I see.’
A crunch at the other end.
‘Remember I told you about what that source had said to me?’ Crowe asked. ‘She said the Provos were going to carry out a spectacular. Maybe this is it and the Canal Gang is walking straight into it and Leo is in on it.’
‘Very possible,’ Tyrell replied. ‘The precautions the gang is taking on phones and clothes supports that. Lock Man is a cute bastard.’
‘We got backup?’
‘I notified the Chief. He’s requested the ISD to mobilise the ERU. We’re scrambling the helicopter . . . There’s a call coming in. I’ll get back to you.’
Crowe looked at Shay.
‘The phone is still switched on. We’re trying to triangulate it.’
‘We’re going with you,’ Shay said.
Crowe baulked, just as a big drop of rain landed on her face, then another.
‘No way,’ she said.
‘Listen, you might need to talk to Jig,’ Shay said, shouting over the bangers. ‘He won’t talk to you, but he might to me. Same with Leo and Pat.’
Her phone rang.
‘Crowe, we have a general location.’