a pretty young thing, shoulder length hair the colour of copper, and a figure that even the blue overalls couldn’t conceal. On any other day Lynch would have been tempted to strike up a conversation with her, but the visit to the dog track wasn’t a social event. He’d been summoned there by McCormack.
Lynch looked up at the results board at the far end of the stadium. The short odds on the favourite meant that no one would get rich on the race, but the dog McCormack had tipped would be running at twelve to one. The two men walked back inside to the betting hall and stood in a queue, waiting to place their bets.
McCormack gave the cashier a handful of notes and asked for it to be placed on number six, to win. Lynch took out his wallet. He dithered for a second or two and then took out all the banknotes it contained. He considered an each-way bet, but McCormack was standing at his shoulder, watching. Lynch handed over all the notes. ‘Number six, to win,’ he said. McCormack smiled and nodded.
They went outside to watch the dogs being walked. Number six looked good, its coat glossy, its hindquarters strong and well developed, holding its head up high as if it knew it was due for a win. ‘Have you got a dog running in this race?’ Lynch asked.
McCormack nodded at a brown dog at the far end of the line, sniffing listlessly at the shoes of its handler. ‘He’s coming on but it’ll be a few months yet before he peaks.’ They left the showing area and headed towards the track. ‘So, Dermott, what happened?’
‘A helicopter came from nowhere. Bloody nowhere. Lifted him off and flew away with him.’
‘Army?’
‘No. Not army. Red, white and blue it was. Not a soldier in sight. It’s a mystery all right, and if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s a mystery.’
McCormack took off his horn-rimmed spectacles and polished them with his handkerchief. ‘What do you think he was up to?’
‘I don’t know. Whatever it was, I think there was a change of plan. I don’t think he was expecting the helicopter. Or the man who appeared on the sea wall.’
‘This man, any idea who he was?’
Lynch shook his head. ‘Military, I think. He walked like a soldier. Carried a stick.’
‘Armed?’
‘Couldn’t tell.’
‘What about the helicopter? Did the crew have guns?’ McCormack put his spectacles back on and peered over the top of them.
Lynch thought for a second and then shook his head. ‘No. I only saw one of the crew, he pulled Cramer in, but he wasn’t armed, I’m sure of that.’
McCormack tapped the programme against his leg as he walked, his head down in thought. He didn’t speak for almost a minute. ‘I think we’re going to have to let this one go, Dermott.’
‘I want the bastard,’ said Lynch fiercely.
‘Connolly wasn’t over happy about us going after Cramer in the first place, you know. Let sleeping dogs lie, he said. He took some persuading.’
‘Yeah?’ Lynch scratched his beard as if it itched.
‘Yes. I had to take sole responsibility for it. If it had gone wrong, I’d have been the one explaining to the Army Council. And it damn near did go wrong. We were lucky it wasn’t a trap, right?’
‘I wouldn’t say that, Thomas. We had Howth pretty well sewn up. If the SAS had been there, we’d have known about it.’
‘That’s as may be. But whatever Cramer was doing, it’s over now.’
‘I want him,’ said Lynch.
‘I know you do. But you’ve got a personal interest, Dermott, let’s not forget that.’
‘Let me go after him. Please. I’m asking as a friend.’
McCormack snorted softly. ‘You can’t ask me that as a friend, and you know it. You can
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