racing scam. But what I can’t understand is, if you’re cute enough to pull off a racket involving twenty-three thoroughbred horses, why throw them off a cliff where somebody’s bound to stumble across them sooner or later? Why not cremate them, or bury them in a bog, or fill them full of rocks and take them out to sea where nobody’s going to find them?’
‘Maybe they thought the tide would carry them away.’
‘That’s possible, but tides turn, don’t they? And even if the tide had taken them out, it might well have washed them back in again. Whoever threw them off that cliff either did it for some fiendishly clever reason, or else they’re incredibly thick.’
Katie couldn’t help shaking her head and smiling. ‘This is Cork, Horgan. I think the chances of it being done for some fiendishly clever reason are pretty remote. I’d go for thick.’
They reached the N20. The only other vehicle in sight was a silver Mercedes parked in a lay-by about thirty metres to the north, on the left-hand side of the road but facing towards them. Detective Horgan was about to pull out when the Mercedes swerved out of the lay-by and came speeding in their direction.
Katie instinctively grabbed his arm and said, ‘Back up!’
‘What?’
‘ Back up !’
Detective Horgan tugged the gear lever into reverse, but as he did so there was an ear-splitting crack! and his head jerked backwards. The Toyota slewed to the left and thumped into the high grass verge behind them. Katie’s head banged hard against the headrest but she immediately ducked down sideways so that she was hidden from view.
A few seconds passed. The Toyota’s engine had stopped and there was silence.
‘Horgan?’ said Katie, with her head still resting against his thigh. ‘Hoggy, are you all right?’
She felt a warm, wet drop on her ear and quickly sat up. The silver Mercedes had gone and the main road was deserted. There was a circular hole in the windscreen about two centimetres in diameter and when she looked at Detective Horgan she saw that his head was slumped forward on his chest and that blood was dripping from his forehead. The back of his head was a tangle of hair and blood, with a large lump of pinkish-grey brain matter drooping down on to his shirt collar.
She touched her earlobe with her fingertips and they came away red. She took out her handkerchief and wiped them, and then wiped her ear, and then she reached over for the car’s radio microphone to call Detective Inspector O’Rourke.
‘Francis?’ she heard herself saying. ‘Yes, this is Detective Superintendent Maguire. We’ve been shot at and Detective Horgan is down. Yes. I’m at the junction of the N20 with the Dromsligo road, about a kilometre north of Mallow. Can you ask Superintendent McCarthy to send some local back-up, and can you get up here yourself, as soon as you can. Bring O’Donovan with you. I need a technical team, too, and a white van.’
She climbed out of the car and stood beside it with the cold wind ruffling her hair. ‘The shot came from a silver Mercedes saloon,’ she said. ‘Put out a bulletin to stop every car of that description within a thirty-five mile radius of Mallow. Be warned that the occupants could be armed and dangerous.’
‘Consider it done,’ said Detective Inspector O’Rourke. ‘You’re not hurt yourself, are you?’
‘No, no. Not at all. They might have been trying to hit me, but they took out poor Horgan instead.’
She lowered the microphone and then stood and waited, using the half-open car door to shield herself from the wind. She couldn’t stop herself from shaking, partly with cold and partly with shock, but she didn’t want to get back into the passenger seat. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Detective Horgan, sitting behind the wheel with his head bowed, although she could see his blood-spotted hand resting in his lap. Her gorge rose and it was as much as she could do to stop herself from retching. She
‘Maybe they thought the tide would carry them away.’
‘That’s possible, but tides turn, don’t they? And even if the tide had taken them out, it might well have washed them back in again. Whoever threw them off that cliff either did it for some fiendishly clever reason, or else they’re incredibly thick.’
Katie couldn’t help shaking her head and smiling. ‘This is Cork, Horgan. I think the chances of it being done for some fiendishly clever reason are pretty remote. I’d go for thick.’
They reached the N20. The only other vehicle in sight was a silver Mercedes parked in a lay-by about thirty metres to the north, on the left-hand side of the road but facing towards them. Detective Horgan was about to pull out when the Mercedes swerved out of the lay-by and came speeding in their direction.
Katie instinctively grabbed his arm and said, ‘Back up!’
‘What?’
‘ Back up !’
Detective Horgan tugged the gear lever into reverse, but as he did so there was an ear-splitting crack! and his head jerked backwards. The Toyota slewed to the left and thumped into the high grass verge behind them. Katie’s head banged hard against the headrest but she immediately ducked down sideways so that she was hidden from view.
A few seconds passed. The Toyota’s engine had stopped and there was silence.
‘Horgan?’ said Katie, with her head still resting against his thigh. ‘Hoggy, are you all right?’
She felt a warm, wet drop on her ear and quickly sat up. The silver Mercedes had gone and the main road was deserted. There was a circular hole in the windscreen about two centimetres in diameter and when she looked at Detective Horgan she saw that his head was slumped forward on his chest and that blood was dripping from his forehead. The back of his head was a tangle of hair and blood, with a large lump of pinkish-grey brain matter drooping down on to his shirt collar.
She touched her earlobe with her fingertips and they came away red. She took out her handkerchief and wiped them, and then wiped her ear, and then she reached over for the car’s radio microphone to call Detective Inspector O’Rourke.
‘Francis?’ she heard herself saying. ‘Yes, this is Detective Superintendent Maguire. We’ve been shot at and Detective Horgan is down. Yes. I’m at the junction of the N20 with the Dromsligo road, about a kilometre north of Mallow. Can you ask Superintendent McCarthy to send some local back-up, and can you get up here yourself, as soon as you can. Bring O’Donovan with you. I need a technical team, too, and a white van.’
She climbed out of the car and stood beside it with the cold wind ruffling her hair. ‘The shot came from a silver Mercedes saloon,’ she said. ‘Put out a bulletin to stop every car of that description within a thirty-five mile radius of Mallow. Be warned that the occupants could be armed and dangerous.’
‘Consider it done,’ said Detective Inspector O’Rourke. ‘You’re not hurt yourself, are you?’
‘No, no. Not at all. They might have been trying to hit me, but they took out poor Horgan instead.’
She lowered the microphone and then stood and waited, using the half-open car door to shield herself from the wind. She couldn’t stop herself from shaking, partly with cold and partly with shock, but she didn’t want to get back into the passenger seat. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Detective Horgan, sitting behind the wheel with his head bowed, although she could see his blood-spotted hand resting in his lap. Her gorge rose and it was as much as she could do to stop herself from retching. She
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