she repeated, but there was still no response.
‘Oh, please, no,’ said Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán, and crossed herself.
Katie pushed her chair back and said, ‘Liam – get me there, now! Kyna, call for the paramedics and the fire brigade and the bomb squad. And Bill Phinner and his technical boys, too. Then follow us over to Merchants Quay, lively as you can.
‘Name of Jesus,’ said Officer Brennan. ‘Would you take a sconce at that?’
The CCTV camera opposite the car park was showing billows of thick grey smoke rolling out of the car park and across Parnell Place. They could see shoppers running in all directions, and their own unmarked squad car pulling up outside the entrance.
Katie and Inspector Fennessy left the CCTV room and hurried along the corridor. As they reached the lifts, one of the lift doors opened and Acting Chief Superintendent Molloy came bursting out, accompanied by Sergeant Keoghan.
‘A bomb!’ he said. ‘They only blew the fecking car up! Why in the name of God would they do a thing like that?’
‘I have no idea, sir,’ Katie told him.
‘It’s fecking unbelievable! I just hope they didn’t blow up the fecking money too! Jimmy O’Reilly’s going to have my head on a stick if they blew up the fecking money!’
‘It’s Garda McCracken I’m worried about,’ Katie told him. ‘I tried to contact her immediately after the blast but I couldn’t raise any response. She was right behind the suspect and I’m worried she might have been injured. I’m going there directly.’
‘Well, I’ll be there myself as quick as I can. I’ve already given orders for the street and the car park to be cordoned off and the store evacuated.’
They heard sirens from the fire station across the street. The building echoed with gardaí shouting to each other and clattering down the staircase. Inspector Fennessy was patiently holding the lift door open, so Katie said, ‘I’ll see you after, sir.’
‘Yes, well, Katie, this a fecking disaster. You should have seen this coming.’
‘I don’t exactly know how I could have done that, sir.’
‘You’re a detective, aren’t you? I thought that detectives were supposed to detect, or have I been living under some kind of misapprehension all these years?’
‘I have to go,’ said Katie, and stepped into the lift. Inspector Fennessy followed her and pressed the button for the ground floor. As they sank downwards, Katie could tell by his expression what he was thinking.
‘Don’t expect me to say anything, Liam,’ she said. ‘Men like Bryan Molloy have a way of self-destructing, sooner or later, without any assistance from anybody else. All you need is the patience of a saint.’
***
It took them less than five minutes to reach the entrance to the Merchants Quay car park. Gardaí had blocked off the street with squad cars, and four or five of them were standing at each end, keeping back the crowds of onlookers. Two fire engines had arrived, as well two ambulances, although there was no sign of the bomb squad yet because they would have to be called together and then driven down to the city centre from Collins Barracks.
Inspector Fennessy parked and he and Katie crossed the road to the car park entrance. One of the gardaí from the unmarked car was standing at the exit gate. He was only in his early twenties, with big red ears and a fuzzy blond moustache on his upper lip, more like a schoolboy than a police officer. He looked shocked and disorientated.
‘Where’s Garda McCracken?’ asked Katie. ‘She hasn’t been hurt, has she?’
‘She’s – she’s up there, ma’am, still in her car,’ said the young garda. He kept furiously blinking and his teeth were chattering as if he were cold. ‘I’ll show you up there so.’
‘No, you’re grand,’ said Katie. ‘You just wait here and keep an eye on things.’
She and Inspector Fennessy walked to the bottom of the exit ramp, their shoes crunching on shattered glass. There
‘Oh, please, no,’ said Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán, and crossed herself.
Katie pushed her chair back and said, ‘Liam – get me there, now! Kyna, call for the paramedics and the fire brigade and the bomb squad. And Bill Phinner and his technical boys, too. Then follow us over to Merchants Quay, lively as you can.
‘Name of Jesus,’ said Officer Brennan. ‘Would you take a sconce at that?’
The CCTV camera opposite the car park was showing billows of thick grey smoke rolling out of the car park and across Parnell Place. They could see shoppers running in all directions, and their own unmarked squad car pulling up outside the entrance.
Katie and Inspector Fennessy left the CCTV room and hurried along the corridor. As they reached the lifts, one of the lift doors opened and Acting Chief Superintendent Molloy came bursting out, accompanied by Sergeant Keoghan.
‘A bomb!’ he said. ‘They only blew the fecking car up! Why in the name of God would they do a thing like that?’
‘I have no idea, sir,’ Katie told him.
‘It’s fecking unbelievable! I just hope they didn’t blow up the fecking money too! Jimmy O’Reilly’s going to have my head on a stick if they blew up the fecking money!’
‘It’s Garda McCracken I’m worried about,’ Katie told him. ‘I tried to contact her immediately after the blast but I couldn’t raise any response. She was right behind the suspect and I’m worried she might have been injured. I’m going there directly.’
‘Well, I’ll be there myself as quick as I can. I’ve already given orders for the street and the car park to be cordoned off and the store evacuated.’
They heard sirens from the fire station across the street. The building echoed with gardaí shouting to each other and clattering down the staircase. Inspector Fennessy was patiently holding the lift door open, so Katie said, ‘I’ll see you after, sir.’
‘Yes, well, Katie, this a fecking disaster. You should have seen this coming.’
‘I don’t exactly know how I could have done that, sir.’
‘You’re a detective, aren’t you? I thought that detectives were supposed to detect, or have I been living under some kind of misapprehension all these years?’
‘I have to go,’ said Katie, and stepped into the lift. Inspector Fennessy followed her and pressed the button for the ground floor. As they sank downwards, Katie could tell by his expression what he was thinking.
‘Don’t expect me to say anything, Liam,’ she said. ‘Men like Bryan Molloy have a way of self-destructing, sooner or later, without any assistance from anybody else. All you need is the patience of a saint.’
***
It took them less than five minutes to reach the entrance to the Merchants Quay car park. Gardaí had blocked off the street with squad cars, and four or five of them were standing at each end, keeping back the crowds of onlookers. Two fire engines had arrived, as well two ambulances, although there was no sign of the bomb squad yet because they would have to be called together and then driven down to the city centre from Collins Barracks.
Inspector Fennessy parked and he and Katie crossed the road to the car park entrance. One of the gardaí from the unmarked car was standing at the exit gate. He was only in his early twenties, with big red ears and a fuzzy blond moustache on his upper lip, more like a schoolboy than a police officer. He looked shocked and disorientated.
‘Where’s Garda McCracken?’ asked Katie. ‘She hasn’t been hurt, has she?’
‘She’s – she’s up there, ma’am, still in her car,’ said the young garda. He kept furiously blinking and his teeth were chattering as if he were cold. ‘I’ll show you up there so.’
‘No, you’re grand,’ said Katie. ‘You just wait here and keep an eye on things.’
She and Inspector Fennessy walked to the bottom of the exit ramp, their shoes crunching on shattered glass. There
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