The House by the Liffey by Niki Phillips Page B

them. When we’ve got the child back you can spread them all over the papers. You’ll get them!’
    â€˜Make your way to Enniskerry pronto. I’ll get as close as I dare with my men but they’ll be watching for us so we’ll have to stay well back. I’d love to know how they’re going to manage the handover and then get away, with the whole of the Dublin police force looking for them.’
    They started down the hillside.
    â€˜I wonder where their vehicle is? We know they must have one but I didn’t see any sign of it.’
    â€˜I bet they’ve hidden it in the trees at the turn into that track. Let’s go and have a look.’
    â€˜We haven’t got too much time.’
    â€˜Neither have they, but we’re only about twenty minutes from Enniskerry. Less if I put my foot down.’
    They found the van and quickly took more photos.
    * * * * *
    Milo drove as if Lucifer himself was on his tail, cutting corners; breaking speed limits; smearing tyre marks along the roads and once or twice almost overturning the car, but he didn’t care. He kept going as fast as he could possibly manage. Blotting everything else from his mind was the image of Izzy in peril, waiting out there, needing him. Since it demanded his full concentration they spoke little, but something was bothering Tommy.
    â€˜How did they know I was there? They must have kept a permanent watch at the entrance gates to the house. But even then how did they know who I was?’
    â€˜Well, it couldn’t have been the old tramp informant, unless in another guise he was their observer.’
    â€˜They had the whole thing very well organized.’
    â€˜They’d have to, Tommy, for something like this.’
    â€˜Frightening! I’m glad we’re armed. It makes me feel a lot safer. Especially knowing they’re bound to be.’
    And so they mused on, eventually lapsing into silence.
    They reached the centre of Enniskerry with five minutes to spare and parked close to the Clock Tower. Being the early afternoon in the middle of the week, there were few people about. In fact it was quieter than Milo ever remembered seeing it. Then the wait began. More psychological torment, but they had expected something like this, designed to stress them out even further and throw them off their stride. Occasionally people strolled past, including a few hikers, not an uncommon sight here. Then, at last, a small boy knocked at the car window and Milo rolled it down.
    â€˜I’ve a note here. Are yez the Butlers?’
    â€˜Yes. Who gave it to you?’
    â€˜Some fella gave me a shillin’ to give it to yez.’
    â€˜Thanks.’
    The instructions were quite coherent, printed in a childish hand, in pencil, on exercise-book paper. It was slightly dog-eared from having been screwed up in the boy’s grubby fist but still perfectly legible:

    Drive to St Patrick’s Church at the edge of the village. Milo Butler alone will carry two of the bags into the church. The door will be unlocked and there will be no unexpected visitors.
    Milo would never know or care how they had contrived this.
    Many hours had been spent planning carefully. Milo’s comments to them had also confirmed what they had deduced, that he would never agree to go alone and unarmed into a remote meeting spot with all that money. So, although quiet, he would realize that the chosen venue was public enough for them not to get away too easily if they tried to do a runner, especially with Tommy, armed, outside. At the same time it was secluded enough for the necessary check. At the early planning stage, “Himself” had also warned them that if they did anything stupid, such as running with the money and killing their victim, they’d never be able to try that method of raising funds again. They’d have lost all credibility and future access to an endless source of finance for the organisation.
    Milo followed the