Danny had to wait another few minutes while the truck driver's order was shouted through to the kitchen.

'Sorry for the delay! Sinner Joe was just telling me why he was late. Usually here exact same time every week. Never missed it yet. What can I get you?'

Danny held up the twenty. 'I just need some change for the phone.'

'Much d'you need?'

'The whole twenty if you can.'

The guy made a clicking noise in the side of his mouth. 'Be lucky to get you five, but I'll have a look.'

The guy moved over to the till and sprung the drawer open.

'This morning he's over an hour late so I'm thinking something must be wrong, maybe he's got the shits again or maybe he's been in an accident, but I'm wrong on both counts . . . Can do you three in quarters, that any good to you?'

'Whatever you have,' replied Danny, doing his best to stop himself from dragging the guy over the counter. He'd been waiting for nearly ten minutes already and the guy hadn't stopped talking once.

'If it's long-distance you can use the phone on the wall there and do a reverse charge. Sinner Joe says the tailback's got to be three or four miles long up on the 59. He's just after telling me he's late cause of the roadblocks. Sheriffs are stopping every goddamn vehicle on the road. Just do it to inconvenience the whole population, seems to me. Did the exact same thing a few years ago looking for a shipment of guns and didn't find a goddamn thing: not so much as a stray bullet. Too many ways to go other than the 59 if you're a smuggler. Upshot was they caught a lot of locals with weapons they wasn't supposed to have, and no permits. In the end they had to declare an amnesty cause no one was gonna vote the sheriff back in again if he was gonna start pushing for prosecution. What you gonna do?'

Danny looked up from the counter. He'd only been half listening.

The guy gave him a strange look. 'You want the quarters or you gonna use the phone on the wall?'

Someone was banging at the front door.

rlaith stood frozen at the head of the stairs with a small holdall slung over her shoulder and a case filled with clothes hanging by her side. She cursed under her breath. She had spent nearly half an hour gathering some things together: clothes for Niamh, et cetera, but now, as the door rattled again, she wished she had done exactly what Danny had told her and left the house straight away.

Mrs McGuire was waiting for her in the kitchen downstairs.

'Kathleen!' whispered rlaith as loudly as she dared. 'Kathleen!'

'What?'

'Head out the back and wait for me at the top of the lane.'

The banging stopped momentarily and rlaith heard the flap on the letterbox being lifted. Both women stood still, barely daring to breathe.

After a few moments the banging started again.

rlaith slowly made her way down the stairs, lifting the case one step at a time in front of her. She was just over halfway when the phone started ringing. The sudden noise startled her and caused her to lose hold of the case.

She watched helplessly as it tumbled down the remaining steps and crashed into the small table at the bottom of the stairs.

The flap lifted again. This time she could see eyes peering through the letterbox, staring straight at her.

'Off on a trip, rlaith? Nice! Let us in, we'd like a wee word.'

rlaith didn't answer. She descended the rest of the stairs as quickly as possible and grabbed the suitcase.

There was a loud thud. Whoever was outside was trying to kick the door in. Each blow ripped the screws holding the lock out a little further until eventually the door was ready to give.

They were shouting through the letterbox again.

'Be a shame to miss your daughter's funeral. C'mon, open the door.'

The telephone was still ringing.

rlaith ran into the kitchen and grabbed a long carving knife from one of the drawers then headed back along the short hallway towards the front door. There was another loud crack as the lock finally gave way. But the door only opened three or four inches: it was held in place by a taut brass chain.

A hand appeared through the gap: the fingers fumbling around trying to free the chain from its holder.

rlaith didn't hesitate. She raised the knife and plunged it as hard as she could into the back of the hand. There was a scream as the attacker tried to pull free, but the knife had driven all the way through. It was acting like a split pin: preventing the hand from being withdrawn. Every attempt caused the knife to cut deeper into the flesh.

rlaith started kicking against the door and screaming at the top of her voice. 'Touch her and I'll kill every fucking one of you. Every . . . fucking . . . one.'

There was a loud splintering of wood and glass as the first shot was fired. A hole appeared halfway down the door followed quickly by another, then another just above it.

rlaith turned and ran, leaving the phone still ringing.

'C'mon, pick up, for God's sake.'

Danny slammed the receiver against the cradle in frustration. A few seconds later he dialled the operator again. 'I'd like to make a reverse-charge call please . . . Northern Ireland . . . sure.' Danny read out the number and listened as the operator asked the person on the other end if they would accept the charges.

'Hold on, sir, and I'll put you through,' said the operator eventually.

'Hello?'

'Mrs Fitzpatrick, it's Danny here, I need to speak to Angela.'

'She's not here. She hasn't come back from work and I haven't heard from her. It's not like her at all. I was hoping that was her on the phone.'

Danny felt a familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach.

'I'm sure she'll be in touch,' he lied. 'If you just let her know I called.'

'If you talk to her first will you tell her to phone and let me know she's safe?'

'Sure enough.'

Danny hung up.

Someone was rounding up members of his family as an insurance policy. That could only mean one thing: they knew he hadn't killed Finn O'Hanlon. There was even the possibility they knew the reason why. But who could have told them?

And who would want Quig McGuigan dead?

It wasn't just the names that appeared on the list that were being targeted, but anyone who had handled the list. Danny stared blankly at the wall for a few moments then dialled another number.

'My name's Danny McGuire. Can you put me through to Mr De Garza?'

Sinner Joe watched the young man slam the receiver back on the wall and walk out of the cafe into the morning sunshine. The long slatted blind rattled noisily as the thin glass door closed with a bang behind him.

For a moment everything in 'Must-go-Jean's' was still.

Sinner Joe glanced sideways at the old guy serving behind the counter.

'You ever seen a grenade with the pin pulled out?' he asked.

The old guy shook his head. 'Can't rightly say I have.'

'Looks much the same on the outside as one with the pin still in,' continued Sinner Joe. 'Only difference being one of them is gonna make you cry out for your mommy.'

Chapter 32.

Interstate 20/59, east of Cottondale Easter Monday

The rest area of 'Must-go-Jean's' was situated off Interstate 20/59 about fifteen miles east of Cottondale. A large area of trees had been cleared to accommodate the low-rise Fifties building with space enough for about thirty trucks, but the building company had run out of money to tarmac the parking lot and left it unfinished. Over the years the weight of the trucks and their trailers had compacted the earth into a light-brown, potholed dustbowl.

Danny crossed the uneven ground to where he had parked the Cadillac and opened the boot. Inside, Sean and Marie were lying side by side in a foetal position on the floor.

Sean sat up gasping for air.

'Jesus, Danny, what the hell was that all about? You were supposed to let us out when we reached the edge of town,' said Sean, looking around as he clambered out, 'not the edge of the eastern-bloody-seaboard. We were suffocating in there. Did you not hear us shouting?'

Marie climbed over the sill of the trunk and lowered herself stiffly onto the dusty expanse.

'Is Bush still the president?' she said without smiling.

Danny suddenly struck out and caught Sean full on the side of the face with his clenched fist. The blow knocked him to the ground where he lay with his eyes closed.

Marie stood frozen with a look of shock on her face. It appeared as if Sean had been knocked unconscious, but just as she was about to go over to him he raised himself up on his elbows and spoke.

'Nice one, Wub. Not exactly how I'd imagined our reunion, but you never were blessed with the gift of the gab. I thought you'd have more to say than that, though.'

'I've got plenty more to say, don't you worry,' replied Danny.

'You been driving along getting yourself all wound up? That wee paranoid brain of yours running through everything that's happened to you in the last eight years and blaming it all on me?' Sean looked up at Marie and continued. 'Here's the extent of your typical Irishman's conversation. We do most of our talking with our fists. I'm going to stand up now, Wub, but I warn you, if you try that again I'll kick the shite out of you. And don't think cause you're my wee brother I'll take it handy.'

Danny had the Walther PPK in his hand, pointing it at Sean.

'And don't you think just cause you're my brother I won't blow your fucking head off,' he said. 'You're already dead so it won't make any difference as far as I can see. I don't care if you're the Thevshi or not. I don't care what you've done to me. That's not why I feel like putting a bullet in your brain right now. It's what you've done to your family, and what you've done to our ma.'

Sean shook his head. 'Jesus, put the gun away, Wub. If I stand up and get it off you I'll crack it over your bloody head. This is the second time tonight you've pointed that thing at me and it's beginning to piss me off. Use it or stick it up yer arse.'

They were staring each other out: Sean daring Danny to shoot.

'Go on then, you little fucker, either pull the trigger or put the bloody thing away.'

Marie felt helpless to intervene. The situation looked like it was about to explode and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Danny held Sean's stare as he spoke.

'Delores?'

Marie looked at Danny blankly, then realised that although he was looking at Sean he was actually talking to her.

'It is Delores, isn't it?' he continued.

'No Marie: Marie Bain,' she replied.

'Fair enough, Marie.' Danny held his hand out to shake hers. 'Danny McGuire.'

'I knew it wasn't Mr Leonard!' said Marie, almost triumphantly. 'That was the only bit you lied about.'

Marie was relieved that his attention seemed to be on her now and not shooting his brother. 'Your lying zone is to the right, did you know that? His I'm still not sure about,' she said referring to Sean.

'It doesn't matter which way he's looking. Everything he says is a lie,' said Danny.

Sean had also raised his hand towards Marie. 'Sean McGuire. How you doing?' Marie took a step forward and shook his hand as well.

'Ah the McGuire brothers, that explains a lot . . . I thought you looked familiar when I first saw you in the apartment,' she said, addressing Danny. 'So who the hell is Finn O'Hanlon?'

'Me,' replied Sean, 'but only for the last eight years. Mostly I was and always have been Sean McGuire.' Sean had a question too. 'Who the hell's Delores?'

'No one,' replied Marie. 'I'm not good under pressure, it was the first name that popped into my head.'

'Marie, would you do me a favour?' asked Danny. 'Would you go into the cafe and ask Sinner Joe if he's got room in his cabin for a few passengers?'

'Sinner Joe! Are you kidding?' replied Marie. 'There's a guy in there called Sinner Joe? He'll be the one wearing the sackcloth and ashes and beating himself with a switch?'

'You'll know who he is when you see him,' said Danny.