'He's killed the final victim, a homeless man. Looks like he poisoned him, but I can't be sure until the autopsy's been carried out. He left a business card and the final chapter.'

'And did you catch him?' Bishop asked, already knowing the answer, seeking confirmation.

'No. There were eight minutes between when he gave him the poison and when we found him dead. He was long gone by then. He was dressed as an old woman. I've got the outer cordon looking for her, I mean him.'

'The press are going to have a field day. I knew this was a bad idea. They've already laid siege to the place.'

'Look, Sir, I need to go. Things are pretty crazy here at the minute.'

'That'll be nothing to the firestorm you're going to get in the next couple of days,' Bishop warned.

'If we find anything I call you, okay?' McEvoy ended the call. He turned to Jacobs. 'We need to find Karen.'

McEvoy paused in the hallway, listening for signs of life. Nothing. He climbed the stairs, two at a time, pushing open the door to Karen's room. She was lying in the same corner between dirty blankets. The man he'd encountered downstairs the last time he visited lay on top of the blanket between her and the wall. A burnt and bloodied spoon lay on the ground, a lighter, a twist of tin foil, and a hypodermic needle nearby.

McEvoy knelt down next to the blankets. He rolled her shoulder. 'Karen?'

There was no response.

'Karen?' he said loudly.

'She'll probably be out of it for a while,' Jacobs said.

'Shit! I don't believe this.' He shook her roughly. 'Karen.'

'What?' The word was slow and slurred.

'Karen. Come on, I need to talk to you.' He shook her again.

'You're wasting your time,' Jacobs offered.

'What?' Karen slurred again, half opening her eyes.

'Shit!' McEvoy stood and pulled his mobile phone from his pocket, his anger and frustration rising again. 'Fuckin' heroin. We need to get her moved into protective custody.'

'Is that a good idea?' Jacobs asked.

'If she does know the identity of The Raven then I want her wrapped in cotton wool. I don't want her to suddenly disappear, either through her own choice or his.'

He pulled the wig free and smiled at himself in the cracked mirror, his face reflected back two dozen times. He'd done it. He'd walked into the lion's den, killed a man and left without anyone noticing. He'd proved the truth of The Rule Book and his own genius. There could be no argument. He'd outwitted all the forces of the Irish state ranged against him. He'd even told them when and where he would strike and still they had failed to ensnare him. He would justifiably be the headline news on every news station on the planet. He felt euphoric; invincible.

If it weren't for his partner, lying behind him in the bath, he could slip back into anonymity; continue his life as before. But that wouldn't be a problem. He would be safely hidden, ready to rise again at his choosing, long before anyone came to look for her.

'You would have been proud of me, Sam,' he said, running hot water into the sink, preparing to wash the make-up away. He'd excelled himself this time. The disguise had been perfect. As far as anybody who'd seen him were concerned, he had been an elderly woman no question.

He turned to face her. Her eyes were closed, her face drained of any colour. 'I did it, Sam. I fuckin' did it. I'm The Raven. The Trickster. I said I would do it and I did. I wrote the rules. I wrote the fuckin' book!'

He reached out and touched her shoulder. It was cold to the touch. 'Sam?'

She did not respond.

'Sam?' He sat on the edge of the bath and stroked her cheek. 'And then there were eight,' he muttered to himself. 'The epilogue. The final chapter that will announce my name to the world.'

He slowly started to unwind the tape from around her head, his euphoria subsiding. Once he finished he balled up the twisted tape and stared at her pale, placid, innocent face. Her pain and hatred were now gone she was in a different place; the place Laura and his other victims were now residing. Somewhere other or nowhere; here, then gone.

He looked down at her lacerated body and pulled a tight smile. She had served his purpose; been the safety valve for his tension, stress and anger. She had never been anything more than a prop to create the illusion of a normal life. He knew he should be feeling something towards her for her but he felt nothing. He was just playing a scene for an absent audience.

He turned back to the sink and continued to remove his disguise. Once finished he left the bathroom without looking back and headed through into the living room to watch the news and bask in the rhetoric and hyperbole of panicked and flustered reporters and commentators. He felt invincible.

They were driving back towards O'Connell Street.

'You need to try and calm down, Colm,' Jacobs advised. 'You'll make poor decisions when angry.'

'Just concentrate on The Raven and forget about trying to do your mumbo-jumbo on me, okay? He killed that man right under our feckin' noses! Just walked in, gave y'man the burger, and calmly walked out again. I'm going to get taken to the cleaners.'

'Well, being angry isn't going to help,' she said patiently. 'You need to be calm and collected. Try and get things in perspective. You hit one of your colleagues earlier on. Even if he was taunting you, how's that going to help? You're acting like a bull in a china shop.'

'Listen, Kathy, I know you mean well, but will you shut the hell up, okay? If it hadn't escaped your attention I'm in charge of seven, that's seven, murders. That sick bastard's just committed the seventh in broad daylight in a place where over 20 officers were waiting for him and we still don't have a feckin' clue as to who he is! Of course, I'm angry. I'm feckin' livid!'

'All I'm saying is that you've been under enormous stress,' she continued evenly, 'you've practically had no sleep in the last week, and you're hyper-tense. If you don't calm down you're going to have a heart attack or a stroke. That, or you're going to say or do the wrong thing, something you'll regret later.'

'Kathy, shut up, okay?' McEvoy said, annoyed and frustrated, knowing deep down that she was right, but too angry to admit it or act on her advice. It was now over an hour since The Raven had given the homeless man the burger. It was clear that he'd gotten clean away. They'd he'd been made to look a fool. Hitting Deegan had been stupid, but he deserved it. And he shouldn't have been there; he should have been suspended. They continued on in silence.

His mobile phone rang and he snatched at it. 'McEvoy.'

'He left the same way he came in,' Dr John said. 'Up O'Connell Street, along Parnell Street, up Parnell Square West past the Rotunda, along Granby Row, across Dorset Street onto Saint Mary's Place. We lose him after that.'

'Shit!'

'He barely entered our box. Certainly didn't go anywhere near the spire or Earl or Henry Street. The only decent shots we get of him are from McDonalds, and he keeps his face looking down the whole time. He was wearing a head scarf over a grey-haired wig, a blue dress and cardigan, a black coat, black stockings and black shoes.'

'Get the best frames released to the media ASAP. We want to speak to anybody who saw her between four and seven this evening. Get them to ring the confidential hotline. We need to know where he went after Saint Mary's Place.'

'I'll do it now.'

'Good. I'll speak to you later. We'll need a team meeting at some point to go over this fiasco. I'll let you know when.' He ended the call.

'He's disappeared off the face of the earth,' he said, filling Jacobs in on the call.

'If you don't get lucky with the hotline, then I still think Laura is the place to start,' she offered.

'That's why we've just been to see Karen,' McEvoy said testily.

'I know. I'm just giving you my view, that's all that you should concentrate your efforts there. He was close to Laura but probably only tangentially linked with Brady. He might have only met him once or twice, or knew him from a distance through Laura, but given Brady's history he got the idea of using him as a decoy. If they ever did meet, he probably put on an act, being very pleasant, friendly.'

'He'd have to have learnt about Brady's life to select the places and victims,' McEvoy stated, trying to pick holes in Jacob's thesis.

'He could have learnt that indirectly from the archives, through Brady's friends, or following him about. I doubt he got close to Brady though. My feeling's that he's pretty much followed the advice in his chapters. There's little to link him to Brady other than Laura and the murders.'

'Oh, shit,' McEvoy spat approaching the top of O'Connell Street. A crowd of on-lookers had gathered, several members of the press set up around them. He turned left onto Parnell Street, hoping to cut down Malborough Street to Earl Street. No doubt a similar scene would await them there.

McEvoy walked briskly towards Plunkett who was talking to a guard in uniform.

Plunkett turned to face him. 'The quays are gridlocked, the rest of the city's following suit. It's mayhem.'

'I know. I've just been up to the North Circular Road.' His phone rang. He held up a hand of apology to Plunkett. 'McEvoy.'

'I've just had Charlie Deegan in my office, followed by the AC on the phone,' Bishop said angrily. 'Deegan's pissed off, the AC's pissed off, and I'm mightily pissed off. Not only has your operation gone tits up, but you assaulted another officer! Some member of the public caught it on their mobile feckin' phone! It's now all over Sky News. What the hell were you playing at!'

'Playing at?' McEvoy repeated, Bishop's tirade still sinking in.

'You're on your own on this one, Colm. I've done my best to protect you, but you've fucked up big time. First, pushing for that fiasco, and then punching Charlie feckin' Deegan on camera. You've lost the plot, you bloody looper. You better get back here before you do any more damage. Is DI Plunkett with you? I need to speak to him.'

McEvoy handed the phone to Plunkett. 'It's Bishop,' he stated flatly.

McEvoy was stuck in traffic along Nassau Street. His flashing blue lights were having no effect. The cars and buses in front of him had nowhere to go. He thought of abandoning the car and walking up to Harcourt Street, but it had just started to rain heavily, fat drops hitting the windscreen. His mobile phone rang again.

'McEvoy.'

'Colm, it's Elaine. Do you have a minute?'

'Yeah, no bother,' he said flatly, a quiet rage still burning inside from Bishop's rebuke.

'I think he was killed by cyanide. There's a faint smell of almonds from the burger and his face is bright red because the tissue couldn't absorb the oxygen in the blood. I won't know for sure for a couple of days as the blood and burger samples will have to be sent to London for testing. I'm pretty certain though.

'By the look of it he'd put a couple of capsules in the burger. He probably teased them apart, took out whatever was in them, paracetamol or whatever, and replaced it with potassium or sodium cyanide. When the victim bit into the burger he would have broken the capsules. He'd have ingested some of the cyanide salts direct, some of the rest reacting with the acid in the burger to create hydrogen cyanide. He'd have lost consciousness quickly, well within a minute, and entered a coma not long after. He died of a cardiac arrest bought on by the stress to his cardiovascular system. He wasn't in good shape to begin with.'

'Poor bastard,' McEvoy muttered. 'How the hell would he have sourced cyanide?'

'I don't know. The Internet? You can buy anything on there these days. I know it's used a lot in ore extraction, electroplating, that kind of thing. Also in the production of other chemicals. No doubt you can get your hands on it if you want to.'

'Well, I don't think I'm going to have to worry about it for much longer in any case,' he said dejectedly. 'I think I'm about to lose my job or at least get demoted. He managed to commit the final murder under the noses of 20 guards and a load of technical equipment and get clean away. Plus I punched Charlie Deegan on camera.'

'Nonsense,' she said sternly. 'That arrogant idiot deserved whatever he got and there was nothing you could do about the murder.'

'That's not how the AC and Bishop see it.'

'Just stick to your guns, Colm. I'll send you the full report once I've got it typed up.'

'Well, someone will get it.' He ended the call and turned onto Kildare Street, riding up on to the pavement, getting set to abandon the car and jog through the rain.

Bishop's secretary looked up at McEvoy. His hair was soaking wet, his coat dripping onto his sopping suit trousers.

She pulled a tight smile. 'He's in with the AC. They're waiting for you.'

'Thanks.' He pulled the door closed and headed for the AC's office. He wasn't sure what his strategy for the meeting would be other than there was no way he was taking the fall for Charlie Deegan. If they wanted to remove him from the case, fair enough, but Deegan would have to be removed as well. He unzipped the coat, slipped out of it, shaking the rainwater off, and knocked on the outer door.

The AC's secretary called him in and gestured towards the inner door.

He knocked again and the AC's voice told him to enter.

The AC was sat behind his desk, Bishop in the same seat as 24 hours previously.

'Ah, the gombeen himself,' the AC said, no humour in his voice. 'I'm glad you could join us. Before we start I want to make one thing clear, you are off this case suspended pending a full investigation. You've messed up big time, Colm. Big time.

'In the last half an hour the Commissioner and the Minister for Justice have chewed my god damn ear off over your fiasco. First, for letting The Raven kill again.' He held up a chunky finger. 'Second, for not catching him. Third, for punching Charlie Deegan on camera. And fourth for gridlocking the city. I've had Charlie Deegan in telling me he's going to press assault charges and the media are going mental. We're the laughing stock of the entire world. The government are almost certainly going to set up a full inquiry into our handling of the investigation. No doubt that'll recommend wide-scale reform and reorganisation.' He looked fit to explode.

McEvoy stayed standing and silent, afraid of what his anger might make him say.

'Well?' the AC demanded.

'Is Charlie Deegan being suspended as well?'

'Is that all you're worried about?' Bishop snapped, before the AC could reply. 'What's happening to Deegan!'

'I just want to know.'

'Of course, he's not being suspended!' the AC roared. 'He hasn't done anything wrong! You hit him, you stupid gombeen. Go on, get out of my sight. You'll be lucky to have a job after all of this. Jesus Christ!'

McEvoy turned, opened the door, and walked through into the secretary's office closing the door behind him.

She looked down at her desk, embarrassed, party to the AC's shouting.

He stood stock still, his eyes closed, clenching and unclenching his hands, trying to control the rage that was boiling inside, demanding to be vented. If he was going to lose his job, he might as well lose his dignity. If he simply snuck out of the building with his tail between his legs he'd forever regret not saying what he thought, regret failing to try and keep his post. He turned on his heels and pushed open the door again, standing in its frame.

'Listen, you pair of fuckin' cowards,' he snapped, 'while you've been fannying about trying to protect yourselves and your jobs, I've been trying to catch this fucker. At least I had the courage to try and set up a trap unlike the pair of you prima-fuckin'-donnas. Neither of you would even look at the plan for fear of tainting yourselves with it. Yes, it went wrong. Yes, I fucked up. But so did you, so don't try and wipe your hands clean and run for cover. You're in this up to your necks.

'As for Charlie Deegan, if I'm suspended then so's he. He should have been kicked into touch earlier this week when he fucked up big time, but neither of you had the balls to do it. Yes, I hit him. He fuckin' deserved it. I don't suppose you asked him what he said to provoke me, did you? He said the homeless person probably deserved to die!' he lied. 'That'll look good in the papers tomorrow, won't it!

'If I'm removed from this case, I'll be on every news channel on the planet explaining how you two set me up as the scapegoat, how you've covered up for Deegan. I don't care. What difference will it make to me? I might be finished, but I'll take you and the whole fuckin' force with me.'

He finished, his steely gaze challenging them to respond.

They stared back, anger in their eyes.

'It's your choice!' McEvoy spat and slammed the door. 'Sorry, Claire,' he said more politely to the secretary.

He closed the outer door and headed down the corridor. Strangely he felt quite calm, his anger dissipated. He might well lose his job, or at the very least be shunted into a backwater, but for some reason he didn't care. If they wanted to push him out, then he had an exit strategy and they knew what it was. It was their choice. He started down the stairs. He didn't know where he was going, just that he was leaving. They could look after The Raven. He felt free of him. He knew it was a temporary feeling, that guilt and remorse and worry would follow later, but for now it was something to hold onto.

McEvoy switched on the radio and tried to find some music. After a couple of minutes he stabbed it off again. He needed to apologise to Kathy Jacobs; needed to apologise to his whole team. He'd been acting like an idiot for the past few days being short with people, ordering them about, giving them no slack, generally being a grumpy bastard. He'd let the stress of the whole thing get to him; let it turn him into somebody else. This evening was proof of that. Twenty years of obedience, of toeing the line, and then twice in one week bawling out Bishop. He'd even missed Gemma's birthday. At the end of the day she was the only thing that really mattered; his one constant.

He'd been blind to himself the whole week. And to top it off he'd even started smoking again after the damn things had killed Maggie. He took a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and flung it onto the back seat, followed by the lighter. He toyed with throwing his plastic substitute after it, but instead jammed it between his lips.

He didn't want to walk away with bad blood. He pulled out his mobile phone.

'Kathy Jacobs.'

'Hi, Kathy, it's Colm McEvoy.'