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Finn
The very second Ciaran was shot, the universe shifted. The threat of someone being murdered was no longer some complex, hypothetical Rubicon, and had become a simple numbers game. Michael Albermarle was a murderer now, so what did it matter if he took one life or a thousand?
It also meant that it was vital for him to escape; kidnapping and assault carried a high enough sentence, but murder came with a mandatory life tariff. By the expression on his face I guessed he’d just figured all of that out in one go.
“What the hell’s going on out there?” I heard a male voice shout over the ringing in my ears. From the corner of my eye I saw the shadowy figure of a man stood some hundred yards away, and Michael now swung his Glock in the voice’s direction. I had no idea where he’d appeared from, but I wasn’t prepared to get the fella shot.
“Get back!” I hollered. “He’s got a gun – call the Gardaí and an ambulance!”
“On it!” the man yelled, and I heard the footsteps of someone retreating at a fair old whack. I had no idea if he would do as I’d asked but at least he would be safe, which was more than could be said for Lilith and me.
“Right. We need to go,” Michael said to me, his voice shrill with shock and panic. ‘Things have changed. No room for witnesses. Not now.” He shakily raised the Glock again, and this time he pointed it at Lilith.
My Lili, who had neutralised half the threat with mere words, and at massive risk to herself. Now it was my turn to act, and I knew exactly what I had to do.
I stood in the enfolding darkness of that windswept and desolate jetty and felt all my worlds and all my lives collide in one immense, perfect moment. Any fear I’d felt dissipated as pure instinct took over, and I nearly laughed out loud at the simple beauty of it.
The fighter in me knew how to use my body to throw someone off balance from a standstill. The part of me that had been hurt time and time again knew that pain would eventually pass, even if you thought it would never end; I’d even said my Confiteor and got it out of the way earlier in the day, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t managed to sin all that much in the time in between. I reckoned I was still under warranty.
And that one spotless part of me that loved Lilith Bresson with every fibre of my being knew that I could do anything that might let her adventure continue, even if that meant I might not live to see it.
“Lilith!” I cried out, my voice rising above the wind and the waves.
Lilith
I finally broke away from staring dazedly at Ciaran’s corpse when I heard Finn call my name, followed by a frantic ‘Down!”
I didn’t question the command, just flung myself flat to the ground. Less than a second later another bullet flew in my direction and smacked into the doorframe fifty yards behind me. If I’d still have been upright I’d have joined what was left of Ciaran O’Halloran.
Before Michael could aim at me again Finn threw his full weight at him and sent the pair of them tumbling off the jetty and into the inky, churning water.
As they fell I heard the unmistakable sound of a third gunshot.
“No!” I screamed, and ran to where Finn had been stood only seconds before. There were two men motionless and face down in the water, and one of them was definitely dead because I could see a good eight inches of steel rebar poking out of his back.
Chapter Thirty-One
Lilith
The impaled man was wearing a sweater. Finn had only been wearing his jeans. Therefore the impaled man could not be Finn. Not Finn, I told myself, over and over again. It had to be Michael Albermarle that was dead, or at least he was the one that was definitely dead; Finn still wasn’t moving.
I forced myself to take the time to take off my trainers, socks, hoodie and track pants; it took five seconds at most, but felt like an eternity’s delay. My first instinct was to dive into the water but I didn’t want to meet the same fate as Michael so instead I lowered myself into the numbingly cold sea from the jetty’s edge, using my feet to feel for any debris and making myself take deep breaths as I did so to stop my chest spasming in the frigid water. Once I knew I was clear I swam to where Finn still floated face-down.
I managed to roll him onto his back, but he was still unresponsive. I cupped his chin with my left hand and wrapped my right arm around his chest, and swam with all my remaining strength to pull him back to the jetty. I got there in just a few kicks and grabbed a metal mooring ring, then realised I didn’t have a hope in hell of getting Finn out of the water.
He was a deadweight who was nearly a foot taller than I was, I was thoroughly exhausted, and there weren’t even any steps built into the stone where I might be able to drag him up inch by inch. To add to all that, every second we stayed in the water he could be bleeding to death. “Oh, for fucking fuck’s sake!” I sobbed into the dispassionate night.
Just as I was wondering if it was worth shouting out for help, Finn and I were suddenly lit up in a circle of harsh white torchlight. “Need a hand down there?” someone asked. Older male, maybe fifty? Fifty-five? A warm North Dublin accent, and the sweetest, most welcome sound I’d ever heard.
“Yeah,” I gasped. “Very much so.”
“Callum!” the mystery voice called. “It’s all safe. C’mere and help your old dad out, would you? And maybe don’t look around too much. It’s a bit... sticky over here.”
“Coming!” an adolescent male voice replied, and I could hear footsteps running on gravel, getting steadily louder.
“Right, my name’s Davey, love. Davey Conroy. This young fella here is my son Callum.” The torchlight flicked upwards to reveal two white faces peering down at me. Davey was thick-set and balding, with a face that clearly did more smiling than frowning. Callum was clearly still growing into his lanky frame, and tufts of bright red hair stuck out from under a black beanie hat.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Davey continued. “The Gardaí and Ambulance are already on the way and we’re all going to work together to get you and that fella with you out of the sea, okay?”
