He put the old phone back and went to check on how O'Rourke, another old man, was getting on. He had the priest's car jacked up and had already replaced the first tyre.

'Was that Sean you were talking to?' O'Rourke said.

'It was indeed, all the way from London.'

'Is he coming to see you or what?'

'And why would he be coming back to Collyban, the arse end of the world?' Mickeen shrugged. 'Just checking I'm still alive.'

'Well, to get down to business, there's a problem with the exhaust on Father O'Grady's car. Do I take it into Newry and get a replacement?'

'He'll scream blue murder about the price. He's away at the moment, so there's no rush. Leave it up on the jack when you've finished the wheels and I'll have a look at it later. I've decided to go for a wee drive and see what's happening with the Talbot funeral at the Castlerea crematorium.

'I didn't have my lunch,' O'Rourke said.

'So you'll have a late one. They keep the Irish stew simmering all day long down at the Green Man. Just finish the tyres like I tell you while I search the cottage for a tie. You can't go to a funeral without a tie,' and he walked out and left O'Rourke there.

At Talbot Place, Justin waited in the study for his mother to join him. He wore not only a black suit but the tie to go with it, presenting a more sombre picture than he cared for, but this was Ireland and it was expected.

He was about to get himself a drink when the Preacher phoned him. 'I was wondering when I was going to hear from you,' Talbot said as he opened a French window and went out on to the terrace.

'I won't offer my condolences,' Hassan Shah said. 'I doubt they'd be appreciated.'

'A time for rejoicing, as far as I'm concerned,' Talbot told him. 'The future beckons.'

'There are infinite possibilities for us working together,' Shah said.

'There are infinite possibilities for Talbot International to expand in world markets.'

'You have so much,' Shah said, 'and yet you want more.'

'Nothing is enough,' Talbot told him, and switched off. He swallowed a large vodka, then went out into the Great Hall to find the Kellys and Tod Murphy. His mother, dressed completely in black including a hat, was just coming downstairs. Her make-up was perfect, but her face was an ivory mask. A wake was expected later, and several village girls supervised by Emily were setting up long tables at one end of the hall. Throwing convention to the winds, Justin Talbot had insisted the coffin would be waiting for them at the crematorium, but the funeral company had provided a driver and a black Voltern which could accommodate them comfortably.

Emily said to Jean, 'God bless you, my dear, everything will be ready by the time you return.'

'Thank you,' Jean said. 'Do you think many will come?'

Emily was shocked. 'But of course. They'll abide by your wishes over the funeral, but they'll want to pay their respects afterwards.'

A horn sounded outside. Justin Talbot said, 'I'd say that's for us.' He gave his mother his arm. 'All right, love, let's get this over with.' Paddy O'Rourke sat at the end of the bar, drinking his Guinness. Except for two old men playing dominoes in the corner, the pub was empty. Martin Curry, the landlord, entered and put a plate of Irish stew in front of him.

'Get your head round that.'

Paddy started, glancing up at the bar clock. 'Two-thirty. Only another hour to go and ould Colonel Henry burns in Hell.'

'Good riddance to him,' Curry said. 'Where's Mickeen? He was in early for a drink, but he hasn't eaten.'

'He decided to take a run over to Castlerea and see the Talbot funeral.'

'Now why would he do that when everyone knows the family don't want a fuss?'

'I'm not sure. He was having a chat on the phone to his nephew Sean in London. From what I heard, they were discussing the funeral and so on.'

Martin Curry said, 'By his nephew, Sean, you're speaking of Sean Dillon?'

'Well, Mickeen's only got the one. Big for the Provos in his day, Sean.'

'And big for the Brits now,' Curry said. 'What were they talking about?' He poured another drink. 'On the house.' The chapel at Castlerea Crematorium was supposed to be open to any member of the public who wished to enter, but not that afternoon, not with a visible Provisional IRA presence arranged by Kelly, several large and intimidating men in dark suits making it plain to the public that they weren't welcome.

There was a pleasant memorial park surrounding the chapel and other buildings and, here and there, individuals were visiting their loved ones or delivering flowers. Mickeen pretended to be such a person and was at least able to observe the hearse waiting by the chapel door. The Voltern appeared with the party from Talbot Place and everyone got out and waited.

Jack Kelly produced a mobile and answered it for a minute or so, glancing round, then put it in his pocket, moved to the men guarding the door and spoke to one of them. The man turned and was obviously searching the memorial park and Mickeen moved away. One look had been enough to tell him who they were and, for the first time, it occurred to him that he might have been foolish to come.

The service in the chapel, with the well-meaning vicar and the piped music, could not have been over too soon for Justin, who felt a certain release as they went out to find it raining.

Jean and Hannah were talking to the vicar and Kelly pulled Justin over. 'Sean Dillon, the one who works for Ferguson, was born in Collyban. He left for London at twelve, but his uncle, Mickeen Oge Flynn, owns the garage there.'

'So get on with it, Jack. Is there some problem?'

'His garage mechanic says he overheard Mickeen having a telephone conversation from London with Dillon. From what he heard, they were discussing the funeral and the fact that you wanted to keep it private. Mickeen said he knew it was today and that he'd attend.'

'And did he?'

'As you can see, there are a few people in the memorial park.'

The two women had got into the car and sat waiting. Talbot said in a low, dangerous voice, 'Can't you give me a straight answer? Did he come?'

'Yes, one of the men thinks he saw him.'

Talbot produced a silver hip flask, opened it and swallowed vodka. As he closed it, he said, 'Charles Ferguson is a major problem in my life, and Sean Dillon seems to be his top enforcer, so when he phones a relative who lives only seven miles from my own home and the said relative turns up as he has done, I get highly suspicious. Tell my mother and Hannah to carry on. Say we'll see them soon.'

'Then what?' Kelly asked.

'Get one of the men to give you his car and we'll take a quick trip to Collyban, just you and me.' At the garage, Mickeen found O'Rourke brushing the floor. 'I'll finish Father Grady's car in the morning,' he said. 'How were the service and the cremation?'

'It was like a Provisional IRA convention, with Jack Kelly and a few of his men from Kilmartin discouraging the public from going in the chapel. It didn't seem healthy to stay around, so I came away. Get off with you now and I'll see you later for a drink.'

'I'll do that,' Paddy said and went out.

It was after five, and Mickeen stood there thinking about what had happened. The presence of so many old IRA hands had given him a shock. People like that were still a power to be reckoned with. Paddy had left the priest's car on the jack so, with nothing better to do, he switched on the inspection lamp, eased his old bones down, his back on the trolley, and rolled underneath the car.

He was aware of footsteps approaching and stopped his inspection. 'Can I help you?'