'There is, or there was, a sudden glut in the South. Prices dropped. The big boys didn't like it, so they come calling. What the fuck is going on? And we had to tell them we didn't know. Of course, they don't believe that. Why should they when we are supposed to have the ear to the ground and are always informed. But not this time. So we go to work to find out. A bit messy, as you'd expect, but then it usually is.'
        Eamon tries to remember any beatings, anybody worked over with a baseball bat, kneecapped by a bullet through the legs, sent into exile in England, but he can't recall anything out of the ordinary.
        'We did find out,' Davin says. 'A connection to London, to old friends of yours.' He stares at Eamon. 'Do I need to tell you?'
        'No. I can guess. Michael Donnellan.'
        'Him, yes. And your old protégée,' Davin does not sneer, he is matter-of-fact. 'Hugh O'Neill.'
        Eamon nods slowly. None of this is a surprise, the resurrection of Michael Donnellan, the reappearance of Hugh O'Neill, after a gap of what, ten or eleven years. Sometimes that is how it is in their world. People disappear. Some stay lost, while others reappear.
        'You know what this means if they get going? Another war, more bombs somewhere, and a perfect excuse for the Unionists to delay and prevaricate, to put us on the back foot by claiming we are not fit to take our place in the Assembly. Something that will stick to us. We take the blame, whatever we say or do. The mud, and maybe the blood, will stain us. The fucking Unionists will play it for all they can. All we've worked for will vanish. It will fuck the Good Friday Agreement. The Assembly, if it goes ahead will exclude us. All that will be lost.'
        Eamon has never seen Davin so animated, so passionate, unusually emotional for him. This is puzzling to Eamon. At the most, he would have put Ignatius Davin as ambiguous about the Good Friday Agreement, and all the concessions the Movement has made.
        'Did you hear the news from Belfast?' Davin changes tack. 'It's them in the shit for a change, not that you'd know from the Brit's press. The way that is working out, we are getting the results we want. But it will all be like dust if Donnellan gets any momentum. We have enough people who don't like the way things have panned out and who only stay in the Movement because there is nowhere else for them to go. But Michael Donnellan with money…'
        Eamon does see, all too clearly.
        Davin says softly, 'Have you been away on your holidays yet?'

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