'About an hour. We are due to land in about thirty minutes.' Mary holds his hand, gives him a squeeze.
        After he returned from the briefing, another night-time journey that took thirty-six hours, Mary was waiting for him in the house, frantic with worry, not convinced by his text message about having to go away for a few days. He knew that from the number of messages from her on his mobile when they handed it back in the car park in Lifford.
        'Jesus Christ! Davin! Why can't he leave you alone?' Mary is furious, caught between fear and rage. 'How long is it since he made you retire, or threw you out to save his own rotten neck. The fucking bastard!'
        'I know, I know,' Eamon says gently as he takes her in his arms.
        But Mary is not ready to be comforted just yet. She pushes him away, pounding his chest with her fists. 'Leave me alone! We were supposed to be finished. No more. You told me. We promised each other that was it. We'd do our bit for the party at elections, run the business, pay our dues, and we always have. But no more operations, not after Golden Boy.'
        'You know it's never as simple as that. We can't walk away.'
        'You're too old for this, and my nerves are not what they were.'
        Eamon is silent for a time, he stands looking out of the window of their third floor sitting room. He looks at the Walls of Derry, the spire of Saint Columb's Church, at the towering Apprentice Boys' Hall. He takes in, with his usual care, the recently dismantled British Army watchtower and listening post, from where they eavesdropped on the Creggan and the Bogside areas of the city. He can see the FREE DERRY wall and the Bloody Sunday Memorial. This room is insulated, as safe as he can make it from the probes and cameras of the British listeners and watchers on the closed circuit TV. He wonders if they really have stopped their surveillance and doubts it. Doubts it because he wouldn't do so in their position, he would continue to watch and listen but covertly.
        'Did I tell you I bought the Andreas Scholl CD the other day? I'll put it on. He has the most incredible countertenor voice.'
        Mary is calmer now. 'Okay.'
        He puts the disc on, and as they listen, Eamon finds it peaceful, and notices the music has helped. Mary is calmer.
        In the evening, a fine balmy one, they walk along by the sea in Greencastle, one of those times when they manage to get away for a night.
        Eamon says, when he is sure they are clear of anybody or anything that might hear them, 'You mentioned Golden Boy. That was part of what Davin wanted me for. It seems Hugh O'Neill is alive, as is Michael Donnellan. Davin believes they are about to fund the next splinter group, the TIRA.'

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