“‘Two Irelands,’” said Breen. “‘Two Dublins’?”

“Exactly. It’s its own world, unto itself. But universal, like a city is a city.”

“Well, they say it’s worse than we think it is. Worse than the Guards let on.”

Fanning had expected this. He had his sombre tone ready.

“That it definitely is, without a doubt. A senior Guard has told me exactly that.”

He felt sure that this quiet affirmation had had an effect on Breen.

“The underworld,” Breen murmured thoughtfully. He looked out the window.

“Tell you something else,” said Fanning. “Going around with the guy I’m with, it’s pretty scary. It’s like a completely foreign city. And I know Dublin.”

“Your guide to the underworld,” said Breen, another wry smile creeping into his fleshy face. “This Orpheus, let’s call him. Is he a big thing, what they say, ‘connected’?”

“Well he talks a lot. Watches too many gangster flicks probably.”

“Scarface? Tony Soprano?”

“Pretty much.”

“Living the dream, is he.”

“We could talk about the semiotics of it.”

Breen actually smiled.

“Jesus, Dermot. Spare me. Remember all that crap?”

It was another test, but Fanning had a lot of ground to give. He smiled, and he shrugged. Breen uncrossed his legs and sat up.

“So what’s the going rate for this, em, tour of the underworld?”

“The usual thirty pieces of silver.”

Breen seemed to enjoy that.

“But he gets me places,” Fanning went on. “Even if he is a name-dropper.”

“Names?”

“Not any big scandal, well not yet. ‘You’d be amazed who buys heroin in this city,’ he says. Things like that. And he talks about his sources in the Guards.”

“Bent ones?”

“Hasn’t said outright. He has a contact in the Drug Squad, the Central one.”

Breen’s face became fixed in an expression of kind interest.