“Another shift over, Mary.”

“That’s right, Matron.”

“Have you given any thought to what I said? We’d like to have you with us full-time. Agency work is no way to live.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“You do that. Is the Superintendent all right?”

“I’ve seen to her.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Mary Killane hurried across the car park, speaking into her mobile at the same time. “It’s done.”

“Good girl,” Dermot Fitzgerald replied. “I’ll be with you as arranged.”

She hurried on, excited now, turned a corner and moved along a dark road, a small bridge at the end crossing a canal. There was only a single old-fashioned gas lamp giving any light, but she felt no fear. There was a footfall behind her, and she turned to see him emerging out of the shadows, a smile on his face.

“Jesus, Dermot, we’ll have to move it if we’re to get to the airport in time for the Dublin plane.”

He kissed her on the cheek lightly. “Don’t fret. Everything’s fine. You’re sure you gave her the pills?”

“Absolutely. They kick in in half an hour, but it will be quite a while before anyone twigs there’s something wrong. It’s her heart they’ve been worried about anyway.”

“Excellent. You’ve done an amazing job. Pity it has to end this way.”

“What are you talking about?” she said, bewildered.

His right hand came out of the pocket of his reefer coat clutching a silenced Colt.38 pistol. He rammed it into her, fired twice and pushed with his left hand so that she went backward over the rail into the canal below.

He walked to the end of the street and the lights of a Mercedes switched on. He got into the passenger seat and Igor Levin said, “That’s it, then?”

“Mission accomplished.”

“Your bag is in the back. I’ll drop you at Heathrow.”

“Ibiza next stop.” Fitzgerald lit a cigarette. “I can’t wait to get in the water.”