“Well?” Kilmartin repeated.

“I’ll give it my considered opinion. Will that do you?”

Kilmartin scowled and fixed Minogue with a one-eyed glare.

“When will you be talking to Monsignor Tynan, then?”

The irritation rushed back to Minogue.

“Jimmy-” Kilmartin waved away his response.

“I know, I know,” he interrupted. “ ‘Tynan plays above board.’ ‘He’d come straight to me to sort anything out.’ ‘He’d do right by us.’ Hail Mary, Holy Mary, and the rest of it. All I’m saying is-”

“I’ll phone and see.”

“Ah, Jases! I’d sooner you said nothing than go around to him with a puss on you. He’ll know I asked you.”

Minogue rubbed his eyes.

“You’re an iijit sometimes, Matt. All I’m trying to tell you is that the personal touch is what clinches things. I’m not asking you to butter him up. Look, I can tell you straight out that I know”-Kilmartin paused and pointed his finger at the desktop-“I know that Tynan thinks very highly of you-”

“He’s never asked me once-”

“Shut up a minute and listen. I don’t resent that one bit. Doesn’t bother me one iota that you might have more of Tynan’s ear than I do. Not one bit. And Tynan’s not stupid.”

“I’ll pass that news on to him for you.”

“Don’t be a smart arse, you. Listen. Tynan has to make some response to the Divisional Supers, we all know that. They want their own glory. What’ll decide Tynan in the end is not the computers and the stats. It’ll be the human factor. It’s our culture sure, man! Here, come on. You know what I’m getting at, don’t you?” Kilmartin rapped his knuckles on his colleague’s shoulder and gave Minogue a pantomime wink.

“Well…”

“Here, I’ll tell you in plain English. What the hell does Tynan need from us so’s he’ll leave us alone? Am I getting through to you?”