ng place. Finally he surrendered.
‘Who is it?’
‘Mr Rogan,’ the girl said and put Finbar through before Harry could tell her to take a message.
‘Harry, at last! This is the third time I’ve called since midday. The lovely Suzanne said you’d gone to some lecture, but this is no time for swotting. Your clients need help.’
‘What can I do for you?’ asked Harry, not finding it difficult to restrain his enthusiasm.
‘Listen, that bloody Sladdin, you know what he’s done? He’s got a couple of fellers in a car down the road keeping an eye on me. When I went out to the newsagent to see what the Daily Post had to say about the bomb, they followed me down the road. Trying to be discreet, like, but I could tell what they were up to.’
After his humiliating encounter with Dermot McCray, Harry didn’t feel inclined to offer his shoulder for crying on. ‘What do you expect? You’re a Dubliner, there was a bomb under your car, you gave Sladdin the impression you were telling less than the whole truth…’
‘I’m a bloody victim! The bomb was meant for me!’
‘Look, you’re not dealing with a fool. Sladdin would be negligent if he didn’t set up some form of surveillance.’
At the other end of the line Finbar sighed. ‘Fat lot of comfort you are. How long is this likely to go on?’
‘Till Sladdin finds out who has it in for you. You could speed things up by coming clean.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Come on, Finbar, let’s not play games. People don’t have their premises burned down and their cars bombed simply for dropping litter in the street. Until you take me into your confidence, there isn’t much I can do to save your skin from Dermot McCray.’