and banged against the window as the street-lights strobed past.
I wasn't the only one. Mr Green had cramp again. I raised my arse a bit so he could fight the spasms, then sat back down on him. With his hands strapped up behind him, about the only other thing he could do was talk.
Half a mile of ruptured old concrete track led towards the farm. He told us he had to make the call immediately before he turned on to it. At the top of the track there was a cattle grid, then a yard full of crushed cars and piles of tyres. As we drove in, we'd see a line of four old artic containers that housed the reclaimed scrap. I stored all these details. If the landscape deviated in the slightest detail, if the track was mud not concrete, if there was a gate instead of a cattle grid, I'd make him very sorry indeed.
Finbar was in the second container along from the right. He was kept tied up most of the time. He slept on a big cushion and had a bucket to piss in. I'd watched Dom's reaction under the street-lights as he listened. He kept the Seat on the road, but he gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles were as white as thermal imaging.
Dom glanced over his shoulder. 'We're nearly out of town.'
'Start looking for somewhere good and dark to pull in, and we'll get ourselves sorted.'
The street-lights petered out just after a sign had thanked us for visiting Dundalk. Dom slowed about a mile out of town and turned into a lay-by that led to a picnic area. Our headlights picked out tables and seats, and information boards about the local wildlife.
I climbed out and stretched. 'Weapons first, mate.'
Dom went to the back and opened up. I loaded a mag into an AK, pulled back on the cocking handle and released it. It was good to hear the familiar clunk as it rammed a round into the chamber. They'd have heard a lot of those clunks in this part of the world over the past thirty years. Even the cows wouldn't have bothered raising their heads.
Mr Green must have heard it too. He pressed his face a little bit harder into the seat, like he was hoping it would turn into a black hole. He was probably wondering if we'd bin him now he'd described the Yes Man's procedures and the lie of the land.
I handed Dom the weapon as we got out of the wagon, and pulled him to one side. 'You sure you want to do this?'
'It's OK, Nick. I know what I've got to do . . .'
'It's not going to be your best day out. If Fuckface in the back there is telling the truth, there's going to be at least five of them carrying, plus the Yes Man. This might sound corny, but our only hope is to go in with speed, aggression and surprise. You got that?'
He half smiled. 'SAS?'
'We control the fuckers, lift Finbar and get the fuck out. Straight off to Siobhan, and take it from there . . .'
'What about the Yes Man? We can't just kill him, Nick. He's at the heart of all this. We can use him to expose the whole network.'
I ignored him. 'Our mission is to get Finbar, bung him in the back of the wagon and get the fuck out. We're not trying to change the world. End of story.'
'And the Yes Man?'
I shook my head. 'How many ways are there to tell you this? We've got to kill everyone who tries to stop us – and that means everyone. We've just got to crack on with it – step up to the plate, or whatever you Transylvanians say.'
He half smiled and lifted the weapon. 'I've never fired one of these in anger. I did my conscription in the forestry service.'
'Well, we're about to find out how good your basic training was.'
I didn't want him to dwell on it too much. When he was in front of a camera he might have thought he was invincible, but it's a different story when you're doing the firing and anyone with half a brain is firing back.
I walked back to the wagon, loaded and cocked my own AK. 'I'll drive now, mate – you sit on Fuckface. Remember, if we don't get stuck in, we lose – then Finbar and Siobhan lose as well.'