pillar to post. I didn't wish it on others, especially if the order came from someone like Moira.
I sat down where she pointed. 'I'm sorry to have to let you go.' She settled back behind her desk. 'If it was up to me, I'd have kept you on. But the MD took the view he'd paid for close protection and not got it. Did you bring the invoice?'
'Got nothing else to do, have I?'
She leant forward, hoping her expression of deeply sincere concern would help us move on from the sacking. 'How's the arm, Nick?'
'Fine. I had it cleaned up this morning in Harley Street.'
She took a breath but I beat her to it. 'Don't worry, I'm not billing. Look, I've been calling Dom but still can't get an answer. You heard anything?'
Her face fell. 'I was hoping you might have. That wife of his – you've met her?'
'No.'
There seemed to be no love lost there.
'Well, she says he's taken a break. You know, clearing his fucking head or something. She won't say where he is, when he's coming back.' She raised her hands in frustration. 'I'm trying to run a news organization here.'
'Has he done this before?'
They dropped back on to the table. 'No – but, then, he hasn't had a cameraman killed before either. That bloody wife of his, she knows where he is.'
'Did he say anything about filming in the city before we left?'
'He's my war correspondent. He doesn't do new one-way systems. That was just the fucking cameraman trying to get some expenses out of me. Old habits die hard.'
She sat back, her hands stretched out on the desk. The spiders' legs flashed up and down. 'Perhaps we could arrange some extra work? Here in the studio? We've got a great story, all this great footage, but no one to follow it up. We could get massive exposure on this. All the outlets have been clamouring.'
She looked at my arm. 'You're a film star now, Nick. What about you giving an interview, just talking to camera, nothing hard, telling us what happened? You could talk us through it. They're hungry out there, Nick. People want to know the pain you've gone through. It would be a lasting tribute to Dom's cameraman.'
Moira couldn't have pulled off concerned if there'd been a gun to her head.
I stood up and so did she. She was waspish. 'You're wasting an opportunity to tell the world what happened. If you don't do it, there are others who will.'
I had to put her right there and then, before she barged her way into their lives and fucked them up even more. 'Do not go near Pete's family. They've had enough shit already. If you do I'll go to the BBC – in fact, any fucker – and do the interview with them.'
Her face went red with anger, which was quite an achievement, given the thickness of her makeup. 'Then your invoice will take a fucking long time coming through, that's all I can say.'
I walked out.
Kate had been hovering outside. She followed me to the lift. As the doors closed, she jumped in.
'Mr Stone, I knew she wouldn't pay you if you said no, so here . . . I prepared.' Out of her bag came a wad of euros and a receipt for me to sign.
'You'll burn in hell for this, Kate. Thank you.'
She smiled, then got embarrassed and looked down. 'She's already asked Peter's family.'
'What did they say?'
'They said no. I think that is good thing.'
'So do I, Kate. So do I.'
We shook hands by the steel waterfall and I headed for the door.
'There is one more thing, Mr Stone.'
I turned.
'She really didn't believe Peter's invoice. But he had been filming in St Stephen's Green. You wouldn't believe how tight she is. She wouldn't reimburse Dom for his donation to the refuge either.'
'The one in their documentary?'
She nodded. 'It's very close to his heart.'
33
'Herbert Park in Ballsbridge.'
The cab edged out into traffic.
'One of the embassies, sir?'
'Nah, just an old mate who's moved there. Smart area, is it?'
He chuckled. 'On the Dublin Monopoly board, the roads in Ballsbridge are the fockin' big bucks squares.' He threw a newspaper to me. 'Here, have a read of that. We're going to be stuck in the rush-hour for a while.'
He wasn't wrong. We were surrounded by commuters with their heads down and telephones to their ears as they made their way home.
The street-lights glowed on the paper through the rain-stained windows. I opened it