money round St Stephen's Green. Not as strongly as down Ballsbridge way, but it was getting there. The park was beautifully kept and dotted with memorials to the great and good. There wasn't a statue to celebrate EU subsidies yet, but it was only a matter of time.
I came out at the northern edge of the square and counted down the numbers to the one on the letter. It was an elegant Georgian townhouse. The big black door looked just like the one at 10 Downing Street, even down to the large fanlight and thickly glossed white columns. Black railings lined the stone steps.
I carried on past with my takeaway latte in one hand and a big map in the other, then parked my arse on a doorstep a couple down and played the dickhead tourist. Leaning against my Bergen, I spread the map on my lap and got very interested in orienting it with the street.
A guy in painter's overalls came out of the black door and fetched some brushes and rollers from a Transit. He went back in.
The Yes Man mightn't have thought it worth checking this place out, but I did, for two reasons: Pete had filmed there and Finbar lived there. And it looked like I'd been vindicated. I'd been expecting a junkie's squat, but it was smart enough to be the Saudi embassy.
The two windows on the top floor, the third storey, were open. The guy in overalls eventually appeared behind the one to the right.
None of the windows at the front had curtains or blinds. The ceilings had no lights hanging. Just like the flat being decorated, no one was living there. Was the whole place being made ready to go on the market?
There were four buttons on the polished brass entryphone. I pressed number four.
'Hello there?' He sounded much older than the guy in overalls, and a forty-a-day man.
'I'm a friend of Finbar's, number four – can you let me in?'
He didn't answer but the door buzzed. I pushed it open. There was a strong smell of fresh paint.
'Up to the top.' A head came over the banister. 'Hope you got oxygen.' He chuckled to himself and disappeared.
The four pigeonholes held nothing but flyers for pizzas and taxis.
I headed up. The building had been gutted and rebuilt. New deep-pile carpet was laid on York stone. I reached the top floor, where the smell and gleam of fresh white gloss nearly overpowered me.
The head turned out to belong to the older of two guys. His overalls looked like a Jackson Pollock painting. Not much of an ad for his decorating skills. I followed him through the open door. Dustsheets covered the floor. A third guy clutched the top of a very tall ladder and worked his brush over an elaborate ceiling rose.
'This Finbar lad is very popular. You're the second one to come looking for him in as many days.'
'Who was the first?'
'His mum. Well, she said she was. She took his post.'
'We were supposed to meet up today.'
He winked. 'Who? You and his mum?'
'Finbar. Young lad – twentyish?'
'Never seen him.'
'Who gave you the job – his mum?'
'No. All the places we do belong to one of these fancy London property companies. We finished this building a few months ago. Got the call to come and redo this flat before the whole thing's sold.'
'Oh . . . I thought he owned it.'
He shook his head. 'Like I said, it's a developer.'
'So you never saw Finbar . . . You don't know where he's gone?'
'Not a clue. I didn't even know anyone was living here until his mum came round.'
'Thanks anyway. If he turns up, can you tell him Chris called?'
My mobile rang as I headed down the stairs. I knew the Yes Man had been wrong not to go down this route. I tried not to crow. 'The house is going cheap and the stepson lived in a flat that—'
'Stop wasting time. We know this. Once you do your job we can do ours. We traced the email.'
'Afghanistan?'
For once, the Yes Man was silent.
'It's the only place I know that's four and a half ahead.'
'Quite so. The email was sent from Kabul.'
'Is it Dom?'
'Possibly. They claim to be from him, and there have been a number of exchanges. If so, they're using him to negotiate with his wife.'
'I want to see them.'
I hit the street and headed for the main. 'Any idea why he went to Afghanistan?'
'Heroin? Looking after his interests? He was probably