Page 144 of Hang on St. Christopher

Killian trailed me to the house.

I went inside and put the kettle on, and when he saw that the coast was clear, he came on in too.

“Tea?” I asked.

“Milk, no sugar,” he said.

“No sugar?”

“It’s what I grew up with. And goat’s milk.”

“We only have cow’s milk.”

“That’ll do.

“I saw you riding that big mare. You handled her well without a saddle or a bit.”

“I was riding horses before I could walk.”

“I’ll bet you were. What does a big old mare like that sell for?”

“She’s not old. That gray on her flank is her natural color. A year old. Fourteen months. She’s a high-blooded animal, not a workhorse. If you’re looking for a trotter for your wee girl, I could get you a bargain.”

“No, I’m not yet. What’s brought you to see me, Killian?” I said.

“I have an opportunity in New York. Mate out there. We both know you, it seems.”

“This mate of yours... he’s not called Forsythe, is he?”

Killian raised an eyebrow but neither confirmed nor denied it.

“That’s one of the reasons I’ve come to see you. I could do with a bit of start-up cash for flights and such,” he said.

“What makes you think you’ll get cash from me?”

“Something tells me I’ll be leaving here with some dough,” he said with an air of satisfaction I didn’t like at all.

I made the tea, and we repaired to the living room. He was a big lad, with big hands and a long, gormless face with oddly penetrating, intelligent dark eyes.

“Nice place,” Killian said.

“Thanks.”

“Good little setup you have here. You’re a peeler over there, but here you’re away from the nightmare.”

He was perceptive, this kid.

“Away from the nightmare but not away from the nightmares,” I found myself saying.

“You should go to a therapist. I’ll bet you can get one on the NHS.”

“What do you want to tell me, Killian?”

“Well, remember you said if I spotted that Norton Commando rider again I should let you know? That there might be a reward in it for me?”

“You’re four days too late,” I said. “We found that Norton burned out in an alley in South Belfast. And no recoverable evidence from it.”

Killian nodded. “How much of a reward we talking about, here?” he asked.

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