Page 52 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

Words are exchanged in Moroccan. I’m carried down a flight of stone steps. My hood is pulled off.

“Take your hands off her,” growls Liam.

“I told you it was a mistake,” says Freddie as the two men clutch me tighter.

We’re in a carpet shop where hundreds of carpets are rolled out in stakes arranged like war trenches. A long bearded man in a Berber scarf and white linen trousers and white tunic stands before me.

He is the only man I see in here, who isn’t heavily armed.

“We found her snooping around the building.”

“I just got out of the car to stretch my legs. I had a muscle spasm. I wasn’t snooping.”

“She is with us,” Liam confirms.

“This wasn’t approved,” says the long bearded man.

Liam steps forward. “She’s my girlfriend. If you want this deal to go ahead, you’re have your men take their fucking hands off of her now.”

“She looks like a stripper,” says an older ginger bearded elder.

I see Freddie open his mouth.

“That’s because I am a stripper and his girlfriend.”

The men release me. Liam reaches for me, pulling me by the hand and positioning me behind him.

“While she doesn’t look like, what do you call them, police officers? No guards.” They resemble the rolls you like to eat so much, sausage rolls, yes." Laughs the long bearded man, his eyes piercing mine with eagle-like precision.

“Next time, just bring her inside with you. We are not savages. We have wives and daughters. And it will save my men from having to pull a bag over her head and drag her in. Would you like a mint tea, my dear?”

The pitch of the carpet shop has gone from murderous to afternoon tea decorum within seconds.

I nod as a large silver jug is produced and a glass of sugary mint tea is handed to me.

“Dates?” says a man who springs up beside Liam and I.

Liam regards the tray suspiciously.

“Go ahead.” Says the long bearded man. “We have nothing to gain from poisoning you.”

I tentatively take a plump date from the tray.

“You’ll have the merchandise in two days. It’s being packed the way you wanted. This is the first time we have moved such a large amount of product, so I’m counting on you and your Irish connections.

“Thank you for your trust.” Liam says, releasing my side to step forward and shake the long bearded man’s hand.

“My dear, would you like to ride a camel?’’ he says to me.

“No, thank you. I don’t do well with heights.”

His men laugh. But Liam looks away from me annoyed.

“The admiral and my uncle can wrap things up. Can you arrange another car to take them back to the port?” Liam asks.

“Of course, my friend.”

“And can you tell a driver that would like to go to Donabo gardens?”

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