Part 33 (2/2)

The Chinese policeman was unexpectedly tall and civil. A lieutenant from the old Prince of Wales guard, he knew about Huw's work. He wrote down our versions of the raid in his note book, and sipped iced tea. An ink-devil of sweat soaked itself into his s.h.i.+rt.

'I should tell you that the burglars wanted to know where were hidden the gwai los gwai los. Your neighbours said there no gwai los gwai los.'

'Before or after the gun was fired?' I asked.

'After. They lied for you.'

Huw puffed out his cheeks. 'What are you thinking, Officer?'

'Two possibilities. One. They thought the apartment of gwai los gwai los had better things to steal. Two. Mr Llewellyn, you investigating the accounts of powerful companies. Might they include some Triad links?' had better things to steal. Two. Mr Llewellyn, you investigating the accounts of powerful companies. Might they include some Triad links?'

'Show me a company in Hong Kong that doesn't have Triad links.'

'Foreigners don't live in neighbourhoods like this, especially white ones. Discovery Bay is more secure.'

I went into the kitchenette. In the opposite tenement the blinds were rolling down as the excitement subsided. Eyes everywhere. Eyes, eyes.

I remembered my conversation with the Texan. I knew who the 'burglars' were and what they had come for. Next time they wouldn't mistake the British, American and Chinese system of labelling floors.

I hadn't touched a piano since Switzerland. I played a pa.s.sable aria from the Goldberg Variations.

Liam played a gorgeous 'In a Sentimental Mood'.

John half-improvised, half-remembered. 'This one's the crow on the wall... this one's the wind turbine... this one's...'

'Totally random notes?' suggested Liam.

'No. It's the music of chance.'

'The wind's really getting up! Maybe there'll be no boats tomorrow either, Ma?'

'Maybe so. So tell me about Uni, Liam.'

'They've got some cool electron microscopes. I'm doing my first-year thesis on superliquids, and I've been playing synths in a band, and-'

'-deflowering maidens,' b.u.t.ted in John through a mouthful of sausage. 'According to Dennis.'

'It's not fair, Ma,' Liam turned red as a beetroot. 'He speaks to Professor Dannan once a week.'

'As I have done for the last twenty years. Why should I stop just because he's your tutor?'

Liam harrumphed, and walked over to the window. 'It looks like the end of the world out there.'

Schroedinger came in through the cat flap, and looked around hypercritically.

'What, cat?' asked Liam.

Schroedinger chose John's lap in which to exact tribute.

The storm battered the island.

'I'm a shade concerned about our Kiwi visitor.' John picked up the telephone. 'Mrs Dunwallis? This is John. I'm just phoning to check whether or not your Kiwi visitor got back to the hostel safe and sound... she called in here earlier, asking for directions to the stone row, with the gales, I was worried... Are you sure? Of course you're sure... No idea. Mrs Cuchthalain's at Roe Bridge? Sure... will do.'

'What's up, Da?'

'No New Zealanders at the Youth Hostel.'

'She must have just been a day tripper, then.'

'Billy wouldn't risk taking St Fachtna St Fachtna over to Baltimore in this weather.' over to Baltimore in this weather.'

'She's still on the island then. She must have taken shelter in the village.'

'Aye. There's a logical explanation.'

I felt hollow. I was afraid there was a very logical explanation.

John and I were in our firelit bedroom. Liam was in the bath having a long soak, after e-mailing a girl in Dublin whose name we couldn't tease out of him. John ma.s.saged my feet as thunder galloped by. I watched the sphinxes and the faces and flowers in the bedroom's fireplace. The physics and chemistry of fire only add to its poetry. This way of living was so normal to Clear Islanders. Mo, why are evenings like this so rare for you?

I am the ancient mariner: that black book is my albatross.

'What am I going to do, John? When they get here?'

'Mo, let's cross that one when we get to it.'

'I don't even know if I should cross it at all.'

On the third day I knew where I was before I opened my eyes. The black book was safe. Yesterday's storms were long gone, the early sunlight lit the curtains, ending its twenty-six-minute journey on the jiggleable electrons in my retina. The wind was brisk, the sky was bright and cloud shadows slid over Roaringwater Sound and the three Calf Islands. Planck was barking. Thousands of Arab children were gambolling into the sea, steam hissing off their burns. A noise on the stairs made me turn around. The Texan filled the doorframe. He clicked the safety catch off and aimed the gun at the black book, then at me. 'We need Quancog to rise again, Dr Muntervary.' He winked at me as he pulled the trigger.

I lay there for twenty minutes, calming down. The early sunlight lit the curtains.

John's eyeb.a.l.l.s rolled under his eyelids, seeing something I couldn't.

Our very first morning together in this house, this room, this bed, was our first morning as husband and wife. Twenty years ago! Brendan had constructed the bed, and Maisie had painted the Michaelmas daisies along the headboard. The bedding was from Mrs Dunwallis, who'd stuffed the pillows from her own geese. Aodhagan Croft itself was a wedding present from John's Aunt Cath, who had gone to live with Aunt Triona in Baltimore. No electricity, no telephone, no sewage tank. My own parents' house in the sycamore trees was still standing, but the floorboards and rafters had rotted right through, and we didn't have the money to reverse dereliction.

Besides Aodhagan we had John's harp, my doctorate, a crate of books that had been my da's library, and a cartload of tiles and whitewash lugged up from the harbour by Freddy Doig's horse. My job at Cork University didn't begin until the autumn term. I've never felt such freedom since, and I know I never will again.

Down in the kitchen the telephone rang. Leave me alone, leave me alone.

To my surprise Liam was already up and had answered it before the third ring. 'Oh, hi, Aunt Maisie... Yeah, they're still in bed, on a morning like this, can you believe it? Bone idle or what? Uni's fine... Which one? Nah, she's history, I knocked that one on the head weeks ago... Not literally, no. Right, I'll tell 'em when they drag themselves down. Okay.'

I left John asleep. I hobbled downstairs, the stairs and my ankles creaking. 'Morning, First-Born.'

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