Controlled Explosions Read Online Free PDF

constable was out of the shed again, waving his arms. Bob stood there for a minute more. The sun was blinding on the barn roof.
Everything was burning.
    He walked down the hill. Carefully, didn’t want to fall. Time seemed to have slowed. One, two, three …
    ‘
Sir!
’
    It was so hot. It was never hot like this in Northern Ireland. The kind of day to go to the beach, drive around in a convertible car with the top down, jump into swimming pools. Shame she lived in Ballyterrin, not California. Paula regretted this intensely. Instead she had to spend the afternoon in the gym with its smell of rubber mats and sweat, doing her Sociology paper. Afterwards, rather than getting the bus home, she walked across town, feeling the heat beat down on her. She carried her blazer over her bag, the sleeves of her shirt rolled up. She stopped in a shop and bought an ice-pop, cola flavour, sucking up the cold sweetness, squeezing the tube then letting the melted bit at the bottom run into her mouth. Before she got to the boys’ school she stopped again and sprayed herself with Impulse O2, hoping it would cover the sweat that was running down between her shoulders and under her bra. She waited on the wall outside, aware of the boys passing, loud and shoving each other, throwing bits of paper, their eyes crawling over her. She pretended to read
Mansfield Park
, which she was doing for her English A-level.
    ‘It’s not a library!’ one boy shouted. Laughing. She ignored him.
    Aidan came out last, on his own. A fag already in his mouth, sleeves up, tie loose, hair a mess. He stopped in front of her, and she could see he was aware of the other boys looking, all of them seeing her and seeing him stop to talk to her. ‘You’re brave.’
    She put the book away, slowly. ‘You said if something happened. You said to get you here.’
    ‘Aye?’
    ‘It happened. There was something in my bag when I got home.’
    ‘What’s that?’ He looked worried, as if she might show him a tampon or something. She’d almost do it, for the laugh. Except she couldn’t imagine laughing right now.
    The bullet was in the pocket of her bag, where her dad would be sure never to look in a million years. Aidan weighed it in his hand. ‘Four calibre.’
    ‘Is it?’
    He laughed. ‘I haven’t a baldy, Maguire.’
    Maguire. He’d never called her that before. She liked it. ‘I think maybe Catriona … I think it was her. It wasn’t there before.’
    ‘Come on,’ he said, shrugging his bag over his shoulder. The fag dangled from his lip, and she wondered how it didn’t fall. ‘I’ll walk you home in case they’re there.’
    The ground was dry under his feet and Bob was not as fit as he’d been ten years ago, five years ago. He was panting when he reached the door of the shed; could already smell the place, something else squirming under the farmyard stink of silage and animals.
    Inside was too much to look at all at once. A bench with papers all over it, wires, what looked like little clocks. Bags of Semtex, crumbling like white cheese. Along one back wall, a chest freezer. The smell was coming from there.
    The constable looked at Bob for a nod. He closed his eyes. ‘Open it, son.’
    The young officer wrenched open the lid and the smell rolled out, so thick you could almost see it in the air. An evil yellow smell. ‘Jesus,’ said the officer. Bob said nothing. He took a step towards it, one more. He looked at what was inside. The officer had gone pale. ‘What’ll we do?’
    ‘Follow procedure, Constable. Just follow procedure.’
    Bob went outside. His partner, ex-partner, had appeared at the brow of the hill, still running, shouting, ‘Lost him. He’s only a wean. Not even twenty, I’d say. He’ll be back.’
    Bob called up to him. ‘DC Maguire. Could you radio the station and say we’ve found remains?’
    PJ froze on the hill. His shadow lengthened out in front of him. ‘There’s a body?’
    Too late, Bob realised his mistake.
    PJ was