The Priest Read Online Free PDF Page B

majority of cases were cracked thanks to good
     old-fashioned treachery. More so in his usual area of operation, drugs, than anywhere else, because the stakes were astronomical
     and grassing up rivals to the police was just another weapon in the aspiring drug baron’s armoury. But however right she was,
     he didn’t want to let her off the hook that easily.
    ‘And do they ever expect anything from
you
?’ he asked. ‘In return, like?’
    She looked at him with a faint smile on her lips, like he’d caught her out in something, but said nothing for a moment or
     two, obviously weighing up something in her mind. Then she let her smile broaden further before replying.
    ‘It kind of depends on how big a favour they’ve done you.But like I said, I’m usually the one doing them the favour. Getting the story out, you know? That’s enough for most of them.’
    ‘So there’d be no question of you paying a source for this kind of story, then?’
    This time she was ready for him. ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly comment on such a commercially sensitive subject,’ she said,
     grinning again. ‘Anyway, you know how fanatical us journalists are about protecting our sources.’
    He wasn’t sure whether she was teasing him or not. She knew full well that he wasn’t asking for details.
    ‘Speaking of which,’ she continued, taking a drink with one hand and making a small waving motion with the other, ‘I wanted
     to ask you something. You mentioned at the party that you’d been in Madrid with Europol for a while, and I was thinking maybe
     it might be worth writing a piece about international drug-trafficking, and where Ireland fits into the picture. I read a
     piece in one of the English papers claiming that more than half the hard drugs over there come in through Ireland. I mean,
     I knew it was a lot, but is it really that much?’
    Mulcahy’s spirits took a dive. It wasn’t so much the question, as the thought that a story might be
all
she wanted him for. Well, if he was going to be disappointed, he might as well let her know she would be, as well. He was
     no longer the great mine of stories he used to be.
    ‘Is that what you have me down for then – a potential source?’
    It came out harsher than he intended. Again, she held his gaze for a second or two, then laughed, embarrassed.
    ‘Jesus, I’ve hardly been sitting here five minutes and I’m giving you the third degree already. I’m sorry, Mulcahy. It’s the
     job, you know, honestly. I see somebody, I think, “Aha, a story”, and I jump straight in. I’m sorry. It’s force of habit.
     I thought we could…’
    She trailed off, staring down at her hands.
    ‘No, look,’ he stumbled. ‘Ah, forget it. I shouldn’t be so prickly. Maybe if we just steer clear of work for a bit, we’ll
     do fine.’
    She was looking at him again now, that glint of mischievous curiosity back in her eyes. He remembered how persuasive she’d
     been that time she convinced him to take her out on the raid. How he’d known he’d be up to his hairline in shit if anything
     went wrong, but he’d let her come anyway. And it turned into one of the most momentous nights of his life. That operation had
     been a career-maker for him. Her article let everyone know – not only his bosses but every jumped-up smack dealer on his patch
     – that there was a new not-to-be-fucked-with guy in town. And, when he looked back on it now, it was her that he thought of,
     there in the back seat of the car, swamped by a Garda stab vest, as high on the excitement of what was about to go down as
     any of his team. In that instant of memory, he changed his mind about her again.
    ‘Why don’t we go out for a smoke?’ he suggested, picking up his pack and lighter.
    ‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘Then we can start over again when we come back in.’
    The way he heard it, she might as well have been beside him in a hotel room, somewhere between desire and the cold light of
     day.
    Brogan