here, but he realized the game was up and he’s gone.’
Rory was shaking his head. He stood up, started pacing back and forth.
‘I can’t do that,’ he said. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry as hell, but I can’t risk it – he’ll kill Diarmuid.’
‘You can,’ said Orla. ‘And you will.’
‘No, no…’
Orla lifted her hand, and it was only then Rufus saw she was holding a knife. ‘Get on the phone. Do it.’
Rufus felt sick to his stomach. He’d been betrayed by his closest friend, and now Orla, the woman he loved, was waving a knife around like a maniac. Rory’s eyes were imploring as they rested on his.
‘Do it,’ said Rufus.
‘Rufe, I daren’t…’
‘Do it,’ he said, and this time his voice was loaded with hurt and rage.
His hand shaking, Rory reached for the phone and dialled. They all waited, holding their breath. Then Rory stiffened.
‘Don? He’s gone,’ he said. ‘I’ve just been to his room and looked. Rufus is gone. He must have got suspicious and done a runner.’
There was an angry sound from the other end of the line.
‘I know that,’ Rory shouted. ‘Don’t you think I know that? But I’m telling you, I just checked his room and he’s not there.’ Rory’s eyes met Orla’s. She jabbed the knife at him: Go on.
Rufus gave her a look. Let him speak.
‘He was talking about moving on to the States,’ Rory babbled. ‘He was keen on the idea, my guess is that’s where he’s gone. So I can’t help you any more. You’ve to let the boy go.’
The angry voice jabbered away. Rory’s eyes grew wide with panic.
‘What do you mean, “we’ll see”? I’ve done all I can do. Rufus has gone, that’s all I know. I can’t… hello? Hello?’
The line had gone dead. Trembling, Rory replaced the receiver.
‘He’ll kill him for spite,’ he mumbled, his eyes vacant with fear. ‘He will. He won’t let him go.’
‘Rory…’ started Rufus, wanting to comfort his old friend, to say that he had done what any father would have done in the circumstances, that he wasn’t to blame.
But Orla moved in with the knife and before Rufus realized what was happening, she lunged hard, sticking it squarely in Rory’s midsection.
Rory let out a breathless scream of pain and shock. Orla yanked out the knife, blood flying in a wide spurting arc, spattering the front of her nightdress. And then she struck again, plunging it up to the hilt in Rory’s windpipe. He sank to the floor, the blade embedded in his throat, gurgling, blood bubbling and foaming on his lips. Then Rory’s eyes turned up in his head and he toppled sideways, hitting the ground with a thump.
Rufus stood frozen, sick with shock, unable to believe what he had just seen. Orla had