Die This Hour

DIE THIS HOUR BOOK 2 OF THE INSPECTOR SHEEHAN SERIES By BRIAN O’HARE Published by Modus Operandi Publishing 2023. All rights reserved. The right of Brian O’Hare to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. Infringement of copyright by copying. (1) The copying of the work is an act restricted by the copyright in every description of copyright work and references in this part to copying and copies shall be construed as follows. (2) Copying in relation to a literary, dramatic, musical, or artistic work means reproducing the work in any material form. This includes storing the work in any medium by electronic means. (5) Copying in relation to the typographical arrangement of a published edition means making a facsimile copy of the arrangement. (6) Copying in relation to any description of work includes the making of copies that are transient or are incidental to some other use of the work. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. GLOSSARY Northern Ireland is part of the UK and its police service has broadly similar ranks to its counterparts in England. The short glossary below, while not exhaustive, is offered to clarify for American readers the abbreviations used in this book. RUC—The Royal Ulster Constabulary now redundant and replaced, in 2001, by: PSNI—The Police Service of Northern Ireland which is peopled by: CC—Chief Constable DCC—Deputy Chief Constable ACC—Assistant Chief Constable CS—Chief Superintendent Superintendent (tends not to be abbreviated) DCI—Detective Chief Inspector DI—Detective Inspector DS—Detective Sergeant DC—Detective Constable SOCO—Scene of Crime Officer Table of Contents PROLOGUE ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTY-ONE TWENTY-TWO TWENTY-THREE TWENTY-FOUR TWENTY-FIVE TWENTY-SIX TWENTY-SEVEN TWENTY-EIGHT TWENTY-NINE THIRTY THIRTY-ONE THIRTY-TWO THIRTY-THREE THIRTY-FOUR THIRTY-FIVE THIRTY-SIX THIRTY-SEVEN THIRTY-EIGHT THIRTY-NINE FORTY FORTY-ONE FORTY-TWO FORTY-THREE FORTY-FOUR FORTY- FIVE FORTY-SIX FORTY-SEVEN FORTY-EIGHT FORTY-NINE FIFTY FIFTY-ONE FIFTY-TWO FIFTY-THREE FIFTY-FOUR FIFTY-FIVE FIFTY-SIX FIFTY-SEVEN PROLOGUE October 2002 H e was standing in a shadowed corner, his back to a wall, observing but not observed. His eyes, the only source of movement in an almost preternaturally still body, ranged the room. They came to rest on a laughing girl, mini-skirted, long blond hair, dancing in the middle of the floor with two of her friends. She was slim, beautiful. He stared at her for a long time, expressionless, studying her smiling face, her slender waist, her long, slightly-tanned legs. There were some twenty students in the room, a large sitting room with all the furniture moved back to the walls to make room for dancing. The students were mostly from Queen’s University but there were a few A-level students from one of the local grammar schools. He could identify them easily, overly made-up, suppressed excitement badly concealed behind a studied nonchalance that was supposed to pass for sophistication. His gaze flicked to his two friends. Friends? The corner of his upper lip moved imperceptibly. Two guys he hung about with, maybe. Not friends. How could they be? Friends are intellectual equals. Nothing in his face moved, but somehow his expression had metamorphosed into contempt. He watched the two second-year under-grads sitting on a sofa, beers in their hands, giggling stupidly, poking and jostling each other. Half-sozzled, and the party barely started. He did not need to be a seer to decipher their thoughts. Idiots! Living in a drink-fuelled fantasy of sexual conquests to come, nodding and shoulder-pointing at the small group of female students at the music centre who were handing cd covers back and forth as they chose songs to play. Yes, boys, point and nod all you want. But you’ll drink yourselves into a stupor, go back to your digs and be sick, and attend lectures tomorrow with pounding heads and aching regret for opportunities yet again missed. His gaze returned to the blond girl. The cold eyes seemed to glitter, but his expression and body remained motionless. But not tonight, boys. Not tonight. This will be a night that you will not forget for a long time. He continued to study the girl, the way she moved, her body language. She was enjoying herself with her friends but, unlike them, she exuded a certain diffidence, a shyness that hinted at introversion. Decision flickered in the calculating eyes. She’s the one. Minimum compulsion required. He recognised the type. Shame will silence her. He eased himself from the wall and made his way to his two ‘friends’. He did not move unnoticed. A number of girls seated at the walls stopped talking to watch the tall, handsome, strongly-built figure as he passed by. Some knew him, or at least they knew his public persona: captain of the Queen’s University debating team, leading member of the drama society and, somewhat oddly, scrum half for the Queen’s rugby team. He hunkered down in front of the two students on the sofa and put a hand on the outer shoulder of each. Leaning conspiratorially inwards, he spoke in low tones. “Boys, ease back on the booze. You want to be able to perform tonight, don’t you?” Two pairs of incredulous but extremely interested eyes stared at him. He gave them his charming grin, one that he had perfected before a mirror. He knew it made him look sincere when, in fact, he felt nothing. “Get yourselves upstairs and bag one of the bedrooms. I promised you something special tonight. Now’s the time.” Excitement, fear, lust, puzzlement chased each other across the students’ faces. “But who … what?” “No questions. Get a bedroom. Make sure it has a key. I’ll