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Kate’s eyes came fully back from the past and burned into Grainne’s, ‘People like
you
.’

Grainne broke down and started sobbing; painful, racking tears that seemed to be ripped from deep inside her. Kate, her own eyes swimming, watched her for some time before quietly sayin
g, ‘I went to see your father last night.’

Grainne instantly froze again, and even her tears stopped.  But
although her eyes went blank Kate thought she was still listening.  Kate’s heart was pounding, partly because she was talking to the
real
Grainne and was scared in case she messed it up, and partly because she was still so shaken and scared from the events of the previous night, events that even now she could hardly believe.  But she kept talking nonetheless, for both their sakes.

    Kate had arrived at Michael’s flat at about half-past eight the night before, and was instantly admitted by the smiling Minster of State, who bowed and said, ‘Good evening, Madam, your table is ready if you would care to follow me.’

Kate laughed and handed him her coat, ‘There you go, my
good man!  Take good care of it; it’s real mink, you know.’

Michael threw it over the back of a chair and said thoughtful
ly, ‘Strange, I didn’t know mink had nylon fur.’

Kate made a face at him, ‘They’re genetically modified
mink, specially bred for Supermarkets.  Besides, everyone knows that the best mink feels like nylon.
Peasant
.’

Michael grinned, ‘Drink?’

‘Yes, I do, actually’ said Kate archly, ‘Red wine, if you’ve got it.’  She walked over and plopped herself on a sofa with a groan of relief, ‘God, I’m exhausted!’  She slipped off her shoes and muttered apologetically, ‘It’s awful manners to do this, I know, but I’ve had a hell of a day.  Long and hard.’

Michael raised his eyebrows and said smoothly, ‘Just like me!’

Kate rolled her eyes, ‘Give me a break, Romeo.  Have you forgotten your promise already?  The whole “I won’t try anything” bit?’

He
made a face and offered a theatrical bow in apology and she sighed and asked, ‘What’s for dinner?’

He coughed self-deprecatingly, ‘Did I mention that I’m the worst cook in the Weste
rn Hemisphere?  Therefore I boiled some instant, savoury rice.  I figured even I couldn’t mess
that
up.’’

Kate’s eyes opened wide and she sat upright on the sofa, ‘You’d better be joking!  I’m
ruddy well
starving. 
I haven’t eaten all day!’

Michael smiled, ‘
Of course I’m joking.  The chef at
La Romana
is a good friend of mine.  As a mark of his esteem he occasionally cooks me meals to take away, and my chauffeur brings them to me here.  Do you like duck l’orange?’

Kate ma
de a face, ‘Er, no; I don’t like duck, I’m afraid.  Sorry.  Mind you, I’m hungry enough to eat it if there’s nothing else.’

He smiled and continued blandly, without a pause, ‘Very well, the duck goes in
the bin, which will break Chef Carter’s heart if he ever hears about it.  The neighbourhood cats will celebrate.  I wasn’t sure if you liked it or not so, luckily, I also got him to prepare some fillets of salmon on a bed of pureed spinach.  Does that, at least, meet with your approval?’

Kate relaxed and closed her eyes again, ‘Perfect.  Delicious
and
low-fat.  I may marry your Chef Carter yet.’

Michael bowed
again and said courteously, ‘He’ll be gratified to hear it.  Now, you put your feet up while I get you a drink and serve the food.’

‘Good slave,’ murmured Kate, ‘Keep this up and I may
decide not to throw you to the lions after all.’

The dinner had been perfectly c
ooked, and the good food and a glass of wine had restored Kate’s spirits as well as energy.  After eating, while sitting on his huge sofa sipping coffee, she had felt deliciously relaxed and drowsy, and the thought of slipping into bed for about a week was powerfully appealing.  Or even just slobbing there and watching tv.  But she reluctantly forced herself to sit up straight and said, with a touch of glumness, ‘Right, lead me to the computer!’

Michael looked at her sidewa
ys, a faint, knowing smile curving his full lips, ‘Are you sure?  You look very comfortable, and I’m sure your research can wait until tomorrow.’

‘Get thee behind me, Satan!’
said Kate resolutely shaking her head, ‘Time and tide wait for no man, and all that crap.  I’d better do it now, otherwise I might never get around to it.’

Michael shook his head in mock sorrow, ‘The Irish work ethic in all its terrible glory.  It’s that kind of dedication that
created the Celtic Tiger in the first place, and which will lead us out of this recession yet.  If you were a Spaniard, now, you’d gladly leave it until tomorrow.  Or next week.’

‘Or next year,’ said K
ate dryly, ‘But I didn’t think I’d have to remind
you
of all people of the importance of what I’m doing.’

His face darkened a little and he sa
id with a frown, ‘You don’t.  I try to put it out of my mind but it’s something I can never escape.  Not for long, anyway.’  His good humour returned and he gave a faint smile, ‘Come on, the computer’s in the spare bedroom, which is set up as an office.

He led her to the computer and keyed in his password before leaving her to it, saying over his shoulder as he left, ‘Your slave will be in the kitchen if you wa
nt him, doing the washing-up.  And just think; I entered politics for the glory and power.’

Kate felt a stab of guest-guilt that impelled her to say, ‘Hang on, I’ll help you with it.’

He smiled and waved her offer aside, ‘Actually, we have a cleaner that comes in every morning.  But I like to have the place in some sort of order for her when she arrives.  I’d hate for her to see the place
really
dirty.  Strange or what?  Perhaps I need some therapy myself.’

He vanished and Kate turned to the screen, clearing her mind and preparing to buckle down to work.  For perhaps an hour she surfed the net, refreshing her memory on some of the more obscure facets of severe personality disassociation, and nobly resisting the temptation to simply cruise through all the fascinating snippets of info
rmation on...well, on everything, really.  She had almost finished her research and was prepared to gather all the pages she had printed out and turn off the machine when it started to bleep and a picture of a little postman with a bulging sack walked onto the screen and a message flashed up; E-MAIL, YOU HAVE E-MAIL IN YOUR POST BOX.  Below this flashed the line; DOWNLOAD TO FILE OR OPEN?

Kate watched the antics of the little postman, entranced; she would have to get that app when she finally got a new laptop.  She leaned back in the swivel chair and shouted, ‘Michael, you’ve got an email!’  She heard a muffled reply but couldn’t understand what he was saying so she turned ba
ck to the screen and clicked OPEN, in case it was an important government matter needing his immediate attention.  But what appeared on the screen caused her to freeze in horror, the words dying in her throat.  A new file appeared on the screen to receive the incoming message but just above the folder icon a colour picture of a naked girl also appeared, bouncing from side to side on the screen as if dancing.  A message underneath read;
Got some real crackers in here.  Enjoy, but be careful, as ever.

But it was not the girl’s nudity that caused Kate to freeze; rather it was the fact that she could not have been more than
thirteen years old.  Kate, her hands trembling as she desperately fought a sudden urge to vomit, clicked open the file that had just arrived.  And immediately covered her open mouth with her hands when she saw what lay within.

She had seen porn before, of course, of various types, but she had never in her life seen
anything
like this filth.  Every imaginable act of perversion was graphically portrayed, and in each case none of the girls involved could have been over sixteen.

Everything became clear, everything clicked into place, and then Kate
did
vomit, helplessly, into the waste basket on the floor beside the desk.  Partly from revulsion at what she had seen and partly because she
had slept with him!  She had made love with that
man.  A child abuser who had ruined his daughter’s life!
  Because it was all clear to her now, and the root cause of Grainne’s problems was blindingly obvious.  It was right there on the computer screen, in his prediliction for young girls.

Another thought struck her and she literally stopped breathing; had he
also killed Jimmy Shiels?  Had
he
been the one who so desperately wanted her briefcase, had needed so badly to know what Grainne was saying about him in therapy?  The man who had confronted her in Trinity and stabbed Sean?  It must all have been him!  Her horrified mind slid off in a new direction; a man capable of doing these things might well have started the fire that killed his wife too, no doubt to protect his dirty secret.  And the second fire at Deacon House; had he set that, to murder his own daughter?  If so
her
life expectancy could be measured in minutes.

Kate got to her feet and
almost staggered out into the sitting room. Michael was standing over by the front door turning down the dimmer switch and in a flash she understood why; he had lowered the lights and drawn the curtains because he intended to make a pass at her, in spite of his promises.  And that knowledge almost made her retch again.

He
smiled and said, ‘All done already?  You ready for a drink?’  He frowned, ‘Jesus, you look awful; what’s the matter?’

Kate
knew
that she should temporise, should make an excuse to leave, but her rage and hatred was so great
that she spat furiously, ‘Tell me, Michael, how old was she when you first raped her?’

Michael’s jaw dropped, ‘
What
?  What are you…’

‘I know everything!’ she screamed, hardly able to ge
t the words out coherently, ‘You sick, perverted
fuck
!

Michael shook his head and began walking toward her, ‘This is all just some misunder
-standing.  I’m sure we can clear…’

‘Don’t come
near
me!’ screamed Kate,
knowing
she should have kept her mouth shut,
knowing
that he was going to kill her but somehow unable to contain her rage or control her mouth.  ‘Don’t you dare tell me I’m wrong, you sick bastard, because
I’ve been there! 
I know the signs better than anyone, and I should have known straight away what was wrong with Grainne! 
Would
have known, except that I didn’t
want
to believe it, didn’t want to see it because...’ She could not say the words,
Because I slept with you!  And because I’ve always avoided anything that reminds me of my own past, my own father!

He moved towards her suddenly, swiftly, and she
froze in terror; how could she fight him?  He was so big and strong, she was so small and weak.  It had always been so.  Her father had manipulated and threatened and cajoled, yes, but when these failed he had often used force too, which little Katie had been powerless to resist.  She wanted to surrender now, to simply lie down and accept whatever he chose to do with her, but then a spark of defiance, of courage, flared up in her chest and she turned and blindly fled, even though there was nowhere to run.  She crashed into the open kitchen door, fetching herself an almighty bang in the face but this hardly even slowed her down.  She shot into the kitchen just ahead of Michael, where the first thing that caught her eye was the rack of long, sharp carving knifes beside the hob.  She snatched one up and whirled to face him even as he ran into the kitchen behind her.

The sight of the knife in her hand
stopped him dead and he goggled at her for a moment with eyes popping out before forcing a smile onto his face and saying, in a voice he was struggling to control, ‘I don’t know what the problem is but can’t we discuss this, Kate? 
Talk,
like rational adults?’

He
r helplessness vanished and a white-hot righteousness seared through her heart.  It was all so clear that she could
see
it happening in front of her like a movie playing on a screen.  And it was
right
; Kate would kill him, as her mother had killed
her
abusive father.  She would free Grainne from Michael as
she
had been freed.  And in a symbolic way she would be killing her own father too, finally freeing herself from his shadowy influence, from the malign blight he had cast over her entire life.  For wasn’t she, in their therapy sessions, already a surrogate for Grainne’s own mother?