10 a.m. “Any joy at the Belfast house, boss?” Craig stared through his office window at the grey river below. The waves were pointing their edges like fingers, reaching out to touch the hovering gulls. Each wave wore a white glove of surf and they danced as politely as if they were performing a gavotte. Craig knew from the darkening sky that any politeness would soon be gone; the waves would be metres high and lashing at every boat moored in the port. He stared ahead at nothing while Liam waited for his answer. Liam watched Jake drive expertly down the A24 and admired the Mourne Mountains looming ahead of them through the mist. After a moment he prompted Craig. “Are you still there?” Craig shook himself from his daydream and focused. “Yes. Sorry, Liam. I was a million miles away. There’s nothing at the house so far, but at least Davy’s got the computers now.” “Don’t forget their office ones at work.” “Already lifted.” Craig paused as something occurred to him.
