The Insider

For my parents, Jim and Marie Halpenny, who sadly passed away while I was writing this book. Thank you for your unquestioning love and support always.

Title PageDedicationChapter OneChapter TwoChapter ThreeChapter FourChapter FiveChapter SixChapter SevenChapter EightChapter NineChapter TenChapter ElevenChapter TwelveChapter ThirteenChapter FourteenChapter FifteenChapter SixteenChapter SeventeenChapter EighteenChapter NineteenChapter TwentyChapter Twenty OneChapter Twenty TwoChapter Twenty ThreeChapter Twenty FourChapter Twenty FiveChapter Twenty SixChapter Twenty SevenChapter Twenty EightChapter Twenty NineChapter ThirtyChapter Thirty OneChapter Thirty TwoChapter Thirty ThreeChapter Thirty FourChapter Thirty FiveChapter Thirty SixChapter Thirty SevenChapter Thirty EightChapter Thirty NineChapter FortyChapter Forty OneChapter Forty TwoChapter Forty ThreeChapter Forty FourChapter Forty FiveChapter Forty SixChapter Forty SevenChapter Forty EightChapter Forty NineChapter FiftyChapter Fifty OneChapter Fifty TwoChapter Fifty ThreeChapter Fifty FourChapter Fifty FiveAcknowledgementsCopyrightAbout the Publisher

1

Harry was about to do something that could put her in jail. This wasn’t unusual in her line of business, but it still made her palms sweat.

She pushed her coffee away and stared at the glass doors of the building across the street. Her eyes watered in the April glare. The first time she’d tried anything like this had been sixteen years ago when she was just thirteen, and she’d almost been arrested. This was different. This time she was going to get away with it.

The doors across the street swung open and she jerked upright in her chair. It was just the motorbike courier coming back out. He’d been the only visitor in the last twenty minutes. Harry shifted on the hard aluminium seat, certain she’d be left with stripes like Venetian blinds chiselled across her backside.

‘D’you want anything else?’

The café manager stood in front of her, squat like a bulldog, his arms folded across a stained apron. The message was clear. It was lunchtime, and she had occupied the pavement table for almost an hour. Time to go.

‘Yes I do.’ She flashed him her best winsome smile. ‘A sparkling water, please.’

He dumped her cup and saucer on a tray and slouched back inside. The doors across the street swung open again and five young women stepped out in a bunch, all wearing the same navy-and-green uniform. They strolled along the pavement, passing around a single cigarette, sucking on it like deep-sea divers sharing out their last canister of air. Harry squinted at their faces. They were all too young.

She sat back and uncrossed her legs. Her tights prickled under her navy suit and her feet had started to cramp. It had been a toss-up that morning between plain flat shoes and the kitten heels with gold buckles, but as always she’d been a sucker for anything shiny. She hoped she wouldn’t have to make a run for it any time in the next forty-five minutes.

Harry flexed her feet and listened to the clang of beer barrels being unloaded down a nearby laneway. She could smell the stale lager from the open pub doors, musty like decaying fruit. A bus lurched to a halt right in front of her and blocked her view of the doors.

Shit, she should have noticed the bus stop before she sat down. The engine throbbed as one by one the passengers spilled out. The air quivered with hot diesel fumes, the bus and the building beyond it rippling like a mirage. She drummed her fingers on the table.

Jesus, was the whole of Dublin on this bus?

She tried to see past its dusty windows to the office building beyond, but could only make out the top of the doorframes. Sunlight flashed off metal as the doors opened again, but Harry couldn’t see who had come out.

She scraped back her chair and sprinted a few yards up the street until she had a clear view of the entrance again. The pavement was deserted.

Harry checked her watch. It was getting late, but she couldn’t risk making her next move. Not yet.

The bus revved up its engine and barged back into the traffic. Harry clenched her fists, waiting for it to move on. Then her view cleared, and she spotted a woman halfway down the street, marching in the opposite direction to the other girls. She was older than they were, in her late forties maybe, and she was alone. She stopped to cross at the kerb, and glanced back up the street.

Harry’s fingers relaxed. The woman’s blonde streaks were new, but otherwise she looked just like her photograph on the website.

She waited till the woman had disappeared. Then she flung some coins on the table and crossed the street.

It was cooler and quieter on this side of the glass doors. Harry strode up to the receptionist, checking out her surroundings as she went. A low table with business magazines stood against one wall. To her left was a set of large double doors, and another to her right. Her only escape route, should she need one, was back out the way she’d come in.

Harry selected another smile from her repertoire, the grimace of an uptight businesswoman with no time for fooling around.