Private Dublin

Chapter 25

The ground underfoot was springy with moss. As I reached the wall, I heard Andi come up behind me.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she whispered.

I nodded but she pursed her lips, suggesting she didn’t agree. She didn’t voice any objection though, so I clasped my hands together and held them out like a sling, offering her a boost over the wall.

She frowned and smiled dismissively before taking a short run-up, grabbing the capstones and hauling herself over.

I copied her move but scuffed my shoes and snagged my suit as I dragged myself up and over with far less elegance. I pivoted and dropped into the shadow of a large bush. I crept toward Andi, crouched by the trunk of an ancient oak tree.

She beckoned me to hurry and signaled for me to stay low.

When I joined her, I saw why. We were in a small hollow and flashlights were visible beyond a rise, moving through woodland, illuminating the otherwise ghostly trunks and branches. Now and then, I caught sight of the silhouettes of the masked men.

I nodded at Andi and we set off after them, taking great care to keep low and ensure we maintained our cover by moving from tree to tree, and using the surrounding foliage to obscure us.

As we drew nearer, I heard indistinct whispers, footsteps, clothes brushing against branches and leaves, and heavy breathing. They weren’t being anywhere near as careful as us, which was good because the noise they made gave us more cover.

The flashlights went off and I stopped, raising my right fist to Andi to signal a halt. We froze and I glanced over at her as the usual sounds of the night filled my ears. The breeze through the trees, rustling leaves, the hoot of an owl, the high squeak of a rodent somewhere in the distance. Satisfied we weren’t the reason for the flashlights going dark, I crept on and Andi followed. Soon we came to the edge of the wood. Beyond the trees was a paddock where three horses grazed lazily in the silver moonlight. To our right was a large stable block, and directly ahead a substantial Georgian farmhouse, which was surrounded by more stables and outbuildings.

I crouched under a low-branching tree and surveyed the stud farm.

“Horse thieves,” Andi whispered. “They would normally take the grazers unless they’re after a particular horse.”

Her theory was sound, and I nodded.

“We should check the stables,” she suggested.

I nodded again. We rose and started toward the stable block, but after a few paces we were frozen in place by the sound of a terrible scream piercing the night.