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wantin’ to remember? Try mine. Briggan O’Brien, the smartest, handsomest, and most talented of the entire O’Brien clan. The other things you’re asking are a mite more complicated to explain. I’ll be glad to try, but let’s see if we can find a better spot for exchanging confidences. Where’s your hotel? And what’s your name, lass?”
    â€œSince you asked so nicely, it’s Tempe.”
    He smiled. “Pretty, but a bit odd. What kind of a name is that? Like tempus fugit? Time and all that? Is it some kind of diminutive version? And why would your mother name you Time?”
    I growled at him. “Tempe is a city in Arizona. Happens to be where I was born. If you don’t like it, I’m sorry, but my mother didn’t name me to please you. At least it wasn’t in Snakeville or Hogpit or something equally classy in the Wild West.”
    Briggan held up his hands in mock terror. “I do like it. It’s charming. Just unusual. So you’re from Arizona?”
    â€œNo. I am from New York. My grandparents live in Arizona where my mom delightedly gave birth to me. I say, and emphasize, delighted because during that particular January, the city of Manhattan delivered nonstop blizzards as well as one Tempe Walsh. So I’ve heard. Satisf ied?”
    He nodded.
    I sighed. “Can we try and leave this area now? Mr. O’Brien, my hotel is the Taj Mahal, and it’s not exactly walking distance. Do you suppose a cab will pick up a couple of disreputable looking wrecks?”
    He eyed me with a thoroughness that made me blush.
    â€œAny cabby in the city would fair be givin’ up a good tip just for the privilege of havin’ such a lovely lass as yerself sittin’ in his car. But . . .”
    He seemed focused on my chest. I considered swatting him until he asked, “Are you wearing a blouse under that jacket? The collar and the top seem to be where most of the blood has, well, spattered. If you wouldn’t mind tossing the jacket, I think we’d be a mite less noticeable.”
    I took off the navy blue jacket with more than some measure of relief. India. Ninety-plus degrees at night and humidity. I hadn’t been comfortable in the suit even before the fireworks erupted. Now that it was drenched with the blood of my employer, I had no desire to keep it on. Or even keep it. I handed it to Mr. O’Brien, who stuffed it in the nearest trash can.
    I glanced up at him. “Mind if I ask why we don’t just head for a police station? Those guys were not out for a fun night. They need to be behind bars. And not the kind that sell booze.”
    Briggan shook his head.
    â€œNot a wise move, darlin’. There’s a foul stench of corruption from many of the officials here. I don’t know who we can trust and who we can’t.”
    And what makes me think I can trust you? Had I said it aloud? He stared at me with a coldness not yet exhibited throughout our escape from the storeroom.
    But with his next words I realized he’d entered a world I had no knowledge of. A world thousands of miles away and a world that had seen more violence than Hot Harry’s bar would ever play host to.
    â€œBack in Dublin, the garde can be a force for real good or real evil. Some of the cops are ardent IRA supporters even now. And it’s the same situation here. I suppose it’s the same all over the world. But till we have certainty as to the separation of good from bad, we’d best stay on our own.”
    â€œAnd so your plan is?”
    â€œTo head to my hotel. The hoodlums don’t know where I’m staying. I imagine they are aware of the place you’ve tossed your suitcases. Because of your boss, ya know. We’ll be safer away from a place they can track.”
    â€œBut Mr. O’Brien—”
    â€œBrig. Please. Make it Brig. I don’t think we should stand on ceremony after a life-threatening experience,