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interesting.”
    Dutronc scanned down the article.
    â€œThey say that the locals blame the fairies, saying there is some history of a family vendetta with the fairy folk,” Dutronc looked up and added sarcastically, “Is this really the Irish Times?”
    â€œThe missing man is a New York fireman and a hero of nine eleven. So the Times did a major article and sent their people down there. Interestingly although the reports said a local boy was missing there is no record of his existence. Technical thought, strange but interesting.”
    â€œAnd did they follow up?” Dutronc asked.
    â€œIt seems the Irish Times reporter was a good Gaelic speaker and listened to some drunken conversations in the local pub about a stolen child and a suggestion that he’d been stolen back by the Sidhe, which is the local name for the fairy folk,” Morag added.
    â€œInteresting,” Dutronc conceded.
    â€œThe Irish times ran a feature on superstition in their weekend review. That part of the world is still Gaelic speaking and the locals are very close mouthed. But they still believe in Otherworld and Leprechauns and the like.”
    â€œBut the editor knew a good story. Any follow up?”
    â€œIt ran out of steam when there were no bodies found.”
    â€œRecommendation?” Dutronc asked.
    Morag extracted the final page of the Technical Report. “Technical say it is a long shot but worth a follow up,” she said.
    â€œWell it’s your area. You decide. Perhaps you should pay a visit while the story is still hot. How long is it now?”
    â€œOver a month,” Morag admitted.
    â€œGo now or don’t go at all,” Dutronc said.
    â€œDon’t forget we are booked for a Broadway show for Saturday week,” Morag offered.
    â€œBusiness before romance Morag. Anyway if you go now you might get back in time,” Dutronc said laconically.
    â€œAnd if I don’t get back in time?”
    â€œI can take that good looking blonde girl who does reception.”
    â€œDutronc, don’t you dare!”
    â€œSuggest go now and you should be back in time. How long since the incident. Did you say a month?”
    â€œAbout a month and a week,” Morag said.
    â€œThen get on to it Morag. Trails go cold very quickly,” Dutronc instructed.
    Morag made a face and shrugged. Dutronc was not a man to argue with.
    â€œAnything else?” Dutronc asked.
    â€œMoney laundering report from South America, we are ...” Morag began, realizing that the agenda had moved forward.
    â€œArrange for Kenny to come and brief me.” Dutronc interjected, adding, “We don’t want a war,”
    As Morag went back to her office she felt a twinge of excitement. It was a number of years since she’d made a trip to Europe. And she would expense an Irish trip to Live Corp. Already she was thinking about what she might wear.

Chapter Five
    A month to the day from the time O’Sullivan had posted two of his passengers as missing on Great Blasket, John came down the trail from the traffic lights with a jaunty step and a whistle on his lips.
    It was early morning and Kevin O’Sullivan had just let off his first batch of tourists of the day. He had no reason to expect return passengers at that time.
    John walked up to the ticket point at the gangplank and presented his return half of the ticket he’d bought the previous month.
    O’Sullivan looked at the ticket and then at John.
    Kevin got on his cell phone to call his father to hold position in the main boat. Then Kevin took him out and O’Sullivan took him aboard.
    â€œWhere’s the boy?” he asked.
    â€œBack with his own people,” John replied with an enigmatic smile and stepped on to the empty boat.
    When they reached Dunquin John disembarked and walked up the pier to the bus stop. O’Sullivan watched him go and then was distracted as he ticketed the next batch of tourists.
    â€œSo