rch. For a scant moment he watched the smoke billow
into the sky illuminating the shabby houses of the neighbourhood.
Nowhere could he find it within himself to hate. This surprised, even
frightened him. An utter exhaustion filled him as he turned to see whom
chance had allowed escape from the fire.

His shadow cast a tower's presence about the parking lot onto the
prostrate form. Swallowing hard, MacGuire prepared to stare into the
face of the man he had carved from fire's possession. In a single
motion, once his fist grabbed the man's clothing, a muzzle lay against
his throat.

"Thought I was through eh, damned Mickey," the fierce eyes seemed to
speak all at once. "I've killed tonight. I'd soon as kill you now and
complete the errand 'cepting I may need the temporary use of your skin.
Now get to your feet."

MacGuire obliged the blackened face with nostril openings gaping hate.
Already he was calculating his chances. The area was filling with
people. The light from the raging building had ended their darkness.
The gunman shoved the revolver again into his face. The man seemed to
enjoy his threats of pistol whipping and promised death. MacGuire
looked once again into the face more from force of the last twenty
minutes' unreality than any perplexity of fear.

Got to think fast, must use the chance card of generosity for all its
worth, he thought.

"I saved your life," he pronounced slowly. It met the anticipated
response. In that slow second when his gaze met his assailant an
opportunity afforded itself. The gunman in a mock gesture of
appreciation had trained the weapon barely upward into his reach. In a
single motion, half embrace and step into his adversary's stride, he
had the man over. MacGuire was instantly aware of his opponent's
strength. Enraged at the ruse's success, he glanced a blow across the
Catholic's forehead.

"Guess you're happy he's dead," the soldier was saying as he helped
wrap a bandage into place. "We're grateful for any extremist's death.
Makes our job a lot easier," he was almost laughing now. Death wore
such an ordinary face when it courted so often.

Sean had yet to reply. He was staring at the shovel with the snapped
handle. The blade had separated on impact against the terrorist's head.
The man was nowhere to be seen. Rescue squads--the familiar ambulance,
fire brigades were attempting a body count in the rubble of O'Leary's.

"Say, you alright? I said guess you're pleased you mana