Bad Company (24 page)

“Bushmills.” Harry held the bottle up. “You’ve got friends at court, you little Irish sod.”

He found three glasses and paused. There was a kind of companionable silence. They drank it down and Harry poured again.

Ferguson toasted Dillon. “A hard one, Sean, but you did well.”

“They get harder,” Dillon said. “I sometimes think I should find a better class of work.”

Ferguson shook his head and said softly, “Don’t be silly. Where on earth would you go?”