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She admired him more at that moment than ever before。 A family crisis of the worst kind； and still he was prepared to continue the fight。
Hardly before Coyle had got out of the car； Jane was at the front door。 She seemed to have aged a decade since breakfast： the smooth skin on her face lined； black marks beneath her eyes； streaks of mascara where it had run with tears。 And even now she did not know the truth。
'What's he done？ Where is he？' Her voice rose almost to a scream。 'Where is Richard？'
Before replying； he took off his coat and hung it up。 He needed time to think； time to choose his words。
'I don't know；' he said at last and went into the living…room； straight to the cocktail cabinet。 He poured two whiskies…stiff ones。
'You've got to tell me。 Where is he？'
'I've no idea。'
'But why the police？'
'The Lakin girl's dead。 Murdered。'
'Oh； my God！ No； no 。。。 no！'
He slapped her hard across the face with the flat of his hand。 He had read somewhere that it was the best way to prevent someone being hysterical。
She staggered back。 The armchair happened to be in the right place； and she sprawled back into it。 There was shocked silence。
'Murdered？' she gulped at last。
'Look； there's no reason to connect it with Richard。 It's just that he was 。 。 。 friendly with her。 They only want to ask him some questions。'
He hated himself for the lie…just stalling。 It would all have to e out in the end。 The link between their son and the dead girl would be mentioned on the television news； probably that night。 He had to stop her from switching on。 Though in her state she wasn't likely to。 'Look； you said yourself the girl was a…Prostitute！' she snapped viciously。 'You passed that off as Mrs Bean's gossip。'
'OK。 So maybe I was wrong。 That means she had other men。 Violent types。 Maybe one of them 。 。 。 '
She took the glass of whisky he offered her； and sipped it； then grimaced。 She had never much liked spirits。
'Yet； suppose something turned Richard into a violent type 。 。 。 temporarily at least 。 。 。 ' 'Meaning？'
'You hit the boy 。 。 。 viciously！'
'He's not a boy。 He's a grown man； responsible for his own actions。'
'He's our son still。 You turned him into a monster of violence； Bob 。 。 。 ' She stopped with a sob。
An uneasy silence ensued。 Coyle swallowed his whisky； and poured himself another。 Jane merely toyed with her glass。
'Another thing； Bob。' Her lips tightened into a thin line。 'I spoke to Mrs Bean again today。'
'Oh； God； no。 That woman 。 。 。 What is it this time？' 'Sarah。'
'What about her？'
'It's as I suspected…as I've been trying to get through your thick skull for months。 She's having an affair with a married man。 His name is David Houston； he's got three young children 。 。 。 '
'I'll speak to her about it。'
'No； you won't。' Jane's voice was low； loaded with menace。 'You're fast splitting this family up。 I'll sort this one out。 As a husband and father you're a dead loss！'
Coyle's eyes blazed。 His jaw tightened。 The day of confession had arrived。
'I agree with you；' he spoke softly； suddenly relieved that all these domestic falsehoods were collapsing around them。 'And I'll tell you something else； too。 Before Mrs Bean does。 I am having an affair with another woman。 Not just a sexual relationship。 I'm in love with her。 It's been going on for a very long time now。 You've been so confined within your own tiny little world that you've never once suspected a thing。 I've kept it from you； trying to hold the family together； but now 。 。 。 now it doesn't matter any longer。'
Her whisky glass shattered into hundreds of tiny fragments on the wall behind him。 The contents caught him full in the face。
Rupe had never had any inclination towards violence before。 Indeed； he had never had any inclinations towards anything requiring either physical or mental effort。 The kids at school had reduced him to the self…conscious； nervous； insignificant being that was to be his permanent character by the time he was ten years old。 Rupert had always been a subject of ridicule； the victim of bullies； even after Mr Snell； his form…master； had so kindly taken to referring to him as 'Rupe'。 It was too late then； though。
He was glad when the time came for him to leave school； though it meant being cast out into this vicious； unfriendly； new town where nobody paid him the slightest attention…except maybe to push him roughly aside when he chanced to idle in a main thoroughfare。 He certainly didn't want to go back home again； to suffer either his father's drunken pummellings； or his mother's obscene cursings； which poured incessantly from those harsh lips。
So； Rupe just wandered aimlessly。 Except there had been a kind of calling； a message that had e to him in a rare dream a few nights ago； from an old man speaking to Rupe out of the midst of a blazing furnace。 'The time is nigh。 The oppressed must rise up。 Craiglowrie shall be destroyed by fire； and only those who follow me shall live。 Hide； and wait until I e。 Kill if necessary。'
A kind of prophet； Rupe had decided； a holy man who could survive in the flames。 A saviour。 Like the Ayatollah he'd seen on TV； calling to the people to rise up and overthrow authority。 It was all very exciting； gave him a purpose in life as never before。
The condemned houses； scheduled for demolition at some future date…their boardings covered with four…letter words daubed blatantly in varied colours…these provided him with shelter； if not warmth。 Even in this vanishing slum area； the dustbins were always well stocked with edible refuse； so he certainly wouldn't starve。 All he wanted was to be left alone； to live in the only way he knew…and to hate his fellow men。 And all around him the new town was replacing the old。 He could never easily accept change…but he savoured the one that had been promised in his dream。
Then he found Loup； or； to be more precise； Loup found him。 He awoke one morning； the weak rays of sunlight dancing on his face through a hole in the brickwork above his head…and he knew that he wasn't alone。 The dog sat quietly inside the entrance； beside a heap of rubble； just watching him； its greenish…grey eyes missing nothing。 It appeared to be mostly Alsatian。 Its coat was covered in mange； yet its face was alert and knowing； its pointed ears erect and listening to every sound。 It； too； was a loner。
Rupe leaned over； and threw the dog a few scraps of bread from the cardboard box beneath the tarpaulin； which was his larder。 When the animal had devoured them； never taking its eyes off him whilst it masticated； he offered a hand in friendship； and it licked his outstretched fingers with a deep red tongue； displaying massive canine teeth； so white and glistening in contrast to the poor quality of its coat。
Rupe didn't know why he called his newly found friend Loup。 He seemed to have heard the word somewhere； maybe long ago in school； and had stored it away in his memory。 Anyway； it rhymed with his own name； and they were going to be partners for sure。 Rupe and Loup。
They had to lie low in the daytime； scavenging for food at night； under cover of darkness。 Sometimes they would slink through the deserted streets together； but usually Loup would disappear on his own after supper； returning before dawn to lie down on the length of frayed matting hi the corner； licking his chops with the satisfaction of a dog which has hunted and fed well； and ready to sleep for a few hours。
Then came the moment when Rupe killed。 Not a bludgeoning or knifing on one of his nocturnal prowls； but in a busy street in broad daylight。 He knew not why he had ventured out； mingling with the jostling crowds； hustled along like a cork in a millstream。 Perhaps he was suddenly enjoying a sense of superiority； a dawning of the knowledge that he was not as others； a chosen disciple of the one who would surely e。 He was tied by no bonds of convention。
It happened on the pedestrian crossing。 The traffic lights showed green； and the vehicles roared by。 The pedestrian control showed 'Wait'； illuminated in red。 Twenty or more people clustered together on each pavement； impatiently watching for it to change to the green light and 'Cross now'。 The little old lady hi front of him picked up her heavily…laden shopping bags in anticipation。 At that moment Rupe heard the old man's voice； loud and clear as though he was standing next to him。 'Go on； kill。 Now！' Rupe pushed her； firmly but surreptitiously； so that nobody would notice the movement。 Her scream of terror was drowned by the clanking of an approaching articulated lorry。 Before the driver realised what was happening； she was beneath his front wheels with a screech of rubber； the rear wheels came to rest on her already lifeless body。
Rupe retired to the rear of the shocked； sensation…seeking crowd which gathered within seconds。 He'd enjoyed that。 He felt great。 It had bee