Joey couldn’t take it anymore. The strain was too much. Another whiskey was called for. It wasn’t Jameson but it tasted fine enough – it could have been the crystal decanter it came out of. The cabin was luxury all right, sparkling it was, even the ceilings looked like they’d been polished. The air conditioning was wafting out a cool breeze that filled the place, but Paddy Tiernan was sweating, the sky blue of his shirt turning to black where sweat soaked the fabric.
What had he done, thought Joey. This Paddy fella was as crooked as two left feet, sure he was. Holy Mother of God, gambling the last of his money away, did it get any worse? If the money was lost, what then? Jaysus, it didn’t bear thinking about. He closed his eyes tight and tried to shut out the scene in front of him.
“Rais
