Ain't No Mountain High Enough
––––––––
Mill Caff
––––––––
There was no mistaking Big Pat Walsh; six-foot-four and half as wide, with a broken nose from the boxing. No irony in this nickname. He was sitting at a table eating breakfast. He took a massive swig of tea and wiped at his tomatoes with a slice of fried bread. Harry walked over, taking him in. There were two things people said about Big Pat Walsh and the first was that he wasn’t a man you talked about.
Walsh looked up and made eye contact as he chewed; he nodded up and to the side, a silent hello. Harry could see why he scared people. There was something brutal and dead in those nut-brown eyes. But Harry was still high on the back of his first proper night with his new love, and he wasn’t afraid of anything. He sat down and le
