target for Protestant extremists that much he knew. Still, a man needed
a pint from time to time so he doubted if he would discontinue the
practice.

He shook his gabardine jacket clear of his arm and stepped into the
night. Overhead a moon glimpsing the clouds made through an effortless
sky. He might, should impulse seize him, step through the border area
of Protestant Ulster to reach his home near Falls Road. Suddenly, the
pub door became a fringe of orange heat amid whirls of smoke. Barely
clear of the doorway, MacGuire was propelled by the force of the
explosion's impact clear of danger. Dazed and uncomprehending, the full
realization of his chance good fortune not yet registered, he stood
watching the flames etch their amber fingers through the archway into
the pilings about the roof. Elsewhere, two figures ran through the
night scarce turning to watch their most recent torching. Had he a
revolver bringing them down would have been matter of fact, at least
the part of squeezing several bullets in succession about their
direction. He had no such weapon and could only watch them make good
their escape.

From the vicinity of the blast Sean could make out only engulfing fire
spreading itself over the full circumference of O'Leary's pub. Placing
coat against face, he edged closer to the door in hope of entering the
building. Common sense told him anyone in the interior of the pub would
be cremated by now. Foolish to speculate further about them, he winced.
The demolished doorway also seemed to exclude any survivors since in
all likelihood the blast had originated from those quarters. Silently,
he tried to reconstruct the former faces about a room which minutes
before had seen quiet patrons sipping a pre-supper drink. He was close
enough to peer about the ruins of the entrance. A form or rather a
booted figure face down under what appeared a fallen beam lay
motionless before him. Astride the man, he half dragged then manacled
the bleeding figure clear of the surging flames. Ensuring his immediate
safety, MacGuire went a second time into the now inferno like remains
of O'Leary's. Conscious now of the enormity of the blast as sirens
wailed and a clatter of noise began, grim faced police and officers
whose job it was to make sense of such happenings began to arrive. He
was about to attempt a second entry when a wall of fire ended further
heroism. He could not visualize anyone surviving twin disasters of
explosion and to