The Sleepers of Erin

You know things are going badly when you've been stabbed, hospitalized and arrested for a crime that, not only did you not commit, you actively attempted to prevent. Top that off with a pending appearance in court before a judge whose wife you know rather better than he does, and you start to think [...]
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You know things are going badly when you've been stabbed, hospitalized and arrested for a crime that, not only did you not commit, you actively attempted to prevent. Top that off with a pending appearance in court before a judge whose wife you know rather better than he does, and you start to think that visiting an ancient Irish tomb with a gang of ruthless villains sounds like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. All you have to do is to make sure that you don't end up joining the ancient Irish tomb's ancient Irish inhabitants. Nothing's ever that simple, though, is it? Not in my world, anyway. Women have a tendency to confuse matters and when you're dealing with a deranged scarecrow poet and an eastern European hit man whom you know for a fact has never been further east than Billericay in his entire life, things are confusing enough, don't you think?