Bertie Ahern had one big shot left in his locker. Finally, it was time. Dublin Castle braced for the incoming Scud.
Like his friend Tony Blair in the run-up to the war in Iraq, the Taoiseach pinned his hopes on producing a weapon of mass destruction to prove what he had been saying was right all along. And like in the case of Tony, you had to believe Bertie, give him the benefit of the doubt, even if the evidence so far indicated otherwise.
The Taoiseach's exemplary record of public service is such that he deserved nothing less.
The media spin was relentless in the build-up to his tribunal appearance. This weapon existed, insisted Fianna Fáil insiders. Their leader was in possession of the proof. Just wait and see. Then Ahern himself heightened expectations at the start of his four-day testimony when he said he would "produce confirmation" to back up his "moral certainty". Bertie's Big Bertha was called Paddy Stronge, an eminent big wig in the banking world.
He promised he would roll out the definitive calculations of Paddy the Banker, thus blowing sky high those scurrilous allegations that he had lodged an enormous sum of US dollars into his bank account back in 1994.
But that's not the way things happened yesterday. When the time came for his big gun to roar, it proved a massive disappointment. There was dull fizzle, ph-ph-phphutt!, and then nothing.
The Taoiseach's much flagged clincher had clunked.
As his tribunal testimony came to an abrupt and very unsatisfactory close, it wasn't Paddy the Banker that Bertie required. He finished up in far greater need of the services of Paddy the Plasterer to apply lashings of emergency Polyfilla across the growing cracks in his story.
After all the talk of marriage break-ups, hard-luck stories, Lulus hiding in the bushes and house renovations, Bertie Ahern was forced to address the stark questions about suspicious movements of foreign monies into his personal accounts. Money that was not consistent with his salary at the time as minister for finance.
During his time on the stand, Bertie's mass of distraction was meticulously cleared away by lawyer Des O'Neill.
There were times, during those four days of often tedious cross-examination, when it was difficult not to agree with the assertion that the tribunal was dragging out the process to make itself look good and Bertie look bad.
But in the final afternoon, in front of another packed public gallery, those complaints faded. This time, there was no clapping from the Drumcondra on Tour brigade in the audience.
When Taoiseach Ahern emerged from the castle for the last time yesterday evening, he put a brave face on things.
"From my point of view, I think it went satisfactory," he said to journalists, calling to mind that scene in Fr Ted where three bishops are waved away from Craggy Island following a calamitous visit. One bishop leaves in a coffin, another departs with a vanload of hippies having renounced his faith while the third is removed in an ambulance.
And Ted turns to Fr Dougal and breezily declares: "I think that went rather well."
Until yesterday, many impartial observers felt that Ahern had coped adequately with the grinding onslaught from Des O'Neill. If anything, he appeared to be growing more relaxed and sure-footed as the proceedings went on.
Last week, it seemed his few days communing with colleagues at the party's annual "tink-in" in Wicklow had done him the power of good. This week, with a jaunt to Paris behind him and a bravura performance on the Marian Finucane show under his belt, another confident display might have been expected.
Instead, Bertie was rather subdued. There was none of the feistiness that characterised his performance on other days.
From the off, he was struggling. First, there was the curious story of how he drove his partner Celia Larkin to the AIB in Dublin's O'Connell Street so she could go inside and collect a parcel of IR£50,000 in cash for him. Ms Larkin, in her evidence two weeks ago, recalled the occasion with certainty.
Bertie couldn't remember it at all. "If I was to remember every time I drove up and down O'Connell Street, I'd be doing well," he commented. Understandable, if he had been a driver for Securicor, but not so convincing from a man who has only driven himself on a handful of occasions in 30 years, and on occasions when he probably wasn't picking up a vast sum of cash.
Then his ever-changing recollection of going into the bank and buying stg£30,000 went all wobbly again. He now has decided he didn't do this in person, as previously stated. "What I believe I must have done . . . I must have given it to someone to change for me because I think I would recall if I changed it myself."
He gave Ms Larkin stg£10,000 to spend in Ireland on doing up his house because, well, he just did. It was interior design, an attic conversion, "changing of sanitary equipment" and "cooking utensils, mainly cooking utensils". Bertie was fine when it came to remembering fish slices and soup ladles, it was the more mundane stuff like foreign exchange transactions that slipped his mind.
Next was the thorny subject of whether he fully co-operated with the tribunal. Conor Maguire, the Taoiseach's lawyer, was quick to point out that this was not an issue. As various Fianna Fáil politicians were pointing out over the weekend, the chairman said there was no question that he hadn't complied.
Unfortunately for Bertie, the tribunal indicated yesterday that the hearing was not about compliance, and whether the Taoiseach co-operated or not was a matter for another day.
And finally, coming up to half-past three, the burning issue of the $45,000 was broached. Here was where Bertie was going to roll out the big gun and blast the Mahon tribunal to kingdom come.
First, there was the magic formula which the Taoiseach's financial brains had produced, using a combination of permutations to prove he lodged sterling instead of dollars.
Des O'Neill demolished the argument. Bertie had to agree and muttered something about "ground rules" changing.
Then came the time to roll out Paddy Stronge's version of events. In the end, it was an opinion, nothing more, that the Taoiseach had not lodged dollars. Clearly, the tribunal, with what appeared stronger arguments, definitely does not share that view.
Bertie's ordeal ended at 5pm. He left to a chorus of cheers and boos and a man waving a fistful of dollars.
"I did what I always said I'd do," said the Taoiseach to the media, "I said I'd come in front of the tribunal. I've just spent four days here and I've done that." He also said he would clear up any doubts. He didn't do that.
Briefly, he tried to fire up his Paddy Stronge weapon. It fizzled out a second time. "Stronge's report shows quite clearly," he began, before faltering. " . . . eh . . . you know . . . that, well maybe it's not as conclusive, eh, which way it is . . ."
The rat-ta-tat spin of the last few months has been very impressive, but yesterday, it seemed all they were firing was blanks.