training, then the fast track in the archdiocese. Growing up, he'd known a few like Father Grozdik, who had been placed by virtue of intellect and ambition, on the church's priority list. The only thing out of place, Peter realized, was the Polish name. Not Irish, which he thought was interesting. But, then, in that moment, he realized that his own background was Irish Catholic, as was the Cardinal's and the Cardinal's assistant, and so, a message was being sent by bringing in someone of different ethnic origins. He wasn't precisely sure what advantage this gave the three priests. He guessed that he would find out in short order.
'So, Peter,' the priest began,'… it is acceptable that I call you Peter? I would like to keep this session informal.'
'Of course, Father,' Peter said. He nodded his head. That was clever, he thought. Everyone else had an adult's authority and a status. He only had a first name. He had used the same approach with more than one arsonist that he'd questioned.
'So, Peter,' the priest began again, 'you are here in the hospital for a mental evaluation ordered by the court prior to continuing with the charges against you, is that not correct?'
'Yes. Trying to figure out whether I'm crazy. Too crazy to stand trial.'
'That is because many people who know you believe your actions to be, what? Shall we say' out of character'? Is that a fair representation?'
'A fireman who sets a fire. A good Catholic boy who burns down a church. Sure. Out of character is fine with me.'
'And, are you crazy, Peter?'
'No. But that's what most of the folks in here would say if they were asked the same question, so I'm not sure my opinion counts for all that much.'
'What conclusions do you think the staff here have reached so far?'
'I would suspect they are still in the process of accumulating impressions, Father, but that they more or less have reached the same conclusion as I have. They will put it a little more clinically, of course. Say that I'm filled with unresolved angers. Neurotic. Compulsive. Perhaps even antisocial. But that I knew what I was doing, and that I knew it was wrong, and that's the legal standard, more or less, right Father? They must have taught you that at Boston College law, right?'
Father Grozdik smiled and shifted himself slightly in his seat, and then replied humorlessly. 'Yes. Good guess, Peter. Or did you spot the class ring?' He held up his hand and displayed a large, gold ring that caught some light coming through the window. Peter realized that the priest had positioned himself in such a way that the Cardinal could watch Peter's reactions to questions without Peter being able to turn and see how the Cardinal was responding.
'It's a curious matter, isn't it, Peter?' Father Grozdik asked, his voice remaining flat and cold.
'Curious, Father?'
'Perhaps curious is not the correct word, Peter. Intellectually intriguing might be a better way of thinking of the dilemma you are in. Existential, almost. Have you studied psychology much, Peter? Or philosophy, perhaps?'
'No. I studied killing. When I was in the service. How to kill and how to save people from being killed. And after I came home, I studied fires. How to put them out. And how to set them. Surprisingly, I didn't find these two courses of study to be all that different.'
Father Grozdik smiled and nodded. 'Yes. Peter the Fireman, or so I understand you are called. But surely you are aware that are some aspects to your situation that transcend simple interpretations.'
'Yes,' Peter said. 'I am aware.'
The priest leaned forward. 'Do you think much about evil, Peter?'
'Evil, Father?'
'Yes. The presence upon this earth of forces that can only best be explained by a sense of evil.'
Peter hesitated, then nodded. 'Yes. I have spent a good deal of time considering it. You can't have traveled to the places I have without being aware that evil has a place in the world.'
'Yes. War and destruction. Certainly these are arenas where evil has a free hand. It interests you? Intellectually, perhaps?'
Peter shrugged, as if to display a certain nonchalance about the questions, but inwardly he was marshaling all his powers of concentration. He did not know in what direction the priest was going to turn the conversation, but he was wary. He kept his mouth shut.
Father Grozdik hesitated, then asked, 'Tell me Peter, what you have done… do you consider it evil?'
Peter paused, then said, 'Are you asking for a confession, Father? And I mean the sort of confession that usually requires a Miranda warning. Not a confession booth statement, because I am relatively certain that there is no number of Our Fathers or Hail Marys, there's no perfect act of contrition that would constitute an adequate penance for my behavior.'
Father Grozdik did not smile, nor did he seem particularly unsettled by Peter's response. He was a measured man, very cold and direct, Peter thought, which stood in contrast to the oblique nature of the questions he had. A dangerous man, and a difficult adversary, Peter believed. The problem was, he did not know for certain whether the priest was an adversary. Most likely. But that didn't explain why he was there. 'No, Peter,' the priest said flatly. 'Not either sort of confession. Let me put you at ease on one score…' He said this in a manner that Peter recognized was designed to do the opposite. '… Nothing you say here today is going to be used against you in a court of law.'
'Another court, then, perhaps?' Peter replied, with a slight mocking tone. The priest did not respond to the bait.
'We're all judged ultimately, are we not, Peter?'
'That remains to be seen, doesn't it?'
'As do all the answers to all sorts of mysteries. But evil, Peter…'
'All right, Father,' Peter said. 'Then the answer to your first question is yes. I believe that much of what I have done is evil. When you examine it, from one perspective, which would be the Church's perspective, it seems pretty clear. It is why I am here, and why I will go to prison in short order. Probably for the rest of my life. Or damn close to it.'
Father Grozdik seemed to assess this statement, and then he asked, 'But my suspicion, Peter, is that you are not telling me the truth. That no, deep within, you do not think that what you did was truly evil. Or that you think that when you set that fire, you intended to use one evil to erase another. Perhaps that is a bit closer to the truth.'
Peter did not want to reply to this. He let silence fill the room.
The priest bent forward a little. 'Would it not be fair to say that you believe that your actions were wrong, on one moral plane. But right upon another?'
Peter could feel sweat under his arms and forming at the back of his neck.
'I'm not sure I want to be talking about this,' he said.
The priest looked down and examined some papers, flipping through them rapidly until he seemed to find what he was searching for, examine it, then lift his eyes back to Peter with another question. 'Do you recall the first thing you told the police when they arrived at your mother's house? And, I might add, discovered you sitting on a step with your can of gasoline and matches in hand.'
'Actually, I used a lighter.'
'Of course. I stand corrected. And you told them?'
'You seem to have the police report in front of you.'
'Do you recall saying, 'This evens things up,' before they arrested you?'
'I do.'
'Perhaps you could explain that to me.'
'Father Grozdik,' Peter said bluntly. 'I suspect you would not be here if you did not already know the answer to that question.'
