went everywhere but to what he was doing as they loaded the tortured corpse into a canvas body bag on hand for just this purpose.
And the entire time some small sparking furious part of him was shouting up from his soul, Well, Felix! Is this enough? What does it take to set you off?
But mostly, he was numb.
He found himself watching young Father Adam, as they bound up and carried the body out into the rain. He knew the priest had been the one that kept the Top Secret Vatican records on Team Crow. And he wondered how he felt now.
One thing to read about it. Another to see it. Another to have them tearing at your own throat.
Cat and Jack stood still, side by side, the outlines of the great house they would now never live in rising starkly up behind them against the gray clouds and lightning. They looked… smaller than before.
They loaded Carl into the motorhome and Jack came’ over and told them that he and Cat would take the Blazer and go to the hotel and tell Annabelle and Davette. And it was quiet again as they contemplated this grinding task.
“You want us to meet you there?” Felix asked him. Jack shook his head wearily. “We’re going to the bishop’s. We’re all going to the bishop’s.” Then he paused and took a deep breath and glanced, sideways, almost warily, toward the shattered workshop door. “See you there,” he said at last and Felix thought his voice far too thin for so big a man.
Then Cat and Jack climbed into the Blazer
Damn, thought Felix, watching their taillights disappear. Damn.
Because he knew what they were thinking, he about their guilt and those horrible goddamned pictures cause he was having those same crushing visions.
Of poor Carl Joplin hearing his detector going off knowing it was too late to get away and then desperately trying to barricade the door and then packing his weapons into the closet and then barricading that up, too, and none of it, absolutely
And then alone in that closet it would be impossible wouldn’t it, not to hope? Not to think, not to dream, not
And what did he think when he knew it was too late. Did he hate everyone? Did he forgive them?
Did he forgive me?
Would he now? If he had the chance?
Damn.
Chapter 25
The bishop’s residence was a heavy tudor mansion connected by wide sculptured gardens to the church of St. Lucius, the largest — and wealthiest — Catholic church in Dallas. It had balconies and a turret and several stained-glass windows sending multicolored hues into the rain.
Felix thought without the electric lights it could have been built two or three hundred years ago.
“Cat doesn’t like this guy,” offered Kirk as they pulled into the wide circular driveway. “Says he’s too good for sinners.”
Father Adam frowned. “I think you’ll find he has a different attitude now.”
Kirk smiled thinly. “Cat told us about that, too. After you pulled rank on him.”
The priest shook his bead. “After he’s had a chance to think about it.” He looked at Kirk. “There is a reason why people become priests, Kirk.”
The deputy shrugged good-naturedly, his hair seeming even more red in the half-light from the bishop’s front door.
“I’ll go in ahead,” said Father Adam as Felix pulled to a stop.
Felix nodded, lit a cigarette, and watched the priest skip through the puddles to the front door.
“Felix?” Kirk whispered from beside him.
Felix looked at him. “Yeah?”
“Do we really have to chop his head off?”
“Looks like.”
Kirk shook his head and stared out the window. He shivered.
“Who’s going to do it?”
Felix frowned. “Crow, I guess. If he’s up to it.”
“What if he isn’t? He didn’t look so good to me.”
Felix shrugged. “Then somebody else, I suppose.”
“You?”
Felix stared at him. “Why me?”
Now Kirk shrugged. “You’re second in command.”
Felix stared at him a second longer, then turned away. Jesus Christ! Is
Or was, he reminded himself, dimly, before they found me, too.
Shit! All the more reason to go.
So why do you feel so guilty?
I don’t. I don’t. I do not. I… I don’t know what I feel…
And he stubbed his cigarette out too forcibly into the dashboard ashtray.
Lights hit them from behind as the Blazer pulled into the driveway alongside the motorhome. Felix exchanged a look with Kirk, then climbed outside to greet them.
Cat still looked terrible, ashen and pale. But Jack Crow looked… pretty damned good. His broad shoulders were straight and his bearing seemed to have… But no. Those eyes. Too deep. Sunken and dark and unseeing.
“Oh, Felix!” cried Annabelle as she came around the side of the Blazer, eyes pouring tears.
And then she did an odd thing. She threw her arms around him and pressed her head into his chest and sobbed.
Felix stared blankly at her. Then he did what she wanted: he put his arms around her and comforted her.
Not just what she wanted, he thought suddenly.
What she
As he stood there holding the sobbing Annabelle, he saw Davette, tears also in her eyes. They exchanged wan smiles.
Who do these people think I am?
“Mr. Crow!” called out from the front door.
It was the bishop, with Adam and what looked like his entire staff trailing behind him from the house. The cleric came to a breathless stop before Jack.
“Mr. Crow!” the bishop repeated. “We are so grieved at your loss. We…” And then he stumbled, fishing for words. At last, he held his arms out, palms up. “I’m so very sorry, Mr. Crow. I didn’t understand.”
Felix watched Jack eye the cleric suspiciously for a moment. But what can you say, Jack? This guy clearly means it. Look at him.
Jack nodded abruptly, said, “Thank you, bishop. I appreciate it. We…” and he turned and made a gesture to include the others.
The bishop was way ahead of him.
“Father Adam has told me everything. Come inside. Please. Let us help you.”
They did. And the bishop was, Felix decided later, quite wonderful. He was everywhere at once, it seemed, tending to them. And where he wasn’t, his staff was, several young priests or priests-to-be — Felix was never sure which. They got them inside and dry and sitting down and got them something to drink and something to munch on while dinner was being prepared and were not offended when no one had an appetite and it was more