He picked up the flashlight and turned it onto her face. Her bright green eyes glowed back at him. “I hope you had a good look at this morning’s sunrise, lass, because the chances are you’ll not see another one.”
Patrick Burke moved carefully from under the portal of the bronze ceremonial doors and looked up at the north tower. The Cathedral’s floodlights cast a blue-white brilliance over the recently cleaned stonework and onto the fluttering harp flag of green and gold, reminding Burke irreverently of a Disney World castle. Burke looked over the south tower. The louvers were torn open, and a man was looking down at him through a rifle scope. Burke turned his back on the sniper and saw a tall uniformed patrolman of the Tactical Patrol Unit hurrying toward him through the sleet.
The young patrolman hesitated, then said, “Are you a sergeant or better?”
“Can’t you tell?”
“I …”
“Lieutenant, Intelligence.”
The patrolman began speaking rapidly. “Christ, Lieutenant, my sergeant, Tezik, is in the rectory. He’s got a platoon of TPU ready to move. He wants to hit the doors with trucks—I don’t think we should do anything until we get orders—”
Burke moved quickly across the steps and followed the north wall of the Cathedral through the gardens and terraces until he came to the rear of the rectory. He entered a door that led to a large vestibule. Scattered throughout the halls and offices and sitting on the stairs were about thirty men of the Tactical Patrol Unit, an elite reaction force, looking fresh, young, big, and eager. Burke turned to the patrolman who had followed him. “Where’s Tezik?”
“In the Rector’s office.” He leaned toward Burke and said quietly, “He’s a little … high-strung. You know?”
Burke left the patrolman in the vestibule and moved quickly up the stairs between the sitting TPU men. On the next landing he opened a door marked RECTOR.
Monsignor Downes sat at his desk in the center of the large, old-fashioned office, still wearing his topcoat and smoking a cigarette. Burke stood in the doorway. “Monsignor, where’s the police sergeant?”
Monsignor Downes looked up blankly. “Who are you?”
“Burke. Police. Where is—?”
Monsignor Downes spoke distractedly. “Oh, yes. I know you. Friend of Father Murphy … saw you last night at the Waldorf … Maureen Malone … you were—”
“Yes, sir. Where is Sergeant Tezik?”
A deep voice called out from behind a set of double doors to Burke’s right. “I’m in here!”
Burke moved through the doors into a larger inner office with a fireplace and bookshelves. Sergeant Tezik sat at an oversized desk in the rear room. “Burke. ID. Get your men out of the rectory and on the street where they belong. Help with crowd control.”
Sergeant Tezik stood slowly, revealing a frame six-and-a-half feet tall, weighing, Burke guessed, about two seventy-five. Tezik said, “Who died and left you in charge?”
Burke closed the door behind him. “Actually, Commissioner Dwyer
“I heard. That don’t make
“No, but I’ll do for now.” Burke moved farther into the room. “Don’t try to take advantage of this mess, Tezik. Don’t play macho man with other people’s lives. You know the saying, Tezik: When a citizen is in trouble he calls a cop; when a cop is in trouble he calls Emergency Service.”
“I’m using what they call personal initiative, Lieutenant. I figure that before those bastards get themselves dug in—”
“Who have you called? Where are your orders coming from?”
“They’re coming from my brains.”
“That’s too bad.”
Tezik continued, unperturbed, “I can’t get an open line no place.”
“Did you try Police Plaza?”
“I
Burke moved to the desk. “Who did you speak to?”
“Some guy—Finn?—something. Name’s on the Cathedral doors.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing.” He thought a moment. “Said he had four hostages.”
“Who?”
“The Cardinal—”
“Shit!”
“Yeah. And they got a priest, too—Murphy. And some broad whose name I don’t remember—that peace woman, I think. Name was in the papers. And some English royalty guy, Baker.”
“Jesus Christ. What else did he say, Tezik? Think.”
Tezik seemed to be thinking. “Let me see…. He said he’d kill them—they always say that. Right? And burn the Cathedral—how do you burn a Cathedral—?”
“With matches.”
“Not possible. Stone don’t burn. Anyway, the doors are supposed to be rigged with explosives, but, shit, I have thirty-five TPU in the rectory, ready to go. I got a dozen more standing in the halls that lead to the sacristy. I got four-wheel-drive equipment from the Sanitation Department, with my men driving, ready to hit the doors, and —”
“Forget it.”
“Like hell. Look, the longer you wait, the deeper the other guy digs in. That’s a fact.”
“Where did you learn that fact?”
“In the Marines. ’Nam.”
“Sure. Listen, Tezik, this is midtown Manhattan, not Fuck Luck Province. A great cathedral full of art treasures has been seized, Tezik. And
“This is different. The command structure’s broken down. One time, near Quangtri, I was on patrol—”
“Who cares?”
Tezik stiffened. “Let me see your shield.”
Burke held out his badge case, then put it away. “Look, Tezik, these people who’ve taken the Cathedral do not present a clear or immediate danger to anyone outside the Cathedral—”
“They shot out a spotlight. They hung a flag from the steeple. They could be Reds, Burke—revolutionaries…. Fenians … what the hell
“Listen to me—leave this to Emergency Services and the Hostage Negotiator. Okay?”
“I’m going in now, Burke. Now, before they start shooting into the city—before they start shooting the hostages … or burning the Cathedral—”
“It’s stone.”
“Back off, Lieutenant. I’m the man on the spot, and I have to do what I have to do.”
Burke unbuttoned his topcoat and hooked his thumbs into his belt. “No way.”
Neither man spoke for several seconds, then Tezik said, “I’m walking to that door.”
Burke said, “Try it.”
The office was very still except for the ticking of a mantel clock.
They both sidestepped clear of the desk, then faced off, each man knowing that he had unwittingly backed the other against a wall, and neither knowing what to do about it.
CHAPTER 21
