the switches that activated the speakers in both residences.
A voice with an Irish accent came into the room and echoed from the outer office, which quickly became still. “What took you so long?”
Burke nodded. “That’s him.”
Schroeder spoke softly, pleasantly, a tone designed to be soothing. “Things were a bit confused, sir. Is this —?”
“Finn MacCumail, Chief of the Fenians. I told Sergeant Tezik and Lieutenant Burke I wanted to speak with a high ranking man. I’m only up to a captain now.”
Schroeder gave his standard reply. “Everyone that you would want to speak to is present. They are listening to us from speakers. Can you hear the echo? We’ve all agreed that to avoid confusion I will do the speaking for everyone. They’ll relay messages through me.”
“Who are
“I have some experience in this.”
“Well, that’s interesting. Are there representatives of the Irish, British, and American governments present?”
“Yes, sir. The Police Commissioner, the Mayor, and the Governor, too.”
“I picked a good day for this, didn’t I?”
Burke said to Schroeder, “I forgot to tell you, he has a sense of humor.”
Schroeder said into the telephone, “Yes, sir. So let’s get right down to business.”
“Let’s back up and establish the rules, Captain. Is everyone in contact with their capitals?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have Amnesty International and the Red Cross been contacted?”
“It’s being done, sir.”
“And you are the mouthpiece?”
“Yes, sir. It’s less confusing. I think you’ll find the arrangement acceptable.” Schroeder sat at the edge of his chair. This was the most difficult part, persuading wild-eyed lunatics that it was better to speak to him than to the President of the United States or the Queen of England. “So, if we can proceed …”
“All right. We’ll see.”
Schroeder exhaled softly. “We have your demands in front of us, and the list of people you want released from Northern Ireland. We want you to know that our primary concern is the safety of the hostages—”
“Don’t forget the Cathedral. It’s ready to be burned down.”
“Yes. But our
“Sorry about the horse.”
“What? Oh, yes. We are too. But no one—no human—has been killed, so let’s all work to keep it that way.”
“Commissioner Dwyer is feeling better, then?”
Schroeder shot a look at Burke and covered the mouthpiece. “What the hell did you tell him about Dwyer?”
“Rule number one. The truth.”
“Shit!” Schroeder uncovered the mouthpiece. “The Commissioner’s death was from natural causes, sir. You have not killed anyone.” He stressed again, “Our goal is to protect lives—”
“Then I can burn down the Cathedral after I get what I want?”
Schroeder looked around the room again. Everyone was bent forward in their chairs, cigars and cigarettes discharging smoke into the quiet atmosphere. “No, sir. That would be arson, a felony. Let’s not compound the problem.”
“No problem here. Just do what you’re told.”
“Are the hostages safe?”
“I told Burke they were. If I say something, that’s what I mean.”
“I was just reassuring everyone here. There are a lot of people here … Mr. MacCumail, to hear what you have to say to them. The Rector of the Cathedral is here. He’s very concerned about the Cardinal and the others. They’re all counting on you to come through. Listen, is it possible to speak with the hostages? I’d like to—”
“Perhaps later.”
“All right. Fine. Okay. Listen, I’d like to speak to you about that spotlight. That was a potentially dangerous act—”
“Not if you have the County Antrim shooting champion in the bell tower. Keep the spotlights off.”
“Yes, sir. In the future, if you want something, just ask me. Try not to take things into your own hands. It’s easier, sometimes, to ask.”
“I’ll try to remember that. Where exactly are you calling from?”
“I’m in the Rector’s office.”
“Good. Best not to get too far from the center of things.”
“We’re right here.”
“So are we. All right, I have other things to see to. Don’t be calling me every minute on some pretext. The next call I receive from you will inform me that the three governments and the two agencies involved are ready to begin working out the details of the transfer of prisoners.”
“That may be some time. I’d like to be able to call you and give you progress reports.”
“Don’t make a nuisance of yourself.”
“I’m here to help.”
“Good. You can start by sending the keys to me.”
“The keys?” He looked at Monsignor Downes, who nodded.
Flynn said, “All the keys to the Cathedral—not the city. Send them now, with Lieutenant Burke.”
Schroeder said, “I’m not sure I can locate any keys—”
“Don’t be starting that bullshit, Captain. I want them within ten minutes or I raze the Altar of the Blessed Sacrament. Tell that to Downes and he’ll produce all the keys he’s got, and about a hundred he hasn’t got.”
Monsignor Downes came toward the desk, looking very agitated.
Schroeder said quickly into the phone, “All right. There was a misunderstanding. The Monsignor informs me he has a complete set of keys.”
“I thought you’d find them. Also, send in corned beef and cabbage dinners for forty-five people. I want it catered by … hold on, let me check with my American friend here.” There was a short silence, then Flynn said, “John Barleycorn’s on East Forty-fifth Street. Soda bread, coffee and tea as well. And a sweet, if you don’t mind. I’ll pay the bill.”
“We’ll take care of that … and the bill, too.”
“Captain, before this night is through there won’t be enough money in the city treasury to buy you a glass of beer. I’ll pay for the food.”
“Yes, sir. One more thing. About the time limit … you’ve presented us with some complicated problems and we may need more time to—”
Flynn’s voice became belligerent. “No extensions! The prisoners named had better be free in Dublin when the first light breaks through the windows of the Lady Chapel. Dawn or dead, Schaeffer.”
“Schroeder. Look—”
“Whatever. Happy Saint Paddy’s Day to you.
There was a click, and the sound of the phone hummed in the room. Captain Schroeder put down his telephone, shut off the speakers, and relit his cigar. He tapped his fingers on the desk. It had not gone well. Yet he felt he’d dealt with harder men than Finn MacCumail. Never as well spoken, perhaps, but crazier, certainly.
He kept reminding himself of two facts. One was that he’d never had a failure. The other was that he’d never failed to get an extension of a deadline. And much of his success in the first fact was a result of his success in the second. He looked up at the silent assembly. “This one is going to be rough. I like them rough.”
Captain Joe Bellini stood at the window with his tunic open, his thumbs hooked into his gun belt. His fingers ran over his cartridge loops. He had a mental picture of his Emergency Services Division assaulting the big gray lady out there. He didn’t like them rough; he didn’t like them easy. He didn’t like them at all.
