Cathedral

He said half-jokingly, “Are you sure he’s coming back?”

Langley shrugged. “His backup man is in another room with a phone, waiting like an understudy for the break of a lifetime…. ” Langley said, “Call Flynn.”

“Later.” He sat in Schroeder’s chair, leaned back, and looked at the lofty ceiling. A long crack ran from wall to wall, replastered but not yet painted. He had a mental image of the Cathedral in ruins, then pictured the Statue of Liberty lying on its side half submerged in the harbor. He thought of the Roman Coliseum, the ruined Acropolis, the flooded temples of the Nile. He said, “You know, the Cathedral itself is not that important. Neither are the lives of any of us. What’s important is how we act, what people say and write about us afterward.”

Langley looked at him appraisingly. Burke sometimes surprised him. “Yes, that’s true, but you won’t tell that to anybody today.”

“Or tomorrow, if we’re pulling bodies out of the rubble.”

* * *

John Hickey’s voice came to Maureen from not very far off. “So, what have we here? What light through yonder window breaks, Maureen?” He laughed, then said sharply, “Move back from there or we’ll shoot you.”

Maureen cocked her elbow and drove it into the rat screen. The wire bent, but the edges stayed fixed to the wall. She pressed her face to the grill. To her left the hallway ended about ten feet away. On the opposite wall toward the end of the passage were gray sliding doors—elevator doors—the elevator that opened near the bride’s room above. She drove her elbow into the grill again, and one side of the frame ripped loose from the plasterboard. “Yes, yes … please …”

She could hear them behind her, scurrying over the rubble-strewn ground like the rats they were, faster, coming at the light source. Then John Hickey came out of the dark. “Hands on your head, darlin’.”

She turned and stared at him, holding back the tears forming in her eyes.

Hickey said, “Look at you. Your pretty knees are all scratched. And what’s that dirt all over your face, Maureen? Camouflage? You’ll be needing a good wash.”

He ran his flashlight over her. “And your smart tweeds are turned inside out. Clever girl. Clever. And what is that around your neck?” He grabbed the nylon garrote and twisted it. “My, what a naughty girl you are.” He gave the garrote another twist and held it until she began to choke. “Once again, Maureen, you’ve shown me a small chink in our armor. What would we do without you?” He loosened the tension on the nylon and knocked her to the ground. His eyes narrowed into malignant slits. “I think I’ll shoot you through the head and throw you into the corridor. That’ll help the police make the decision they’re wrestling with.” He seemed to consider, then said, “But, on the other hand, I’d like you to be around for the finale.” He smiled a black, gaping smile. “I want you to see Flynn die or for him to see you die.”

In a clear flash of understanding she knew the essence of this old man’s evil. “Kill me.”

He shook his head. “No. I like you. I like what you’re becoming. You should have killed Gallagher, though. You would have been firmly planted in the ranks of the damned if you had. You’re only borderline now.” He cackled.

Maureen lay on the damp earth. She felt a hand grab her long hair and pull her back across the floor into the darkness. Megan Fitzgerald knelt over her and put a pistol to her heart. “Your charmed life has come to an end, bitch.”

Hickey called out, “None of that, Megan!”

Megan Fitzgerald shouted back. “You’ll not stop me this time.” She cocked the pistol.

Hickey shouted, “No! Brian will decide if she’s to die—and if she’s to die, he wants to be the one to kill her.”

Maureen listened to this statement without any outward emotion. She felt numb, drained.

Megan screamed back. “Fuck you! Fuck Flynn! She’ll die here and now.”

Hickey spoke softly. “If you shoot, I’ll kill you.” Everyone heard the click of the safety disengaging from his automatic.

Gallagher cleared his throat and said, “Let her alone, Megan.”

No one moved or spoke. Finally Megan uncocked her pistol. She turned on her light and shone it into Maureen’s face. A twisted smile formed on Megan’s lips. “You’re old … and not very pretty.” She poked Maureen’s breast roughly with the muzzle of her pistol.

Maureen looked up through the light at Megan’s contorted face. “You’re very young, and you ought to be pretty, but there’s an ugliness in you, Megan, that everyone can see in your eyes.”

Megan spit at her, then disappeared into the dark.

Hickey knelt over Maureen and wiped her face with a handkerchief. “Well, now, if you want my opinion, I think you’re very pretty.”

She turned her face away. “Go to hell.”

Hickey said, “You see, Uncle John saved your life again.”

She didn’t respond, and he went on. “Because I really want you to see what’s going to happen later. Yes, it’s going to be quite spectacular. How often can you see a cathedral collapsing around your head—?”

Gallagher made an odd gasping sound, and Hickey said to him, “Only joking, Frank.”

She said to Gallagher, “He’s not joking, you know—”

Hickey leaned close to her ear. “Shut up or I’ll—”

“What?” She looked at him fiercely. “What can you do to me?” She turned toward Gallagher. “He means to see all of us dead. He means to see all your young friends follow him to the grave …”

Hickey laughed in a shrill, piercing tone.

The rats stopped their chirping.

Hickey said, “The little creatures sense the danger. They smell death. They know.”

Gallagher said nothing, but his breathing filled the still, cold air.

Maureen sat up slowly. “Baxter? The others … ?”

Hickey said in an offhand manner, “Baxter is dead. Father Murphy was hit in the face, and he’s dying. The Cardinal is all right, though.” He said in an aggrieved whisper, “Do you see what you’ve done?”

She couldn’t speak, and tears ran down her face.

Hickey turned from her and played his light over the open hatchway.

Gallagher said, “We better put an alarm here.”

Hickey answered, “The only alarm you’ll hear from down here is from about a kilo of plastic. I’ll have Sullivan come back and mine it.” He glanced at Maureen. “Well, shall we go home, then?”

They began the long crawl back.

Hickey spoke as they made their way. “If I was a younger man, Maureen, I’d be in love with you. You’re so like the women I knew in the Movement in my youth. So many of the revolutionary women in other movements are ugly misfits, neurotics and psychotics. But we’ve always been able to attract clearheaded, pretty lasses like yourself. Why is that, do you suppose?” He said between labored breaths, “Well, don’t answer me, then. Tired? Yes, me too. Slow down, Gallagher, you big ox. We’ve got some way to go yet before we can rest. We’ll all rest together, Maureen. Soon this will be over … we’ll be free of all our worries, all our bonds … before dawn … a nice rest … it won’t be so bad … it won’t, really…. We’re going home.”

CHAPTER 41

Schroeder came through the double doors of the Rector’s inner office. “Look who’s back. Did you call Flynn?”

“Not without you here, Bert. Feeling better?”

Schroeder came around the desk. “Please get out of my chair, Lieutenant.”

Burke vacated the chair.

Schroeder looked at Burke as he sat. “Can you carry a TV set?”

“Why didn’t he ask for a television right away?”

Schroeder thought. Flynn wasn’t a textbook case in many respects. Little things like not immediately asking for a television … little things that added up …

Langley said, “He’s keeping the Fenians isolated. Their only reality is Brian Flynn. After the press conference