Cathedral

of the chapel. “God, the money that goes into these places.”

“Better spent on armaments, wouldn’t you say?”

He looked at her. “Don’t be sharp with me, Maureen.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you?”

She hesitated, then said, “Yes.”

He smiled. His eyes traveled upward past the statue of the Virgin on the altar, to the apsidal window above it. “The light will break through that window first. I hope we’re not still here to see it.”

She turned to him suddenly. “You won’t burn this church, and you won’t kill unarmed hostages. So stop speaking as though you were the type of man who would.”

He put his hand on her shoulder, and she slid over. He sat beside her and said, “Something is very wrong if I’ve given the impression I’m bluffing.”

“Perhaps it’s because I know you. You’ve fooled everyone else.”

“But I’m not fooling or bluffing.”

“You’d shoot me?”

“Yes … I’d shoot myself afterward, of course.”

“Very romantic, Brian.”

“Sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”

“You should hear yourself.”

“Yes … well, anyway, I’ve been meaning to speak with you again, but with all that’s been going on … We have some time now.” He said, “Well, first you must promise me that you won’t try to escape again.”

“All right.”

He looked at her. “I mean it. They’ll kill you next time.”

“So what? Better than being shot in the back of the head—by you.”

“Don’t be morbid. I don’t think it will come to that.”

“But you’re not sure.”

“It depends on things out of my control now.”

“Then you shouldn’t have gambled with my life and everyone else’s—should you? Why do you think the people out there will be rational and concerned about our lives if you’re not?”

“They’ve no choice.”

“No choice but to be rational and compassionate? You’ve developed quite a faith in mankind, I see. If people behaved like that, none of us would be here now.”

“This sounds like the argument we never finished four years ago.” He stared toward the windows for a while, then turned to her. “Would you like to come with me when we leave here?”

She faced him. “When you leave here it will be for the jail or the cemetery. No, thank you.”

“Damn you…. I’m walking out of here as free and alive as I walked in. Answer the question.”

“What’s to become of poor Megan? You’ll break her dear heart, Brian.”

“Stop that.” He held her arm tightly. “I miss you, Maureen.”

She didn’t respond.

He said, “I’m ready to retire.” He looked at her closely. “Really I am. As soon as this business is done with. I’ve learned a good deal from this.”

“Such as?”

“I’ve learned what’s important to me. Look here, you quit when you were ready, and I’m doing the same. I’m sorry I wasn’t ready when you were.”

“Neither you nor I believe a word of that. ‘Once in, never out.’ That’s what you and all of them have thrown up to me all these years, so I’m throwing it right back in your face. ‘Once in—’”

“No!” He pulled her closer to him. “Right now I believe I’m going to get out. Why can’t you believe it with me?”

She suddenly went limp and put her hand over his. She spoke in a despondent tone. “Even if it were possible—there are people who have plans for your retirement, Brian, and they don’t include a cottage by the sea in Kerry.” She slumped against his shoulder. “And what of me? I’m hunted by the Belfast IRA still. One can’t do the kinds of things we’ve done with our lives and expect to live happily ever after, can we? When was the last time you heard a knock on the door without having a great thump in your chest? Do you think you can announce your retirement like a respected statesman and settle down to write your memoirs? You’ve left a trail of blood all over Ireland, Brian Flynn, and there are people—Irish and British—who want yours in return.”

“There are places we could go—”

“Not on this planet. The world is very small, as a good number of our people on the run have found out. Think how it would be if we lived together. Neither of us could ever go out to buy a packet of tea without wondering if it would be the last time we’d see each other. Every letter in the mail could explode in your face. And what if there were … children? Think about that awhile.”

He didn’t reply.

She shook her head slowly. “I won’t live like that. It’s enough that I have to worry about myself. And it’s a relief, to be honest with you, that I have no one else to worry about—not you, nor Sheila … so why should I want to go with you and worry about when they’re going to kill you? … Why do you want to worry about when they’re going to catch up with me?”

He stared at the floor between the pews, then looked up at the altar. “But … you would like to … I mean if it were possible … ?”

She closed her eyes. “I wanted that once. I suppose, really, I still do. But it’s not in our stars, Brian.”

He stood abruptly and moved into the aisle. “Well … as long as you’d like to … that’s good to know, Maureen.” He said, “I’m adding Sheila’s name to the list.”

“Don’t expect anything in return.”

“I don’t. Come along, then.”

“Would you mind if I stayed here in the chapel?”

“I wouldn’t, no. But … you’re not safe here. Megan …”

“God, Brian, you speak of her as though she were a mad dog waiting to kill a sheep who’s strayed from the fold.”

“She’s a bit … vindictive…. ”

“Vindictive? What have I ever done to her?”

“She … she blames you, in part, for her brother’s capture…. It’s not rational, I know, but she’s—”

“Bloodthirsty. How in the name of God did you get mixed up with that savage? Is that what the youth of Northern Ireland’s turning into?”

Flynn looked back toward the chapel opening. “Perhaps. War is all they’ve known—all Megan’s known since she was a child. It’s become commonplace, the way dances and picnics used to be. These young people don’t even remember what downtown Belfast looked like before. So you can’t blame them. You understand that.”

She stood. “She goes a bit beyond war psychosis. You and I, Brian … our souls are not dead, are they?”

“We remember some of the life before the troubles.”

Maureen thought of Jean Kearney. She pictured the faces of the others. “We started this, you know.”

“No. The other side started it. The other side always starts it.”

“What difference does it make? Long after this is over, our country will be left with the legacy of children turned into murderers and children who tremble in dark corners. We’re perpetuating it, and it will take a generation to forget it.”

He shook his head. “Longer, I’m afraid. The Irish don’t forget things in a generation. They write it all down and read it again, and tell it round the peat fires. And in truth you, I, and Megan are products of what came long before the recent troubles. Cromwell’s massacres happened only last week, the famine happened yesterday, the uprising and civil war this morning. Ask John Hickey. He’ll tell you.”

She took a long breath. “I wish you weren’t so damned right about these things.”

“I wish you weren’t so right about us. Come along.”