“Aren’t you even curious to see me?”
“Curiosity plays no part—”
“Doesn’t it? It seems to me, Captain, that you of all people would recognize the value of eyeball-to-eyeball contact.”
“There’s no special value in—”
“How many wars would have been avoided if the chiefs could have just seen the other man’s face, touched each other, got a whiff of the other fellow’s sweaty fear?”
Schroeder said, “Hold on.”
Flynn heard the phone click, then a minute later Schroeder’s voice came through. “Okay.”
“Five minutes.” Flynn hung up and poked Hickey roughly. “Were you listening?”
Flynn took Hickey’s arm in a tight grip. “Someday, you old bastard, you’ll tell me about the confessional, and the things you’ve been saying to Schroeder and the things you’ve been saying to my people and to the hostages. And you’ll tell me about the compromise that was offered us.”
Hickey flinched and straightened up. “Let go! These old bones snap easily.”
“I may snap the ones in your neck.”
Hickey looked up at Flynn, no trace of pain in his face. “Careful. Be careful.”
Flynn released his arm and pushed it away. “You don’t frighten me.”
Hickey didn’t answer but stared at Flynn with undisguised malice in his eyes. Flynn met his stare, then looked down at Pedar Fitzgerald. “Are you looking after him?”
Hickey didn’t answer.
Flynn stared closely at Fitzgerald’s face and saw it was white—waxy, like Hickey’s. “He’s dead.” He turned to Hickey.
Hickey said without emotion, “Died about an hour ago.”
“Megan …”
“When Megan calls, I tell her he’s all right, and she believes that because she wants to. But eventually …”
Flynn looked up at Megan in the loft. “My God, she’ll …” He turned back to Hickey. “We should have gotten a doctor….”
Hickey replied, “If you weren’t so wrapped up in your fucking bells, you could have done just that.”
Flynn looked at him. “
“
Flynn stepped back from him, and his mind began to reel.
Hickey said, “What do you see, Brian? Is it very frightening?” He laughed and lit his pipe.
Flynn moved farther away from Hickey into the ambulatory and tried to get his thoughts under control. He reevaluated each person in the Cathedral until he was certain he knew each one’s motives … potential for treachery … loyalties and weaknesses. His mind focused finally on Leary, and he asked the questions he should have asked months ago: Why was Leary here? Why would a professional killer trap himself in a perch with no way out? Leary had to be holding a card no one even knew existed. Flynn wiped the sweat from his brow and walked up to the sanctuary.
Hickey called out, “Are you going to tell Schroeder about his darling daughter? Tell him for me—use these exact words—tell him his daughter is a dead bitch!”
Flynn descended the stairs behind the altar. Gallagher stood on the crypt landing, an M-16 slung across his chest. Flynn said, “There’s coffee in the bookshop.” Gallagher climbed the stairs, and Flynn went down the remaining steps to the gate. Parts of the chain had been pieced together, and a new padlock was clamped to it. He examined the gate’s mangled lock; another bullet or two and it would have sprung. But there were only fifty rounds in the drum of a Thompson. Not fifty-one, but fifty…. And an M-72 rocket could take a Saracen, and the Red Bus to Clady on the Shankill Road went past Whitehorn Abbey … and it was all supposed to be haphazard, random, with no meaning …
Flynn stared into the sacristy. He heard men speaking in the side corridors, and footsteps approached from the center opening in the left wall. Schroeder stepped into the sacristy, looked around, turned toward Flynn, and walked deliberately up the stairs. He stood on the steps below the gates, his eyes fixed on Flynn’s. A long time passed before Flynn spoke. “Am I as you pictured me?”
Schroeder replied stiffly, “I’ve seen a photo of you.”
“And I of you. But am I as you
Schroeder shook his head. Another long silence developed, then Flynn spoke abruptly. “I’m going to reach into my pocket.” Flynn took the microphone sensor and passed it over Schroeder. “This is a very private conversation.”
“I will report everything said here.”
“I would bet my life you don’t.”
Schroeder seemed perplexed and wary.
Flynn said, “Are they any closer to meeting our demands?”
Schroeder didn’t like face-to-face negotiating. He knew, because people had told him, that his face revealed too much. He cleared his throat. “You’re asking the impossible. Accept the compromise.”
Flynn noticed the extra firmness in Schroeder’s voice, the lack of sir or mister, and the discomfort. “What is the compromise?”
Schroeder’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Didn’t Hickey—”
“Just tell it to me again.”
Schroeder related the offer and added, “Take it before the British change their minds about parole. And for yourselves, low bail is as good as immunity. For God’s sake, man, no one has ever been offered more in a hostage situation.”
Flynn nodded. “Yes…. Yes, it’s a good offer—tempting—”
“Take it! Take it before someone is killed—”
“It’s a little late for that, I’m afraid.”
“What?”
“Sir Harold murdered a lad named Pedar. Luckily no one knows he’s dead except Hickey and myself … and I suppose Pedar knows he’s dead…. Well, when my people discover he’s dead, they’ll want to kill Baxter. Pedar’s sister, Megan, will want to do much worse. This complicates things somewhat.”
Schroeder passed his hand over his face. “God … listen, I’m sure it was unintentional.”
“Harry bashed his throat in with a rifle butt. Could have been an accident, I suppose. It doesn’t make the lad any less dead.”
Schroeder’s mind was racing. He swore to himself,
Flynn said nothing.
“Here’s a chance for you to show professionalism … to show you’re not a common crim—” He checked himself. “To show mercy, and—”
Flynn interrupted. “Schroeder, you are most certainly part Irish. I’ve rarely met a man more possessed of so much ready bullshit for every occasion.”
“I’m serious—”
“Well, Baxter’s fate depends mostly on what you do now.”
“No. It depends on what
“And I’m about to make it.” Be lit a cigarette and asked, “How far are they along in their attack plans?”
Schroeder said, “That’s not an option for us.”
Flynn stared at him. “Caught you in a lie—your left eye is twitching. God, Schroeder, your nose is getting longer.” He laughed. “I should have had you down here hours ago. Burke was too cool.”
“Look—you asked me here for a private meeting, so you must have something to say—”
“I want you to help us get what we want.”
Schroeder looked exasperated. “That’s what I’ve been
“No, I mean
