Cathedral

Sheridan said, “The message the government wants to convey is that this sort of thing will always be met by force—local force.” Sheridan walked to the door. “Thank you, Governor, for the opportunity to contribute to the discussion. I’m sure you’ll reach the right decision.” He left.

Mayor Kline watched the door close and said, “We’ve been cut adrift.” He turned to Donahue and Palmer. “You see, the federal system works marvelously— they collect taxes and pass laws, Mayor Kline fights terrorists.”

Kline stood and began pacing. He stopped in front of Donahue and Palmer. “Do you understand that it is in my power, as the duly elected Mayor of this city, to order an assault on that Cathedral?”

Neither man responded.

Kline’s voice rose. “It is my duty. And I don’t have to answer to anyone.”

Eric Palmer stood and moved toward the door. “We’ve offered all the compromises we can…. And if this is, as you indicate, a local matter, then there’s no reason for Her Majesty’s government to involve itself any further.” He looked at Martin, who made no move to follow, then nodded to the others. “Good morning.” He walked out.

Tomas Donahue stood. “I feel bad about all of this…. I’ve lived in this city for five years…. Saint Patrick’s is my parish church…. I know the Cardinal and Father Murphy….” He looked at Monsignor Downes. “But there’s nothing I can do.” He walked to the door and turned back. “If you need me, I’ll be in the consulate. God bless….” He left quickly.

Spiegel said, “Nice clean exits.”

Governor Doyle hooked his thumbs on his vest pockets. “Well … there it is.” He turned to Martin. “Major … won’t you give us your thoughts…. As a man who is familiar with the IRA … what would be your course of action?”

Martin said without preamble, “It’s time you discussed a rescue operation.”

The Governor nodded slowly, aware that the phrase “rescue operation,” as opposed to attack or assault, was a subtle turning point. The phraseology for the coming action was being introduced and refined. He turned abruptly to Monsignor Downes. “Are you willing to give your blessing to a rescue operation?”

The Monsignor looked up quickly. “Am I … ? Well …”

Governor Doyle moved close to Downes. “Monsignor, in times of crisis it’s often people like ourselves, at the middle levels, who get stuck holding the bag. And we have to act. Not to act is more immoral than to act with force.” He added. “Rescue, we have to rescue—”

Monsignor Downes said, “But … the Papal plea …”

Mayor Kline spoke from across the room. “I don’t want to see the Pope or the other religious leaders make fools of themselves. If God himself pleaded with these Fenians, it would make no difference.”

The Monsignor ran his hands across his cheeks. “But why me … ? What difference does it make what I say?”

Kline cleared his throat. “To be perfectly honest with you, Monsignor, I won’t do a damned thing to rescue those people or save that Cathedral unless I have the blessing of a ranking member of the Catholic clergy. A Monsignor will do, preferably Irish like yourself. I’m no fool, and neither are you.”

Monsignor Downes slumped into his chair. “Oh God …”

Rourke rose from his chair and walked to Downes. He knelt beside the Monsignor’s chair and spoke with anguish in his voice. “My boys are mostly Catholic, Father. If they have to go in here … they’ll want to see you first … to make their confessions… to know that someone from the Church is blessing their mission. Otherwise, they’ll … I don’t know….”

Monsignor Downes put his face in his hands. After a full minute he looked up and nodded slowly. “God help me, but if you think it’s the only way to save them …” He stood suddenly and almost ran from the room.

For a few seconds no one spoke, then Spiegel said, “Let’s move before things start coming apart.”

Mayor Kline was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He looked up. “Schroeder will have to state that he’s failed absolutely.”

Governor Doyle said, “That should be no problem. He has.” He added, “It would help also if we put out a news release—concurrent with the rescue—that the Fenians have made new demands in addition to the ones we were willing to discuss—” He stopped abruptly. “Damn it, there are tapes of every phone conversation…. Maybe Burke can—”

Kline interrupted. “Forget Burke. Schroeder is speaking in person to Flynn right now. That will give Schroeder the opportunity to state that Flynn has made a set of new demands.”

The Governor nodded. “Yes, very good.”

Kline said, “I’ll have Bellini report in writing that he believes that there’s a good chance of carrying out a rescue with a minimum loss of life and property.”

Doyle said, “But Bellini’s like a yo-yo. He keeps changing his mind—” He looked sharply at Rourke. “Will he write such a statement?”

Rourke’s tone was anxious. “He’ll carry out any orders to attack … but as for signing any statement … he’s a difficult man. I know his position is that he needs more solid intelligence before he says he approves—”

Major Martin said, “Lieutenant Burke tells me he’s very close to an intelligence breakthrough.”

Everyone looked at Martin.

Martin continued. “He’ll have at least the blueprints, perhaps the architect himself, within the next hour. I can almost guarantee it.” Martin’s tone suggested that he didn’t want to be pressed further.

Kline said, “What we need from Inspector Langley are psy-profiles showing that half the terrorists in there are psychotic.”

Governor Doyle said, “Will these police officers cooperate?”

Spiegel answered. “I’ll take care of Langley. As for Schroeder, he’s very savvy and politically attuned. No problem there. Regarding Bellini, we’ll offer a promotion and transfer to wherever he wants.” Spiegel walked toward the telephone. “I’ll get the media right now and tell them that the negotiations are reaching a critical stage and it’s absolutely essential they delay on those Church appeals.”

Doyle said almost smugly, “At least I know my man, Logan, will do what he is told.” He turned to Kline. “Don’t forget, I want a piece of this, Murray. At least one squad has to be from the Sixty- ninth.”

Mayor Kline looked out the window. “Are we doing the right thing? Or have we all gone crazy?”

Martin said, “You’d be crazy to wait for dawn.” He added, “It’s odd, isn’t it, that the others didn’t want to share this with us?”

Roberta Spiegel looked up as she dialed. “Some rats have perceived a sinking ship and jumped off. Other rats have perceived a bandwagon and jumped on. Before the sun rises, we’ll know which rats saw things more clearly.”

Bert Schroeder sat at his desk in the Monsignor’s office. Langley, Bellini, and Colonel Logan stood, listening to Mayor Kline and Governor Doyle tell them what was expected of them. Schroeder’s eyes darted from Kline to Doyle as his thoughts raced wildly.

Roberta Spiegel sat in her rocker staring into the disused fireplace, absently twirling a brandy snifter in her hands. The room had grown cold, and she had Langley’s jacket draped over her shoulders.

Major Martin stood at the fireplace, occupied with the curios on the mantel.

Police Commissioner Rourke stood beside the Mayor, nodding agreement at everything Kline and Doyle said, trying to elicit similar nodding from his three officers.

The Governor stopped speaking and looked at Schroeder a moment. Something about the man suggested a dormant volcano. He tried to gauge his reaction. “Bert?”

Schroeder’s eyes focused on the Governor.

Doyle said, “Bert, this is no reflection on you, but if dawn comes and there’s no compromise, no extension of the deadline—and there won’t be—and the hostages are executed and the Cathedral demolished … well, it will be you, Bert, who’ll get most of the public abuse. Won’t it?”

Schroeder said nothing.