Mayor Kline turned to Langley. “And it will be
“Be that as it may—”
Bellini said heatedly, “We can handle criminals, Your Honor, but these are guerrillas armed with military ordnance—intrusion alarms, submachine guns, rockets, and … and God knows what else. What if they have flame- throwers? Huh? And they’re holed up in a national shrine. Christ, I still don’t understand why the army can’t—” The Mayor put a restraining hand on Bellini with a look of disappointment. “Joe… Joe, this is not like you.”
Bellini said, “It sure as hell is.”
Governor Doyle looked at Logan, who appeared uncomfortable. “Colonel? What’s
Colonel Logan came to a modified position of attention. “Oh … well … I am convinced that we should act without delay to mount an att—a rescue operation.”
The Governor beamed.
“However,” continued Logan, “the tactical plan is not sound. What you’re asking us to do is like … like shooting rats in a china cabinet without breaking the china … or the cabinet….”
The Governor stared at Logan, his bushy eyebrows rising in an arc like squirrel tails. “Soldiers are often asked to do the impossible—and to do it well. National Guard duty is not all parades and happy hours.”
“No, sir … yes, sir.”
“Can the Fighting Irish hold up their end of the operation?”
“Of course!”
The Governor slapped Logan’s shoulder soundly. “Good man.”
The Mayor turned to Langley. “Inspector, you will have to come up with the dossiers we need on the Fenians.”
Langley hesitated.
Roberta Spiegel fixed her eyes on him. “By no later than noon, Inspector.” Langley looked at her. “Sure. Why not? I’ll do some creative writing with the help of a discreet police psychologist—Dr. Korman—and come up with psy-profiles of the Fenians that would scare the hell out of John Hickey himself.”
Major Martin said, “May I suggest, Inspector, that you also show a link between the death of that informer— Ferguson, I think his name was—and the Fenians? That will tidy up that business as well.”
Langley looked at Martin and understood. He nodded.
Kline looked at Bellini. “Well, Joe … are you on our team?”
Bellini looked troubled. “I am … but …”
“Joe, can you honestly say that you’re absolutely convinced these terrorists will not shoot the Cardinal and the others at dawn and then blow up Saint Patrick’s Cathedral?”
“No … but—”
“Are you convinced your men cannot conduct a successful rescue operation?”
“I never said anything like that, Your Honor. I just won’t sign anything…. Since when are people required to sign something like that?”
The Mayor patted his shoulder gently. “Should I get someone
Bellini’s mind was filled with conflicting thoughts, all of them unhappy.
Spiegel snapped, “Yes or no, Captain? It’s getting late, and the fucking sun is due at 6:03.”
Bellini looked at her and straightened his posture. “I’ll lead the attack. If I get the blueprints, then I’ll decide if I’m going to sign anything.”
Mayor Kline let out a deep breath. “Well, that’s about it.” He looked at Langley. “You’ll of course reconsider your resignation.”
Langley said, “Actually, I was thinking about chief inspector.”
Kline nodded quickly. “Certainly. There’ll be promotions for everyone after this.”
Langley lit a cigarette and noticed his hands were unsteady. Kline and Doyle, he was convinced, were doing the right thing in attacking the Cathedral. But with the sure instincts of the politician, they were doing it for the wrong reasons, in the wrong way, and going about it in a slimy manner. But so what? That was how half the right things got done.
Mayor Kline was smiling now. He turned to Schroeder. “Bert, all we need from you is some more time. Keep talking to them. You’re doing a hell of a job, Bert, and we appreciate it…. Captain?” He smiled at Schroeder the way he always smiled at someone he had caught not paying attention. “Bert?”
Schroeder’s eyes focused on Kline, but he said nothing.
Mayor Kline regarded him with growing apprehension. “Now … now, Bert, I need a signed statement from you saying that it is your professional opinion, based on years of hostage negotiating, that you recommend a cessation of negotiations. Right?”
Schroeder looked around the room and made an unintelligible noise.
The Mayor seemed anxious but went on. “You should indicate that when you saw Flynn he made
“I won’t do that.”
Everyone in the room looked at Schroeder. Kline said incredulously, “What— what did you say?”
Roberta Spiegel stood quickly, sending the rocker sliding into Governor Doyle.
Doyle moved the rocker aside and approached Schroeder. “Those are true statements! And you haven’t accomplished shit so far!”
Schroeder stood and steadied himself against the desk. “I’ve listened to all of you, and you’re all crazy.”
Spiegel said to Langley, “Get the backup negotiator.”
Schroeder shouted, “No! No one can speak with Flynn but me…. He won’t speak to anyone else…. You’ll see he won’t speak…. I’ll call him now….” He reached for the telehpone, but Langley pulled it away. Schroeder fell back in his chair.
Mayor Kline looked stunned. He tried to speak but couldn’t get a word out.
Spiegel moved around the desk and looked down at Schroeder. Her voice was soft and dispassionate. “Captain, sometime between now and the time Bellini is ready to move, you will prepare a statement justifying our decision. If you don’t, I’ll see to it that you are brought up on departmental charges, dismissed from the force, and lose your pension. You’ll end up as a bank guard in Dubuque—if you’re lucky enough ever to get a gun permit. Now, let’s discuss this intelligently.”
Schroeder stood and took a deep breath. His voice had the control and tone of the professional negotiator again. “Yes, let’s do that. I’m sorry, I became overwrought for a moment. Let’s discuss what Brian Flynn really said to me, not what you’d have liked him to say.” Schroeder looked at Bellini and Logan. “It seems those forty-five corned beef dinners were not a ruse—there were people to eat those dinners. I saw them. And flamethrowers … let me tell you about the flamethrowers….” He lit a cigar with shaking hands, then continued.
Schroeder went on in cool, measured tones, but everyone could hear an undercurrent of anxiety in his voice. He concluded, “Flynn has assembled what amounts to the largest, best-equipped armed force of trained insurgents this country has seen since the Civil War. It’s too late to do anything except call Washington and tell them we’ve surrendered what is in our power to surrender….”
CHAPTER 52
Langley found Burke lying on a bed in a priest’s room. “They’ve decided to hit the Cathedral!”
Burke sat up quickly.
Langley’s voice was agitated. “Soon. Before the Pope’s appeal—before the church bells ring and Monsignor Downes comes to his senses—”
“Slow down.”
“Schroeder spoke to Flynn at the gate—said he saw forty or fifty armed Fenians— ”
