“May God have mercy on all your souls.”
Flynn didn’t respond.
Murphy said evenly, “If you’re going to kill me, do it quickly.”
Flynn’s face looked puzzled, then almost hurt. “No … why would you think that?”
Murphy automatically mumbled an apology but immediately felt it was unnecessary under the circumstances.
Flynn reached out and grabbed his arm. “Listen, I’ve kept my promise to you and let you run around doing your duty. Now I want a promise from you.”
Father Murphy looked at him cautiously.
Flynn said, “Promise me that after this is finished, you’ll see that all my people are buried together in Glasnevin with Ireland’s patriots. You can have a Catholic ceremony, if that’ll make you feel better…. I know it won’t be easy…. It may take you years to convince those swine in Dublin…. They never know who their heroes are until fifty years after they’re dead.”
The priest looked at him without comprehension, then said, “I … won’t be alive to …”
Flynn took the priest’s big hand firmly as though to shake it, but slapped the end of a handcuff on his wrist and locked the other end around the ladder’s rail.
Father Murphy stared at his tethered wrist, then looked at Flynn. “Let me loose.”
Flynn smiled weakly. “You weren’t even supposed to be here. Now just keep your wits about you when the bullets start to fly. This tower should survive the explosion.”
Murphy’s face went red, and he shouted again. “You’ve no right to do this! Let me go!”
Flynn ignored him. He pulled a pistol from his belt and jumped down into the ladder opening. “It may happen that Megan, Hickey … someone may come for you. …” He laid the pistol on the floor. “Kill them.” He dropped down the ladder. “Good luck, Padre.”
Murphy bent down and grabbed the pistol with his free hand. He pointed it at the top of Flynn’s head. “Stop!”
Flynn smiled as he continued his climb down. “
Murphy shouted after him. “Stop! Listen … you must save the others too…. Maureen … For God’s sake, man, she loves you….” He stared down into the dark hole and watched Flynn disappear.
Father Murphy threw the pistol to the floor and tugged at the cuffs, then sank to his knees beside the ladder opening. Somewhere in the city a church bell tolled, then another joined in, and soon he could hear the sounds of a dozen different carillons playing the hymn “Be Not Afraid.” He thought that every bell in the city must be ringing, perhaps every bell in the country, and he hoped the others could hear them, too, and know they were not alone. For the first time since it had all begun, Father Murphy felt tears forming in his eyes.
CHAPTER 55
Brian Flynn came down from the tower and walked up the nave aisle, his footsteps echoing from the polished marble. He turned into the ambulatory and approached John Hickey, who stood on the raised platform of the chancel organ and watched him approach. Flynn walked deliberately up the steps and stood facing Hickey. After a short silence Hickey said, “It’s 4:59. You let Murphy waste valuable time trying to save already damned souls. Does everyone know their orders at least?”
“Has Schroeder called?”
“No—that means either nothing is new or something is wrong.” Hickey took out his pipe and filled it. “All night I’ve worried that my tobacco would run out before my life. It really bothered me…. A man shouldn’t have to scrimp on his tobacco before he dies.” He struck a match, and it sounded inordinately loud in the stillness. He drew deeply on his pipe and said, “Well, where’s the priest?”
Flynn motioned vaguely toward the towers. “We’ve no grudge against him…. He shouldn’t pay the price for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Why not? That’s why the rest of us are going to die.” He flashed a look of feigned enlightenment. “Ah, I suppose playing God means you have to save a life for every ten score you take.”
Flynn said, “Who
Hickey smiled with unrestrained glee. “Have I frightened you, lad? Don’t be frightened, then. I’m just an old man who amuses himself by playing on people’s fears and superstitions.” Hickey stepped over the body of Pedar Fitzgerald and came closer to Flynn. He sucked noisily on his pipe, a pensive look on his face. “You know, lad, I’ve had more fun since I had myself buried than ever I did before I was interred. You get a lot of mileage out of resurrection—someone made a whole religion out of it once.” He jerked a thumb toward the crucifix atop the altar and laughed again.
Flynn felt the old man’s breath against his face. He put his right hand on the organ console. “Do you know anything about this ring?”
Hickey didn’t look at it. “I know what you believe it is.”
“And what is it
“A ring, made of bronze.”
Flynn slipped it from his finger and held it in his open palm. “Then I’ve held it too long. Take it.”
Hickey shrugged and reached for it.
Flynn closed his hand and stared at Hickey.
Hickey’s eyes narrowed into dark slits. “So, you want to know who I am and how I got here?” Hickey looked into the glowing bowl of his pipe with exaggerated interest. “I can tell you I’m a ghost, a thevshi, come from the grave to retrieve the ring and bring about your destruction and the destruction of the new Fenians—to perpetuate this strife into the next generation. There’s the proper Celtic explanation you’re looking for to make you feel better about your fears.” He looked directly into Flynn’s eyes. “But I can also tell you the truth, which is far more frightening. I’m
Flynn stared at him, examining the furrowed white face. Suddenly Hickey’s eyes became benign, sparkling, and his mouth curled up in a good-natured smile. Hickey said, “You see?”
Flynn said. “Yes, I see. I see that you’re a creature who draws strength from other men’s weaknesses. It’s my fault you’re here. and it’s my responsibility to see that you do no further harm.”
“The harm is done. Had you stood up to me instead of wallowing in self-pity, you could have fulfilled your responsibility to your people, not to mention your own destiny.”
Flynn stared at Hickey. “No matter what happens, I’ll see you don’t leave here alive.” Flynn turned and walked to the sanctuary. He stood before the high throne. “Cardinal, the police will attack anytime after 5:15. Father Murphy is in a relatively safe place—we are not, and we will most probably die.”
Flynn watched the Cardinal’s face for a show of emotion. but there was none. He went on, “I want you to know that the people out there share in the responsibility for this. Like me they are vain, egotistical, and flawed. A rather sorry lot for products of so many thousands of years of Judeo-Christian love and charity, wouldn’t you say?”
The Cardinal leaned forward in the throne. “That’s a question for people who are looking for a path to take them through life. Your life is over, and you’ll have all your answers very soon. Use the minutes left to you to speak to her.” He nodded toward Maureen.
Flynn was momentarily taken aback. It was perhaps the last reply he expected from a priest. He stepped away from the throne, turned, and crossed the sanctuary.
Maureen and Baxter remained seated, cuffed together in the first pew. Without a word Flynn unlocked the handcuffs, then spoke in a distant voice. “I’d like to put you both in a less exposed place, but that isn’t acceptable to some of the others. However, when the shooting starts, you won’t be executed, because we may repel them and we’ll need you again.” He looked at his watch and continued in a dispassionate voice. “Sometime after 5:15 you’ll see all the doors explode, followed by police rushing in. I know you are both capable of keeping a cool head. Dive
