Cathedral (48 page)

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 wereet so wrapped up in your fucking bells, you could have done just that."

Flynn looked at him. "You could have----"

"Me? What the hell do I care if he lives or dies?"

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.

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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 M72 rocket could take a Saracen, and the Red Bus to Clady on the Shankill Road went past VyThitehorn 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 pictured me?"

Schroeder shook his head. Another long silence developed, then Flynn spoke abruptly. "I'm going to reach into 403

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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 offertempting-"

:Take it! Take it before someone is killed-.2,

'It's a little late for that, I'm afraid."

:'ftat?"

'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."

Schroedees mind was racing. He swore to himself, Bax-404

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ter, you stupid bastard. "Look . . . it's a case of a POW trying to escape. . . . It's Baxter's duty to try . . . . You're a soldier . . ."

Flynn said nothing.

"Here's a chance for you to show professionalism . . . to show you're not a common crim-P 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 you do. The next move is yours."

"And I'm about to make it." He 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 doing."

"No, I mean everything we want. Your heart isn't in it. If the negotiations fail, you don't lose nearly as much as everyone in here does. Or as much as Bellini's ESD. They stand to lose fifty to a hundred men in an attack."

Schroeder thought of his imprudent offer to Bellini. "There will be no attack."

"Did you know Burke told me he'd go with Bellini? There's a man with a great deal to lose if you fail. Would you go with Bellini?"

"Burke couldn't have said that because Bellini's not going anywhere."

Schroeder had the uneasy impression he

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was being drawn into something, but he had no intention of making a mistake this late. "I'll try to get more for you only if you give me another two hours after dawn."

Flynn ignored him and went on. "I thought I'd better give you a very personal motive to push those people into capitulation."

Schroeder looked at Flynn cautiously.

"You see, there's one situation you never covered in your otherwise detailed book, Captain." Flynn came closer to the gate. "Your daughter would very much like you to try harder."

"What T'

"Terri Schroeder O'Neal. She wants you to try harder."

Schroeder stared for a few seconds, then said loudly, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Lower your voice. You'll excite the police."

Schroeder spoke through clenched teeth. "What the fuck are you saying?"

"Please, you're in church." Flynn passed a scrap of paper through the bars.

Schroeder snatched it and read his daughter's handwriting: Dad-I'm being held hostage by members of the Fenian Army. I'm all right. They won't harm me if everything goes okay at the Cathedral. Do your very best. I love you, Terri.

Schroeder read the note again, then again. He felt his knees buckle, and he grabbed at the gate. He looked up at Flynn and tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Flynn spoke impassively. "Welcome to the Fenian Army, Captain Schroeder."

Schroeder swallowed several times and stared at the note.

"Sorry," said Flynn. "Really I am. You don't have to speak-just listen."

Flynn lit another cigarette and spoke briskly. "What you have to do is make the strongest possible case for our demands. First, tell them I've paraded two score of well-armed men and women past you. Machine guns, rockets, grenades, flamethrowers. Tell them we are ready, willing, and able to take the entire six-hundred-man

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ESD down with us, to destroy the Cathedral and kill the hostages. In other words, scare the shit out of Joe Bellini and his heroes. Understand?" He paused, then said, "They'll never suspect that Captain Schroeder's report of seeing a great number of well-armed soldiers is false. Use your imagination-better yet, look up at the landing, Schroeder. Picture forty, fifty men and women parading past that crypt door-picture those machine guns and rockets and flamethrowers. . . . Go on, look up there."

Schroeder looked, and Flynn saw in his eyes exactly what he wanted to see.

After a minute Schroeder lowered his head. His face was pale, and his hands pulled at his shirt and tie.

Flynn said, "Please calm down. You can save your daughter's life only if you pull yourself together. That's it. Now . . . if this doesn't work, if they are still committed to an assault, then threaten to go public-radio, TV, newspapers. Tell Kline, Doyle, and all the rest of them you're going to announce that in all your years of hostage negotiating, that you, as the court of last resort for the lives of hostages, strongly and in no uncertain terms believe that neither an attack nor further negotiations can save this situation. You will declare, publicly, that therefore for the first time in your career you urge capitulation-for humanitarian as well as tactical reasons."

Flynn watched Schroeder's face but could see nothing revealed there except anguish. He went on, "You have a good deal of influence-moral and professional-with the media, the police force, and the politicians. Use every bit of that influence. You must create the kind of pressure and climate that will force the British and American governments to surrender."

Schroeder's voice was barely audible. "Time . . . I need time. . . . Why didn't you give me more time . . . T'

"If I'd told you sooner, you wouldnl have made it through the night, or you may have told someone. The only time left is that which remains until the dawn-less if you can't stop the attack. But if you can get them to throw open the prison gates . . . Work on it."

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Schroeder pushed his face to the bars. "Flynn please . . . listen to me.

. . ."

Flynn went on. "Yes, I know that if you succeed and we walk out of here free, they'll certainly count us, and they'll wonder where all the flamethrowers are. . . . Well, you'll be embarrassed, but all's fair in love and war, and c'est la guerre, and all that rot. Don't even think that far ahead and don't be selfish."

Schroeder's head shook, and his words were incoherent. All that Flynn could make out was "Jail." Flynn said, "Your daughter can visit you on weekends."

He added, "I'll even visit you."

Schroeder stared at him, and a choked-off sound rose in his throat.

Flynn said, "Sorry, that was low." He paused. "Look, if it means anything to you, I feel bad that I had to resort to this. But it wasn't going well, and I knew you'd want to help us, help Terri, if you understood the trouble she was in." Flynn's voice became stem. "She really ought to be more selective about her bunkmates. Children can be such an embarrassment to parents, especially parents in public life-sex, drugs, wild politics . . ."

Schroeder was shaking his head. "No . . . you don't have her. You're bluffing. . . ."

Flynn continued. "But she's safe enough for the mo ment. Dan-that's her friend's name-is kind, considerate, probably a passable lover. It's the lot of some soldiers to draw easy duty --- others to fight and die. Throw of the dice and all that. Then again, I wouldn't want to be in Dan's place if he gets the order to put a bullet in the back of Terri's head. No kneecapping or any of that. She's inno cent, and she'll get a quick bullet without knowing it's about to come. So, are we clear about what you have to do?"

Schroeder said, "I won't do it."

"As you wish." He turned and began walking up the stairs. He called back.

"In about a minute a light will flash from the bell tower, and my men on the outside will tele-408

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phone Dan, and and that, I'm afraid, will be the end of Terri Schroeder." He continued up the stairs.

"Wait! Listen, maybe we can work this out. Hold on! Stop walking away!"

Flynn turned slowly. "I'm afraid this is not negotiable, Captain." He paused and said, "It's awkward when you're involved personally, isn't it?

Did you ever consider that every man and woman you've negotiated with or for was involved personally? Well, I'm not going to take you to task for your past successes. You were dealing with criminals, and they probably deserved the shoddy deals you got for them. You and I deserve a better deal. Our fates are intertwined, our goals are the same-aren't they? Yes or no, Captain? Quickly!"

Schroeder nodded.

Flynn moved down the stairs. "Good decision." He came close to the gate and put his hand out. Schroeder looked at it but shook his head. "Never."

Flynn withdrew his hand. "All right, thenall right . . . ...

Schroeder said, "Can I go now?"

"Yes. . . . Oh, one more thing. It's quite possible you'll fail even if you dwell on the flamethrowers and threaten public statements and all that . . . so we should plan for f ailure."

Schroeder's face showed that he understood what was coming.

Flynn's voice was firm and businesslike. "If Bellini is to attack, in spite of everything you can do to stop it, then I'll give you another way to save Terri's life."

'No.

"Yes, I'm afraid you'll have to get down here and tell me when, where, how, that sort of thing-"

"No! No, I would never-never get police officers killed-"