Meehan drank some more beer and belched. He said, 'What in the hell do you want? Who's minding the shop?'

Rupert slid gracefully on to the stool next to him and put a hand on his thigh. 'I do have to eat some time, ducky. I mean, I need to keep my strength up, don't I?'

'All right, Harry.' Meehan said, 'Give him his Bloody Mary.'

Rupert said, 'By the way, does anyone know where Billy is?'

'I haven't seen him since last night,' Meehan told him. 'Who wants him, anyway?'

'The superintendent of Pine Trees phoned into the office just before I left.'

'And what did he want?'

'It seems they found Billy's whippet wandering about up there. Soaked to the skin and trembling life a leaf apparently. Wanted to know what to do with him.'

Meehan frowned. 'What in the hell would it be doing up there?'

Donner said, 'Last I saw of it, was about half eight this morning when I went into the garage. It was inside the Scimitar. I figured Billy had forgotten about it when he came in last night so I let it out. I mean, he's done that before when he's been pissed or something. Left Tommy in the car, I mean.'

'He still hadn't come in when I came out this morning,' Meehan said, 'and if he left his car in the garage, that means he went to one of the city centre clubs. Probably still in bed with some whore, the dirty little bastard.' He turned to Bonati. 'You'd better go up to Pine Trees and get it. Take it back home and give it something to eat.'

'All right, Mr Meehan,' Bonati said and went out.

Meehan swallowed some more beer. 'Inconsiderate little swine. I'll kick his arse for him when I see him.'

'He's young, Mr Meehan,' Harry said. 'He'll learn.'

He picked up a bucket of slops, moved from behind the bar, and opened the door and went out into the yard. As he emptied the bucket across the cobbles, Father da Costa entered the yard. He was wearing his cassock and held the umbrella over his head against the rain.

Harry looked him over in some amazement and Father da Costa said politely, 'I'm looking for Mr Meehan - Mr Jack Meehan. They told me at his office that I might find him here.'

'Inside,' Harry said.

He moved into the snug and Father da Costa followed, pausing just inside the door to put down his umbrella.

It was Rupert who saw him first in the mirror behind the bar. 'Good God Almighty!' he said.

There was a long silence and Meehan turned on his stool very slowly. 'And what in the hell are you doing there? Rattling the box for Christmas or something? Will a quid get rid of you?'

He took out his wallet ostentatiously and Father da Costa said quietly, 'I was hoping we might have a few words in private.'

He stood there with the umbrella in his hand, the skirts of his cassock soaking wet from the long grass of the convent cemetery, mud on his shoes, grey beard tangled, waiting for some sort of response.

Meehan laughed out loud. 'God, but I wish you could see yourself. You look bloody ridiculous. Men in skirts.' He shook his head. 'It'll never catch on.'

Father da Costa said patiently, 'I don't expect it will. Now can we talk?'

Meehan indicated Donner and Rupert with a wave of the hand. 'There's nothing you can say to me that these two can't hear.'

'Very well,' Father da Costa said. 'It's simple enough. I want you to stay away from Holy Name and I don't want any repetition of what happened at the presbytery last night.'

Meehan frowned, 'What in the hell are you talking about?'

'All right, Mr Meehan,' Father da Costa said wearily. 'Last night, someone broke into the presbytery when I was out and attacked my niece. If Fallon hadn't arrived at the right moment and chased the man away anything might have happened to her. On the other hand, I suppose you'll now tell me that you know nothing about it.'

'No, I bloody well don't.' Meehan shouted.

Father da Costa struggled to contain his anger. 'You're lying,' he said simply.

Meehan's face was suffused with blood, the eyes bulging. 'Who in the hell do you think you are?' he demanded hoarsely.

'It's my final warning,' Father da Costa said. 'When we last spoke I told you my God was a God of Wrath as well as of Love. You'd do well to remember that.'

Meehan's face was purple with rage and he turned to the barman in fury. 'Get him out of here!'

Harry lifted the bar flap and moved out. 'Right, on your way, mate.'

'I'll go when I'm ready,' Father da Costa told him.

Harry's right hand fastened on his collar, the other on his belt and they went through the door on the run to a chorus of laughter from Donner and Rupert. They crowded to the door to see the fun and Meehan joined them.

Father da Costa was on his hands and knees in the rain in a puddle of water. 'What's up, ducky?' Rupert called. 'Have you pissed yourself or something?'

It was a stupid remark, childish in its vulgarity, and yet it was some sort of final straw that set black rage boiling inside Father da Costa so that when Harry dragged him to his feet, an arm about his throat, he reacted as he had been taught to react thirty years earlier in that hard, brutal school of guerrilla warfare and action by night.

Harry was grinning widely. 'We don't like fancy sods like you coming round here annoying the customers.'

He didn't get a chance to say anything else. Father da Costa's right elbow swung back into his ribs and he pivoted on one foot as Harry reeled back, gasping.

'You should never let anyone get that close. They haven't been teaching you properly.'

Harry sprang forward, his right first swinging in a tremendous punch. Father da Costa swayed to one side, grabbed for the wrist with both hands, twisted it round and up, locking the arm and ran him headfirst into the stack of packing cases.

As Father da Costa turned, Donner came in fast and received a kick under the right kneecap, perfectly delivered, that doubled him over in pain and Father da Costa followed with a knee in the face that lifted him back against the wall.

Rupert gave a cry of dismay and in his haste to regain the safety of the snug, slipped on the top step, bringing Meehan down with him. As Meehan started to get up, Father da Costa punched him in the face, a good, solid right hand that carried all his rage, all his frustration with it. Bone crunched, Meehan's nose flattened beneath Father da Costa's knuckles and he fell back into the snug with a groan, blood gushing from his nostrils.

Rupert scrambled behind the bar on his hands and knees and Father da Costa stood over Meehan, the killing rage still on him, his fists clenched. And then he looked down at his hands, saw the blood on them and an expression of horror appeared on his face.

He backed slowly out into the yard, Harry lay on his face amongst the packing cases, Donner was being sick against the wall. Father da Costa looked in horror once again at the blood on his hands, turned and fled.

When he went into his study at the presbytery, Anna was sitting by the fire knitting. She turned her face towards him. 'You're late. I was worried.'

He was still extremely agitated and had to force himself to sound calm. 'I'm sorry. Something came up.'

She put down her knitting and stood up. 'After you'd gone, when I went down to the church to get ready for choir practice, Fallon was playing the organ.'

He frowned. 'Did he say anything? Did you speak with him?'

'He gave me a message for you,' she told him. 'He said to tell you that it had all been his fault and he was sorry.'

'Was there anything else?'

'Yes, he said that there was no need to worry from now on. That he'd started it, so he'd finish it. And he told me we wouldn't be seeing him again. What did he mean? Do you think he intends to give himself up?'