'Without a passport?'

He turned, trying to belt his coat, awkwardly because of his wounded arm, and she did it for him.

'Money talks,' she said. 'And you've got plenty in that envelope.'

She stood very close, her hands around his waist, looking up at him. Fallon said calmly, 'And you'd like to come with me, I suppose?'

She shook her head. 'You couldn't be more wrong. It's too late for me to change now. It was too late the day I started. It's you I'm thinking of. You're the only man I've ever known who gave me more than a quick tumble and the back of his hand.'

Fallon stared at her somberly for a long moment and then said quietly, 'Bring the child.'

He walked to the door. Jenny picked up her daughter, wrapped her in a blanket and followed. When she went outside, he was standing, hands in pockets, staring up into the rain where brent geese passed overhead in a V formation.

He said quietly, 'They're free and I'm not, Jenny. Can you understand that?'

When he took his right hand out of his pocket, blood dripped from the fingers. She said, 'You need a doctor.'

'I need Dandy Jack Meehan and no one else,' he said. 'Now let's get out of here.' And he turned and led the way back along the track to the car.

15

The Wrath of God

Meehan was feeling pleased with himself, in spite of his broken nose, as he and Bonati walked past the town hall. Pleased and excited. His Homburg was set at a jaunty angle, the collar of his double-breasted melton overcoat was turned up against the wind, and he carried a canvas holdall containing the bomb in his right hand.

'I know one thing,' he said to Bonati as they crossed the road. 'I'd like to know where our Billy is right now. I'll have the backside off him for this when I see him.'

'You know what it's like for these young lads when they get with a bird, Mr Meehan,' Bonati said soothingly. 'He'll turn up.'

'Bloody little tarts,' Meehan said in disgust. 'All that lad ever thinks of is his cock-end.'

He turned the corner into Rockingham Street and received his first shock when he heard the organ playing at Holy Name and voices raised in song.

He dodged into a doorway out of the rain and said to Bonati, 'What in the hell goes on here? Evening Mass starts at six. I only make it ten to.'

'Search me, Mr Meehan.'

They crossed the street, heads down in a flurry of rain, and paused at the notice board. Bonati peered up, reading it aloud. 'Evening Mass, six o'clock, Saturdays, five-thirty.'

Meehan swore softly. 'A bloody good job we were early. Come on, let's get inside.'

It was cold in the church and damp and the smell of the candles was very distinctive. There were only a dozen people in the congregation. Father da Costa was up at the altar praying and on the other side of the green baize curtain, Meehan could see Anna da Costa's head as she played the organ.

He and Bonati sat down at one side, partially hidden by a pillar, and he put the canvas holdall between his feet. It was really quite pleasant sitting there in the half-darkness, Meehan decided, with the candles flickering and the organ playing. The four acolytes in their scarlet cassocks and white cottas reminded him nostalgically of his youth. Strangest thing of all, he found that he could remember some of the responses.

'I confess to Almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters,' said Father da Costa, 'that I have sinned through my own fault.'

He struck his breast and Meehan joined in enthusiastically, asking blessed Mary ever Virgin, all the angels and saints and the rest of the congregation to pray for him to the Lord our God.

As they all stood for the next hymn it suddenly struck him, with something like surprise, that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

* * *

As the Cooper went over a humped-back bridge, Fallon, who had been sitting with his head forward on his chest, sat up with a start.

'Are you all right?' Jenny asked him anxiously.

'I'm fine,' he said and his voice was calm and perfectly controlled.

He touched his right arm gingerly. The shock effects were wearing off now and it was beginning to hurt like hell. He winced and Jenny noticed at once.

'I think I should take you straight to the Infirmary.'

He ignored the remark and turned to look at the child who lay on the back seat, still in her drugged sleep, wrapped in the blanket in which Jenny had carried from the mill.

'She's a nice kid,' he said.

The road was dangerous now in the heavy rain as darkness fell and needed all her attention, yet there was something in his voice that caused her to glance warily at him.

He lit a cigarette one-handed and leaned back against the seat. 'I'd like you to know something,' he said. 'What Donner said back there about me being bomb-happy wasn't true. Those kids in that school bus - it was an accident. They walked into an ambush we'd laid for a Saracen armoured car. It was a mistake.'

He hammered his clenched fist against his right knee in a kind of frenzy.

'I know,' Jenny told him. 'I understand.'

'That's good, that's marvellous,' he said. 'Because I never have.'

The agony in his voice was more than she could bear and she concentrated on the road, tears in her eyes.

As the congregation moved out, Anna continued to play and Father da Costa went into the sacristy with the acolytes. He took off his cope as the boys got out of their cassocks and into their street clothes. He saw them out of the side door, bidding each one of them good night.

Anna was still playing, something more powerful now, which meant that the last of the congregation had left. She always seemed to sense that moment. It was Bach again from the sound of it. The piece Fallon had played. She stopped abruptly. Father da Costa paused in the act of pulling off his alb and waited, but she did not start playing again. He frowned, opened the sacristy door and went into the church.

Anna was standing at the altar rail and Jack Meehan was holding her firmly by the arm. Father da Costa took an angry step forward and Bonati moved from behind a pillar holding a Luger in his left hand.

It stopped Father da Costa dead in his tracks and Meehan smiled. 'That's better. Now we're all going to take a little ride in the cage up to the catwalk. There's only room for two at a time so we'll have to split up. I'll stick with the girl, you go with Bonati, Father, and remember one thing. Anything you try that's the slightest bit out of turn will be reflected in the girl's treatment, so keep your hands to yourself and don't try any rough stuff.'

'All right, Mr Meehan,' Father da Costa said. 'What do you want with me?'

'All in good time.' Meehan pushed Anna across to the hoist, opened the cage door and followed her inside. As they started to rise he looked out at Father da Costa. 'Remember what I told you,' he said. 'So don't try anything funny.'

Father da Costa waited, the black, killing rage in him again and he fought to control it. What on earth did the man want? What was it all about? When the hoist descended again, he rushed inside eagerly and Bonati followed him and pressed the button.

When it jolted to a halt, Father da Costa opened the gate at once and stepped out. Meehan had switched the light on and the boards of the catwalk, wet with rain, glistened in the darkness.

Anna was standing, one hand on the rail, complete uncertainty on her face. Father da Costa took a step towards her and Meehan produced a Browning from his pocket. 'Stay where you are!' He nodded to Bonati. 'Tie his wrists together.'