There was little that Father da Costa could do except comply and he put his arms behind him. Bonati lashed his wrists together quickly with a piece of thin twine.

'Now the girl,' Meehan said.

Anna didn't say a word as Bonati repeated the performance. As he finished, her uncle moved to join her. 'Are you all right?' he asked her in a low voice.

'I think so,' she said. 'What's going to happen to us?'

'I'm afraid you'll have to address that question to Mr Meehan personally,' he said. 'I'm sure I don't know.'

Meehan unzipped the holdall, slipped his hand inside and broke the detonating cap on the chemical fuse, then he zipped the bag up again and put it down casually at the side of the catwalk in the shadows.

'All right, Father, I'll tell you what I'm going to do with you. I'm going to leave you and your niece up here on your own for fifteen minutes to meditate. When I return, I hope to find you in a more reasonable frame of mind. If not, then ...'

'But I don't understand,' Father da Costa interrupted. 'What on earth are you hoping to accomplish?'

At that moment, the organ in the church below broke into the opening bars of the Bach Prelude and Fugue in D major.

The astonishment on Meehan's face was something to see. 'It's Fallon,' he whispered.

'It can't be,' Bonati said.

'Then who the hell am I listening to - a ghost playing?' Meehan's anger overflowed like white-hot lava. 'Go and get him,' he raved. 'Bring the bastard up here. Tell him the girl gets it if he doesn't come.'

Bonati hurriedly stepped into the cage, closed the gate and started down. When he was halfway there, the organ stopped playing. The cage juddered to a halt. It was suddenly very quiet. He cocked the Luger, kicked the gate open and stepped out.

When the Cooper turned into Rockingam Street and pulled up opposite Holy Name, Fallon was leaning in the corner, eyes closed. At first Jenny thought he was unconscious, or, at the very least, asleep, but when she touched him gently he opened his eyes at once and smiled at her.

'Where are we?'

'Holy Name,' she said.

He took a deep breath and straightened up. 'Good girl.' He put a hand inside his coat and produced the buff envelope and passed it across to her. 'There's nearly two thousand pounds in there. The money I received from Jack Meehan on account and hard earned. I won't need it where I'm going. Go off somewhere. Somewhere you've never even heard of. Take the kid with you and try again.'

The envelope was slippery with blood as she examined it in the light from the instrument panel. 'Oh my God,' she said, and then she switched on the interior light and turned to look at him. 'Oh, Martin,' she said in horror. 'There's blood all over you.'

'It doesn't matter,' he said, and he opened the car door.

She got out on her side. 'He'll kill you,' she said desperately. 'You don't know him like I do. You don't stand a chance. Let me get the police. Let Mr Miller handle him.'

'God save us, but I've never asked a policeman for help in my life.' A slight, ironic smile touched Fallon's mouth fleetingly. 'Too late to start now.' He patted her face gently. 'You're a nice girl, Jenny. A lovely girl. It didn't touch you, any of it. Always believe that. Now get the hell out of it and God bless you.'

He turned and crossed the road to Holy Name. Jenny got into the Cooper and started the engine. He was going to his death, she was convinced of that, and the compulsion to save him was something that she was unable to deny.

Suddenly resolute, she drove round the corner, stopped at the first telephone-box she came to and dialled nine-nine-nine. When they put her through to the main switchboard at police headquarters, she asked for Detective-Superintendent Miller.

There were still lights at the windows, but it was the absence of music that Fallon found puzzling until, gazing up at the noticeboard, he made the same discovery that Jack Meehan had about the time of evening Mass on a Saturday.

Panic moved inside him. Oh my God, he thought. I'm too late.

The door went back against the wall with a crash that echoed throughout the silent building, but the church was empty. Only the eternal ruby light of the sanctuary lamp, the flickering candles, the Virgin smiling sadly down at him, Christ high on his cross down there by the altar.

He ran along the centre aisle and reached the hoist. The cage was not there. They were still on top and he was conscious of a fierce joy. He pressed the button to bring the cage down, but nothing happened. He pressed it again with the same result. Which meant that the cage was standing open up there.

He hammered his clenched fist against the wall in despair. There had to be a way to bring Meehan down. There had to be.

And there was, of course, and it was so beautifully simple that he laughed out loud, his voice echoing up the nave as he turned and moved towards the altar rail and went up through the choir stalls.

He sat down on the organ stool, switched on and pulled out an assortment of stops feverishly. There was blood on the keys, but that didn't matter and he moved into the opening of the Bach Prelude in D Major. The glorious music echoed between the walls as he gave it everything he had, ignoring the pain in his right hand and arm.

'Come on, you bastard!' he shouted aloud. 'Let's be having you.'

He stopped playing and was immediately aware of the slight clanging the cage made on its descent. He got up and went down the steps through the choir stalls, drawing the Ceska from his pocket and screwing the silencer into place with difficulty, arriving at the correct vantage point as the cage reached ground level.

Fallon flattened himself against the wall and waited, the Ceska ready. The cage door was kicked open and Bonati stepped out, clutching the Luger. Fallon shot him through the hand and Bonati dropped the Luger with a sharp cry and turned to face him.

'Meehan,' Fallon said. 'Is he up there?'

Bonati was shaking like a leaf in a storm, frightened out of his wits. He tried to speak, but could only manage to nod his head vigorously.

'All right.' Fallon smiled and Bonati saw that face again, a face to frighten the Devil. 'Go home and change your ways.'

Bonati needed no second bidding and ran up the aisle clutching his wrist. The door banged behind him, the candles fluttered. It was quiet again. Fallon moved into the cage and pressed the button to ascend.

On the catwalk, Meehan, Anna and Father da Costa waited, the rain falling in silver strands through the yellow light. The cage jerked to a halt, the door swung open. It was dark in there.

Meehan raised his Browning slightly. 'Bonati?'

Fallon drifted out of the darkness, a pale ghost. 'Hello, you bastard,' he said.

Meehan started to take aim and Father da Costa ducked low in spite of his bound hands and shouldered him to the rail, tripping him deftly so that Meehan fell heavily. The Browning skidded along the catwalk and Fallon kicked it into space.

He leaned against the rail for support, suddenly strangely tired, his arm really hurting now, and gestured with the Ceska.

'All right, untie him.'

Meehan did as he was told reluctantly and the moment he was free, Father da Costa untied Anna. He turned to Fallon, concern in his voice. 'Are you all right?'

Fallon kept all his attention on Meehan. 'The bomb? Have you set the fuse?'

'Get stuffed,' Meehan told him.

'Bomb?' Father da Costa demanded.

'Yes,' Fallon said. 'Did he have a bag with him?'

'Over there,' Father da Costa pointed to where the canvas holdall stood in the shadows.