Confessional - Jack Higgins [78]
'We haven't got that long. Let's get you out,' Cussane said.
There seemed to be a sudden extra flow of water; it washed over Tisini's face and he panicked. Cussane moved behind him, supporting the man's head above the water, crouching over him protectively.
Hardy felt under the water. 'There's a lot moved here,' he said. 'That's where the inflow of water helps. There's just one beam pinning him down now, but it leads into the wall. If I put any kind of force on it, it could bring the lot in on us.'
'If you don't, he drowns within the next couple of minutes,' Cussane said.
'You could be in trouble too, Father.'
'And you,' Cussane said, 'so get on with it.'
'Father!' Tisini cried. 'In the name of God, absolve me!'
Cussane said in a firm clear voice, 'May Our Lord Jesus Christ absolve you and I, by His authority, absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father and the Son and of the Holy Spirit.' He nodded to Hardy. 'Now!'
The foreman took a breath and dipped under the surface, his hands gripping the edges of the beam. His shoulders seemed to swell, he came up out of the water, the beam with him and Tisini screamed and floated free in Cussane's hands. The wall started to bulge. Hardy pulled Tisini up and dragged him towards the entrance, Cussane pushing from the rear as the walls crumbled around them. He put an arm up to protect his head and shoulders, was aware that they were at the steps now, willing hands reaching down to help, and then a brick struck him a glancing blow on the head. He tried to go up the steps, fell on his knees, and there was only darkness.
12
HE CAME AWAKE SLOWLY to find the young woman from the shop crouching over him. He was lying on a rug in front of a coal fire and she was wiping his face.
'Easy,' she said. 'You'll be fine. Remember me? I'm Moira McGregor. You're in my shop.'
'What about the Italian and that fellow Hardy?'
'They're upstairs. We've sent for a doctor.'
He was still confused and found it difficult to think straight. 'My bag?' he said slowly. 'Where is it?'
The big policeman, Brodie, loomed over them. 'Back in the land of the living, are we?' There was an edge to his voice. An unpleasantness. 'Worth a couple of dozen candles to the Virgin, I suppose.'
He went out. Moira McGregor smiled at Cussane. 'Take no notice. You saved that man's life, you and Hardy. I'll get you a cup of tea.'
She went into the kitchen and found Brodie standing by the table. 'I could do with a touch of something stronger myself,' he said.
She took a bottle of Scotch and a glass from a cupboard and put them on the table without a word. He reached for a chair and pulled it forward, not noticing Cussane's bag which fell to the floor. The top being unzipped, several items tumbled out, a couple of shirts and the pyx and the violet stole amongst them.
'This his bag?' Brodie asked.
She turned from the stove, a kettle in her hand. 'That's right.'
He dropped to one knee, stuffing the items back into the bag and frowned. 'What's this?'
By some mischance, the false bottom of the bag had become dislodged in the fall. The first thing Brodie discovered was an English passport and he opened it. 'He told me his name was Fallon.'
'So?' Moira said.
'Then how come he has a passport in the name of Father Sean Daly? Good likeness too.' His hand groped further and came up, holding the Stechkin. 'God Almighty!'
Moira McGregor felt sick. 'What does it mean?'
'We'll soon find out.'
Brodie went back into the other room and put the bag down on a chair. Cussane lay quietly, eyes closed. Brodie knelt down beside him, took out a pair of handcuffs and, very gently, eased one bracelet over Cussane's left wrist. Cussane opened his eyes and Brodie seized the other wrist and snapped the steel cuff in place. He pulled the priest to his feet, then shoved him down into a chair.
'What's all this then?' Brodie had the false base up completely now and sifted through the contents. 'Three handguns, assorted passports and a sizeable sum in cash. Bloody fine priest you are. What's