Cathedral (30 page)

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Authors: Nelson Demille

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Suspense, #Police Procedural, #Cultural Heritage

BOOK: Cathedral
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Bellini said, "How far off can they be? They're headsup people. Right? They can count. Look, I'm not real anxious to do this, but I feel a little better about it now."

Langley said, "We can't discount the possibility that one or both of these messages are from the Fenians." He looked at his copy and compared it to the earlier message, which he held in his hand. "I'm a little confused.

Something is wrong here." He looked up. "Bellini, as an intelligence officer, I'd advise you not to believe either of these."

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Bellini looked distraught. "Well, where the hell does that put me? Square fucking one, that's where."

Roberta Spiegel said, "Whether or not we believe either of these messages, everybody in the Cardinal's residence and in the next room is reading this last message, and they will come to their own conclusions."

She looked at Rourke. "This justifies a preemptive attack, Commissioner.

That's what's going through their minds out there." She turned to Bellini. "Captain, be prepared to mount an attack at very short notice."

Bellini nodded distractedly.

The door opened, and Monsignor Downes came into the office. "Did someone want to see me?"

The five men looked at each other questioningly, then Roberta Spiegel said, "Yes, I asked to see you."

Downes remained standing.

The Mayor's aide thought a moment, then said, "Monsignor, neither the Mayor nor myself nor anyone wants to do anything that will harm this church or endanger the lives of the hostages. However-"

The Monsignor's body stiffened.

"However, if the police and my office and the people in Washington decide that negotiation is no longer possible and that there is a clear and immediate danger to the hostages . . . will you and the diocese stand behind our decision to send in the Emergency Services Division?"

Monsignor Downes stood motionless without answering.

Spiegel said to Bellini, "Give the Monsignor a copy of that message."

Downes took the paper and read it, then looked at Roberta Spiegel. "I'll have to check with the Vicar General. I cannot take the responsibility for this on my own." He turned and left the room.

Roberta Spiegel said, "Every time we uncover another layer of this problem I see how much we've underestimated Flynn. We're sandbagged pretty badly all around, and as the time slips by it's obvious that the easiest course of action is surrender-ours, not Flynn's."

Langley said, "Even surrender is not so easy. We may 256

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give in, but that ~doesn't mean Washington, London, or Dublin will."

Commissioner Rourke said to Bellini, "Captain, the only thing we can do unilaterally, without anyone's permission except the Mayor's, is to attack."

Bellini answered, "That's always the easiest decision, sir-it's the execution that gets a little sticky."

Schroeder spoke up. "I get the feeling you've given up on the negotiations."

Everyone looked at him. Burke said, "Captain, you're still the best hope we've got. If there's any middle ground between our capitulation and an attack, I'm sure you'll find it. Brian Flynn said, however, that there was no middle ground, and I think he was telling us the truth. Dawn or dead."

Maureen watched Hickey as he spoke to the Cardinal and Father Murphy at the confessional. She said to Baxter, "He's questioning them about the buzzer and about the first message."

Baxter nodded, then stood. "Let's pace a bit and stretch our legs. We'll talk."

They began walking across the altar sanctuary toward the throne, a distance of forty feet, then turned and walked back. As they walked, Baxter inclined his head. "Look over there-at the brass plate."

Maureen glanced to the right of the altar. Beyond the sacristy staircase was the large brass plate through which Hickey and Megan Fitzgerald bad descended with the suitcases.

Baxter looked over the length of the Cathedral. "I've been analyzing this building. When Hickey and Fitzgerald came up from that plate, they had earth on their hands and knees. So it must be mostly crawl space. There must be large areas that are unlit or badly lit. We have an area of almost a city block in which to disappear. If we can lift that plate quickly and drop into that space, they could never flush us out."

As they paced back toward the right side of the altar the 257

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plate came into view again. She said, "Even if we could raise the plate and drop below before we were shot, we wouldn't be free, and no one on the outside would know we were down there."

"We would know we weren't up here."

She nodded. "Yes, that's the point, isn't it?" They walked in silence for a few minutes, then Maureen said, "How do you plan to do it?"

Baxter outlined his plan.

Father Murphy and the Cardinal entered the sanctuary, and both Maureen and Baxter noticed that the two priests looked very pale. Father Murphy looked from Maureen to Baxter. "Hickey knows, of course."

The Cardinal spoke. "I would have had no objection to trying to signal the rectory." He looked at Murphy sharply, then at Baxter and Maureen.

"You must keep me informed-beforehand-of your plans."

Baxter nodded. "We're about to do that, Your Eminence. We're considering an escape plan. We want you both to come with us."

The Cardinal shook his head and said emphatically, "My place is here."

He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then said, "But I'm ready to give you my blessing." He turned to Father Murphy. "You may go if you choose."

Murphy shook his head and addressed Maureen and Baxter. "I can't leave without His Eminence. But I'll help you if I can."

Maureen looked at the three men. "Good. Let's work out the details and the timing." She looked at her watch. "At nine o'clock, we go."

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CHAPTER 33

Captain Bellini said to Monsignor Downes as the Rector walked into the office, "Have you found the plans to the Cathedral yet?"

The Monsignor shook his bead. "The staff is looking here and at the diocese building. But I don't believe we ever had a set on file."

Commissioner Rourke said to Langley, "What are you doing about finding the architect, Gordon Stillway?"

Langley lit a cigarette and took his time answering. He said finally,

"Detectives went to his office on East Fiftythird. It was closed, of course-"

Rourke interrupted. "Are you getting a court order to go in?"

Langley noticed that the Deputy Commissioner was becoming more assertive.

By midnight he'd probably try to give an order. Langley said, "Actually, someone already got in-without the benefit of a court order. No Cathedral blueprints, The detectives are trying to find a roster of employees.

That's apparently missing also."

Monsignor Downes cleared his throat and said, "I don't approve of an assault . . . but it must be planned for, I suppose . . ." He looked at the bookcase and said, "Among those books you'll find about five that are pictorial studies of the Cathedral. Some have plans in them, very sketchy plans-for tourists to follow when they walk on the main floor. The interior pictures are very good, though, and may be helpful."

Bellini went to the bookcase and began scanning the shelves.

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Burke stood. "There may be a set of blueprints in Stillway's apartment.

No one's answering the phone, and the detective we have stationed there says no one's answering the door. I'm going over there now."

Schroeder stood also. "You can't leave here. Flynn said-"

Burke turned on him. "The hell with Flynn."

Roberta Spiegel said, "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

Langley ripped a page from his notebook. "Here's the address. Don't gain entry by illegal means."

Monsignor Downes said, "If you should find Gordon Stillway, remember he's a very old man. Don't excite him."

"I don't do anything illegal. I don't excite people." Burke turned and walked out into the adjoining office. A heavy cloud of blue smoke hung at face level over the crowded outer office. Burke pushed his way into the hall and went down the stairs. The rectory offices on the ground floor were filled with uniformed police commanders directing the field operations. Burke approached a captain sitting at a desk and showed his badge case. "I need a squad car and a maniac to drive it."

The captain looked up from a map of midtown. "Do you? Well, the area on the other side of the cordon is jammed solid with people and vehicles.

Where is it you'd like to go in such a hurry, Lieutenant?"

"Gramercy Park. Pronto-like."

"Well, make your way to the IRT station on Lex."

"Bullshit." He grabbed a phone and went through the switchboard to the Monsignor's office. "Langley, is the helicopter still in the Palace courtyard? Good. Call and get it revved up."

Burke walked out of the rectory into Fifty-first Street and breathed in the cold, bracing air that made him feel better. The sleet was tapering off, but the wind was still strong. He walked into the deserted intersection of Fiftyfirst and Madison.

An eerie silence hung over the lamplit streets around the Cathedral, and in the distance he could see the barricades

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of squad cars, buses, and sanitation trucks that made up the cordon. Strands of communication wire ran over the sleet-covered streets and sidewalks.

Sentries stood silhouetted against half-lit buildings, and National Guardsmen cruised by in jeeps, rifles pointed upward. Bullhorns barked in the wintry air, and policemen patrolled the sanitized area with shotguns.

Burke heard their footsteps crunching in the unshoveled ice and heard his own quickening pace. As he walked, be thought of Belfast and, though he'd never been there, felt he knew the place. He turned up his collar and walked faster.

Across Madison Avenue a solitary figure on horseback rode slowly into the north wind. He stared at the rider, Betty Foster, as she passed beneath a streetlight. She didn't seem to notice him, and he walked on.

The wind dropped, and be heard in the distance, past the perimeter of the cordon, the sounds of music and singing. New York would not be denied its party. Burke passed the rear of the Lady Chapel, then approached the Cardinal's residence, and through the lace curtains on a groundfloor window he saw ESD men standing in a room. A lieutenant was briefing them, and Burke could see a chalkboard. Win this one for the Gipper, lads. Through another window on the corner Burke saw well-dressed men and women, the Governor and Mayor among them, crowded around what was probably a buffet. They didn't exactly look like they were enjoying themselves, but they didn't look as grim as the men around the chalkboard either.

In the intersection Burke turned and looked back at the Cathedral illuminated by its garden floodlights. A soft luminescence passed through the stained-glass windows and cast a colored shadow over the white street.

It was a serene picture, postcard pretty: ice-covered branches of bare lin-dens and glistening expanses of undisturbed sleet. Perhaps more serene than it had ever been in this century-the surrounding area cleared of cars and people, and the buildings darkened. . . .

Something out of place caught his eye, and he looked up 261

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at the two towers where light shone, through the ripped louvers. In the north tower-the bell tower-he saw a shadow moving, a solitary figure circling from louver to louver, cold, probably edgy, watchful. In the south tower there was also a figure, standing motionless. Two people, one in each tower-the only eyes that stared out of the besieged Cathedral. So much depended on them, thought Burke. He hoped they weren't the panicky type.

The police command helicopter followed Lexington Avenuc south. Below, Burke could see that traffic was beginning to move again, or at least what passed for moving traffic in Manhattan. Rotating beacons at every intersection i~dicated the scope of the police action below. The towering buildings of midtown gave way to the lower buildings in the old section of Gramercy Park, and the helicopter dropped altitude.

Burke could see the lamps of the small private park encircled by elegant town houses. He pointed, and the pilot swung the craft toward the open area and turned on the landing lights. The helicopter settled into a small patch of grass, and Burke jumped out and walked quickly toward the high wrought-iron fence. He rattled the bars of a tall gate but found it was locked. On the sidewalk a crowd of people stared back at him curiously. Burke said, "Is anyone there a keyholder?"

No one answered.

Burke peered between the bars, his hands wrapped around the cold iron.

He thought of the zoo gate that morning, the ape house, the sacristy gate, and all the prisons he'd ever seen. He thought of Long Kesh and Crumlin Road, Lubianka and Dachau. He thought that there were too many iron bars and too many people staring at each other through them. He shouted with a sudden and unexpected anger, "Come on, damn it! Who's got a key?"

An elderly, well-dressed woman came forward and produced an ornate key.

Without a word she unlocked the gate, and Burke slipped out quickly and pushed roughly through the crowd.

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He approached a stately old town house across the street and knocked sharply on the door. A patrolman opened the door, and Burke held up his badge, brushing by him into the small lobby. A single plainclothesman sat in the only chair, and Burke introduced himself perfunctorily.

The man answered through a wide yawn, "Detective Lewis." He stood as though with some effort.

Burke said, "Any word on Stillway?"

The detective shook his head.

"Get a court order yet?"

"Nope.

Burke began climbing the stairs. When he was a rookie, an old cop once said to him, "Everybody lives on the top floor. Everybody gets robbed on the top floor. Everybody goes nuts on the top floor. Everybody dies on the top floor." Burke reached the top floor, the fourth. Two apartments had been made out of what was once probably the servants' quarters. He found Stillway's door and pressed the buzzer.

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