Anna was standing, one hand on the rail, complete un-certainty 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.”
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?”
Tm afraid you’ll have to address that question to Mr.. Meehan personally,” he said. Tm sure I don’t know.”
Meehan unzipped the hold all, 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. “I82
“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 Rockingham Street and pulled up opposite Holy Name, Fallon was leaning in the corner, eyes dosed. 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 dialed nine-nine-nine. When they put her through to the main switchboard at police headquarters, she asked for Detective-Superintendent Miller.