head turned slightly towards him. ‘When did you last make confession, my son?’
‘So long ago, I can’t remember.’
‘Are your sins so bad that you shrink from revealing them?’
‘Not at all. I know the secrets of the confessional are inviolate, but acknowledging the deaths of so many at my hands in no way releases me from the burden of them.’
Murphy seemed to straighten. ‘Ah, I think I see your problem. You are a soldier or have been a soldier, as with so many men these days.’
‘That’s true enough.’
‘Then you may certainly be absolved, but you must help by seeking comfort in prayer.’
‘Oh, I’ve tried that, Father, saying Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us now and at the hour of our death, we who are ourselves alone.’
There was a moment of silence, then Murphy turned full face, trying to peer through the grill. ‘Who are you?’
‘God bless you, Father, but isn’t that breaking the rules? Still, I’ll let it go for once and put you out of your misery. Sean Dillon, as ever was. Thirty years since you last saw me. I was nineteen and you were the man the police asked to break the news that my father was dead, killed accidentally while on a trip to Belfast. You told me he was a casualty of war.’
‘Sean,’ Murphy’s voice quavered. ‘I can’t believe it. What can I say?’
‘I think you said it all thirty years ago when you urged me to pray, particularly the special one on a prayer card you gave me, the prayer I’ve just quoted to you.’
‘Yes, I recollect now.’ The voice was unsteady. ‘A wonderful prayer to the Virgin Mary.’
‘I remember you saying it would be a comfort for all victims of a great cause. Which made sense, as the prayer is directed at we who are ourselves alone and “ourselves alone” in Irish is Sinn Fein. So, it had a definite political twist to it, urging a nineteen-year-old boy whose father had ended up dead on a pavement in the Falls Road, to get angry, clear off to Belfast and join the Provos to fight for the Glorious Cause. Now, aren’t you proud of me?’
The door to Dillon’s half of the confessional box was yanked open and the woman in the green overall was there, blazingly angry. ‘Come out of there,’ she shouted and grabbed at him. Behind her, Billy moved in to pull her off.
‘You got good and loud, Sean. Only her and me in the place and we heard most of what you said.’
She pulled away from Billy and glared at Dillon. ‘Get out of here before I call the police.’
Billy produced his warrant card. ‘Don’t waste your breath. MI5, and he’s got one, too.’
The other door opened and Murphy came out, an imposing figure at six feet with the silver hair, dressed in a full black cassock, an alb, violet stole draped over his shoulder.
‘Leave it, Caitlin, this is Sean Dillon. As a boy of nineteen, I had to tell him his father was murdered by British soldiers in Ulster. He left for Belfast for his father’s funeral and never returned. There were rumours that he had cast in his lot with the Provisional IRA. If so, I can’t see that it in any way concerns me. As to the prayer card which I gave him as a comfort, it may be found on the internet if you look carefully, Sean, and has been available to all since Easter 1916. We have a Hope of Mary hospice and refuge where the card is readily available.’ He put a hand on Dillon’s left shoulder. ‘You are deeply troubled, Sean, that is so obvious. Your dear father worked and did so much for the church in his spare time. The lectern in beechwood by the high altar was his work. If I can help you in any way, I am here.’
‘Not right now,’ Dillon said, ‘but before I go, the score for dead cardholders right now is four: Henry Pool, John Docherty, Frank Barry in New York, Jack Flynn in Long Island.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Murphy looked shocked.
‘Don’t listen to him, he’s lost his wits entirely.’ Caitlin moved close to Dillon and slapped his face. ‘Get out.’
‘My, but you’re the hard woman. Come on, Billy, let’s go.’ Billy opened the great door and Dillon turned and they were standing close, Murphy with his head inclined while she whispered to him.
Dillon called, ‘If you know anybody named Cochran, tell him we found his wallet and the prayer card, too. God bless all here.’
And Caitlin Daly snapped completely. ‘Get out, you bastard.’ Her voice echoed around the church and Dillon followed Billy to the Cooper and they drove away.
‘Do you think there’s anything doing?’ Billy asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ Dillon said. ‘However bizarre it sounds, I think there’s something going on there.’
‘If that’s so, don’t you think you’ve given a lot away?’
‘I intended to. Back to Holland Park, Billy,’ and he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, thinking about it.
At the sacristy, Caitlin Daly leaned against the door and fumbled in her shoulder bag, pushed aside a .25 Belgian Leon semi-automatic pistol, produced an encrypted mobile phone and punched in a number. It was answered at once, a man’s voice, the slightest tinge of a Yorkshire accent.
‘Caitlin? And what brings you?’
‘Just listen,’ she said. ‘We’ve got trouble.’ She quickly told him what had taken place. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘How did Murphy take it?’
‘How do you expect? He’s too good for this bloody world. All he feels is pity for Dillon.’
‘Well, he would, wouldn’t he? Leave it with me, I’ll handle it somehow.’ The church was very quiet now when she returned, and Murphy knelt before the altar, his head bowed in prayer, and she sat in a front pew and waited. When he stood up and walked to her, she said, ‘You’ve been praying for Dillon, haven’t you?’
‘Of course. So sad, that business of his father’s death in Belfast all those years ago. His life has so obviously been a hard and bitter one. What else can I do but pray for him?’
She stifled her anger with difficulty. ‘Sometimes, Monsignor, I think you’re much too forgiving. But take my arm and we’ll go back to the presbytery for tea.’
He did as he was told, and as they walked away, he said, ‘Poor boy, he seems completely unhinged.’
A little earlier, Miller and his sister had been on their way to Dover Street. Since becoming aware that her dearly loved brother was a man of dark secrets, Monica had also learned that anything he told her, however dangerous and extreme, was very probably true. For an academic like her, there was an undeniable thrill to it all, especially her involvement with Sean Dillon. When Miller picked her up at her rooms in Cambridge, she was
