“Right,” said Bunny, “so after fifteen minutes of prodding and whatnot, we’ve discovered the door is definitely a door. Time well spent.” They were standing on the roof of the school, and at this height, the sharp winter wind whipped around them.
Smithy turned around, feeling his temper rise. “I’m telling you – this place is not what it seems.”
“And I’m telling you, Smithy, you’re overthinking it. They have a security door downstairs, sure – that makes sense. This isn’t the nicest of areas. But we’re up on the roof now and I don’t reckon the pigeons are that larcenous.”
“And the other stuff?”
“What other stuff? I fell into a dumpster and some cold water splashed on your head.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“’Twas exactly like that. You’re paranoid. I told you about smoking that wacky tobbacy stuff; it makes you go loopy.”
Smithy took a deep breath. He would have to try counting to ten again. “OK. I need to do a couple more checks on it and then…”
Bunny shook his head. “Nope. ’Tis cold, my arse is literally freezing and at this rate it’ll be dawn soon. Stand back – I’m smashing the fucker in.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
Bunny walked over to the other side of the roof and did some basic stretching exercises.
“What this needs is the application of a bit of honest-to-God Irish beef.”
Smithy held his hands up. “Fine. For the record, I am against this.”
Bunny nodded. “Noted. If I get blown to smithereens by a landmine or thrown through a portal into another dimension, feel free to take the piss at my funeral.”
“We can’t give you a funeral. You’re already dead.”
“You can never have too many funerals.” Bunny waved his hand for Smithy to get out of the way. “Shift over there. Dead man running here.”
Smithy shook his head and moved away from the door. “Fine.”
“Here we go.” Bunny swayed back and forth on his heels, like he was about to go for a world record in the high jump. “One… two… three!”
He had always been a deceptively good athlete, in the sense that, to look at him, you wouldn’t have thought he was any kind of athlete at all. His speed and agility had surprised more than a few miscreants in their time. None of them, however, had been as surprised as Bunny was now. Shoulder lowered as he charged forward, he experienced the sickening sensation of the door flying open before him as he was about to make contact. His momentum carried him through, and there was a notable lack of floor on the other side. Such was Bunny’s velocity, he didn’t even have time to get out an expletive as he fell. He landed about twenty feet below in darkness, a couple of mattresses taking the worst of it.
Smithy ran over to the open door. “Bunny? Are you alright?”
Bunny’s voice emerged from the darkness below. “What in the shitting hell just happened?”
“Well, the good news is you didn’t damage the door.”
“Now is not the time for sarcasm.”
“How far down are you?” asked Smithy. “Are you OK? What can you see?”
“To answer your questions in order: feck knows, no broken bones and I can see feck all but… Ah, shite.”
“What?”
“I… Yeah, I appear to be behind bars.”
“Like… you’re in a cage?”
“You could say that.”
“Feels like now would be a good time to reassess how crazily paranoid I am.”
“Nobody likes a gloater, Smithy. Take the win with dignity.”
“Right. There’s rope in the back of the cab. I’ll get Diller, we’ll pull you up and then we’re out of here.”
“Fine.”
Smithy turned around and gave an involuntary yelp. This was initially out of shock, as a tiny UFO appeared to be floating a foot from his face, but it became one of pain as the UFO squirted pepper spray into his eyes.
He stepped back, reflexes trumping the certain knowledge that there was no floor behind him. To his credit, he at least managed to yell an expletive as he fell – a really good one too.
Chapter Eighteen
Bunny’s fall into the abyss had been broken by the mattresses at the bottom of it. Smithy’s fall had been broken by Bunny – specifically his face, which had been looking upwards at the time.
The door above had then slammed shut, leaving them in total darkness.
“Diller. Diller, can you hear me?” said Smithy.
Nothing.
“Nada. I’m guessing something is blocking all signals.”
“Yes,” said Bunny. “I figured that out from your first six attempts to raise him.”
“What in the hell are you getting snappy at me for?”
Bunny took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Smithy. You’re right. This is all my fault. You were helping me and I didn’t listen to you. I guess I was so desperate to finally get a lead on finding Simone, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Smithy put his walkie-talkie away and sat in the darkness, his back to the bars. “Forget about it. I know how much she means to you and everything you’ve gone through to find her.”
“Yeah,” said Bunny. “If only I could convince certain other people of that.”
“Not for nothing but… these nuns, I mean seriously, what in the hell? Who has this kind of security?”
Bunny shrugged. “I told you they’re not exactly like ordinary nuns but they were never known for their technical prowess. I guess they must’ve learned some new tricks. You’ve not got a tissue, have you?”
Smithy opened one of the pockets on his tool belt. “I got wipes.”
“Yeah, anything to stem the bleeding.”
“You’re bleeding?”
“Ah, only a nosebleed.”
“Here.”
Smithy held out the packet of wipes in the direction of Bunny’s voice and, after some wafting, found Bunny’s extended hand.
Smithy sat back. “Sorry about… y’know…”
“What?”
“Landing on your face.”
“Ah, ’twas my own fault. Standing there like a divvy, all but asking for somebody to land on me. I should be the one apologising – dragging you into this.”
“Forget it. Do you think they’ll call the cops?”
“I doubt it. They’re fierce keen on keeping a low profile. Can’t see them filling out a police report.”
Smithy felt relieved, not least because he hoped that, somehow, he would not have to explain this to Cheryl. His girlfriend was an understanding woman, but they had held previous discussions about his tendency to make bad decisions.
“So, they’ll let us go then,” said Smithy. “They’re not going to harm us. I mean, they’re nuns.”
“Jesus. You can tell you’ve not had the benefits of a Catholic education. Violence isn’t off the table, but to be honest, if given the choice of a severe clipping around the earhole or a talking-to, I know which one I’d take.”
Smithy chuckled to himself. “You mean Sister Act lied to me? Say it isn’t so! Oh, not to pile on, but you know how you tried to smash that door in?”
“Yeah?”
“Violent act. I win the bet.”
“No fecking way. I didn’t even—”
They were interrupted as the lights came on. Both men put their hands to their eyes. Maybe the lights were extremely bright, or maybe it just felt that way after sitting there in the pitch dark.
It turned out their cage was in the middle of a long passage. It looked like two sets of metal bars had thunked down to trap them in an otherwise perfectly harmless hallway. While Smithy thought the light was, overall, an improvement in their situation, it meant he had to look at walls painted a vomit-like shade of green only ever found in institutions.
Bunny watched as Sisters Dorothy and Dionne came around the corner. When they had met earlier, he’d been busy unsuccessfully pleading his case, but Bunny didn’t think Dorothy had been in
a wheelchair. She was now. An electric one that glided soundlessly towards them.
“Howerya, sisters,” said Bunny. “I apologise for dropping in unannounced.”
Dorothy stopped a few feet from the bars, with Dionne standing beside her. “That is alright, Mr McGarry. Sadly, we were expecting you.”
Bunny pulled the wipe away from his nose and looked at the blood on it. “I’d apologise but I think that’d ring hollow.”
“It would. I am afraid you have failed the test as to whether or not we can trust you.”
Bunny could feel his anger rise. “A woman is in danger and you’re playing silly buggers. Your organisation ain’t what it once was.” He looked up at Sister Dionne. “Fair play though, you sold it well. That little look over at the filing cabinet? I swallowed the bait right up.”
Dionne had the decency to look uncomfortable. Maybe she hadn’t liked this little trap idea. Then again, she could be faking him out again.
“I’m a desperate man,” said Bunny. “That’s all your test proves. Yes, I tried to break in, but like I said, a woman is in danger. If you’d just let me talk to Sister Bernadette, we could straighten this out.”
“You are in no position to be making demands,” said Dorothy.
“Ask her. Ask Bernadette. I helped her out plenty of times back in Dublin.”
“Why is it, then, that she didn’t leave you a way to contact her when she left Dublin?”
Bunny looked away. “We didn’t leave things on the best of terms. A difference of opinion. Still though, she knows I only want the best for Simone.”
“We will pass your message on,” said Sister Dorothy. “But can we now assume that you will leave us be?”
“No,” said Bunny. “The woman I love is in danger, and come hell or high water, I will find her.”
“Why is it you men are always so convinced women need saving? In our experience, they mostly need saving from men.”
Bunny held his hands out. “Not from me. I’m a flawed man – Lord knows I’ve made plenty of mistakes – but go ask Bernadette. Go ask Assumpta. I am on the side of the angels.”
Dorothy’s eyes widened. “Really? Does that normally involve breaking and entering?”
Bunny shrugged. “Desperate times. I’m fairly sure your lot haven’t always stayed inside the lines of legality. Don’t forget, I first came into contact with you after you smuggled a wanted murderer out of the country.”
“If we let you go, are you going to try this nonsense again?”
Bunny gave a mirthless laugh. “Let me go? I’m refusing to leave until I speak to Bernadette.”
The two nuns exchanged a look.
“Fine, have it your way.” Dorothy turned her chair to go back the way she’d come.
She stopped as Smithy cleared his throat pointedly. “Excuse me – hi. I’m Smithy, co-conspirator. Firstly, kudos to whoever you have in charge of security.” He noticed Dionne’s eyes flick up to a smoke alarm on the ceiling, which he guessed wasn’t really a smoke alarm. Dionne looked back down and blushed as she realised Smithy had caught her.
He stood and waved at the smoke alarm. “Love your work. Very impressive.”
“So,” continued Smithy, turning back to Dorothy and Dionne. Before he could speak, a female voice from an unseen speaker filled the hall. “Thanks, dude. Sorry about the pepper spray.”
Dorothy looked annoyed at this. She glared at Dionne, who offered a shrug.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Smithy loudly. “It was actually a pretty mild solution, as those things go.”
Dionne looked down at him. “You really do have to question your life choices when you’ve been pepper sprayed enough times to be able to compare.”
Smithy shrugged. “As it happens, my girlfriend makes her own and gives them to people as gifts. I’ve been a guinea pig a couple of times.” He raised his voice again. “Speaking of which – a little tip: she says just a hint of paprika gives an extra kick.”
“Ohhh, thanks,” said the disembodied voice.
It was Sister Dorothy’s turn to cough pointedly, in a way that even the person who wasn’t there couldn’t miss. “If we’re all finished?”
“Sorry,” said Smithy, “I just have one question. Why don’t you tell Bunny the truth?”
“Excuse me?”
“Look, I’m an interloper here. I’ve known him for under a year and, well, he’s annoying as hell, but he’s a good man.”
“You’ll forgive me, but your reference doesn’t carry much weight.”
Smithy held his hands up. “Sure, I get that. But my point is, I’m not as close to it as he is. The guy is desperate. He’d do anything to protect this woman, and because he’s so desperate, he can’t see it.”
Dorothy said nothing, just raised her eyebrow, as if to wordlessly say, “And?”
“Every time he says Sister Bernadette’s name, you two get a little more tense and a little more peed off. You can see it in your body language. If I was a betting man – and sadly I am – I’d bet the reason that Bunny can’t speak to this Sister Bernadette is because you can’t speak to her.”
The two women said nothing, but they both glared at him. Direct hit. “I’m right, aren’t I? She’s not dead, because that’s a whole other reaction. It’s something else.”
Dionne looked down at Dorothy, who glared at Smithy for several seconds. If looks could kill, he would have been a smoking pair of sneakers.
When she finally spoke, her voice came out as a monotone. “She is currently… temporarily unaccounted for.”
“What?” said Bunny. “The woman must be banging on the door of eighty by now. Has she wandered off or something?”
“No,” said Dionne, sounding angry. “She has not. If you must know, she was last seen in Colombia a few weeks ago, and since then she has gone off the radar.”
“What was she—?” started Bunny.
“That is none of your business.”
Bunny flapped his arms out. “Oh, for God’s sake, why didn’t you say so? Let me out; I’ll go find her.”
“Really?” said Dorothy. “Are you familiar with Colombia, Mr McGarry? Are you fluent in Spanish? Do you have contacts in law enforcement down there?”
“No on all three, but at least I’d be looking and not sitting up here on my hole.”
Dionne took a step forward, her face clouded with anger. “How dare you!”
Dorothy placed a gentle hand on Dionne’s arm.
“Every available member of the order is currently out trying to locate the sister. It is a very difficult situation. The last thing we need is you charging in there like a bull in a china shop.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Mr McGarry. If you don’t speak Spanish… How is your Latin?”
Bunny gave her a confused look. “’Tis alright. I have a bit from me schooldays.”
“One of my colleagues came up with an official Latin motto for our order: non opus est virum.”
Bunny scratched at his beard. “No man, no cry?”
“There is no need of man. In short, we do not need the assistance of you or any man. Get to the root of most of the world’s problems, Mr McGarry, and I guarantee that you will find a man with what he is sure is a good idea.”
“Well, you can’t stop me looking for Bernadette myself and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
The McGarry stare was a legend among the Dublin criminal fraternity for its ability to transform hard nuts into jelly. Sister Dorothy locked eyes with him, and they stayed looking at each other for a very long time. Smithy was tempted to wave a hand between them just to break the tension, but the odds were good that it would burst into flame.
“Err, Sister,” said Dionne, before bending down and whispering something in Dorothy’s ear.
Dionne looked at Dorothy expectantly, but the older woman didn’t budge. She paused for a moment and then whispered something else in her ear.
Sister Dorothy pursed her lips. “Alright. So be
it.”
Dionne stood and gave a tight smile. “Great. Seeing as you are so keen to help, Mr McGarry, you can prove yourself by assisting Father Gabriel with his problem. If that goes well, then we will consider helping you – or, hopefully, Sisters Bernadette and Assumpta will be back with us by then.”
Bunny scratched at his beard. “Ehm, I don’t know what the good padre’s problem is.”
“Well, you should go and ask him.”
“Alright. It’s a deal.” Bunny moved forward and offered his hand through the bars to shake on it.
Dionne gave him a smile. “That will not be necessary.”
Dorothy waved her hand in front of her face. “You stink.”
Bunny took a step back. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He looked up towards the smoke alarm. “I got slammed into a dumpster.”
Sister Dorothy started to move away, Dionne following in her wake.
“Hey,” said Bunny, “hang on. How’re we supposed to get—?”
He was interrupted by a rope ladder descending from the ceiling and whacking him in the head.
“Ouch. I had to ask.”
Bunny looked up. “Right so, let’s get out of here.”
“Whoa there, cowboy,” said Smithy. “I’m going first.” He grabbed the ladder and started to climb. “And they are not wrong. You really do reek!”
Chapter Nineteen
As far as anyone else was concerned, the next morning he was back to being the Father Gabriel they expected, only more so. A whirling dervish of energy, determined to get as much done as humanly possible. Never the greatest talker but always a man of action. He explained his mysterious disappearance the day before by saying he’d had to deal with somebody in a lot of trouble. It technically wasn’t a lie, apart from the omission that the person in question had been him.
When Rosario came in at 8am she found him in the office, having nearly got the parish’s accounts up to date. She looked at him in disbelief. Father Gabriel was a diligent worker, but his one area of weakness was paperwork. But he had been unable to sleep and so he’d thrown himself into the most mind-numbing of tasks he could find.
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