“You can’t live with this hatred in your heart,” Father Masterson said, shaking his head slowly.
“I think it’s all that’s keeping me alive.”
“What about Brigid?”
“She’s okay. She’s with Kate’s sister. She thinks her mother is away on a trip.”
“What are your plans?”
Bannion smiled. “I’m going to kill the men who put that bomb in the car, Father.”
“You can’t do that, Dave. Brigid needs you now, you’ve got to be father and mother to her. You can’t do that with this hate in your heart.”
“I think we’ve talked enough, Father,” Bannion said. “We’re wasting time.”
Father Masterson was silent a moment, and then he smiled. “You know where I am if you need me,” he said. “I’ll do anything I can, remember that.”
“You won’t be any help to me,” Bannion said.
Father Masterson hesitated. Then he said: “Dave, don’t underestimate us. Sometimes, we seem to be offering a pretty timid sort of help. But there’s more to it than that, believe me. Try to keep that in mind. And don’t forget your little girl.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Bannion said. “That’s all any man can do. Right now, she’s okay.” He smiled again, the thin, humorless smile he had developed in the past week. “There’s a police detail twenty-four hours a day at Kate’s sister’s home. The police aren’t going to let this happen again. They’re sorry it happened to Kate. So are the papers. Everybody’s extremely sorry.”
“There have been no arrests yet, have there?”
“No, curiously enough, there haven’t. Curious, when you consider how sorry everyone is.”
“Dave, justice will be done.”
“Yes, of course,” Bannion said, still smiling. “But I’ll tell you a secret, Father. There won’t be any arrests.”
“You can’t take that responsibility.”
“Sure I can take it, Father,” Bannion said. “Don’t worn’ about that.”
Father Masterson winced at the tone of Bannion’s voice. He sighed and said, “Well, can I drop you somewhere, Dave. I have the car.”
“No, thanks. I’ll take a cab.”
“Please, just a minute,” Father Masterson said. “If you go this way I’m failing you, Dave.”
“I haven’t asked for anything, Father.”
Father Masterson rubbed his forehead with long gentle fingers. “I know, I know,” he said. “I... I feel useless anyway, though. You aren’t taking your books, I see.”
“No.”
Father Masterson walked to the bookcase and peered at the titles. Bannion glanced at his watch, and then put both hands deep in his pockets. The priest removed a book from the shelf and came back to him holding it awkwardly, tentatively, in his hands. “Would you do me a favor, Dave? Would you take this one with you, please?”
Bannion glanced at it without expression. It was the Ascent of Mount Carmel by St. John of the Cross. “That’s an interesting one,” he said.
“You’ll take it with you then?”
Bannion shrugged. “Let me read you something, Father,” he said. He took the book and opened it, and there was a thin, unpleasant smile on his lips. “Listen to this, Father,” he said, and began to read in an expressionless voice: “This light guided me. More surely than the light of noonday. To the place where he (well, I knew who!) was awaiting me — a place where none appeared.”
Bannion closed the book slowly and looked at the priest. “Funny, isn’t it?” he said.
“I don’t understand, Dave,” Father Masterson said.
“ ‘To a place where none appeared,’ ” Bannion repeated. “Maybe there wasn’t anyone there, Father. Maybe there was never anyone waiting for us after the darkness of the night. That’s a rather comical idea, don’t you think?”
“That’s not what he means,” Father Masterson said.
Bannion shrugged again. “Well, I’m just quoting him, you know,” he said. “If he meant something else, I think he might have said it.”
“He did say it, he said it unmistakably in the last stanza of that poem,” the priest said.
“I think I like the one I read better,” Bannion said. “Come on, Father, let’s go.”
“But take the book, Dave,” the priest insisted.
“Okay, okay,” Bannion said, irritably.
They went outside and down the steps. It was a cold, raw day with a cutting wind in the black, winter trees. Father Masterson put out his hand. “Well, goodbye, Dave.”
They shook hands. “Goodbye,” Bannion said, and walked down the street, his body inclined slightly into the winter-edged wind. He hailed a cab at the first intersection, and told the driver to take him to City Hall. He lit a cigarette and watched the gray, sluggish river, the low, leaden sky, and tried not to think. That had been the worst of it; thinking...
Neely was alone in Homicide, on the phone, and Bannion nodded to him and walked on into Wilks’ office.
Wilks came around his desk quickly, his face concerned and anxious. “I didn’t expect to see you yet, Dave,” he said. He took Bannion’s arm. “Here, sit down. Hell, we want you take a complete rest, a good long one, before coming back to work.”
Bannion didn’t sit down. He watched Wilks.
Wilks coughed and took his hand from Bannion’s arm. “We’ve got three men, full-time, on the job. There’ll be a payoff soon, by God.”
“That’s good,” Bannion said. “Nothing’s turned up yet, eh?”
“Well, no. There’s an angle—” He stopped, studying Bannion with an anxious little frown. “Dave, you don’t want to talk about it now, I know.”
“Sure, I’d like to talk about it,” Bannion said. He smiled. “What’s the angle?”
“It’s this. There’s a union official in your block, a fellow named Grogerty.”
“I know him.”
“Well, he’s been in trouble with a left-wing outfit that’s trying to crack one of his unions. We have some evidence that the bomb was meant for him, and not you, and certainly not your wife. His car was parked out that night, and it’s a dark sedan, just like yours. We’ve been thinking the whole thing may have been a ghastly accident, a mistake.”
“Oh, that’s what you’re thinking, eh?” Bannion said. He watched Wilks with the thin, unpleasant smile on his lips.
“Well, it’s an angle. We aren’t going to overlook anything. Dave.”
“That’s fine, neither am I.”
Wilks paused. “How do you mean, Dave.”
“I’m quitting.”
“Quitting? Quitting what?”
“My job. I suppose there’s a form to be filled out. I’ll take care of it.”
Dave, slow down. What’s the matter with you? Are you leaving town, or something?”
“No, I’ll be around,” Bannion said.
Wilks was silent a moment. “I see,” he said, finally. “You’re going to work on your own.”
“That’s right.”
I can’t say that I blame you. I’d probably do the same thing myself. But this is a police job, remember that. Even though I understand your motives, and sympathize with them, I can’t let you get in our way. Do you realize that?”
“Sure,” Bannion said. “I’ll try to keep out of your way.”
Dave, think this thing over carefully,” Wilks said, rubbing his hands together nervously. “Amateurs get nowhere, you know that.”
“I’m no amateur.”
“Yes, but you can work faster in the department. Why don’t you stick with us?”
That doesn’t seem to be the best way to get the man I want,” Bannion said.
“Dave, I know what you’re thinking.”