Trauma

Thirteen

Lafferty managed on autopilot until the first hymn took the pressure off him for a couple of minutes. When it ended, the sobbing in the church had become widespread. Several of the men were now holding handkerchiefs to their faces. Only Jean O’Donnell remained cool and composed. Lafferty felt himself become mesmerised by her. As the last chord of the organ faded away he decided it was time to throw himself on her mercy.

“As your priest it is my job to explain things to you when they might not be obvious in themselves,” he began. “Today you look to me to explain why a young life, that of Mary O’Donnell, has been taken away in the manner it was and I have to say to you that I cannot.”

Some of the sobbing died down as surprise took over. A murmur ran round the chapel. Lafferty met Jean O’Donnell’s eyes and thought he saw a slight reaction there. “I have to confess to you that I have no idea why God took Mary’s life. It’s as much a mystery to me as it is to you. I, like you, will have to hope that there was a reason, a good reason, something perhaps that we might not be able to understand, but a reason nonetheless. The only comforting thought I can offer you is that there are lots of things in the universe that we in this life cannot understand. It would be arrogant of us to pretend otherwise, although we constantly do; it seems to be in our nature. Having said that, I feel I have to offer you my apologies for not being able to do better. You expected more of me, I’m sure, and for that I am sincerely sorry. For what it’s worth, you have my heartfelt apologies.”

Jean O’Donnell had been looking at the floor while Lafferty spoke. When he stopped she raised her head slowly and met his gaze. Her eyes softened and she gave him a slight smile and a nod. Lafferty felt relief flood through him like a warm glow. He smiled back and continued with the service.

Lafferty travelled in the first car behind the hearse along with the O’Donnells. He and Jean did not say much but he knew that it was all right between them again. Joe had not proved to be the problem he feared he might and had seemed well-comforted with his deliberate references to ‘Mary’s loving father’. He was sobbing slightly as he sat with his arm round Jean but Lafferty thought that was a good sign. Tears were such a wonderful safety valve. It was a pity that men could not use them more often.

As the hearse turned in through the gates of the crematorium, Lafferty turned to Jean and whispered, “I’ll make it as brief as I possibly can.”

Jean nodded and Lafferty got out first to hurry into the chapel to see that everything was ready. It was. There was a faint aura of perfume left by the mourners from previous funeral party, but the chapel had been cleared and the pall-bearers had positioned Mary’s coffin expertly over the hydraulic lift so that it would be clear to sink down through the floor at the right moment without impediment. For the moment, it was covered with a purple cloth trimmed with gold, worn in places through constant daily use. It was almost worn through where it draped over the corners of the coffin. Its only function was to cover the hole left in the floor when the coffin sank down for disposal in the ovens.

Lafferty said a last few words and raised his hand in blessing. There was a slight whine as an electric motor primed the hoist and the purple cloth started to sink to the floor. Lafferty watched it and paled as an awful thought came into his head. Was Mary O’Donnell actually in the coffin?

Mary had died in HTU... as had Simon Main. Lafferty found himself breathing deeply as if on the verge of a panic attack. This was ridiculous, he told himself. But it was no use, he couldn’t get the idea out of his head. Quite suddenly he snapped shut his prayer book and, without saying anything to anyone, he hurried out of the chapel and looked around for an attendant. He saw one talking to one of the drivers of the official cars and rushed over to ask him where the furnace room was.

The puzzled man stubbed out his cigarette with his foot and pointed him in the right direction saying, “There’s a flight of steps just behind these bushes.”

Lafferty gathered up his vestments and broke into a run.

The steps leading down to the furnace area were dangerously worn and wet. Their location in perpetual shade meant that they were covered in green moss and he almost lost his footing as he hurried down them. The experience made him slow down and think ahead. How was he going to handle this, he asked himself. He paused for a moment, breathing heavily, with his hands resting on the old wooden door at the foot of the steps. The coffin must be in the furnace room by now. There was no time to think up some convincing excuse if he was to see for himself that all was well. He turned the handle of the door and it opened.

It was warm in the corridor as he hurried towards where he could hear voices. He could also hear the clang of metal and in his mind he saw a furnace door being shut. Was he too late? Had the coffin already been consigned to the fire? He turned into the room to find two startled attendants.

“Has the O’Donnell coffin gone in yet?” he asked.

The two men didn’t ask who Lafferty was. They noted his vestments and said, “Not yet, Father, is there a problem?”

“Where is it please?”

One of the men pointed to a small room to Lafferty’s left. He looked in and saw this was where the hoist ended up. He could see the trap door in the ceiling leading up to the chapel. On the floor to one side was Mary O’Donnell’s coffin.

“I need to open it,” said Lafferty.

The men looked at each other and looked bemused. “I don’t understand,” said one. “What’s going on?”

Lafferty’s head was spinning. He couldn’t tell the men that he wanted to check that there was a body inside because of the chain reaction he would set off if there wasn’t! He couldn’t expect the attendants to keep quiet about it and what this might do to Joe and Jean O’Donnell was beyond imagination. “I made a promise to this young girl,” he lied.

“A promise, Father?” asked one of the men uncertainly.

“I promised her that I would see that she had a crucifix in her hand when she was put in her coffin.” Lafferty had his back to the men; he was staring at the coffin. He screwed his eyes shut at the weakness of his improvised excuse. He could hear the organ playing in the chapel above.

“I thought she was killed outright, Father?” said the man who did all the talking.

Lafferty screwed his eyes shut tighter. “No,” he lied. “She came round briefly at the hospital. I spoke to her.”

It was always the way, he thought. You tell one lie and before you know it, you’re in real trouble.

“I see,” said the man. “Well, in that case...”

“Thank you,” said Lafferty taking a breath and turning round. “It won’t take long. Do you have a screwdriver?”

The attendant who had remained silent fetched one and handed it to Lafferty. He seemed as if he was about to watch the proceedings as did the other man.

“I wonder if I could do this in private, gentlemen, out of respect for the poor girl?” Lafferty asked.

The men mumbled their agreement and withdrew from the room. Lafferty closed the door slightly so that they couldn’t see in easily from outside and started to undo the screws securing the lid. Even when all of them were removed the lid remained securely in place. Lafferty, whose pulse rate was now topping one hundred and thirty, cursed under his breath. He could see that the problem lay in the varnish, which was acting as a glue. It must have been soft when the lid had been screwed down. He inserted the flat blade of the screwdriver between the lid and the casket and rammed it in with the palm of his hand. He had to repeat this at intervals along the side until he felt the lid become free. He paused for a moment, whispering, ‘Forgive me Mary,’ under his breath before pushing the lid aside. There was no body inside.

Despite his suspicion that this might be the case, it still came as a shock. He stared at what lay inside, several plastic bags filled with some kind of fluid to provide weight. He picked up one and held it in the palms of his hands while he wondered what to do next. One of the men coughing outside reminded him that he didn’t have much time. He had to make a decision and he made it.

Lafferty replaced the plastic weight and positioned the lid back on the coffin. Replacing the screws quickly, he stood up to compose himself for a moment before stepping outside and saying to the attendants, “All done chaps. Thank you.”

“Right, Father, we’ll get on with it then.”

Lafferty watched as the two men brought Mary O’Donnell’s coffin out of the side room and placed it on a roller-topped trolley in front of the oven door. He drew back a little when it was opened and a blast of hot air swept past him. The coffin was manoeuvred into position and slid inside. The door was closed and the gas turned up.

“Thank you gentlemen,” said Lafferty. “I’m obliged to you.”

Most of the mourners from the O’Donnell funeral had already left when Lafferty returned to the parking area outside the chapel. The next funeral was already under way and he could hear the sound of the twenty-third psalm drifting out into the cold damp air yet again. Jean and Joe had not yet left. It was clear that Jean had been holding up matters to wait for him. The driver of the car was looking at his watch.

“Sorry about that, Jean,” said Lafferty as he joined the O’Donnells.

“Is something the matter, Father?” asked Jean.

Lafferty looked her in the eye and said, “No Jean, nothing at all, just a technicality.” Lying was getting easier by the minute, he noted.

Jean O’Donnell looked doubtful but the moment passed and she said, “You’ll come back to the house?”

“Of course,” said Lafferty, ushering Jean into the car.

It was two in the afternoon when Lafferty got back to St Xavier’s. Mrs Grogan asked him if he wanted some lunch.

Lafferty said that he wasn’t hungry. He had gone back to the O’Donnell’s flat and had had boiled ham sandwiches.

“You made your own bed this morning, Father,” remarked Mrs Grogan.

“I didn’t make it Mrs Grogan,” he replied. “I didn’t go to bed last night.”

“I see, Father,” said Mrs Grogan. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been looking a bit off-colour lately.”

Lafferty smiled and thanked Mrs Grogan for her concern. “I’m all right. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

“I see, Father.”

He looked at her and thought, no you don’t, “Mrs Grogan. You most definitely don’t.”

Lafferty shut himself away in his study and poured himself a drink. He felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights of some heavy oncoming vehicle. He desperately wanted to go to the police and hand everything over to them. God! that would be so good. He could be free of the whole nightmare in one fell swoop. But he couldn’t. He had to think of what it would do to John Main and the O’Donnells. Neither Main nor the O’Donnell family could cope with the stress of his awful secret being made public. Besides, by allowing Mary O’Donnell’s coffin to be burned he had destroyed the evidence that it was empty. He picked up the phone and called the hospital; he asked to speak to Sarah Lasseter at HTU. He was told that Sarah was not on duty.

“When will she be on duty?” he asked.

“Dr Lasseter is due on at six. May I say who’s calling?”

“Father Lafferty.”

“Very good, Father, I’ll tell her you called.”

More waiting, thought Lafferty as he drained his glass. He couldn’t face being trapped indoors until six. He had to seek distraction in doing something — something that demanded physical effort; that would make him hurt and take his mind off the problem. It had been at least two years since he had last gone for a run. There had been at a time when running for charity had been much in vogue and he had felt obliged to join a group of younger members of the local churches in running for ‘the world’. In the event, he had enjoyed the training runs and even taking part in the final event — a half marathon. He had hoped to keep up his running but, like so many other things, the notion had faded as other matters made demands on his time. He tried to think where the kit he had bought at the time might be. In the end, he asked Mrs Grogan.

“Track suit?” she exclaimed.

“A Navy blue one with a green flash down the trousers as I remember,” said Lafferty, slightly irked that the notion of him going for a run should provoke such astonishment.

Mrs Grogan shook her head slowly then her face lit up as she remembered. “Oh yes, I know,” she said. “I’ll get it.”

“Just tell me,” he said but it was too late. Mrs Grogan had rushed off. He shook his head. Mrs Grogan getting on his nerves today. He concluded that she probably was but this was a more a reflection of his own state of mind rather than any fault of hers. His nerves were strung to breaking point.

Mrs Grogan came back with the track suit and Lafferty thanked her. He knew where his training shoes were; they were in a cardboard box in the hall cupboard along with the table-tennis gear for the church hall. Within five minutes he was running out through the gates of St Xavier’s and heading briskly towards the park. For the first mile or so Lafferty could do nothing but think about the aches and pains that were developing in his limbs, but as his bones seemed to settle down and accept that he wasn’t going to stop just yet, his mind turned again to the nightmare. Finding out that Mary O’Donnell’s coffin had been empty had proved that his suspicions concerning Simon Main’s fate had been right. He need have no qualms about alarming John Main unnecessarily now. The question was just when and where to tell him. Perhaps it would be a good idea to arrange a meeting between the three of them — Sarah Lasseter, Main and himself. They could perhaps decide on a joint course of action.

Lafferty came to a particularly steep section in his chosen route and stopped thinking until he had crested the top and his breathing had settled down again. There was only one thing against involving John Main, he thought, and that was the fact that he was personally involved. His heart might rule his head and that might make him a liability. On the other hand, the man had a right to know what had happened to his son and the mere fact that satanic ritual and black magic were probably not involved after all must surely afford him some comfort. Main was an intelligent man. Perhaps he could be constrained into following a jointly agreed course of action.

Lafferty decided that this was the way ahead. He would call Main after he had spoken to Sarah Lasseter. He was now sweating freely and the original sharpness of the pain in his limbs was being replaced by a dull ache as fatigue began to set in. This was the pain he had sought. It was going to dull his sense to everything else for the next half hour.

Sarah Lasseter called at six thirty. “I got your message,” she said.

“Can we meet?” asked Lafferty. “We have to talk.”

“I’m on duty until the morning,” said Sarah.

“And then you’ll have to catch up on some sleep,” said Lafferty thoughtfully. “That would make it some time tomorrow evening...”

“I wish!” said Sarah. “I’m back on duty at two in the afternoon tomorrow.”

“Oh dear,” said Lafferty. “I didn’t realise...”

“Most people don’t, Father.”

“Are you the only doctor on duty tonight in HTU?”

“Yes, why?”

“Could I come up there?”

The suggestion took Sarah by surprise. “I suppose so...” she said uncertainly.

“I don’t want to cause you any problems,” said Lafferty quickly. “Just say if you think it’s not a good idea.”

“No,” said Sarah firmly, now that she had had time to think. “I don’t see that anyone could object. We can talk in the doctors’ room and I’ll be here if anyone needs me.”

“Good,” said Lafferty. “What time would be best?”

“Let me see... Let’s say, any time after eleven. The nursing staff will have changed by then and everything should be settled for the night. With any luck we won’t be disturbed.”

“I’ll come at half past,” said Lafferty.

“See you then,” said Sarah.

“Oh, one more thing...”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to bring somebody with me.”

“Who?”

“John Main.”

“Simon Main’s father?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t you give me an idea what this is all about?” asked Sarah.

“Later,” said Lafferty.

“Very well,” she sighed.

Lafferty called John Main at home. He let the phone ring a good long time, but there was no reply. He berated himself for not considering the possibility that Main might be out and decided to try Main’s number at half hourly intervals until it was time to go to the hospital. Main answered at half past nine.

“I tried to get you earlier,” said Lafferty.

“I went to a séance,” said Main.

“I see,” said Lafferty, wondering about Main’s state of mind and considering whether it was such a good idea after all to involve him at this stage.

“I thought I might meet someone to give me some idea how to get at these bastards,” said Main. “But it was just a bunch of housewives playing themselves. They were about as close to satanism as Mother Theresa.”

Lafferty was relieved. Main hadn’t gone to the séance in some kind of desperate attempt to contact his son, as with the Ouija board incident, but in logical pursuit of his investigation. “Can we meet?” he asked.

“Tonight?” asked Main, obviously surprised.

“It’s important. I want you to come with me to the hospital. We’re going to meet with one of the doctors there. I’ve got something to tell you both.”

“You know something about Simon?” asked Main.

“Yes,” replied Lafferty. “I do.”

Main arrived at St Xavier’s at eleven fifteen and Lafferty offered him a drink. He declined and asked what it was that Lafferty had discovered.

“I don’t want to say just yet,” replied Lafferty. “I want Dr Lasseter to hear what I have to say at the same time.”

“Can’t you give me a clue?” asked Main, betraying his frustration.

“You won’t have long to wait,” soothed Lafferty. “I said we’d be there at half past.”

Main looked at his watch and said, “We’d best get started then. Your car or mine?”

“Mine,” said Lafferty.

The hospital was quiet at that time of night and Lafferty had no trouble parking inside the gates. He left the car in an empty bay of three spaces marked, CONSULTANTS ONLY, saying to Main, “I’m sure there won’t be too many consultants abroad at this time of night.”

Sarah Lasseter had been keeping an eye open for them; she saw them as soon as they appeared at the doors to HTU and let them in. She greeted Lafferty and was introduced to John Main. Sarah was keeping her voice low and the others took their cue from her to do likewise. “In here,” she said, ushering them into the doctors’ room.

Lafferty noticed the duty nurse crane her head from where she sat at the console at the head of the ward to see what was going on but Sarah did not approach her to provide any explanation.

“Would anyone like coffee?” asked Sarah. Lafferty sensed that she was nervous. Both he and Main declined. Sarah poured herself some and sat down to face them at the table. “This is all very mysterious,” she said.

Main said to her, “If it’s any comfort it’s as much a mystery to me.” They both turned to Lafferty who was having difficulty in knowing where to begin.

“First,” he said. “I must ask for your assurance that when you’ve heard what I have to say it will go no further without all three of us agreeing?”

Sarah and Main exchanged glances before giving their assurances.

Lafferty took a deep breath and began, “Yesterday I officiated at the funeral of a young girl called Mary O’Donnell. She died here in HTU, just like Simon. She was involved in a motor cycle accident.” Lafferty looked at the floor for a moment in silence before adding, “Only I didn’t.”

“I don’t understand,” said Sarah.

“Nor me,” said Main. “You didn’t what?”

“I didn’t really officiate at Mary’s funeral because Mary herself did not attend. She wasn’t in the coffin.”

Sarah’s mouth fell open. Main looked equally shocked.

“She wasn’t in her coffin any more than I believe your son, Simon was in his,” continued Lafferty turning to Main.

“But this is...” Main could not find words.

“Beyond belief?” asked Lafferty. “I thought so myself when the idea first occurred to me but now I’m in no doubt. Simon’s body, Mary’s body and God knows how many others, never actually made it to their funerals.”

“But what happened to them?” exclaimed Sarah.

Lafferty looked at her and said, “That’s what I was rather hoping you might be able to help with.”

“Me!” exclaimed Sarah.

“The answer must lie here in HTU. Both Simon and Mary died here,” said Lafferty.

“How do you know Mary wasn’t in her coffin?” asked Sarah.

“I looked,” replied Lafferty.

“But how can you be sure about Simon?” asked Main who had been lost in his own thoughts.

“I can’t be absolutely sure,” conceded Lafferty, “but everything points towards it when you think about it.”

He told Main how his suspicions had been aroused after the incident with the severed hand. “It was just too over the top,” said Lafferty. “Someone was too keen to have us believe in the satanist scenario. The down-and-out, McKirrop, must have given them the idea when he lied to the police and the press about that night. The only thing he saw in the cemetery was an empty coffin. That was why he was killed, to keep his mouth shut and perpetuate the devil worship theory. It’s ironic really. It’s my guess he made up the hooded men story to avoid identifying the yobs; they probably threatened him. As it turned out, this suited the real villains very well. There was no missing body for them to explain and the yobs could hardly speak the truth because no one would believe them, least of all after McKirrop’s tale. McKirrop himself must have threatened to tell the truth, and that’s what made him dangerous. They killed him, then when John got close to the tearaways and the police were called in that made them dangerous too.”

“It does make a lot of sense,” agreed Sarah.

“So what did happen to Simon’s body?” asked Main.

“I don’t know,” confessed Lafferty. “That’s what we have to find out and I think our best chance of doing that is if they, whoever they are, don’t know we suspect anything.”

“Where do we begin?” asked Sarah.

“Tell us what happens when a patient dies in HTU,” said Lafferty.

Sarah shrugged her shoulders and said, “The nursing staff prepare the body, the hospital porters are called and the body is removed to the mortuary. The relatives then instruct a firm of funeral directors and they take it from there.”

“What does that involve?” asked Main.

“The funeral directors either come and measure the body themselves or have some arrangement with the mortuary attendants to do this. They then come with the coffin, put the body in it and take it away.”

“So the funeral firm’s men actually see the body?” asked Lafferty.

“Yes,” replied Sarah. “Unless...”

“Yes?”

“Unless the patient has died from some highly contagious disease. In that case the body would be sealed in a special bag and then placed in a specially designed coffin which the director might supply but he wouldn’t necessarily be present when the body was enclosed.”

“That hardly applies in this case does it?” said Main.

“No,” agreed Sarah.

Suddenly the door of the room was opened and Derek Logan came in. Sarah stiffened.

“I’m sorry,” said Logan in a tone that said that he wasn’t. “I didn’t realise you were entertaining, Dr Lasseter. I thought you were on duty.”

“I am Dr Logan,” replied Sarah frostily. “Was there something?”

“I came by to take a look at the Keegan boy. His tests this morning seemed to suggest he was going downhill. But if you’re busy...”

Sarah got up and excused herself before following Logan out of the room. The tension between them persisted while they stood on either side of the patient’s bed and ran through the monitor read-outs together. As Logan finished noting down the last reading into his Filofax he said, “I thought you realised, Doctor, that being on duty meant giving your undivided attention to your patients.”

“When they need it, they have it,” replied Sarah, but she knew that Logan had the upper hand. He was not going to let her off lightly.

“I hardly think that socialising with your friends is compatible with giving ‘undivided attention’, do you?”

“I am not ‘socialising with my friends’, as you put it,” replied Sarah. “Mr Main and Father Lafferty had something they wished to discuss with me.”

“Main?” said Logan.

“Simon Main’s father,” said Sarah. “You may remember, Simon was a patient here in HTU. He died.”

“I remember,” said Logan. “What exactly do they want?” he asked, now more puzzled than annoyed.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” replied Sarah, intrigued by the change that had come over Logan.

“If it concerns HTU in any way, I should be told,” Logan said angrily. “Do I have to remind you that you are a junior doctor in this unit?”

“I don’t think so,” replied Sarah evenly. “I think you have made that perfectly clear to me on every conceivable occasion.”

“I demand to be told what’s going on.”

“And I must repeat that I am not at liberty to say.”

“You leave me no alternative but to inform Dr Tyndall of this,” Logan warned.

“As you wish, Doctor,” replied Sarah coldly.

Logan stormed out and Sarah let out her breath in a long sigh. The staff nurse at the console who had been out of earshot, though aware that all was not well, gave her a sympathetic shrug. Sarah returned to the doctors’ room.

Lafferty got up from the table and said, “This is all my fault. We should never have come here. Perhaps I could speak to Dr Tyndall and explain?”

Sarah smiled her appreciation. “Dr Logan and I just do not get on. He wanted to know what you were doing here.”

“You didn’t tell him?” said Lafferty.

“No, that’s why he was so angry.”

“Maybe we should go?” said Main.

“No,” said Sarah firmly. “He has already decided to report me to Dr Tyndall but that’s of no consequence. We have to find out what happened to Simon and Mary. Now, where were we?”

Lafferty gave Sarah a look of admiration and said, “We were discussing whether the funeral directors would know if a body was missing.”

“And there’s something we have been avoiding discussing for my benefit,” said Main.

Lafferty and Sarah exchanged a silent look.

“We haven’t discussed why the bodies went missing,” said Main. “We haven’t discussed who would want them.”

“No, we haven’t,” agreed Lafferty quietly, a bit unsure of Main’s intentions and considering the possibility of an imminent explosion.

“Dare I suggest that we all know why the medical profession might want to hang on to the bodies?” asked Main. When Lafferty and Sarah did not respond he added, “Spare parts.”

There was a slight tremor in Main’s hand, Lafferty noted but he seemed to be well in control of himself. Lafferty said, “I have to confess that the thought had occurred to me.”

“Me too,” agreed Sarah.

“I refused permission when I was asked at the time,” said Main.

“So did the O’Donnells,” added Sarah.

“But some bastard thought they would go ahead anyway,” said Main bitterly.

“Unfortunately, I think you may be right,” said Lafferty.

Main folded his hands on the table in front of him and made a gesture of frustration with his shoulders before saying, “The ironic thing is, I don’t really mind. At the time when I was asked, I was consumed with grief and couldn’t bear the thought of anyone interfering with Simon’s body. I refused point blank... it was almost a reflex action. But if I had been asked a little later, or in slightly different circumstances, I think I would have said yes. But I wasn’t.”

Lafferty nodded his understanding and Sarah gave Main a smile of encouragement.

“The really ironic thing,” said Main, “is that I actually had feelings of guilt after the funeral about having said no!”

Lafferty was glad that Main was speaking openly about his feelings. Main seemed much more comfortable with the new explanation of his son’s fate than anything involving satanism or the occult. It was almost as if he felt relieved by it.

“So what we are dealing with is a scandal,” said Main.

“A scandal involving murder,” Lafferty corrected him.

“So it’s an organised scam... involving organs to order?” suggested Main.

“I suppose it could be,” agreed Sarah cautiously, “but do you realise what sort of organisation that would involve?”

“Tell us,” said Lafferty.

“Our patients would have to be tissue-typed before their death to match up with the ‘orders’. The organs would have to be removed very quickly after death. This would involve surgeons and theatre facilities standing by, and then there’s transport. I don’t see how all this could be arranged secretly.”

Main said, “Maybe I’m cynical but I tend to think that if the money is big enough most things can be arranged.”

“So who is doing it?” Lafferty asked Sarah suddenly.

“Logan,” she replied almost automatically.

“You’re sure?” asked Lafferty.

“I know I’m biased because I dislike the man so much but everything points to it,” said Sarah. “He has a bee in his bonnet about getting transplant permission. He thinks Dr Tyndall should press much harder for it and gets annoyed when he doesn’t. I’ve heard him complain that Tyndall’s far too soft on several occasions.”

“I remember now,” said Main. “Logan asked if he could have a word with me after Simon died but Doctor Tyndall stopped him. I didn’t know what it was about at the time but now what Tyndall said makes sense. He told Logan the matter was closed. I had made ‘my decision’.”

“This was after you had refused permission for organ removal?” asked Lafferty.

“Yes.”

“And then there’s his involvement in John McKirrop’s death,” said Sarah. “I’m sure it was him.”

Lafferty told Main about the suspicious circumstances surrounding John McKirrop’s death.

“Did Logan recognise us?” asked Main.

“I told him who you were,” replied Sarah.

“Then you must now be in danger,” said Main.

“I didn’t tell him why you were here,” said Sarah.

“He’ll work it out for himself,” said Lafferty.

“Maybe we could make something up?” suggested Main. “An alternative reason for our being here.”

“At midnight? The father of a boy whose body went missing and the parish priest who has an interest in both John McKirrop and Mary O’Donnell. Would you believe an alternative explanation?” asked Lafferty.

“No,” conceded Main. “I wouldn’t.”