Sanctuary

31

I don’t remember much about the next forty-eight hours. Stewart had brought a concoction of Chinese remedies and medications and I think I said, ‘I’m not drinking any fucking herbal tea.’

He may have laughed.

I do know he applied various lotions to my body and I said, ‘Hope you’re not getting off on this.’

His smiled grimly. ‘Jack, you seen your body lately? Trust me, not even medical science would have an interest.’

I drifted in and out of consciousness, Stewart feeding me soup and potions. As he coerced me to drink some foul liquid he said, ‘This will knock you out.’

I might be able to pass it on to the guard, Tom, to save him kicking the shite out of people. I thought I kept hearing bells, though maybe they were just ringing in my head from the beating. But something was lurking on the edge of my mind and I couldn’t quite grasp hold of it.

When I was finally able to sit up, feel the beating receding, Stewart said, ‘You’re looking better. How do you feel?’

‘Hungry.’

He was about to reach into his bag of tricks and I said, ‘Fuck, no. Enough with the eastern stuff. I need some real food, like a fry-up.’

He sighed. ‘That crap will clog your arteries.’

I laughed and it didn’t hurt too much. ‘Stewart, look at me. You really think a few sausages and fried eggs are going to make a whole lot of difference to my general well-being?’

He nodded then asked, ‘What’s with the Ave Marias?’

‘What?’

He was laying out some clean clothes and I was afraid to ask if he’d done me laundry. He said, ‘You kept crying out “Its sweet tones announcing the sacred ave ” and other variations along those lines.’

The Angelus.

I said, ‘Oh fuck.’

He shook his head. ‘Sounds more like the Jack we know.’

I stood up. Despite a slight dizziness, I was OK. ‘The Angelus — it’s been obsessing me all this time. Don’t you see what it means?’

He didn’t. ‘You’re getting religious?’

My mind was clearing and I said, ‘Where would a nun feel safe, seek shelter — seek sanctuary, so to speak — apart from a convent? Where would she be warm and, best of all, familiar?’

He shook his head.

‘She’s hiding out in a church,’ I told him.

He thought about it. ‘Makes sense. Galway might be cosmopolitan but we still have a lot of churches — nearly as many as pubs.’

I found a sheet of paper and started to list all the churches. ‘She’d have to use one that is familiar to her, where she knows the routine of the priests, when it’s safe to be there, and one she has access to.’

Stewart said, ‘I could ring the Mother Superior, ask what church they used.’

‘But convents have their own churches. She’s hardly using that.’

He grabbed the piece of paper, looked at the list, said he’d make a few calls.

I used the time to have a shower and managed to wash without seeing too much of the markings on my body. The plastic baton mightn’t leave signs but fists and boots sure do. But I was energized, I could feel the hunt in my blood and knew it was coming to the final showdown. I had a flash of intuition: why had Benedictus killed the nun? Of course, they’d thrown her out of the order, she’d been betrayed by her own, and so one of them had to atone for that.

When I got out of the shower, I had a blast of pure instinct and asked Stewart, ‘May I use your laptop?’

‘Sure.’

The adrenalin was shooting through my veins and I knew I was on course. I hit Google and typed in my request.

A moment, then up it came.

I muttered, ‘Jesus. . I was right.’

It was so obvious when you did the math.

Stewart said, ‘The Mother Superior asked me to high tea when I called her.’

‘There’s a low one?’

He smirked, said, ‘Yeah, for the Jack Taylors of this world.’

I let that slide. ‘Sounds like you’re a real hit with the Mother Superior.’

‘I could say I’ve a way with nuns but that sounds off.’

Not these days, if the papers were any indication.

He jabbed his finger on the sheet of paper, said, ‘Two churches, Salthill and the cathedral. The Mother Superior told me that their order was responsible for those two churches.’

I lied, ‘Salthill sounds the most likely.’

‘Why?’

I kept my face in neutral, said, ‘Rich parish, they can afford the heating.’

I knew something Stewart didn’t. The cathedral had a basement. I was tempted to tell him they kept the bodies of the bishops there and where better to hide a child? But instinct told me to keep that to myself.

Stewart hesitated then asked, ‘Jack, I hate to mention it, but how do we know the child is still alive? Wouldn’t she have, you know, done the deed by now? It’s been nearly five days.’

He told me the guards had literally blanketed the town, raiding every conceivable hiding place, rousing touts, leaning on snitches. The whole force was involved in the search.

I said, ‘She’s waiting for me before she kills the child. She needs me as a witness. Don’t ask me why, but that seems to be part of her warped plan.’

‘And Jack, what is your warped plan?’

I said, ‘We check out the two places ourselves first. I don’t want to bring the cops over on a wild goose chase, based purely on a hunch.’

‘So we go over to Salthill tonight? I’m presuming night is the time to go as the church should be closed then and we can operate without prying eyes.’

He was almost right. I said, ‘Night, yes, and Salthill first. Bring Ridge. Give her career a real boost if we’re right.’

He was suspicious. ‘What about you?’

I trod real careful, said, ‘I’ll check out the cathedral and then head out to Salthill. This way we cover all our bases and save time.’

He gave me a long look. ‘There’s something off about this, Jack. Are you telling me everything?’

I had to distract him. I raised my voice, said, ‘What’s off is the crazy bitch has a child and we can’t afford to be wrong.’

He wasn’t fully buying it, but went along with it.

I said, ‘Breakfast, my treat. And hey, you can even have herbal tea.’

As we headed out, he grumbled, ‘I could have had high tea.’

If I didn’t know better, I might have thought Stewart was developing a sense of humour.