Part 36 (2/2)

*Lucky it wasn't Father White's.'

*Frank drove us out. And a good thing too. Patricia was in a real state.'

*I was not.'

Christine stood in the front, nose pressed against the window, head shooting from side to side with the rhythm of the windscreen wipers. Dr Finlay sat behind her, holding her waist so that she wouldn't take a tumble as Flynn urged the vehicle along the narrow lanes.

Patricia touched my arm. *I didn't know whether to say where you were, but when you didn't come back, I thought something terrible had happened, that you might be . . .'

I lifted her chin up. *Hey. You did the right thing.'

She gave me a wee smile. A kissy-on-the-nose smile. Which I did. *Would you have done the same, Dan, for me?' she asked.

*Well, I might have given it a couple more hours,' I said.

At the edge of town, the doctor insisted that Flynn stop the car. And the priest did, but without good grace. *What?' he snapped impatiently.

Finlay spoke calmly. *Frank, I know you're angry, but are you sure it's the wisest thing to just charge in and accuse Father White like this?'

*I'm not accusing him of anything. There's nothing to prove. All the evidence is there.'

*Okay, granted. But think of it. You know as well as I do that Father White isn't responsible for those deaths alone. He had help. He didn't shoot six people dead, drag their bodies out there, and then bury them. Friends, followers, disciples, call them what you will, but he had their help, and most likely they're with him now. If they can kill six . . .'

*When I inform the Council, it will take the correct-'

*d.a.m.n the Council, Frank! Don't you think some of them must be in on it as well?'

It was an obvious thought, but one that had not occurred to him, and for a moment Flynn's new-found determination seemed to waver. His face looked as innocent as Christine's had been before discovering the corpses. *I would have known about it,' he said.

Finlay raised his eyebrows. *You think so?'

Flynn started the engine again.

I put a hand on his shoulder. *White has the capacity to kill six people. Maybe we should think about dropping the women off. And Christine.'

*He's not going to shoot Christine!'

*We stay together, Dan,' Patricia said. *Safety in numbers.'

*I don't think you should take our baby in there.'

*Our baby?'

*Yes,' I said.

*Well, if he's our baby, his place is with us.'

I turned to Moira. She shook her head. *Christine's the boss, he wouldn't dare do anything.'

I looked at Finlay. *Looks like the troops aren't falling into line,' I said.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Christine thumped the window and gave an excited little yell. She pointed.

The town was still out of sight around the next bend, but there was a very definite funnel of thick black smoke billowing up into the air above it.

37.

Father White, grinning, sweating, signalled for the school gates to be opened, then watched as Father Flynn rolled our vehicle down the slight incline.

For a few moments after he pulled on the hand-brake, all we could do was stare.

A bonfire had been lit in the yard; children, working in relays, fed the flames with armfuls of books from the schoolroom. Round about them, shouting encouragement, stood half a dozen armed men. Worst of all: Duncan, hands tied, on his knees before the fire, grubby, muddy, a nasty-looking gash on his head, the side of his face caked with blood.

*Jesus Christ,' I said.

Curling black pages swirled upward in the wind. Sparks dashed everywhere.

Flynn recovered first. He jumped angrily from behind the wheel and hurried round to confront his colleague. *What on earth is going on?' he shouted.

Father White smiled broadly. *We're burning filth, that's what we're doing!' He turned to the kids and clapped his hands together. *That's it! Pile them on! Burn them up!'

Flynn looked anxiously back at us as we climbed out. Dr Finlay came round to the front of the vehicle, shaking his head in disbelief. *You can't burn books,' he said, flatly.

*Of course we can,' snapped White, *when they're filth!'

The doctor kicked his foot into the dirt. *This isn't n.a.z.i Germany.'

*Actually,' I pointed out, *it might be.'

There was a wild look about the priest. The adrenaline had taken over, or the madness. *We're not burning school books!' he exclaimed. *We're burning this pervert's private collection! A private library of filth! Would you believe he keeps it in the cla.s.sroom where any child can be exposed to it?'

Duncan, his head hanging down, spat out a mouthful of blood. *It's not filth,' he said groggily. I'd grown to like Duncan a little bit; he didn't strike me as the type to have kiddy p.o.r.n; he was a single man on a remote island, you couldn't blame him for having some p.o.r.n even if it wasn't much more than top-shelf stuff. But somehow I doubted that White's definition of filth coincided with mine.

Flynn was becoming increasingly incredulous. *I can't believe you've done this,' he said, trying to get past White, towards the fire, or Duncan, or both. But White stayed where he was.

*He tried to stop us, Frank!' White hissed. *We came to tell him first thing, to do it quietly, without fuss, simply take them away, but he wasn't here. And then he arrived covered in mud like a pig in a poke and attacked us. He's a dirty stop-out and he got hurt. I'm sorry, Frank, but it's the law.'

Startled, Flynn's head snapped away from the fire. *What law? There's no law against books, man!'

*But there is, Frank. It's Council law.'

*What?'

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