I Have Sinned Page 9

  Bianca gave him a big grin. “You know it!”

  He bumped fists with Emilio and then hopped into the SUV. It pulled off and headed back down Bleacher.

  “Man,” said Bianca, “having your big brother is like having your very own fairy godmother.”

  “Yeah,” said Trey without enthusiasm.

  Emilio said nothing. He and Trey had talked about Pocket long into the night on more than one occasion.

  They continued their walk, nobody saying anything for about half a block, until Emilio touched Bianca’s arm. “Hey, B. Brothers can be c… complicated. You know any b… b… books ’bout that?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Father Gabriel rang the doorbell and then glanced up at Bunny. It was noticeable that, for a man who had remained remarkably calm through the ordeal of being kidnapped, the priest seemed extremely nervous now. Bunny wasn’t without sympathy. He’d met Sister Bernadette twenty years ago in Dublin, and though he’d helped her out several times over the years, the woman had never lost the ability to put the fear of God into him.

  “Let me do the talking,” said Father Gabriel.

  “Right.”

  Bunny was equally nervous – the two of them standing there like young lads picking up their dates for a dance. He’d been looking for the Sisters of the Saint for nine long, gruelling months, and now he was finally on the doorstep of the women who could hopefully lead him to Simone.

  This was the first time Bunny had stood beside the priest. The man was five-eight at best and slight of build, with round framed glasses that made him a prime candidate to illustrate the dictionary definition of the word “bookish”. And yet Bunny had opened the back door of a van to discover two unconscious men while the padre kneeled there calmly, as if praying for their souls. Try as he might, Bunny couldn’t get a read on the guy.

  The building they were standing outside appeared to be an abandoned school. Carved from an unwelcoming grey granite that gave it an air of foreboding, it was four storeys high and in a state of disrepair. It looked like it was waiting for a wrecking ball to put it out of its misery. There were bars on the lower windows. Those that weren’t boarded shut were the kind of translucent glass that educational institutions of a certain era specialised in, designed to let light in but not allow any young imaginations out. Bunny was glad they hadn’t had that in his day. It was a long time ago now, but the strongest memory he had from school was the entire class sitting through a maths lesson while surreptitiously watching two dogs shagging on the lawn outside. As far as the Christian Brothers went, it was the closest thing they’d ever had to sex education.

  The surrounding area looked like what Bunny now considered typical working-class New York. Ethnically diverse, rough around the edges, but nicer than Coopersville, where Father Gabriel’s church was situated. Admittedly, Bunny was mainly basing that on the fact that they’d been there for several minutes and nobody had tried to mug him yet.

  Father Gabriel looked at the doorbell, considering if enough time had passed for a third ring.

  “Are you sure they’re in?” said Bunny.

  “They’re in.”

  “It doesn’t look like anyone’s here.”

  “They’re in,” he repeated.

  “Fair enough.”

  The whole place looked deserted to Bunny.

  Father Gabriel reached his hand out towards the bell and then pulled it quickly away as he heard a bolt being slid back on the other side of the door.

  The door opened just enough for a woman in a wimple to stick her head out. Bunny was taken aback – he didn’t know what he’d expected, but she was maybe in her forties and strikingly beautiful, with piercing blue eyes. She looked like the nun you’d expect if the role had been cast by someone whose only experience of them had been watching The Sound of Music.

  “Hi, Father Gabriel.”

  “Hello, Sister Dionne.”

  “Is everything OK?”

  “Yes, fine.”

  The nun looked Bunny up and down. “How is Father Martin over at St Justin’s?”

  “Still dead, God rest his soul,” responded the priest.

  Dionne nodded. Bunny guessed the question was a test, a chance to signal if something was wrong. Satisfied that Gabriel was at least not there against his will, Dionne relaxed slightly. “We’re not accepting visitors right now, Father.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

  “I appreciate that but I’m afraid your timing isn’t great. We’re not open for business.”

  “Please,” said Bunny, who shut up after Gabriel laid a hand on his arm.

  “Please,” said Gabriel. “I need to speak to you, and this man… He has helped me out with something. He has been looking for you.”

  “Yes,” said Dionne, “we’re aware of him. A large, bearded Irishman has been looking for us for quite some time now.”

  Bunny raised his eyebrows. “You knew?”

  She turned to look directly at him. “That you have been looking for us? Yes. Knowing who’s looking for you is a large part of being good at not being found. Or at least that used to be the case.” She looked pointedly at Father Gabriel.

  “Please, Sister, he says he has information you need to hear, and…” Gabriel hesitated. “I will vouch for him.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m under strict instructions.”

  Dionne disappeared from view and the door started to close. “Please,” said Bunny. “What about Bernadette?”

  After a moment, the nun stuck her head back out and eyed Bunny suspiciously. “What about her?”

  “Can I talk to her? She knows me. Bunny McGarry. Tell her it’s important. Simone is in danger.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “Simone?”

  “No,” said Dionne. “Sister Bernadette.”

  “They used to have a house in Rathmines in Dublin. Twenty years ago, now. Simone lived with them for a bit and then, after she left Dublin, I helped Bernadette out with a few things. I know Assumpta too!”

  Dionne eyed Bunny. “You’ve spoken to Assumpta?”

  “Yeah – well, no – well…”

  Father Gabriel gave Bunny a quizzical look.

  “It’s sort of a trick question,” said Bunny. “Assumpta never spoke much.”

  Sister Dionne looked at Bunny for several seconds, clearly internally debating something. “Oh, damn it – hang on.”

  The door closed and they could hear chains being removed. It reopened again and the two men stepped into a long, dank hallway with a marble floor. At another time, a small part of Bunny would’ve been mad keen to slide along it in his socks.

  “I’m going to regret this. Are you armed?” asked Dionne.

  Both of them shook their heads. Bunny had stashed the handgun he had recently acquired in the glove compartment of the cab.

  “Good,” she said, closing the door behind them. “Just so we’re clear” – Dionne raised her hand to show them the Glock 9 she was holding – “I am.”

  She led them up two flights of stairs and into a classroom. On the walk up, Bunny changed his mind – the place could never be demolished, it was far too valuable as a set for horror movies. At one point they passed a wall which had a mural that might once have depicted Jesus meeting a joyous group of children. Unfortunately, time – and a leak somewhere in the roof – had made it look like Jesus was a demented psychopath who was melting children with his superpowers while beaming a happy grin.

  Dionne instructed them to wait in the classroom and then disappeared. The room was lit by one buzzing fluorescent light on the ceiling, which flickered on and off occasionally, and the waning sunlight from the end of a New York afternoon coming through the dirty windows. Bunny made the mistake of cramming his bulk into one of the all-in-one wooden desks, just to see if he could. He quickly came to deeply regret this decision, as he was pretty sure he was unlikely to get out of the desk without leaving a pile of kindling in his wake. Father
Gabriel stood at the window, looking out the top half, which was clear glass, lost in his own thoughts.

  “So,” said Bunny, “how long have you known the sisters?”

  “A while.”

  “How’d you meet?”

  The priest didn’t answer. Bunny nodded to himself and drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Between the limited time he had spent in the priest’s company and the seven days he had spent trapped in a cab with Smithy, he was getting royally sick of the strong, silent type.

  Fifteen minutes later, Bunny was halfway through trying to subtly slide himself out of the desk when the door opened and Dionne walked back in. She didn’t look any happier with her lot in life than when she had left them.

  “Sister Dorothy will see you now.”

  The priest nodded and moved to follow Dionne back out of the room. They both stopped to look at Bunny. Dionne raised her eyebrows. “Will you be joining us?”

  Bunny fell to the floor in three embarrassingly ungraceful stages and then managed to wriggle his way out of the table. Dionne turned to look at Gabriel, who shook his head.

  “Sorry about that. Seems I might have put on a bit of weight since the last time I was in one. ’Tis the portion sizes in this country, I’m telling everyone.”

  Dionne led them down the hall and into what appeared to be the principal’s office. A nun sat behind an imposing wooden desk. Bookshelves and filing cabinets lined the walls, with another door at the back of the room. The woman – Sister Dorothy – spoke in a West African accent that was both melodious and authoritative at the same time. “Hello, Father. It is always nice to see you.”

  The message wasn’t exactly subtle.

  Dionne moved to stand behind Dorothy, leaning against the other door.

  “I’m—” started Bunny, but he stopped as the nun glared at him. He reckoned she was probably well into her sixties, but she was reaping the benefits of all that clean living. She didn’t have any laughter lines, although that may have been because she wasn’t much of a laugher.

  “I know who you are,” she said. “We have been following your efforts to locate us.” She looked pointedly at Father Gabriel. “We thought we had assured that you finding us would not be possible.”

  Father Gabriel looked uncomfortable again. “I am sorry, Sister. He heard of my connection to you because of the situation you helped me with last year.”

  “A strict proviso of which was that you forget we existed. Did we not make that clear?”

  Father Gabriel nodded. “You did. When he first approached me, I denied all knowledge of you.”

  “And yet here you are.”

  “The situation changed.”

  “How exactly?”

  “Bishop Ramirez is dead.”

  For the first time, the woman’s visage of cool and certain anger cracked. “I had not heard that. I am sorry. He was a good man and I know how much he meant to you.”

  “Yes, but…” Gabriel glanced at Bunny. “Perhaps we could discuss that later?”

  She looked at him for a long moment before nodding and then turning her gaze in Bunny’s direction. “Mr McGarry.” She enunciated each syllable of his name as if they were three separate words.

  “Hello, Sister. Sorry to barge in.”

  “Yes, well – I will say this for you, you are persistent. How long have you been looking for us? Six months?”

  “Nine, Sister. It’s important.”

  “It always is.”

  Bunny looked confused.

  “Do you honestly think you are the only man looking for us? For a group of celibate women, we have no shortage of male pursuers.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Isn’t it?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Let me guess exactly what it is like. There is a woman, important to you, who disappeared with our help and you want to find her?”

  “It’s not like that. I mean – alright, it is, but not how you’re making it sound. She’s in danger.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  “Not from me. She’s… People are after her – serious people. They won’t stop until they find her, if they haven’t already.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Speaking of which, may I enquire how you are not dead?” She turned back to Father Gabriel. “Are you aware that the man you brought to our home has risen from the dead? I have read his obituary in the newspaper; it seems he had quite a… colourful life. It concerns me that a man who is supposed to be dead and buried in Dublin is alive and well in New York. I wonder what kind of assistance he has been given in order to make that happen.”

  “OK,” said Bunny, “I can see how it looks. Can I just take a minute and explain, please?”

  Sister Dorothy nodded.

  “The woman I’m looking for is called Simone Delamere. She was in Dublin twenty years ago – because you helped her escape from New York. She was living in a house in Rathmines with Sister Bernadette and Sister Assumpta. The reason she had to get out of New York was…” Bunny hesitated. He found this part hard to explain. “There existed a certain tape of her with some powerful bloke and, well, certain people wanted it gone. She killed a man in self-defence. Self-defence,” he repeated.

  “I am aware of all of this.”

  “Right. Well, they found out where she was and a man came looking. I was able to help her but… the man and his associate ended up dead as part of the deal. Simone had to run again.”

  “Yes, we are aware.”

  “Alright,” said Bunny, “well, are you also aware that they came looking for Simone last year because the bodies of the two aforementioned dead guys were found? It turns out a lot of people want the tape they think Simone has. Powerful people in the US government.”

  “How badly do they want it?”

  “Well,” said Bunny, “let me put it this way: one side sent a team to follow me, in the hope I might lead them to her or the tape; and the other side faked my death to get me here to find her.”

  “So, you’re working for one of these ‘sides’?”

  Bunny shook his head emphatically. “No. I used them as a means to an end. I’m working for me. Actually, I’m working for Simone, so please, for the love of God, can you let her know that she’s in danger?”

  “We do not have any way of contacting the woman.”

  “Well then, could you give me a clue as to where she was when you lost contact? Any ideas on where she might have gone?”

  Dorothy shook her head. “No. We are not going to give that information to someone we don’t know.”

  “But… ye do know me. Ask Bernadette. We’ve had our differences, but she knows I wouldn’t lie about this. Not this.”

  Dorothy shook her head again.

  “Or Assumpta? She’ll remember me – probably.” Sister Assumpta was… odd was a kind word for it. She barely seemed conscious of her surroundings at times.

  Dorothy shook her head again.

  “Ah, for – please? I demand to speak to Bernadette.”

  “You demand?”

  “Please, I’m begging you?” To emphasise his point, Bunny fell to his knees – a dramatic gesture that he instantly wished he’d made on a non-wooden floor. “I’ll do anything.”

  “Get up. I am unimpressed by histrionics. You have made your point.”

  “But—”

  “You have made your point,” she repeated. “Please wait outside.”

  Bunny got himself back on his feet, and after a look around the room, as if trying to find something else to say, he turned and left.

  He stood outside for ten minutes while Gabriel spoke to Dorothy. Dionne stood awkwardly nearby, keeping an eye on him.

  Bunny leaned against the wall. “Honestly, Sister, I’m just trying to—”

  She held her hand up for silence, but when she spoke her tone was almost sympathetic. “Really, there is no point appealing to me. Sister Dorothy is the head of the order and I can’t go against her wishes.”

  Bunny sighed. “No disrespect, b
ut your order seems to specialise in recruiting women who are tough as old boots and stubborn as fecking mules.”

  Dionne gave a sad little smile. “You really have met Bernadette.”

  Bunny nodded.

  “I wouldn’t judge Dorothy on today. It’s been a rough few weeks. I’m afraid your timing sucks.”

  “Story of my life, Sister. Story of my life.”

  “Look,” said Dionne, “I’m making no promises, but leave me your number, and if Dorothy changes her mind, I’ll give you a call.”

  Bunny gave her the number of his burner phone and then they waited in awkward silence until Father Gabriel emerged.

  “Well,” said Dionne, “if that is all, I shall show you gentlemen out.”

  When they got outside, Father Gabriel bade Bunny a terse farewell and left. Bunny walked back around the corner to where the cab was parked. He’d hoped for so much more when he finally found the sisters, but still. There had been that moment, that single moment… When he had asked if they could give him a clue to Simone’s whereabouts, Sister Dionne had given a subtle involuntary head movement. She had looked in the direction of the filing cabinet in the corner.

  Smithy and Diller were leaning up against the cab, having taken the time to clean the remains of the garbage off it.

  “Well?” said Smithy. “How’d it go?”

  “Not great,” said Bunny.

  “Could you define ‘not great’?” asked Diller.

  “Let me put it to you this way: how would you two lads feel about helping me break into a nunnery?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Father Gabriel jumped when the bag lady touched him on the arm. She pulled back, shocked by his instinctively defensive posture. He stared up at her like a man just coming out of a dream or, to be more accurate, a nightmare. She was well into her sixties and had been trundling by with a shopping cart containing all of her earthly possessions.

  “What?” said Father Gabriel.

  “Sorry,” she said, already regretting getting involved. “Your phone is ringing.”