The Governor nodded. “Yes, very good.”
Kline said, “I’ll have Bellini report in writing that he believes that there’s a good chance of carrying out a rescue with a minimum loss of life and property.”
Doyle said, “But Bellini’s like a yo-yo. He keeps changing his mind—” He looked sharply at Rourke. “Will he write such a statement?”
Rourke’s tone was anxious. “He’ll carry out any orders to attack … but as for signing any statement … he’s a difficult man. I know his position is that he needs more solid intelligence before he says he approves—”
Major Martin said, “Lieutenant Burke tells me he’s very close to an intelligence breakthrough.”
Everyone looked at Martin.
Martin continued. “He’ll have at least the blueprints, perhaps the architect himself, within the next hour. I can almost guarantee it.” Martin’s tone suggested that he didn’t want to be pressed further.
Kline said, “What we need from Inspector Langley are psy-profiles showing that half the terrorists in there are psychotic.”
Governor Doyle said, “Will these police officers cooperate?”
Spiegel answered. “I’ll take care of Langley. As for Schroeder, he’s very savvy and politically attuned. No problem there. Regarding Bellini, we’ll offer a promotion and transfer to wherever he wants.” Spiegel walked toward the telephone. “I’ll get the media right now and tell them that the negotiations are reaching a critical stage and it’s absolutely essential they delay on those Church appeals.”
Doyle said almost smugly, “At least I know my man, Logan, will do what he is told.” He turned to Kline. “Don’t forget, I want a piece of this, Murray. At least one squad has to be from the Sixty-ninth.”
Mayor Kline looked out the window. “Are we doing the right thing? Or have we all gone crazy?”
Martin said, “You’d be crazy to wait for dawn.” He added, “It’s odd, isn’t it, that the others didn’t want to share this with us?”
Roberta Spiegel looked up as she dialed. “Some rats have perceived a sinking ship and jumped off. Other rats have perceived a bandwagon and jumped on. Before the sun rises, we’ll know which rats saw things more clearly.”
Bert Schroeder sat at his desk in the Monsignor’s office. Langley, Bellini, and Colonel Logan stood, listening to Mayor Kline and Governor Doyle tell them what was expected of them. Schroeder’s eyes darted from Kline to Doyle as his thoughts raced wildly.
Roberta Spiegel sat in her rocker staring into the disused fireplace, absently twirling a brandy snifter in her hands. The room had grown cold, and she had Langley’s jacket draped over her shoulders.
Major Martin stood at the fireplace, occupied with the curios on the mantel.
Police Commissioner Rourke stood beside the Mayor, nodding agreement at everything Kline and Doyle said, trying to elicit similar nodding from his three officers.
The Governor stopped speaking and looked at Schroeder a moment. Something about the man suggested a dormant volcano. He tried to gauge his reaction. “Bert?”
Schroeder’s eyes focused on the Governor.
Doyle said, “Bert, this is no reflection on you, but if dawn comes and there’s no compromise, no extension of the deadline—and there won’t be—and the hostages are executed and the Cathedral demolished … well, it will be you, Bert, who’ll get most of the public abuse. Won’t it?”
Schroeder said nothing.
Mayor Kline turned to Langley. “And it will be you, Inspector, who will get a great deal of the official censure.”
“Be that as it may—”
Bellini said heatedly, “We can handle criminals, Your Honor, but these are guerrillas armed with military ordnance—intrusion alarms, submachine guns, rockets, and … and God knows what else. What if they have flame-throwers? Huh? And they’re holed up in a national shrine. Christ, I still don’t understand why the army can’t—” The Mayor put a restraining hand on Bellini with a look of disappointment. “Joe… Joe, this is not like you.”
Bellini said, “It sure as hell is.”
Governor Doyle looked at Logan, who appeared uncomfortable. “Colonel? What’s your feel?”
Colonel Logan came to a modified position of attention. “Oh … well … I am convinced that we should act without delay to mount an att—a rescue operation.”
The Governor beamed.
“However,” continued Logan, “the tactical plan is not sound. What you’re asking us to do is like … like shooting rats in a china cabinet without breaking the china … or the cabinet….”
The Governor stared at Logan, his bushy eyebrows rising in an arc like squirrel tails. “Soldiers are often asked to do the impossible—and to do it well. National Guard duty is not all parades and happy hours.”
“No, sir … yes, sir.”
“Can the Fighting Irish hold up their end of the operation?”
“Of course!”
The Governor slapped Logan’s shoulder soundly. “Good man.”
The Mayor turned to Langley. “Inspector, you will have to come up with the dossiers we need on the Fenians.”
Langley hesitated.
Roberta Spiegel fixed her eyes on him. “By no later than noon, Inspector.” Langley looked at her. “Sure. Why not? I’ll do some creative writing with the help of a discreet police psychologist—Dr. Korman—and come up with psy-profiles of the Fenians that would scare the hell out of John Hickey himself.”
Major Martin said, “May I suggest, Inspector, that you also show a link between the death of that informer—Ferguson, I think his name was—and the Fenians? That will tidy up that business as well.”
Langley looked at Martin and understood. He nodded.
Kline looked at Bellini. “Well, Joe … are you on our team?”
Bellini looked troubled. “I am … but …”
“Joe, can you honestly say that you’re absolutely convinced these terrorists will not shoot the Cardinal and the others at dawn and then blow up Saint Patrick’s Cathedral?”
“No … but—”
“Are you convinced your men cannot conduct a successful rescue operation?”
“I never said anything like that, Your Honor. I just won’t sign anything…. Since when are people required to sign something like that?”
The Mayor patted his shoulder gently. “Should I get someone else to lead your men against the terrorists in a rescue operation, Joe? Or should I just let Colonel Logan handle the whole operation?”
Bellini’s mind was filled with conflicting thoughts, all of them unhappy.
Spiegel snapped, “Yes or no, Captain? It’s getting late, and the fucking sun is due at 6:03.”
Bellini looked at her and straightened his posture. “I’ll lead the attack. If I get the blueprints, then I’ll decide if I’m going to sign anything.”
Mayor Kline let out a deep breath. “Well, that’s about it.” He looked at Langley. “You’ll of course reconsider your resignation.”
Langley said, “Actually, I was thinking about chief inspector.”
Kline nodded quickly. “Certainly. There’ll be promotions for everyone after this.”
Langley lit a cigarette and noticed his hands were unsteady. Kline and Doyle, he was convinced, were doing the right thing in attacking the Cathedral. But with the sure instincts of the politician, they were doing it for the wrong reasons, in the wrong way, and going about it in a slimy manner. But so what? That was how half the right things got done.
Mayor Kline was smiling now. He turned to Schroeder. “Bert, all we need from you is some more time. Keep talking to them. You’re doing a hell of a job, Bert, and we appreciate it…. Captain?” He smiled at Schroeder the way he always smiled at someone he had caught not paying attention. “Bert?”