‘Can I?’ said the high voice. ‘Give me a chance, Jamie.’
‘Soon, soon. I must prepare Duncan. Duncan, the word suffer, what an important word it is. The word suffer. In both its meanings. Speak to me, Duncan. Say Suffer the little children to come unto me. Say that, Duncan.’
Cashin realised that his eyes were working, there was light. It was candlelight, it moved, flickered, shadows on the wall, they hadn’t bothered to switch on the lights, they had lit candles, Dove was dead, they thought he was dead too, or dying quickly. Bleeding out.
Bleeding out.
Vallins was croaking something, trying to form the sentence.
‘A child,’ said Jamie. ‘Duncan, a little boy. Did you ever feel any regret? Any remorse? I don’t think so. You and Robin and Crake. I was so sad to hear Crake died while I was in jail. The Lord wanted me to minister to Crake too.’
‘Give me a go,’ said Justin. ‘C’mon Jame.’
Cashin tried to raise himself, he had no strength in his body, he could not move, he should lie here, they would kill Vallins, then they would go. He could hold his breath. Jamie didn’t care about him, didn’t hate him.
‘And in those days shall men seek death,’ said Jamie, ‘and shall not find it, and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them. I had to go to prison and live with bad people before I understood those words. Do you understand them now, Duncan?’
‘Please, please, please…’ Groans, wretched and terrible sounds.
‘I often wanted to die and I couldn’t, Duncan. Now I know that the Lord wanted me to live with my torment because he had a purpose for me.’
‘Let me, Jame, let me,’ said Justin. ‘I am he that liveth, and was dead, and behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen, and have the keys of hell and of death. Do you know those words, Duncan? St John the Divine. The keys of hell and death. The Lord has given them to me. Is this hell for you, Duncan? Is this?’
I just lie here, thought Cashin. I’ve killed Dove, they’re torturing a man to death. If I live, what’ll I say to Singo? Never mind Singo. To Villani. Fin. Birkerts. I’m a policeman, for Christsakes.
‘The Lord wants you to know the meaning of pain, of pain and fear, Duncan,’ said Jamie. ‘He wanted Charles to know that too because of what Charles did to me. And your friend Robin. Do you know, I never forgot your faces, you and Robin? They say children don’t remember people. Some do, Duncan, some do, they see them in their nightmares.’
A shriek, a pure scarlet spear of pain.
‘Courage, Duncan. Robin didn’t have any courage, he was lucky we were so rushed. And Arthur Pollard. I didn’t know about Arthur, but in prison the Lord brought me together with a man, a very sad person, and he told me about Arthur.’
‘Please, Jesus, ah, ah…’
‘I looked for some to have pity on me but there was no man, neither found I any to comfort me,’ said Jamie. ‘They gave me gall to eat, and when I was thirsty, they gave me vinegar to drink. Duncan’s thirsty, Justin, give him a drink.’
A sound, a gurgling sound, coughing, choking.
‘There, that’s better, isn’t it?’
Silence.
‘All done, Duncan, you can’t make any more noise now, can you? You look like a pig, Duncan. Are you saying a prayer in your mind? To the beast? You can only pray to the beast, can’t you? Here Justin, the Lord wants you to send Duncan to meet his king the beast.’
Cashin pushed himself to his knees, lifted his head, heavy.
Flickering yellow light. A thing was on a bare stone altar, a pink fleshy thing tied with rope, trussed like a piece of meat for roasting. It was bleeding everywhere, blood was running down it in streams.
Two men were standing at the altar. The short one on the right was holding up a knife, the candlelight played on the blade. The other man, taller, was holding the thing, Vallins, holding his head, Cashin could see it was his head, the man, Jamie, was holding Vallins’ head by the ears, the hair and the ears, he seemed to be kissing Vallins’ head…
No.
Cashin shook his head, he didn’t ask his system to shake his head, it shook his head. He tried to stand up. There was something on the floor, a pole, no… yes, a pole with a cross at the top, a brass cross with pointed tips, not arrowheads.
No. Not arrowheads.
Diamonds, yes, diamonds.
He put his hand on it, tried to grasp it, he had no grip, he could not quite feel it.
He grasped it and he stood up, he surprised himself, he was upright and he had the pole with the cross in his right hand.
He was looking at them.
They weren’t looking at him. They hadn’t heard him.
‘Go to the eternal fires, Duncan,’ said Jamie. ‘Send him, Justin.’
‘No,’ said Cashin.
They turned their heads.
Cashin threw the pole with the brass cross. It hung in the air. Justin turned, the long knife in his right hand.
The diamond-shaped tip entered his throat, in the hollow, between the clavicle bones. It stuck there, fell back. He raised his hands to his throat, embraced the holy spear, took a step, uncertain step, his left leg abandoned him, he fell, his feet slid on the cold hard floor.
‘Under arrest,’ said Cashin, thick tongue.
Jamie was holding the head of Vallins, looking down at Justin. ‘Justie,’ he said. ‘Justie.’
He let go of the pig-tied Vallins, went to his knees.
Cashin could see only the top of his head.
‘Justie, no,’ he said. ‘Justie, no, Justie, no, no. Justie no, my darling no, Justie, no, no, nooo…’
Cashin walked back the way he had come. It seemed to take a long time to reach the chapel door. He crossed the entrance hall to the switchboard, found the mains switch.
The sitting room light came on.
Dove’s pistol was lying almost at his feet. He bent to pick it up, fell over, got up, tried again, reached the weapon. He didn’t look at Dove, walked back to the chapel, through the door, found a light switch, walked down the central aisle, stopped three or four metres from the altar.
Jamie was hunched over Justin. There was blood everywhere. He looked at Cashin, stood up, the knife in his hand.
‘Under arrest,’ said Cashin.
Jamie shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I have to kill you now.’
Cashin raised Dove’s pistol, aimed at Jamie’s chest, you aimed for the broadest part, he pulled the trigger.
Jamie cocked his head like a bird. Smiled.
Missed him, Cashin thought. How did I do that? He couldn’t see Jamie properly, the gun was too heavy, he couldn’t hold it up.
‘The Lord doesn’t want me to die,’ said Jamie. ‘He wants you to die because you took Justin from me.’
He took a pace towards Cashin, held out the knife. Cashin saw the light on it, saw the blood. His legs were going, he couldn’t stand any longer, he was going down…
The knife, Jamie’s eyes above it, so close.
‘Now you must pray to your father who art in heaven,’ said Jamie.
‘Our father,’ said Cashin.
‘SURE YOU don’t need a hand with that?’ said Michael.
‘No,’ said Cashin. The small bag was almost weightless-toothbrush, razor, pyjamas, the things his brother had brought to the hospital. They stood waiting for the lift, awkward, shoulder to shoulder.
‘I’ve got a new job,’ said Michael. ‘In Melbourne. A small firm.’
‘That’s good,’ said Cashin. He had dreamed about Dove, walking down a street with Dove, and then Dove’s face had become Shane Diab’s.
‘Start in a fortnight. I thought I might come down for a week or so. I could help you build. Not that I’ve ever built anything. I’ve got some gym muscles though.’
‘No experience necessary. Just brute strength.’
The lift came, empty. Inside, they faced the door.
‘Joe, I want to ask,’ said Michael, eyes on the floor indicator panel. ‘It’s been on my mind…’