Mr.Churchill's Secretary(95)

‘Turn informer and we’ll free you!’

Kevin Barry answered, ‘No.’

Shoot me like a soldier.

Do not hang me like a dog,

For I fought to free old Ireland.…”





THIRTY





ST. PAUL’S AND the surrounding area had been evacuated. “Gas leak!” undercover MI-5 agents in coveralls told churchgoers and clergy. “Sorry! Everyone must evacuate. So sorry. We’ll take care of it as soon as possible. Sorry—so sorry.”

Frain and Edmund pulled in front of the church and sprinted up the marble steps to the soaring Corinthian columns and the huge doors. The lanky, boyish agent keeping watch said, “Go right in, sir.”

They made their way down the nave and past the altar, then down one narrow staircase and another and another, into the stuffy dimness of the crypts. The air was chill.

The bomb squad worked on dismantling the explosive with quiet efficiency. Frain looked to Arthur Hurley, the agent in charge. “What news?” he asked.

“Not much, sir,” Hurley admitted, rubbing the gray stubble on his chin. That and the black circles under his eyes were testament to the amount of time he’d been working on the bomb. “If we take her apart, she’ll blow. If we don’t take her apart, she’ll blow.” He gave a nearly imperceptible shrug. “And we can’t move her without taking her apart.” Only the tension in his jaw belied his light tone.

“Would it be possible for me to take a look?” Edmund said.

“Suit yourself, sir,” Hurley replied. “We’ve got our best men on it, but maybe a fresh set of eyes …”

Frain and Edmund walked into the crypt where the bomb was. It was larger than Edmund had expected. The two agents working on it rose when they saw them. “We’re working on it, sir,” the taller one said. “But so far, she’s unbreachable.”

“I think,” Maggie said, wiggling her wrists, “I think if I can just pull up the end of this tape …” Her fingers worked at the wide black adhesive tape, picking and pulling.

“I think you’re right,” Claire said, also working at the tape.

“Too bad you cut your talons,” Maggie said. “Would have helped.”

“Well,” Claire said, under her breath, “I was trying to look like you. Right down to your chewed-on little fingers.”

“Better than the hair. Red’s a hard color to pull off.”

“Would you just be quiet and let me work?”

“I’m just saying.”

They were silent. The only noise in the dark was their fingers scraping at the tape. “I’ve got it!” Maggie said finally. “Got the end! I’ve pulled it as far as I can—can you reach it?”

Claire wiggled her wrists and fingers. “Let’s see.” She explored, using her fingertips. “All right, I’ve found it.… I’m pulling.…”

“It’s working,” Maggie said. “Let’s just keep going. We’ve got it now.”

It took them a while, but eventually they got their wrists free. Once they did that, it was a snap to undo their ankles. There was a moment, a short and fleeting moment, where the two smiled at each other in the gloom and it felt, almost, like old times.

Almost.

“Come on,” Maggie said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Maggie and Claire headed for the stairs, tiptoeing their way up. As they did, they heard shouting. They peered around the door. Ten MI-5 agents had guns trained on Devlin, who was wearing a trench coat, carrying a briefcase, and had his back to the door. “Please hand over the override key,” the lead agent said, almost amicably.

“I think not.” Devlin smiled, his affable face now a death’s-head grimace. “If you kill me, you’ll all die.”

“But then—you will, too,” the agent said, uncomprehending.

“Exactly,” Devlin said, his mild eyes unblinking. “A hero’s death. A martyr to the cause.”

“Professor Hope?” Frain said, gesturing to the device on the crypt floor.

“Please, call me Edmund.”

He knelt down by the bomb and peered at it intently.

“We tried to bypass the remote current with the battery,” the shorter, stouter agent said to them. “But it was too unstable. We didn’t want to risk it. There’s enough juice here to bring down the whole church and a few city blocks.”

“Is there a trip wire?” Edmund said, now down on all fours.

“Jesus Christ, Sherlock,” the taller agent snapped. “Of course there’s a bloody trip wire.”

“All right, all right, just asking,” Edmund said.