The Madman - Страница 72

Gulptilil nodded. "Father Callahan is the Cardinal's personal assistant," Gulptilil said, indicating the figure seated beside the Cardinal. He was a middle-aged, balding man, with a pair of thick eyeglasses that were pushed tight to his face, and stubby fingers that-gripped his pen tightly and drummed against the legal pad. He nodded at Peter, but did not rise to shake hands. "And the other gentleman is Father Grozdik, who has some questions for you."

Peter nodded. The priest with the Polish name was much younger, probably close in age to Peter himself. He was lean, athletic, well over six feet tall. His black suit seemed tailored to a narrow waist and he had a languid, feline appearance. His dark hair was worn long, but brushed back from his face, and he had penetrating blue eyes that were lodged on Peter, and had not wavered from him since he'd been escorted into the room. He, too, did not rise, offer his hand, or say anything in greeting, but leaned forward in a eerily predatory fashion. Peter met the man's gaze, then said, "My guess is that Father Grozdik also has a title. Perhaps he would share that with me."

"I'm with the Archdiocese's legal office," he said. The priest had a flat, even voice that betrayed little.

"Perhaps, if the Father's questions are of a legal nature, I should have my attorney present?" Peter said. He formed this as a question purposefully, hoping to read something in the priest's response.

"We were all hoping that you would agree to meet with us informally," the priest answered.

"That would of course depend on what it is you wish to know," Peter said. "Especially, as I note that Father Callahan over there has already begun to take notes."

The older priest stopped writing in mid stroke He lifted his eyes to the younger priest, who nodded back at him. The Cardinal remained motionless on the couch, watching Peter carefully.

"Do you object?" Father Grozdik asked. "It might be important at some later point to have a record of this meeting. That would be as much for your protection as ours. And, should nothing come of this, well, then we can always agree to destroy the record. But, if you have an objection…" He let his voice trail off.

"Not yet. Maybe later," Peter said.

"Good. Then we can proceed."

"Please do," Peter said stiffly.

Father Grozdik stared down at his papers, taking his time before continuing. Peter realized instantly that the man had had training in interrogation techniques. He could see this in the patient, settled manner the priest had, arranging his thoughts prior to opening his mouth with a question. Peter guessed the military, and saw a simple procession: Saint Ignatius for high school, then Boston College for undergraduate work. ROTC training at college, a tour of duty overseas with military police, a return to BC Law and more Jesuitical training, then the fast track in the archdiocese. Growing up, he'd known a few like Father Grozdik, who had been placed by virtue of intellect and ambition, on the church's priority list. The only thing out of place, Peter realized, was the Polish name. Not Irish, which he thought was interesting. But, then, in that moment, he realized that his own background was Irish Catholic, as was the Cardinal's and the Cardinal's assistant, and so, a message was being sent by bringing in someone of different ethnic origins. He wasn't precisely sure what advantage this gave the three priests. He guessed that he would find out in short order.

"So, Peter," the priest began,"… it is acceptable that I call you Peter? I would like to keep this session informal."

"Of course, Father," Peter said. He nodded his head. That was clever, he thought. Everyone else had an adult's authority and a status. He only had a first name. He had used the same approach with more than one arsonist that he'd questioned.

"So, Peter," the priest began again, "you are here in the hospital for a mental evaluation ordered by the court prior to continuing with the charges against you, is that not correct?"

"Yes. Trying to figure out whether I'm crazy. Too crazy to stand trial."

"That is because many people who know you believe your actions to be, what? Shall we say' out of character'? Is that a fair representation?"

"A fireman who sets a fire. A good Catholic boy who burns down a church. Sure. Out of character is fine with me."

"And, are you crazy, Peter?"

"No. But that's what most of the folks in here would say if they were asked the same question, so I'm not sure my opinion counts for all that much."

"What conclusions do you think the staff here have reached so far?"

"I would suspect they are still in the process of accumulating impressions, Father, but that they more or less have reached the same conclusion as I have. They will put it a little more clinically, of course. Say that I'm filled with unresolved angers. Neurotic. Compulsive. Perhaps even antisocial. But that I knew what I was doing, and that I knew it was wrong, and that's the legal standard, more or less, right Father? They must have taught you that at Boston College law, right?"

Father Grozdik smiled and shifted himself slightly in his seat, and then replied humorlessly. "Yes. Good guess, Peter. Or did you spot the class ring?" He held up his hand and displayed a large, gold ring that caught some light coming through the window. Peter realized that the priest had positioned himself in such a way that the Cardinal could watch Peter's reactions to questions without Peter being able to turn and see how the Cardinal was responding.

"It's a curious matter, isn't it, Peter?" Father Grozdik asked, his voice remaining flat and cold.

"Curious, Father?"

"Perhaps curious is not the correct word, Peter. Intellectually intriguing might be a better way of thinking of the dilemma you are in. Existential, almost. Have you studied psychology much, Peter? Or philosophy, perhaps?"

"No. I studied killing. When I was in the service. How to kill and how to save people from being killed. And after I came home, I studied fires. How to put them out. And how to set them. Surprisingly, I didn't find these two courses of study to be all that different."

Father Grozdik smiled and nodded. "Yes. Peter the Fireman, or so I understand you are called. But surely you are aware that are some aspects to your situation that transcend simple interpretations."

"Yes," Peter said. "I am aware."

The priest leaned forward. "Do you think much about evil, Peter?"

"Evil, Father?"

"Yes. The presence upon this earth of forces that can only best be explained by a sense of evil."

Peter hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. I have spent a good deal of time considering it. You can't have traveled to the places I have without being aware that evil has a place in the world."

"Yes. War and destruction. Certainly these are arenas where evil has a free hand. It interests you? Intellectually, perhaps?"

Peter shrugged, as if to display a certain nonchalance about the questions, but inwardly he was marshaling all his powers of concentration. He did not know in what direction the priest was going to turn the conversation, but he was wary. He kept his mouth shut.

Father Grozdik hesitated, then asked, "Tell me Peter, what you have done… do you consider it evil?"

Peter paused, then said, "Are you asking for a confession, Father? And I mean the sort of confession that usually requires a Miranda warning. Not a confession booth statement, because I am relatively certain that there is no number of Our Fathers or Hail Marys, there's no perfect act of contrition that would constitute an adequate penance for my behavior."

Father Grozdik did not smile, nor did he seem particularly unsettled by Peter's response. He was a measured man, very cold and direct, Peter thought, which stood in contrast to the oblique nature of the questions he had. A dangerous man, and a difficult adversary, Peter believed. The problem was, he did not know for certain whether the priest was an adversary. Most likely. But that didn't explain why he was there. "No, Peter," the priest said flatly. "Not either sort of confession. Let me put you at ease on one score…" He said this in a manner that Peter recognized was designed to do the opposite. "… Nothing you say here today is going to be used against you in a court of law."

"Another court, then, perhaps?" Peter replied, with a slight mocking tone. The priest did not respond to the bait.

"We're all judged ultimately, are we not, Peter?"