towards me, followed by high squawking radio chatter. I duck
down behind Father Julian’s desk and turn off my torch. There
is more radio chatter; I hear the word ‘backup’; and I know the officer parked outside has asked for it because for some reason he’s decided to do his job and walk around the building and he’s found the security tape over the door has been tampered with.
I move to the side of the desk so I can see into the corridor.
The beam of a torch is bouncing from the floor to the walls. It’s getting brighter. I pull back just as the officer reaches the office.
The light hits the wall behind the desk. It moves over it and then moves on. He takes a step into the room and then takes a step back out of it. He carries on to the next room. I figure I have about two minutes to get the hell out of here.
I get out from under the desk and move to the door. My feet
are silent on the cold floor. I listen to the officer making his way further along the corridor. Then I look around the door frame.
He’s further down the corridor towards the rectory. He goes
around a corner, and as soon as he’s gone I start back towards the chapel for my clothes. I reach the end of the corridor. A second flashlight, this one moving around the pews, suddenly moves across the room and hits my body. I look away before it can hit my face.
‘You! Hey, you! Stop!’
But I do the opposite. I turn and run towards the exit.
chapter forty-three
I’m out of shape. I can feel it in the first few strides. My socks slide on the floor and the chase is almost over before it begins.
I can hear the officer behind me, and a moment later the first one I saw appears at the other end of the corridor, running towards me. I pull the door; it opens into the corridor and blocks the path of at least one of my pursuers. Then I grab the basin of holy water and throw it in the opposite direction. It clatters on the ground without hitting anybody, but a moment later there’s a
sliding sound and then the man behind me yells ‘Shit!’ as he slips and falls. It forces his partner to slow down. I keep running.
I hit the line of trees as the two men burst from the building behind me. I change direction and keep running, not slowing
when my feet crash into tree roots or get punctured by pieces
of bark and acorns and stones. I can hear them following me,
closing the distance. I make a left and a right, and keep making them. I can see the beams of their flashlights falling on me, on trees around me, but then they appear less frequently The rain is pouring down heavily, drowning out all sounds of pursuit. I keep running, altering direction through the trees. Suddenly I’m out of the trees, heading across the cemetery between gravestones and graves. I have no idea where I am, and the best I can hope for is that a cemetery at this time of night in this kind of weather is a hard place in which to follow anybody.
A car comes towards me from the road and I duck down behind
a gravestone. It passes me by. There is yelling and confusion.
I look out and see one of the officers is only a few metres away.
He comes towards me and I duck back down. He passes me and
keeps going. He’s making quick ground. I crawl towards another grave and then another, staying hidden for a few more seconds.
I look back up — the officers are now twenty metres away. I stand up and run deeper into the cemetery. My feet sink slightly into the grass. Another car travels along the road and I have to hide again.
The cold air makes it harder for me to breathe, and I start sucking down oxygen in deep lungfuls that burn and make me dizzy.
I hide behind a tall grave marker and look back in the direction I’ve come from. I can see flashlights moving around the trees
and graves not far from me. I’m unsure now of what direction to run.
I stay low and move further away, putting more grass and
graves and metres between me and the flashlights. More patrol
cars arrive — I can see their headlights, hear doors banging.
I reach another cluster of trees and rest for thirty seconds or so. My feet are aching and probably bleeding but I don’t want
to look. I check back in what I believe, though am not certain, is the direction of the church. I panic for a moment about
whether my wallet or keys are in the jacket I left behind, and I quickly check. My keys are in my pants pocket, and my wallet — I remember now — is still at home. I stick with the direction I was heading. I’m aware of more cars arriving, and rest for a few more seconds behind another grave marker to watch the show.
Their pooling location shows me where the church is. There are no sirens sounding, but there are plenty of flashing blue and red lights from patrol cars through the trees and from others moving through the cemetery grounds. I keep running. And running