Robert Knightly - The cold room

It was a decent argument, exactly what was needed to move Father Stan, if he could be moved. Or so I thought as I walked into the crowded outreach center. Sister Kassia was seated in a chair to my left, holding a toddler on her lap, a girl. The nun whispered a few words into the girl’s ear, then put her down before leading me outside.

‘Have you found them?’

The question surprised me, though it was the obvious question to ask. ‘No, I haven’t. I’m here to see Father Manicki.’

Sister Kassia smiled, a smile that must, at one time, have struck terror into the hearts of fourth graders. ‘Father Stan isn’t here, detective. He’s at a retreat house on Staten Island. I don’t know what you said to him, but he packed up shortly after you left yesterday.’

‘Well, that’s the problem with having a conscience, Sister. He knew I’d come back and he didn’t want to face me.’

Sister Kassia shook her head, then walked me into the deep shadows cast by a towering maple tree. As it was twenty degrees cooler in the shade, I didn’t complain.

‘Your outlook is typical of the irreligious,’ she told me. ‘In your view, Catholicism is just another set of arbitrary beliefs.’

‘It’s not that.?.?.’

‘Oh, yes it is.’ She brought her hands together and folded them at her waist. ‘When Father Stan took his vows, after years of prayer, meditation and study, he embraced the doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church, one of which is the seal of the confessional. And you should keep in mind that among the vows he took was a vow of obedience. Tell me, have you ever taken a vow?’

I reached out to run my hand over the trunk of the maple, the bark rough and cool against my fingers. ‘When I became a cop, I took an oath to uphold the laws of the State and the Constitution of the United States. Is an oath the same as a vow? I don’t know. But I can tell you this. For cops, it’s not about absolutes. We draw our own lines.’

I went on to repeat the argument I’d made to Hansen Linde. Aslan had to put distance between himself and the women, even if he decided to stick around. No, I didn’t think he’d commit mass murder, but he would move them along at the earliest opportunity. Maybe he would send them back to Poland. Maybe he would sell them to somebody who ran a brothel in Bolivia.

Ignoring the last part, Sister Kassia asked, ‘And how soon would that earliest opportunity be?’

‘Saturday afternoon, when Aslan picks them up at their jobs.’

‘In that case, Harry, you have a serious problem. Father Stan has already arranged to have his masses covered on Sunday. He won’t be back until Sunday night, at the earliest. But if it’s any comfort, I’ve no doubt that he’s examining his conscience right now.’

‘In the hope of finding a loophole?’

Suddenly, the door to the outreach center opened and a woman exited, holding the hand of a small child, a little boy. The woman glanced at Sister Kassia, then immediately looked away. As she walked up the block, the boy turned to wave goodbye. The gesture was small, no more than a cupping of his fingers, and he seemed, to me, both confused and resigned. Sister Kassia returned the wave, her expression wistful.

‘When I became a nun,’ she said, ‘my intention was to submit to the will of God. I thought it would be easy. Just follow the rules. Now I know enough to look to my conscience for guidance. As for the rules, I obey the ones my conscience tells me to obey.’ She paused to smile the brightest smile I’d yet seen her display. ‘Father Stan, he thinks I’m incorrigible because I once proposed diverting a small sum of money from the general fund to the outreach center. Really, he was shocked. But I think he’s coming around now. I think he’s coming to understand that rules have consequences, too.’

I leaned my back against the tree. ‘Let’s hope it’s not too late when he does, because I don’t have another way to go.’

‘What about finding Aslan?’

‘That’s not impossible, but it won’t do me any good. Aslan won’t talk unless I hurt him more than I’m willing to hurt him. And I don’t have enough evidence to charge him with the Barsakov homicide either.’

‘Well, you need to think of something, Harry, because it’s just as I told you on the first day you walked in here. The minute you discovered their existence, you became responsible for the women and their children. You can’t blame Father Stan. They’re your burden now.’

I called Adele shortly after leaving Blessed Virgin. I had a big decision to make, one that could easily backfire, and I needed to speak to someone I could trust. That wouldn’t be my new partner, Hansen Linde. Linde was Sarney’s boy and he would do Sarney’s bidding.

Though a bit distracted at first — she was sitting with her mother in a doctor’s office — Adele seemed glad to hear from me. When I told her about the priest, she honed in on my dilemma. It was Thursday. Thirty-six hours from now, Aslan would pick up the women at their jobs. With Father Manicki out of play, at least until Sunday night, I had two choices. I could do nothing at all and hope for the best. Or I could find Aslan, put pressure on him and.?.?. and hope for the best.

‘Sitting around and hoping isn’t my strong point,’ I told her. ‘I’m taking plan B.’

‘What happens after you run him down? Assuming you do run him down.’

‘Ah, for a minute there I thought you were thinking positively.’

Adele laughed. ‘Answer the question.’

‘What I’ll do, assuming I find Aslan, is make it personal.’

‘I think you went down that road when you arrested Barsakov.’

‘Then I’ll make it even more personal.’

‘And what do you hope to accomplish?’

I took a minute before answering. I was sitting in my car outside the Nine-Two, an hour before I was due to report. I had no particular reasons for being early, but I was too restless to sit at home. ‘I’m hoping, if I press the right buttons, Aslan will take a swing at me. That’ll give me an excuse to hold him in custody over the weekend.’

‘And if he doesn’t rise to the bait?’

‘Then I’ll make up an excuse.’ I gave it a couple of beats, then said. ‘Dominick Capra, do you know anything about his personal life?’

‘I know he has a daughter.’

‘How old?’

‘High school age. Why?’

‘When I spoke to Capra the other day, he blew me off. Told me not to call again. I’m gonna call him back anyway, and make a personal appeal. I think he can help me with the name of Aslan’s sponsor.’

I didn’t have to spell it out. Adele’s silence was enough. Even if Capra was willing to cooperate, and even if he furnished the name of Aslan’s sponsor, the jump from the sponsor to Aslan was far from assured. Nevertheless, it was a card in my hand and I intended to play it.

And play it I did, after Adele and I hung up. Like the priest, Capra should have blown me off before I got started. Instead, he listened while I turned his own words against him. What had he called it? Sharecropping for the new millennium? Well, these particular sharecroppers were about to be sold on the black market, at which time they would cease to be sharecroppers and become actual slaves.

‘How do you know this?’ Capra asked.

‘Because,’ I readily lied, ‘when I asked Aslan about the women, he told me that I shouldn’t worry about them.’ I took a breath and imitated Aslan’s thick accent as best I could. ‘?“For these women, American justice will be thing of past.” Tell me, Dominick, do you have kids?’

‘You’re fuckin’ with me, Harry.’

‘I’ve seen these women. They’re in their late teens and early twenties. Some of them have children.’