Giorgio Faletti - I'm God

‘ Madness? Were the Plagues of Egypt madness? Was the Great Flood madness? ’

Vivien felt a hand clutch her chest and her heartbeat accelerate. The man was really crazy. She heard the priest’s voice, tinged with compassion, trying to speak sweet reason to someone who couldn’t accept it.

‘ But then Jesus came and the world changed. He taught us to forgive .’

‘ Jesus failed. You people preached his words but you didn’t listen to him. You killed him …’

The voice had lost its deep tone and become slightly shrill. Vivien tried to imagine the man’s face in the semi-darkness of the confessional.

‘ Is that why you decided to wear that green jacket? Is that why you killed so many innocent people? For revenge? ’

Vivien realized that Father McKean was giving her a clue, confirming his previous description. And by continuing to answer the man, he was giving her time to get there. She again lifted the radio to her mouth and spoke to the listening officers.

‘The suspect is a tall, dark-haired male Caucasian wearing a green military-style jacket. He may be armed and dangerous. I repeat: he may be armed and very dangerous.’

The man confirmed the accuracy of that description with his next words, murmured with the bitterness of hate and spelled out like a death sentence. ‘ Revenge and justice came together this time. And human lives don’t matter to me, just as they’ve never mattered to you people .’

Michael McKean’s voice again. ‘ But don’t you feel the holiness of this place? Can’t you find the peace you seek right here, in this church dedicated to Saint John the Baptist, the man who in his modesty declared himself unworthy to baptise Christ? ’

Vivien felt her strength fail her. Saint John the Baptist? That was why Father McKean had called her. He’d wanted to inform her that for some reason he wouldn’t be at Saint Benedict but had brought his weekly visit to Saint John forward by one day.

She screamed her defeat at the roof of the car. ‘He’s not there! Dammit, he’s not there!’

She heard Bellew’s startled voice behind her. ‘What do you mean? What’s happening?’

She silenced him with a gesture.

‘ Holiness is in the end. That is why I shall not rest on Sunday. And the next time, the stars will disappear and all who dwell beneath them .’

‘ What does that mean? I don’t understand .’

The voice again, self-confident, low, threatening. ‘ You don’t have to understand. You just have to wait .’

Another pause. And in that pause Vivien saw more people die, heard their screams in the blast of the explosion, saw them burning in the fire that immediately engulfed them. And felt herself dying with them.

The voice continued to lay out its insane threat. ‘ This is my power. This is my duty. This is my will .’

Another pause. Then the true madness.

‘ I am God .’

Vivien had reached out a hand to the radio and switched to the usual Manhattan police frequency. She repeated the message she had previously transmitted, but with modifications.

‘Calling all cars. This is Detective Vivien Light of the 13th Precinct. Proceed as quickly as possible to the Fashion District and surround the block between 31st and 32nd Streets and Seventh and Eighth Avenues. The suspect is a male Caucasian, tall with dark hair. He is wearing a green military jacket. He may be armed and is very dangerous. Contact me as soon as you have anything.’

From the cellphone came the subdued voice of Father McKean. ‘Vivien, are you there?’

‘Yes.’

‘He’s gone.’

‘Thanks. You were great. I’ll call you later.’

Vivien collapsed back in her seat. She made a disheartened gesture to the driver. ‘You can stop. There’s no hurry now.’

As the driver pulled over, the captain put his head between the front seats, so that he could look Vivien in the face. ‘What’s happening? Who was that on the phone?’

Vivien turned to look at him. ‘I can’t tell you. The only thing I can tell you is that we have to wait now. And hope.’

Bellew sat back down. He had realized that something had gone wrong, even though he didn’t know what. Vivien knew how her chief must be feeling right now, because it couldn’t be so very different from how she felt. In the car, nobody had the courage to speak.

A voice came over the radio. ‘Officer Mantin from Midtown South here. We stopped an individual answering to the description and wearing a green military-style jacket.’

Vivien felt relief wash over her like a wave. ‘Great, boys. Where are you?’

‘At the corner of 31st and Seventh.’

‘Take him to your precinct house. We’ll be right there.’

Vivien made a gesture to the driver, who moved the car away from the kerb. A hand came from the back to rest on Vivien’s shoulder.

‘Great work, detective.’

That compliment lost all meaning the next moment. Another voice came over the radio, bringing confusion and despair back into the car.

‘Car 31 here, from Midtown South. This is Officer Jeff Cantoni. We also stopped a guy answering your description.’

They didn’t have time to wonder what was happening because a third voice now drowned out everything else.

‘Officer Webber here. I’m on Sixth Avenue at the corner of 32nd Street. There’s a veteran’s parade going on. There must be two thousand of them, all wearing green military jackets.’

Vivien closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, taking refuge in a darkness in which it seemed the sun would never rise again, and allowed herself to cry only when she and that darkness had become one.

Vivien emerged from the elevator and slowly walked along the corridor.

When she reached the door, she took the keys from her pocket and inserted them in the keyhole. As soon as she had given the lock a first turn, the door opposite opened and Judith appeared. She was holding one of her cats in her arms.

‘Hello there. You finally came back.’

Vivien’s mood at that moment didn’t allow for intruders. ‘Hello, Judith. I’m sorry, I’m in a great hurry.’

‘Don’t you want a coffee?’

‘No. Not now, thanks.’

The old woman looked at her for a moment with a mixture of commiseration and reprimand. ‘What can you expect from someone who thinks only of tips?’

She closed the door in Vivien’s face with a self-satisfied expression. The lock clicked shut, isolating her and her four-legged friends. At any other time, the woman’s eccentricity would have moved and amused Vivien. But right now, she had no room for any feelings that weren’t anger, disappointment and regret. For herself, for Greta, for Sundance. For Father McKean. For all the people that madman had allowed to live before he unleashed another inferno.

After their failure had been confirmed, Bellew had been silent for a long time, afraid even to look at her. They both knew what would happen. By the next day, the whole of the NYPD would know about the fiasco. As the captain had predicted, the commissioner would demand explanations – and maybe resignations.

Vivien was ready to hand over her gun and her shield if she was asked to. She had done the best she could, but it had all gone belly up. It was the fault of chance, but above all it was her fault, her carelessness. She hadn’t remembered to turn on a damned phone in time. The fact that it had happened when her sister had just died was no excuse. She was a police officer and her personal needs and feelings had to take second place in a case like this. She hadn’t been able to do that, and she was ready to take the consequences.