Sanctuary

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Please forgive the formality. We’ll progress to a more informal tone. Here is my shopping list — I know you like lists:

Two guards

One nun

One judge

And, alas, one child.

The latter is tragic but inevitable and certainly not negotiable.

But this you already know — the death of a child, I mean.

The list has already begun: see Garda Flynn, deceased two days ago.

Only you will truly comprehend my mission.

You are to be my witness.

I remain, in benediction,

Benedictus

I was standing on the bridge that faces the Spanish Arch in Galway city and the rain was pelting down, drenching me to the core. Despite my all-weather coat, item 8234 of my former Guards issue, and a watchcap pulled down over me forehead, I was soaked. And thinking.

Oh sweet Jesus, if only I could stop thinking.

I should have been in America — even better, down in Mexico, lying on a beach, cold beer on my mind and who knows, maybe a señorita? I certainly had the cash. Yeah, I’d sold my apartment and was sitting on my suitcase, waiting for the cab to the airport. Then the phone had rung.

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