Creatures of Habit

by Pat Mullan

  “You said it, Father!”

  “You haven’t been able to stop Father Bernard, have you? And you can’t find him either.”

  “Right on both counts. We believe he’s hiding out somewhere. There’s a lot of sympathy for what he’s doing. Don’t you understand that?”

  “Yes, unfortunately many people live with very narrow unbending views of the world. They don’t have the courage to do anything about it themselves but I can see that they might secretly cheer on someone like Father Bernard.”

  “He calls himself The Avenger. Did you know that?”

  “No. But it seems appropriate. I suppose he thinks he’s acting on behalf of the Lord. Poor Bernard. I knew he had very extreme views. But I never expected that he’d do anything like this. I thought that I knew him better than anyone at St. Curnan’s. That’s if anyone could really know Bernard at all.”

  “He’s a sick man. And a very intelligent one. That makes him doubly dangerous. Did you know he was writing a book, something called Creatures of Habit?

  “No. That’s news to me. But the title fits. Creatures of Habit, Creatures of Obsession. Fits Father Bernard. Maybe it fits all of us.”

  Ed didn’t comment on that so they sat, wordlessly, for a minute until Father Roland said, “Did you know he has a sister?”

  “No. Are you sure? I thought he had no family. None still living, that is.”

  “Oh, he has. She’s a nun. In the Benedictines. ”

  “Have you met her? Do you know where she is?”

  “No, I never met her. And I don’t know where she is. In Ireland somewhere, I believe.”

  “Maybe she’s protecting him.”

  “No. Even if she wanted to, it would be impossible. She’s most likely in a closed convent where anyone, other than a nun, would stick out like a sore thumb.”

  “So she can’t help us even if we do find her.”

  “I don’t know. I have to try and stop Father Bernard. Maybe I can find out where she is, get her to talk to me. I’ve made my decision. I’m going back after Friday’s ceremony.”

  “After Archbishop McCready gets his red hat from the Pope.”

  “Won’t you attend?”

  “Yes, I’ll be there. But I’m no fan of McCready. I think he’s guiltier than sin. He’s behind all the cover-ups in the Church in Ireland. And I think he’d go to any length to preserve his power. Being a ‘prince’ of the church will seem to him to be official sanction of his conduct.”

  “That’s bleak and unkind. You’re a bitter man. I will pray for you.”

  “Don’t! I certainly don’t want your prayers. I didn’t come here for your understanding. I only want one thing from you. I want you to explain to Terry’s mother and father why their son is dead. And I want you to tell your story to the Irish people. I don’t want you to hide behind the church. Or behind the Cormack name for that matter. I have a friend, an excellent journalist, and a man of total integrity, who will put your story on the front page of his newspaper. He will not exploit you. The page will be yours and the words will be yours.”

  Father Roland Cormack sat in silence. Ed could see him reflecting on his suggestion so he prompted him some more.

  “Maybe if you do this you can end the cover-up and bring some kind of peace to Terry’s parents.”

  “You know you are asking me to commit suicide. I might as well leave the priesthood after doing that. And I’ll be disowned by Uncle Desmond. And he wanted me to fulfill the Cormack legacy. To maybe one day realize the dream of a Cormack Pope.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll never fulfill that dream. Even if you don’t tell your story. It’s over for you. It’ll have to be pursued by the next Cormack generation.”

  Ed realized that they had exhausted all they had to say to each other. Still he felt unfulfilled. Empty inside. He had hoped for some kind of contrition, some kind of sorrow from Father Roland Cormack. But he hadn’t got that. Still, it was some compensation to know that Father Cormack was coming back to Ireland. If he does decide to tell his story to Sean, then that’s more than he could possibly have hoped for before he came here.

  55

  Ed Burke and Maria Lane arrived on time for the mass inside Saint Peter’s Basilica where Pope Benedict would name the new cardinals. Father Roland Cormack had ensured that they would be part of the congregation for the event.

  The mass was crowded but Ed and Maria had been ushered close to the altar where they had a vantage point during the entire service. Ed could easily see Father Roland Cormack off to his right, close to a tall stately looking Cardinal, whom he assumed to be Cardinal Volpe. A man that Ed would have taken to be an American had he been wearing any attire. Something about Americans, he thought, their posture, their body language, even when immobile, stamped them indelibly.

  The Pope, resplendent in an embroidered gold vestment and a 19th century gilded mitre, or Bishop’s hat, once worn by Pope Pius IX, sat on a gilded papal throne set on an altar decorated with crimson roses. The vestment was a long, golden silk mantle embroidered with scenes from the life of the saints. It was held up by two altar servers as he proceeded up and down the main aisle.

  As the cardinals knelt in turn before him, he placed a three-pointed red hat, the ‘biretta’, on their heads; the red colour meant to remind them that they may one day be called upon to spill their blood for the faith and the church. The crowd applauded and cheered as he pronounced each new cardinal’s name and the cardinals greeted well-wishers as they proceeded down the aisle of the basilica.

  Outside in St. Peter’s Square, groups from the cardinals’ respective countries celebrated with native dancing and flag waving. Cardinal McCready greeted people from Ireland, saying, “I am honoured that Pope Benedict XVI has created me a cardinal.”

  The formal ceremony would be held later in the day at the Pontificio Collegio Irlandese, The Irish College. As they moved away from the clusters of people greeting the cardinals, Maria said, “Do we have to go to The Irish College?”

  “We don’t have to. You can see some more of Rome instead. But I think I should go. I want confirmation that Father Cormack intends to come back and face the music. And I’d sure like to talk to Cardinal Volpe. I want to see what makes him tick!”

  “You’re dreaming! He’ll never talk with you. Why would he? And what does he have to gain?”

  “I’ll have to convince him that he’ll have something to lose if he doesn’t talk with me.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t want Father Cormack to leave his safe haven here in Rome. He’ll see you as a threat.”

  “Then that may motivate him to talk with me.”

  “I don’t see what you’ll get out of this.”

  “Look, we need to fight these people back home. And we can’t do that unless we understand them. Volpe might show me where they’re vulnerable. It’s worth a try. What have I got to lose?”

  “You’re a stubborn man, Edmund Burke! Well, I’m coming with you then.”

  The taxi dropped them in the Piazzo San Giovanni in Laterno, near Via dei Santi Quattro where The Irish College stood. Leaving the Piazzo, they walked towards the Irish College. Two large palm trees dominated the grounds in front and iron gates at the entrance read: ‘Collegio Irlandese’ and ‘Colaiste na nGaedheal’.

  Ed looked at Maria as he rang the bell on the gate at the right, “A lot of history here. This college was founded in 1628.”

  “So it’s been running for almost four hundred years.”

  “Well, not quite. It closed for about twenty-eight years during the French Invasion and the Napoleonic Wars. The French entered Rome in June 1798.”

  “Thanks for the history lesson.”

  “But you haven’t heard the most important part.”

  “And you’re going to tell me, aren’t you.”

  “During the seventeenth century a very notable seminarian was educated at the College. Roland Cormack, the martyred Archbishop.”

  “Wow! So Father Roland Cormack should
feel the hand of history on him here.”

  “And the hand of destiny. That’s why I want to make sure he intends to come back.”

  People congregated around the front entrance as they approached and they saw faces that carried household names back in Ireland, notable politicians from north and south, and other dignitaries. Priests and religious clustered in the doorway and filled the inner hallway. Ed and Maria smiled and nodded, presented their invitations, and squeezed their way through the throng.

  Father Roland was easy to spot. He looked uncomfortable when he saw Ed and moved towards them, almost as though intending to head them off. Ignoring Maria entirely, he said to Ed, “I did not expect to see you here.”

  “I’m not here for the cardinal’s speech. Before I leave, I wanted to hear you tell me again that you’re coming home.”

  “Yes, I have decided.”

  “And I wanted you to arrange a meeting for me with Cardinal Volpe.”

  Now Father Roland’s face took on a look of consternation. He fumbled for words, finally managing, “Cardinal Volpe. Why?”

  “You must know why. I want to understand. I want to talk with the man who left such an impact on the Church in America. Maybe he can defend himself. And you! He’s got a lot of explaining to do and he might as well start with me.”

  “He will not see you.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Father Roland contemplated that but he had no time to respond. The President of Ireland had finally arrived and the crowd was ushered into position for the speech from Ireland’s new cardinal.

  As Cardinal McCready entered the room and moved to the podium, loud applause broke out. He raised his hand to say ‘enough’ but the clapping continued, only dying out reluctantly as the cardinal commenced.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, Today has been a very joyful day. I am very honoured and humbled that Pope Benedict XVI has created me a Cardinal. I am delighted to be joined today by so many of my family and friends, and by brother Cardinals, Bishops and Priests from Ireland. I am also very grateful to the President and all the other representatives of Government, North and South, who have joined us for this occasion. These have been difficult and traumatic years for the Church in Ireland …

  He found himself tuning out and, looking at Maria, he could tell that she was somewhere far from here in her head. Glancing around, he thought he saw Father Roland trying to signal him but convinced himself that he was mistaken, probably only the priest’s hand brushing back his hair. He watched and saw it again. No, there was no mistake. Father Roland’s face seemed highly agitated and he was indeed trying to make contact.

  Ed raised his hand in acknowledgement, whispered in Maria’s ear, and moved past all the people on his right until he reached Father Cormack who tugged at his sleeve and spoke into his right ear, “He’s here! Look! Over there!”

  Ed followed Father Roland’s gesture and saw a tall priest with head bowed, almost attempting to merge into the clergy on either side. He couldn’t see his face so he asked, “Who is it?”

  “Father Flaherty! It’s Father Bernard!”

  “No, it can’t be. You must be mistaken.”

  “I’m not. It’s him!”

  Almost as though he’d heard, the tall priest lifted his head and looked directly at them. Yes, it is him, thought Ed. Even though he’d never met him, he’d seen photos of him.

  Forced into action, he said to Father Roland, “I have to get you out of here. Can you get the police? Have them surround the place. I’m going after him.”

  “The Italian police! That won’t be easy. But there’s usually a police car in the Piazzo. And there are more today outside because the President is here. Maybe I can slip out and contact them. What are you going to do? I should try and talk with Father Flaherty?”

  “Are you crazy? Why do you think he’s here? He came to kill you!”

  People around them were slowly getting annoyed at them, even though they had kept their voices low. But the cardinal’s speech was ending and people were clapping again.

  Father Roland started to squeeze through the crowd towards the door and Ed made a direct line towards Father Flaherty. But it was obvious that he’d spotted their moves because he elbowed the person next to him, tumbling him into an overweight older priest who immediately fell on the floor. People rushed to give him first aid and Father Flaherty disappeared in the commotion. Ed dived through the throng, catching a glance of Flaherty as he left through the front door.

  Outside he could see Father Roland talking feverishly with a Chief of Police and then pointing excitedly at Father Flaherty as he emerged from the College. Two policemen tried to stop Father Flaherty but he threw a punch at one and kicked the other ferociously on the shin. Dodging the police car, he ran out on to the street with Ed in pursuit.

  The police weren’t accustomed to chasing a priest but Father Roland had been joined by Cardinal Volpe and his presence convinced them. But valuable time had been lost. One police car was dispatched but Father Flaherty now had a good head start.

  Ed stayed close in pursuit, thankful for his days spent in the fitness clubs in Miami. Still, he could see that Father Flaherty was very fit and sure of himself. He ran with great assurance as though he knew where he was going. Ed could only hope to keep him in sight because he did not know Rome.

  They ran past the Ospedale Militare del Celio, people staring with concern at the running priest and with puzzlement at Ed as he followed. As they passed in front of the church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo, the police car had caught up and it veered into the kerb in front of Father Flaherty. One policeman got out and started towards him, boxing him between himself and Ed who was now moving in.

  But Father Flaherty suddenly dodged into the side entrance to the Villa Celimontana and ran across a green lawn that the locals call "praticello all'Inglese." The policeman had joined the chase and was now running abreast of Ed. But Father Flaherty had not slowed down. In fact, like a marathon runner, he seemed to be pacing himself. Ed was breathless and the policeman had moved ahead of him. They crossed a dusty playground as a woman grabbed her young daughter and pulled her out of the way. An Egyptian obelisk stood ahead and Father Flaherty rounded it with ease before running out of the villa’s front entrance.

  Ed had begun to feel the strain as they ran through winding streets that seemed to be getting narrower and narrower. As the police car caught up with them, Father Flaherty dashed into a street so narrow that only a bicycle or a scooter could pass. When they reached the entrance to that street there was no sign of Father Flaherty. They had lost him. The police car could go no further and the policeman who’d shared the race came back to Ed who was sitting on the ground with his back against the wall. In remarkably good English, he suggested that they had to call it off and offered to take Ed back to the Irish College. Ed nodded as the sweat poured down the side of his face.

  Back at the Irish College, everyone had gone. Ed found Maria waiting anxiously inside. She rushed to meet him, clasped him in a hug and held on, her heart thumping and her eyes red. He kissed her gently and said, “We lost him.”

  “I was worried about losing you. Why did you do that?”

  “I thought I could catch him.”

  “Oh, God, your body was really damaged when they shot you last year. And now you want to risk it all again.”

  “I’m fine. I’m in great shape. You shouldn’t worry.”

  “That’s easy to say.”

  “Look, I need to see Father Roland. We need to get him out of here. I’m certain that Flaherty came here to kill him.”

  “But you know it doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If Father Flaherty came here to kill Father Cormack, why did he attend the cardinal’s reception? Didn’t he know that he risked being seen? After all Father Cormack would know him, seeing that they worked together at St. Curnan’s.”

  “That’s a good question. But all I can say is that Father Flaherty
is not operating on all cylinders. After all he believes that he’s an emissary from the Lord, that he’s doing God’s work. He probably felt that he was entitled to be a guest at the reception. And maybe he thought that the news about him might not have reached Father Cormack here at the Irish College. Let’s face it. He’s delusional. And the success of his killings have probably made him feel that he’s protected by God. What do I know? He’s crazy!”

  “Where is he now?”

  “We don’t know. He got away from us in some old city neighbourhood. He knows this city well. He could be anywhere. You stay here. I’ve got to see Father Roland. Convince him to come back with us. I believe he’s in danger and I have to convince him of that.”

  It wasn’t difficult finding Father Roland. He had an office, a cubicle, not far from the Vice-Rector whom he was assisting at the college. He agreed to book a seat on the same Aer Lingus flight that Ed and Maria were on. Being mid-week he wouldn’t have any problem getting a reservation.

  As Ed put it to him, “The way I see it is, you’re between a rock and a hard place. Stay here and you’ll die. And it won’t be as a martyr. That will sully the name of your illustrious ancestor, a real martyr, who hangs on these walls. Come back with me, come clean, help us open up the church closets in Ireland and let the fresh air in. That may not seem like much of a choice to you now but, if I were you, I’d come home with me and face the music. Personally I should be leaving you here to meet your fate, to rot in hell after what you did to young Terry Joyce.”

  56

  At Rome’s Citavecchia airport, Ed and Maria checked in for their flight and then waited for Father Roland Cormack. After fifteen minutes had passed, Maria looked at Ed:

  “Maybe he changed his mind.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Because he’s got nowhere to go.”