Rough Justice

‘You’re very good to me,’ she whispered.

‘Go to sleep, dear, don’t resist it.’

They walked out. Miller said, ‘She’s dying, isn’t she?’

‘Oh, yes, and very soon now. Each is different. A time comes when radiotherapy and drugs have done their best and failed. To ease the patient’s journey into the next world then becomes one of our most important duties.’

‘And Fallon?’

‘He’s different. According to his notes, he has a cancer biting deep into the left eye and it also affects his speech. He’s only been with us for two days, waiting for a bed at the Ardmore Institute. You see, radiotherapy is beyond our powers here. Up at Ardmore, they do wonderful things.’

‘So there could still be hope for him?’

‘Young man, there is hope for all of us. God willing. With cancer, I’ve seen total remission in my time, in some cases.’

‘A miracle?’ Miller said.

‘Perhaps, Mr Blunt.’ Her simple faith shone out of her. ‘Our Lord performed them.’

They were on the ground floor: kitchens, canteen, a dormitory for twenty-five, with a divider, women one side, men the other.

‘Street people. They queue to get a bed for the night.’

‘Amazing,’ Miller said. ‘You really do good work.’

‘I like to think so.’ They were back in the entrance hall, Bridget at her desk.

She produced a parcel. There was a bright painted label which read Glover Hi-Speed Deliveries.

‘For you, Mr Blunt,’ she said. ‘A young man on a motorcycle – I had to sign for it.’

Miller took it and managed to smile, ‘Something I needed to help me in my work,’ he said to the Mother Superior.

She accepted that. ‘Just come this way.’ He followed her towards the chapel entrance, and she turned into a short corridor with a door that said Washroom and two doors opposite.

‘Father Sharkey has one room, now you, the other.’ She turned the key in the door and opened it. There was a locker, a desk and a small bed in the corner.

‘This will be fine,’ Miller told her.

‘Good. Obviously, you’re free to go anywhere you want. If you need me, just call. One thing, do keep your room locked. Some of our guests can be light-fingered.’

She went out. Miller locked the door, sat on the bed and tore open the package. Inside in a cardboard box was a soft leather ankle holder, a Colt .25 with a silencer and a box containing twenty hollow-point cartridges, a lethal package if ever there was one. There was no message, the name Glover Hi-Speed Deliveries