Confessional [antikvár]

When teie Land Rover turned the comer at the end of the street, Kelly was passing the church of the Holy Name. He moved into the porch quickly, opened the heavy door and stepped inside, keeping it partially open so that he could see what was happening. The Land Rover had been stripped down to the bare essentials so that the driver and the two policemen who crouched in the rear were completely exposed. They wore the distinctive dark green uniforms of the Royal Ulster Constabulary, Sterling submachine guns held ready for instant action. Hiey disappeared down the narrow street towards the centre of Drumore and he stayed there for a moment, in the safety of the half-darkness, conscious of the familiar odour. *Incense, candles and the holy water,' he said sofdy and his finger reached to dip in the granite bowl beside the door. *k there anything I can do for you, my son?* The voice was little more than a whisper and, as Kelly turned, a priest moved out of the darkness, an old man, in shabby cassock, his hair very white, gleaming in the candlelight He carried an umbrella in one hand. 7ust sheltering from the rain is all. Father,* Kelly told him. He stood there, shoulders hunched easily, hands thrust deep in die pockets of the old tan raincoat. He was small, five feet five at the most, not much more than a boy, and yet die white devil*s face on him beneath the brim of the old felt hat, the dark brooding eyes that seemed to stare through and beyond, hinted at something more. All this the old priest saw and understood. He smiled gendy, *You don't live in Drumoie, I think?*