By noon a rag-bag of some sixty agitated islanders had congregated in the churchyard. They were all men, and they all had guns. Most were shotguns, but there were a few weapons of an altogether more sophisticated hue, which was, frankly, surprising. I’d expected slings and arrows, cudgels, rolling pins, Moses crooks and fish hooks. Not AK-47 assault rifles.
Father White addressed them from the steps of the church. Father Flynn stood by the church gates. He intended to bless them as they went a-hunting. Not the gates, the hunters. He had delegated the actual mechanics of the search to Father White, although I wasn’t altogether convinced that he had much choice about it.
He’s neither younger nor fitter,’ he explained, ‘but he could have planned the invasion of Normandy in half the time.’
It was said with grudging respect. He looked worried. His voice was dry, his eyes were pinched up pensive. The mob was excited, baying to be off, and though they didn’t need it, Father White was whipping the frenzy up further. It was a simpleton’s version of a fox hunt, chasing a big girl around half a dozen square miles of bramble, scrub and wind-bent tree.
‘That’s an awful lot of hardware for an island this size, Father. What’s this, the forgotten wing of the IRA?’
He laughed. ‘No . . . of course not . . . we get a lot of ships call by, and they’re usually keen to trade. Particularly the Russians. God love their impoverished wee souls. There’s a fair bit of bartering goes on.’
‘You mean like half a dozen cabbages for a Kalashnikov.’
‘Actually, you’re not that far off. They’ve no shortage of weapons but their rations leave a lot to be desired. Poor scrawny half-starved wee men. You could probably equip a small army in exchange for sixty-four of Mrs McKeown’s meat pies.’
‘It looks like you have.’ I shook my head. ‘That’s still an awful lot of weaponry to track down an eighteen-stone schizophrenic. She’s not Rambo, Father, she’s Dumbo.’
‘Dan, she’s with Constable Murtagh, and as far as we’re concerned he is Rambo. He has a gun and he knows how to use it.’
‘He’s also the law, Father.’
‘Not on this island.’
‘Father, you know that’s not right.’
Before he could respond Father White appeared at his elbow. He had a shotgun under his arm.
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