understand,' said the nun. 'We don't have the facilities: the sisters are doing their best but they have no experience of nursing such people. But it will only be temporary. The doctor says they'll recover soon and be able to go home. If you let them go now it will ruin the father’s research!'
'The police will ruin his research by putting him in jail where he belongs!' retorted Eli.
'Please try to understand,' pleaded the nun. 'The men will be none the worse for their experience. The good father has assured us of that.'
'He's got my friend down there . . . I heard him cry out . . . They’re hurting him.'
'No, the father says it's just like going through a bad dream for a little while. He’ll be fine.'
Eli looked at the men and asked, 'How long have they been going through their bad dream?'
'Two weeks . . . maybe three,' replied the nun uncertainly.
'How many have recovered?'
The nun looked away. Eli guessed at none.
‘ The Holy Church wouldn't have approved the work if it was going to hurt anyone. Dom Ignatius brought letters from the Vatican in Rome itself.'
Eli snorted.
The nun got to her feet and tried to push past him but she was impeded by one of the men who grabbed her by the throat as she pushed past.
'Let her go!' shouted Eli as he saw the man start to apply increasing pressure to her windpipe. Eli struggled to get to her through the milling crowd and tried to prise his hands from her throat but the man's arms were like iron. The nun was going blue in the face. She had lost consciousness by the time he had finally succeeded in breaking his grip. The man simply turned away as if no longer interested, apparently oblivious to what he had done.
Things were getting out of hand. There was no time to check on the nun’s condition. He pushed his way through the men to the front and ran towards the far end of the corridor, caring little whether the others would follow or not. As it happened, most of them did following herd instinct.
He was struggling with his third choice of key when the door was suddenly opened from the other side and he was confronted by three nuns. They were wearing the same protective aprons as the dead sister and two of them were carrying buckets of water and scrubbing brushes. Shock registered on their faces when they saw Eli. Two of them tried to close the door.
There was a brief struggle before Eli forced his way out, followed by the others. The third nun had run off to raise the alarm. Eli realised that they were now nearing the entrance hall. The front door was only about twenty metres away. He glanced behind him and saw that one of the nuns who had tried to bar the door had fallen to the floor; she was being trampled on by the men who were streaming out. A plaster statue tumbled from one of the alcoves as one of the men brushed against it and broke into pieces as it hit the floor. Shards of plaster were kicked all over the place by the feet of the mob.
Eli found that he couldn’t open the front door, not even after trying all the keys. The thick wood absorbed his blows like a sponge. It didn't even rattle in its hinges.
'Enough!' said a voice behind him and his blood ran cold. It was Ignatius.
Eli turned to find him standing there, accompanied by four nuns and Stroud who was now moved among the men, administering tranquilising injections.
'No!' Eli exclaimed. 'Don't let him do that to you!'
Ignatius came towards him. 'Be quiet you moron,' he hissed. 'Haven't you caused enough trouble?'
'Look at them!’ countered Eli. ‘Look what you've done to them and you talk about me causing trouble! Where's Benny? What have you done to him? Some questions you said. Look at these poor bastards! They're out of their minds!’
'It's just a temporary after-effect of the drug.'
'Temporary, my arse!’
The look Eli got in reply chilled him to the bone.
In the background he could see that some of them men had already succumbed to Stroud’s medication and were docilely being led away by
'The police will ruin his research by putting him in jail where he belongs!' retorted Eli.
'Please try to understand,' pleaded the nun. 'The men will be none the worse for their experience. The good father has assured us of that.'
'He's got my friend down there . . . I heard him cry out . . . They’re hurting him.'
'No, the father says it's just like going through a bad dream for a little while. He’ll be fine.'
Eli looked at the men and asked, 'How long have they been going through their bad dream?'
'Two weeks . . . maybe three,' replied the nun uncertainly.
'How many have recovered?'
The nun looked away. Eli guessed at none.
‘ The Holy Church wouldn't have approved the work if it was going to hurt anyone. Dom Ignatius brought letters from the Vatican in Rome itself.'
Eli snorted.
The nun got to her feet and tried to push past him but she was impeded by one of the men who grabbed her by the throat as she pushed past.
'Let her go!' shouted Eli as he saw the man start to apply increasing pressure to her windpipe. Eli struggled to get to her through the milling crowd and tried to prise his hands from her throat but the man's arms were like iron. The nun was going blue in the face. She had lost consciousness by the time he had finally succeeded in breaking his grip. The man simply turned away as if no longer interested, apparently oblivious to what he had done.
Things were getting out of hand. There was no time to check on the nun’s condition. He pushed his way through the men to the front and ran towards the far end of the corridor, caring little whether the others would follow or not. As it happened, most of them did following herd instinct.
He was struggling with his third choice of key when the door was suddenly opened from the other side and he was confronted by three nuns. They were wearing the same protective aprons as the dead sister and two of them were carrying buckets of water and scrubbing brushes. Shock registered on their faces when they saw Eli. Two of them tried to close the door.
There was a brief struggle before Eli forced his way out, followed by the others. The third nun had run off to raise the alarm. Eli realised that they were now nearing the entrance hall. The front door was only about twenty metres away. He glanced behind him and saw that one of the nuns who had tried to bar the door had fallen to the floor; she was being trampled on by the men who were streaming out. A plaster statue tumbled from one of the alcoves as one of the men brushed against it and broke into pieces as it hit the floor. Shards of plaster were kicked all over the place by the feet of the mob.
Eli found that he couldn’t open the front door, not even after trying all the keys. The thick wood absorbed his blows like a sponge. It didn't even rattle in its hinges.
'Enough!' said a voice behind him and his blood ran cold. It was Ignatius.
Eli turned to find him standing there, accompanied by four nuns and Stroud who was now moved among the men, administering tranquilising injections.
'No!' Eli exclaimed. 'Don't let him do that to you!'
Ignatius came towards him. 'Be quiet you moron,' he hissed. 'Haven't you caused enough trouble?'
'Look at them!’ countered Eli. ‘Look what you've done to them and you talk about me causing trouble! Where's Benny? What have you done to him? Some questions you said. Look at these poor bastards! They're out of their minds!’
'It's just a temporary after-effect of the drug.'
'Temporary, my arse!’
The look Eli got in reply chilled him to the bone.
In the background he could see that some of them men had already succumbed to Stroud’s medication and were docilely being led away by
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