It was ridiculously easy to disrupt the local electronics. I even saw the snap as a camera close by burned out with whatever the hell it was that Conor had made.
It was the size of a tablet, and had a manual red button that Da directed me to push every few minutes. Because I had no desire to go to jail, I did as requested and we lumbered into the cathedral like a rag tag bunch of thieves once Da used his key to let us in.
The second we were within its cavernous interior, we were graced with the silent halls that, on any given day, held up to three thousand souls. Beneath our feet, cream marble gleamed even in the shadows, because hundreds of stained glass windows let in the meager light from outside.
Overhead, the arched dome was supported by dozens of archways that were grounded by decorated columns. A carved stone pulpit loomed over the rows of shining wooden pews, which led down to the high altar.
I knew there were several altars in here, but I doubted Da wanted any other than the largest. With its famous bronze baldachino, an intricate Sanctuary that shrouded the altar, it was on a higher level than anywhere else in here, surrounded by marble so pure in color that cream looked filthy against it.
Beside the high altar, there was a Pietà, a sculpture of Mary mourning Jesus’ passing as she wept over his body, and, considering my mother’s tears, I couldn’t help but find that fitting.
"Spread out," I told the men who were with us, my voice gritty with repressed emotion. "Make sure the place is empty. Any guards on the premises must be freaking out about their security system being down, so go and sweep the place, yeah?"
The guys obeyed, leaving the duffle bags behind while Anthony pushed Masters along the aisle, as we trudged after my parents, each of us in the dark as we made it to the high altar.
The silence in here was more overpowering than the bitter cold. Insane, really, because the wheelchair squeaked and our feet clicked against the stone tiles on the ground, but it was like a vacuum. Everything was swallowed up by the shadows.
Only the main stained glass windows really let in any light from the streets, but the columns were so thick that it didn’t allow for easy maneuvering, and was enough for our cell’s flashlights to barely penetrate the gloom.
"All clear," one guy called out softly.
"All clear."
"All clear."
By the time we made it to the fifth ‘all clear,’ there wasn’t as much need for silence, so I demanded, "What are we doing here, Da? Did you want to check out his sacristy?"
Da didn’t answer me—no surprises there.
Instead, to Anthony he directed, "Wheel him onto the high altar’s dais then go and help the others."
Behind me, I could hear zips unfastening, and then I heard sloshing.
Shit.
"Da, is this wise?" I rasped, peering up at the ancient edifice, wondering if my da was insane enough to think even we could get away with torching New York’s main cathedral.
Who was I kidding?
Of course, he fucking was.
"You know the rectory and the Cardinal’s residence are connected to this place," I pointed out.
"They’ll get out as soon as the alarms go off," was all Da would say.
"Well, we need to hurry the fuck up, then." I just hoped Conor’s jammer didn’t stop the alarms from working.
God, this was a nightmare without an end.
Anthony grunted as he hauled the wheelchair up the few steps to the altarpiece, and when he was done, he slipped into the background like the good grunt he was—Da preferred his crew to be doers rather than thinkers—and I assumed Anthony began helping the others spread what scented like gasoline.
"He’s really fucking lost it this time," Finn whispered at my side, his shoulders hunched against the cold as we both watched the scene unfold.
I couldn’t disagree with him. This had the makings of a disaster, the likes of which we’d never seen in the Five Points, written all over it.
Scrubbing a hand over my chin, I murmured, "Let’s see what they do. They’re more—" I heaved a sigh, because this sounded insane to me, never mind Finn. "—fragile, than I thought."
He grunted. "I know what you mean. I didn’t think they’d react like this."
We shared a look and, even though it was pitch black and impossible to see his features without flashing the light right in his face, I knew we were both on the same page.
I had no idea how much time had passed, but the sound of matches being struck had me turning to see what was happening, and I winced when I realized they’d started lighting candles on the altar.
I pushed the jammer for prosperity a few times, hoping to God they fucked with the cameras, which was when Anthony walked up and hovered behind me.
"Tell Sr. that the guards are handled." He worked his jaw. "Might be a shit storm there. They were armed like they were a fucking militia." He shrugged. "I went around the cathedral and I think we got them all."
I blinked. Great. Communicating with Da was down to me. How lucky was I?
"You took them out?" Finn demanded.
He smirked. "Conor gave me a gift too. Said it was better than getting sent down for another aggravated assault charge." His lips curved up like he was proud. "Said your da needed me too much for that to happen."
Conor said that?
Suspiciously, I asked, "What was it?"
He raised a hand and wiggled another of Conor’s goddamn contraptions. This one was a lot smaller than the jammer. "I press this button, and it fucks with people’s ears."
"How didn’t it fuck with yours?"
"He gave me some special ear plugs." He tapped his ear. "Go equipped."
When he thumbed the button, I snatched out and grabbed his wrist. "I don’t need a test run." Then, I frowned. "Did you knock out any of our men?"
"Nah. They’re wearing the ear plugs too."
"How didn’t we hear it?"
Anthony shrugged. "Too far away. I went into the rectory and the offices."
My mouth tightened. "Are the guards dead or passed out?"
"Like they were fucking dead." He grinned, then he looked around and that grin died.
Yeah, it was one of those nights.
"Where are they?"
"Dumped them outside."
"Are they visible from the street?" I demanded, worrying about that whole ‘grunt’ shit seeing as Anthony wasn’t the smartest cookie in the jar.
Figured that Conor would give the bastard a tool to help him out, but wouldn’t think Anthony’d try to give us some ‘show and tell’ so we could see it in action.
"No. I shoved them in a couple dumpsters around the back."
"All of them?"
"They were out like lights."
Jesus. He wasn’t a grunt for nothing.
"They can breathe?" I clarified, not wanting the extra hassle of their deaths.
Anthony shrugged. "I taped up their mouths, but not their noses."
"You wheeled them far away enough so that if this place explodes, they won’t get caught in the blast?"
"This ain’t my first arson attack," Anthony growled like I’d offended him.
"What about the rectory? The common areas? Were they clear?"