Page 97 of The Last Kingdom

Traffic began to congeal.

A couple more rounds Rife’s way seemed like a good idea, but his better judgment told him no. People could get hurt. Instead, he yanked open the glass door in the alcove and entered a building.

* * *

RIFE SHOULD GO AFTER KOGER.

But the wail of sirens drawing closer cautioned otherwise. He’d taken a chance with a surprise attack, the idea being to distract Koger, take him off the trail, and give Knight time to act.

Which worked.

Hopefully Knight would be successful with Malone.

Chapter 53

COTTON ENTERED THE THREE-AISLED NAVE. MAYBE A COUPLE OFhundred feet long and a third of that wide, the overhead vaults alive with religious paintings, their depth and richness impressive. A massive fresco ofTheLast Judgmenthung behind the high altar, reminiscent of the Sistine Chapel. A number of people milled about inside, admiring the stunning artwork. He had only a few moments before Knight arrived, and he soon spotted what he’d hoped would be there.

Confessionals.

Two wooden booths with a center compartment, all three with louvered doors. Above one of the booths a small red light burned, indicating it was occupied with a penitent. The other booth bore a green light. Several people were kneeling in nearby pews in silent prayer, perhaps waiting their turn. He’d grown up Catholic and had, on many occasions as a child, taken confession. Always a strange experience. Kneeling in the dark on an incredibly hard wooden prie-dieu without a stitch of padding. He could still feel the ache in his knees. But that was the whole idea. The experience was not meant to be pleasant. The priest sat comfortably in the center compartment on the other side of a lattice opening that concealed faces but allowed voices through. Not his favorite way of spending a Saturday morning. But you had to go to confession before taking Communion at Sunday morning Mass.

That was the rule.

The confessionals here were nothing elaborate, a bit of a counter to the overall architectural scheme, simple and unadorned, occupying a back corner. He stepped over, opened the door to the empty booth, and entered. Through the louvers he was able to watch as Knight entered the nave and surveyed the surroundings.

A panel slid in the wall.

He glanced back.

The priest had opened the lattice portal.

He knew what was next. He was supposed to say, “Please bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been like thirty-five years since my last confession and here are my sins.”

Bet that would go over great.

He decided to say nothing.

Knight walked down the center aisle toward the main altar, his back now to him.

“May I help you?” the priest asked in German.

“Not today, Father.”

He opened the door and slipped out. Knight was fifty feet away, facing the altar. The floor was polished stone. Perfect for concealing footsteps, provided you trod carefully.

And he did.

He swept up behind Knight and tapped him on the shoulder. When the man turned, he decked him with a hard right to the jaw. Which hurt his knuckles. Knight was built like a fire hydrant, surely accustomed to “takin’ a lickin’ and keepin’ on tickin’.” But nobody likes to get blindsided. Knight rolled his body over on the floor and reached beneath his coat.

No way.

Cotton kicked the gun from Knight’s hand. “Are we really going to do this?”

The visitors scurried toward the exit. Those praying also seemed shocked by the violence. Knight froze. He’d expected more of a fight. Then he noticed that the man’s gaze seemed to focus past him. He turned. Koger stood at the end of the aisle, near the confessional, gun pointed.

The priest emerged from the confessional.

“What is the meaning of this?” the older man said in German. “This is a sanctuary.”