Gannon tried unsuccessfully to contact his buddy Paolo by pipe phone twice during the day but it was only late at night when he was just about to go to sleep that he decided to try one last time.
“Miguel,” Paolo called up merrily from the stainless-steel pipe after a half minute of tapping.
“Where were you, man? I tried twice,” Gannon said.
“I went out for a jog and then I went to the cinema,” he said. “Ha ha. Only kidding. I was here but I must have been listening to my headphones.”
“I’m going tomorrow,” Gannon said. “The lunatic told me he was going to hunt my ass down.”
“As I said would happen. Miguel, a question. You are a Catholic, right? Most Irish are Catholic?”
“Yes.”
“In good standing?”
“Somewhat. I’ve missed a lot of Mass lately.”
“Have you ever received last rites?”
“No.”
“Well,” Paolo said. “Technically I was defrocked by my corrupt bishop but wrongly. It does not matter. I will give you last rites if you wish. I cannot anoint you with oil obviously, but we can do the rest if you would like. Reconciliation and all the prayers.”
“Yes, please.”
“Let us begin as we live, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost,” Paolo said.
“Thank you, Father,” Gannon said when they were done.
“No, I am Paolo, Mike. Just Paolo to you, please.”
“Thank you, Paolo.”
“You are welcome. Now, I want you to go to sleep but I need you to remember something. Listen to me very carefully.”
“I’m listening.”
“Every second that you are incarcerated, Miguel, every millisecond, remember it is a continuation of the outrageously astronomical crime they are perpetrating not just against you but against God. God who sees all and knows all sits resolutely by the spring of the scale of justice that millimeter by millimeter they are wrongly pulling and drawing down as they diabolically push you toward the abyss.
“But God knows what these reprobates, who are unworthy to house the Divinely connected human spirit, do not. That the strings that draw down lower and lower do not hold your bucket to hell but instead are the strings of a bow notched with an arrow of righteousness that they are aiming at their own throats.
“They do not know that at a moment of God’s choosing as the bowstring of outrage against Him reaches a point where no further tautness is possible, the degeneracy perpetrated against you and against myself and against all who are wronged will be avenged in the blink of an eye.”
“Wow,” Gannon said quietly.
“Mark my words, Miguel. In your coming times of trial, have faith. Have happy faith. For all is possible with God.”
“Paolo?”
“Yes?”
“When I win, when I put this lunatic six feet under, I will come back for you. I promise.”
“Ah, that’s the spirit, Miguel,” he said. “You hold on to that as tightly as possible. That spirit that makes God smile. Now go to bed, my friend.”