Conduct in Question

Chapter 11

In the late afternoon, several floors down from Conroy, Archbishop Staunton was shown into McKeown’s outer office. Sitting in a straight-backed chair, he glanced about him. Photographs of African masks lined the far wall. He frowned and picked up a magazine. Five minutes later, he was ushered into the lawyer’s office.

“Yes?” said McKeown coldly.

The archbishop took a seat. “Mr. McKeown, what are our chances with this rezoning application?”

McKeown gave a brief smile and said, “As I have said, sir, if you find the ability within yourself to leave your clerical collar at the courtroom door, the church has a reasonably good chance.”

The archbishop pursed his lips and then replied, “So if we do not win, it will be my fault?”

The lawyer sprang from his chair. “Not entirely, sir. But you must understand that these aldermen fancy themselves to be representatives of the people. They will resent your talking down to them.”

Staunton grasped the arms of his chair. “We must win.”

A smile spread across the lawyer’s face. “And why is it so imperative?”

Twisting around, the archbishop glared at him. “If we are unable to rezone and complete the sale, the church will have no resources to pay it debts.”

“Really? What debts are so pressing?”

Staunton waved him off. “It’s been in all the papers. The lawsuits.”

McKeown perched on the corner of his desk. “Ah, yes, I see. You mean those suits brought on behalf of the abused youngsters against some of your clergy.”

“Yes,” Staunton whispered.

McKeown’s face darkened. He folded his arms across his chest. “I cannot imagine a fouler deed than the abuse of such innocents, particularly in the name of the Lord.”

The archbishop threw his hands out in a gesture of futility. “What can I say? The church has been put in this position by a few—”

“Who remain protected by your church.” The lawyer turned away in disgust.

“Nevertheless, we must win.”

McKeown smiled broadly. “Do not worry, Archbishop Staunton. If that is your concern, I can provide a solution. I am sure I can bring the church a very favorable offer, should the application to rezone fail.”

“Really? From whom?”

“I can’t say at the moment. But be assured, I’ll not let the church founder. The institution is far too important, despite its long-standing record of abuse.”

Sighing audibly, the archbishop rose. “Thank you, Mr. McKeown. I hope that won’t be necessary.” Nodding curtly, he opened the door and left.

Although the light was fading, Tony did not turn on the lights. Instead, he stood at the window. A dirty rain spat against the glass. His headache began to clear.

He chuckled softly. It was child’s play preparing the archbishop—so easy to mold him into the witness he wanted. Given the right circumstances and guidance, a person could be persuaded to say almost anything in the right fashion. But the deck was stacked against the church. Local opposition was fierce. If the application were to be dismissed, then he would have the right purchaser for the church, who would make an offer unconditional upon rezoning.

He checked his watch. It was time to prepare for Mrs. Rowe tonight. He checked her file and made several notes.

In a charitable mood, he regarded her as a victim of her breeding and class, just like the Archbishop. If he didn’t prepare her properly, she could blow the whole application with the wrong inflection, by talking down to the representatives of the people. But, unlike the archbishop, it would be a pleasure to work with her.