The Pariot GAme Read Free Page A

the rough. Remember, you heard it here first.”
    “You going to have a sandwich?” Walter said.
    “Sure,” Doherty said. “The choice’s between having a bad cheeseburger here and going back to the rectory and having a bad cheeseburger there, with Mrs. Herlihy hovering around and complaining about her arthritis and then all the parishioners calling up to tell me they’ve got personal problems. Which always means they want me to get them a retroactive annulment, and also make sure it doesn’t get into the paper, when they got four kids, minimum, and they just found out hubby’s chasing ladies in some joint in Boston. Which cheeseburger would you take?”
    “I would eat here,” Walter said.
    “Sure you would,” Doherty said.
    “See?” Walter said. “There’re some things that’re hopeless. Your swing. Nothing you can do about it. Go have your horseburger, Father, and God bless.”
    “Thanks,” Doherty said.
    “No thanks necessary,” Walter said, turning back into the office. “Doesn’t make any difference. You’ve still got a slice and there’s not a damned thing in the world that I can do about it. You’re a lousy golfer. I probably wouldn’t be a very good priest. As long as you enjoy it, do it.”

“P AUL ,” R IORDAN SAID from the shade as Bishop Doherty walked out into the sunlight of the patio, “if you don’t mind me saying so, you looked like hell out there on the course.” Doherty turned from the ladies who were trilling at him to join them, and squinted at Riordan’s table. “Peter,” he said, when his eyes adjusted to the light, “of course I don’t mind. It wouldn’t make any difference if I
did
mind. What in blazes are you doing here?”
    “I am having a screwdriver,” Riordan said. “At least I assume I am having a screwdriver. I
ordered
a screwdriver—I am sure of that. I’m not sure I convinced the guard dog in the white jacket that I should really be permitted to
have
a screwdriver, but when he gets through talking to his superiors, maybe it’ll be all right. Siddown, all right? You look even worse up close in the shade than you did when you were out in the sun playing golf. Have you been sick or something?”
    “You’re enough to frighten small children yourself,” Doherty said, sitting down. “If you don’t mind me saying so, of course.”
    Riordan waved his left hand. “Don’t mind at all,” he said. “I knew that. I’ve been on the redeye special all night from LA, and before that I was having my usual preflight checkout in the bar. God, I hate flying. I hate all kinds of flying. I hated it when I was flying in little planes and jumping out of theminto the damned jungle, and I hated it when I was flying in helicopters and jumping out into the damned jungle. And I hate it now when there isn’t even anybody where we land that’s hiding in the bushes hoping to get a clean shot at my ass and all I have to worry about is whether they’re going to let me keep my baggage with me or send it on to Omaha so I don’t get too confident.” Doherty had started laughing. “It’s true, Paul,” Riordan said. “Dammit all, it’s true. There’re just some things that any given human being cannot do and pretend he likes it, and flying is mine. I have to do it. I know I have to do it. But I still hate doing it. Every damned minute that I’m doing it, I hate it.”
    “What for this time?” Doherty said, still laughing. “My Lord, but it’s a tonic to see you.” The waiter brought a very large screwdriver and a pack of Luckies and set them before Riordan. “Ray,” Doherty said to him, “this is my friend, Peter Riordan.” He took the waiter by the right elbow. “Old and dear friend, Peter Riordan. Any time he comes here, the courtesy of the house. I know he doesn’t look like much, but he is a friend of mine. And not only that, he is, as I’m sure you have noticed,
big.
Doesn’t do to cross him.”
    The waiter was uncomfortable. “Yes, Your