There was a lull. Kelly gone, somewhere within. Besides Martin’s moaning, no other sound. ‘Is he still there?’ Brendan asked Judah.

‘Just help Martin,’ Judah said.

There was something in Judah’s eyes that made Brendan do as the man said. He sat Martin up and saw the blood. Already a pool of it. It was gushing out of a wound in his neck. Martin was kicking his feet and groaning and his eyes were wide.

‘He needs a hospital,’ Brendan said. He put a hand on Martin’s neck and applied pressure. Martin’s eyes widened further and his boots kicked against the brick of the church.

‘You’re strangling him,’ Judah said. Brendan moved his hand away from the trachea and over the wound. The neck was slippery, the pulse there somewhere, thrumming like guitar strings––between his fingers, life pulsing. Martin was crying. He kept trying to speak but all that came out was the sound of a bathtub emptying.

‘He needs a hospital,’ Brendan said again.

‘Can you get him to the car?’

Just as Brendan stood up another shot came from inside the church. Something careened off the brick nearby and flew past his face. He gasped and held it and felt blood already seeping from his ear. Judah returned fire and from inside came a loud groan. Craning his neck Brendan could see that the minister was down, crawling away from the door, towards a table with a purple cloth, a golden tassel hanging from it. Brendan thought he could see flyers of a service. Kelly’s rifle lay on the carpet and a trail of blood was spreading like oil in water. Judah walked forwards, training his pistol on the minister’s back. Brendan followed, leaving Martin in his mess. Kelly grabbed at the tassel and the cloth fell over him and he looked already dead. The flyers fell.

Judah said, ‘You tell us where this bloody Moore is or I’ll make this worse for you.’

Beneath the cloth the minister scrambled. He seemed unable to stop moving, despite what further harm might be done to him. On the steps the drowning of Martin.

Then, somehow, Kelly was on his feet, holding his weeping leg. He regarded his abusers hopping, with venom in his eyes.

‘I’m not telling you anything,’ he said. ‘You can go to hell.’

‘Some way for a minister to talk.’

‘If I’m going, I’m going and that’s all there is to it. I’ll be with Christ.’ Kelly leaned his head back and laughed, then started coughing. ‘Weymouth,’ he said. ‘Last bloody bloke I wanted in my head at this moment. Still think he was wrong.’

Nonsense words. Judah brought his pistol up again and aimed it at the minister’s stomach and the old man’s eyes flew open in terror.

‘You aren’t going yet, old man. You tell us where Moore is.’

‘Shooting a minister in a church is a guaranteed way to get into hell.’

‘Wouldn’t be talking about who shot who, preacher.’ Judah’s eyes flicked to his dying friend. ‘You tell me what I want to know or I’ll shoot you in the gut. I’ve been shot in the gut. It’s not pretty, let me tell you.’