The Book of Kills by Ralph McInerny Read Free Book Online Page A

the feathered headdress he wore. Onto the field he came, his body bowed back in what might have been mimicry of the bandleader, head so far back that his feathers seemed to brush against the grass of the field. In a moment it became clear that his was an unscheduled appearance. A hand went up to halt the band about to take the field. The feathered apparition advanced to the fifty yard line before coming to a halt. There, he bowed first to one side of the field, and then the other. Therewas a murmur of tentative laughter and those descending to the lower level for refreshments slowed their pace.
    Suddenly, with one deft movement, the figure divested himself of his green costume and was exposed in near nakedness, wearing only a breech cloth. His upper body was luridly painted and he spread his arms wide. Then, with obvious dexterity he began to unfurl the banner that had been wrapped around his ostensible baton. The wind caught the cloth as it was freed and then the banner floated free, its legend legible to those on the Notre Dame side. GIVE NOTRE DAME BACK TO THE INDIANS.
    The reaction was equivocal until the uniformed security men who had been gathering on the sidelines converged on him. Some minutes were taken up in a comic pursuit, as again and again he eluded the hands that would take him captive. The crowd responded to an evident underdog and began to cheer his many escapes, but then he was subdued and taken in custody from the field. Boos were heard, and jeers directed at the captors rather than the captive. One florid-faced guard hastily wound up the offending banner. It was all over in a matter of minutes, but the scene had gone out over television to the ends of the nation.
    In the chancellor’s box, consternation reigned. Father Bloom, reminded of his recent ordeal, had gone pale and replied incoherently to the queries of his distinguished guests. Someone opined that it was a student prank and was surprised at the wild and angry glare he got from the chancellor. One of the chancellor’s handlers was heard to give orders that the culprit be detained.
    “What was that all about?” the wife of a trustee asked.
    “A student prank,” the chancellor managed to say, but he said it between gritted teeth.
    On the field, a planned program was executed by the band, but there was little appreciation in the box reserved for the officers of the university and their guests. It occurred to one of the proliferating platoon of assistant provosts that Noonan, chairman of the board of trustees, had been called from the box just before the first half ended. He had not yet returned. Nor had he returned when the halftime festivities were over and the opposing teams went to their respective sidelines to the cheers of their supporters.
    “Who was it came for Noonan?” the chancellor asked the priest for whom the title Advisor to the Chancellor had been invented.
    “An usher?” But there was doubt in the advisor’s voice.
    “Go find him.”
    He did not mean the usher. The advisor left, fighting against the flow of fans returning to their seats for the second half.
    The third quarter ended and neither Noonan nor the advisor had returned to the box. The chancellor was clearly agitated. From the nearby presidential box, the university counsel came in response to an urgent gesture.
    “Neither Noonan nor Father Anselm have come back.”
    “I’ll find them.”
    “Take an escort with you.”
    The thought that anyone who left would fail to return had the chancellor in its grip. Ballast nodded grimly.
    It was a glorious victory for the home team, but there was no rejoicing in the chancellor’s party. Mrs. Noonan was, in herown words, frantic. Her husband had had open heart surgery within the month and, having seen him so reduced, his hitherto solid thereness brought into doubt by the surgery, the valedictory thoughts she’d had while he was being operated on returned. The chancellor was in no condition to reassure her. Ballast’s