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Chapter 39

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The door to the confessional was open.  Cameron thought to let Pepe know he was going into the confessional and decided not to, fearing that, due to the silence of the cathedral, even the faintest voice would carry.  He questioned his sanity for entering the confessional booth to begin with, away from the safety of the open cathedral.  Pepe had his back though and that was reassuring.  Cameron stepped into the small wooden booth and fastened the door behind him with the inside latch.  Immediately a slatted panel behind the wooden screen separating Cameron from the priest slid open.  Cameron waited for someone to speak and when no one did, he said, “Forgive me father for –.”  Cameron was interrupted by the voice from the phone.  “There is no need for that Mister Kincaid,” said the voice.

“Have it your way.  To whom am I speaking?”

“That does not matter in the least.  What does matter is that you seem to have come alone.  Excuse the pun, but I pray you are not intending a ruse.”  Cameron detected a subtle French accent, not Canadian French, or French proper, rather some other dialect.

“I wanted to be sure I had an exit,” Cameron did not let his voice waiver, “and right at this moment I’m not overwhelmed with confidence.”

“Our surroundings?”

“You have to admit, this is a confined space.”

“You are right sir.  Feel free to step out into the open if it makes you feel better.”

“It will I assure you.”

“Fine then,” said the voice in an upbeat tone.

Cameron reached for the latch to the confessional door.

“Not that way Mister Kincaid,” said the man behind the screen.

The panel behind the little screen slid shut.  From around the edge of the confessional booth door came a rapid succession of clicks.  Cameron was sure these were bolts locking the door in place.  He unfastened the latch and pushed, not moving the door in the slightest.

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