We pulled into Charlotte where we’d have to change buses. I looked at the timetable and saw we’d be there for an hour. I was getting a bit hungry so I told Father Gibson to use the loo—I’d see to our cases and meet him in the café.
Father seemed to be taking a lot longer than usual. I don’t know if it was ‘cause I was tired—it was two in the morning after all—but something didn’t feel right. So I thought I better go check on him. Good job I did, ‘cause when I got into the lavs, a couple of black kids had Father Gibson pressed up against a wall.
One of ‘em had a knife and was waving it in the priest’s face, shouting, “Come on Padre, hand ‘em over!”
I crept closer to the two and, sounding a lot calmer than I felt, I said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, pal.”
The guy with the knife
