Holy Island Trilogy 03 - The Final Countdown

by Sheila Quigley

  One chance only, Shelly thought, as she aimed the pen at his stomach. Feeling the needle meeting its destination, she pressed the plunger, but almost at the same time he swiped it out of her hand. The pen hit the side of the bedpost and fell to the floor, out of Shelly’s reach. She began to punch and kick at him, but second by second she could feel herself becoming weaker. His face, full of rage, pressed up against hers. She could smell his foul breath, feel his spit on her face. Slowly the world became darker.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Mike put the directions on top of the dashboard. Fastening the seatbelt, he started the car and drove quickly down the street. Glancing at the directions, he turned right, drove on through two sets of lights, then kept right, and soon he was out into the countryside.

  He found the place he wanted, and looked suspiciously at the wrought iron gates, especially at the camera on the left side.

  ‘OK, looks like I’m gonna have to climb over the wall at some point,’ he muttered. 'Better get parked.’

  Driving on past the cameras and waiting until he was out of range, he turned at the bottom of the road, noting that at twenty-yard intervals there were more cameras. He shot in between two sets of them, and parked the car right up against the wall.

  Carefully making sure he was not in any of the cameras sights he got out of the car and, bent double, hurried to the wall. He flattened his back against it and looked left, then right, hoping that because the wall looked quite old, there might be few stones missing from the top.

  ‘No luck there, then, gonna have to do it the hard way. So what’s new?’

  He found a few handholds, the beauty of stone as opposed to trying to climb a brick wall, and hoisted himself up. In seconds he was up and over. Hastily, he looked around for guard dogs, though there had been none up at the monastery. Either Mr Leader felt secure enough not to need them, or he didn’t like them, Mike thought, favouring the latter.

  Possibly because no dog worth its salt would like that bastard!

  He found himself in a small, dense forest of trees with roots winding their way just below ground, as well as over. He had to watch his step. A broken ankle wasn’t going to help anything.

  As the trees began to thin out, the building came into view. Mike stopped dead.

  ‘Jesus,’ he muttered, staring at the house. ‘Impossible. How the hell...?’

  Between him and the house was a vast stretch of lawn, where he would be seen as soon as he set foot on it. Then he remembered, if for some insane reason everything panned out to be a carbon copy of the monastery, that at the right side of the house the trees were very much closer, and one section of the building practically touched them. If he came out that way he stood a chance.

  Dipping quickly back into the trees, he hurried along and soon came to the spot he wanted. This, if he was right, should be the back of the drug shed.

  Slowly he crept around the building until he came to the one and only window. Carefully, he raised his body and risked a quick look inside. A moment was all it took. Shrinking back down, he leaned against the wall and stared into space, a look of deep sadness on his face. The look changed to anger and, steeling himself, he crept along to the door he’d used to get into the monastery near Berwick.

  Turning the handle, he pulled, only to find it was locked.

  ‘Damn. Everything in duplicate except Brother Dave.’

  It would have to be the window. He looked around for something to put over his hand. Finding nothing, he whipped his jacket off and wrapped it around his hand. Without hesitating, he knocked the pane out. Shaking his jacket to get rid of the glass, he slipped it on and felt through the pane for the key in the lock.

  ‘Thank God,’ he whispered when his hand found the key. Turning it, the door slipped silently open.

  He went inside, crossed the room and moved into the corridor. Knowing exactly where he wanted to be, he made for the third door.

  Mitch was practically hopping from foot to foot, torn about doing the right thing.

  ‘Fuck it.’ Suddenly he did the only thing he could, taking a deep breath he kicked the door in, just in time to see Shelly sliding down the Leader's chest.

  The Leader looked at him with a scowl. He let go of Shelly, and she dropped the rest of the way to the floor.

  Mike entered the library and headed for the staircase, seeing the guard's body halfway across. Reaching the guard, he knelt down and felt for a pulse.

  ‘Stone dead,’ he muttered. ‘Well, that’s one nuisance out of the way. Wonder if Shelly pushed him down the stairs.’

  He looked up the staircase. By rights, it should lead to the Leader's bedroom, he thought, stepping over the dead guard's body and putting his foot on the first stair.

  Wasting no time, Mitch launched himself across the floor. His fist connecting with the Leader's chin knocked him sideways, but only for a moment. Then he came back, snarling,

  Both men started throwing punches. Ignoring the hits he was taking in his ribs, Mitch managed to get his hands around the Leader's head and his thumbs under the Leader's eyes, and pressed hard. Knowing what Mitch was aiming to do and with his eyes bulging out of their sockets, the Leader brought his knee up fast into Mitch’s groin. Mitch gasped, and let go of him.

  ‘Bastard!’ the Leader screamed, reaching for a silver knife on his desk. ‘You will be on the bonfire tonight, peasant, entertainment for the druggie peasants.’

  His fingers were closing in on the knife.

  Hearing voices when he reached the top of the stairs, Mike pulled his gun out. Turning the handle, he pushed the door open just as the Leader was about to plunge the knife into Mitch’s neck.

  Quickly, Mike took aim and fired two bullets into the Leader's chest.

  For a moment, Mike's and the Leader’s eyes met. The Leader's were full of disbelief as he crumbled, hitting the desk as he fell.

  Mike hurried over to Shelly. Checking for life, he found a faint pulse and immediately began CPR.

  ‘Is she gonna be all right?’ Mitch asked, doubled up in pain, but concern for Shelly on his face.

  Ignoring him, Mike carried on administering CPR. After another two minutes, he sat back on his heels and stared down at Shelly’s still face.

  Mitch sighed, and shook his head.

  A moment later, Shelly gasped. Her hand went to her throat, which was covered in bruises.

  ‘Thank God,’ Mitch said, as both men nodded their heads.

  Her breathing at first was shallow, and Mike helped her to sit up. ‘Come on, Shelly. You’re going to be just fine.’

  ‘Ambulance? Mitch asked.

  ‘No. Too many questions.’

  ‘I…I’ll be all right,’ Shelly said, her voice hoarse, as she stared at the Leader's body. ‘Is he...?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mike replied.

  Taking her arms, he helped her onto a chair where, still staring at the Leader, she hugged herself and started rocking back and forth.

  ‘Shock,’ Mike mouthed over the top of her head to Mitch, who nodded.

  After a minute, Shelly began to settle. ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Believe it,’ Mike replied. ‘Now what do we do?’

  ‘We’d planned to let them all go, give the other guards a chance to flee or…’ Mitch said.

  ‘Shoot them,’ Mike put in.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Not a good idea, mate. Half the kids in there would probably have a heart attack, plus the guards have guns. It would be an unnecessary bloodbath. And on a double plus worst case, we end up on a murder charge hiked up by that lot.’

  ‘OK. What do you suggest?’

  ‘We make good our escape. I’m sure those back at the house will have contacts with decent coppers.’

  ‘OK with me.’ Mitch looked down at Shelly who nodded her agreement.

  ‘Right, follow me.'

  Outside, Mike led them to the vine-covered wall where, in the old monastery, there had been a hidden door. Lifting a portion of vine, he tutted. ‘
Thought as much. This has got to be the only part that hasn’t been reconstructed.’

  ‘What do we do now?’ Mitch asked.

  ‘Keep to the plan and get out of here. Shelly,’ he cupped his hands, ‘if I hoist you up, do you think you can get over?’

  ‘Easy.’

  ‘OK, go for it.’

  As Mike hoisted Shelly to the top of the wall, Mitch moved back and took a run at it. Reaching the top at the same time as Shelly, he helped her over and they both dropped to the ground. A few seconds later, Mike joined them.

  ‘Right. We’ve been lucky up till now, let's hope it keeps up until we reach the car. End of the wall, turn right. Go!’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Kristina sat in her room, thinking of Mike and all that lay ahead of them. Aunt May had taken her to one side and told her where Mike had gone, and although she was seriously worried, she knew there was nothing she could do. That was Mike all over, always thinking of others. He would never change.

  Would I have him any other way? She smiled.

  No, this is the Mike I love.

  Whatever comes, we’ll face it together.

  In the bedroom next door, Brother David sat on the side of his bed resting his head in his hands.

  With great difficulty, he had reached a monumental decision. He would leave the order and rejoin the world, having told his God that his services would be more needed outside.

  He was sad to leave the order, but he’d thought about it over and over, and Coral had been the catalyst.

  Rising, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and went downstairs to talk to Aunt May.

  He found Danny and Smiler in the sitting room playing cards and arguing with each other constantly. But, Dave cocked his head, there was a subtle difference. No name-calling, and the odd restrained chuckle from them both.

  Hmm, things can only get better.

  ‘Have you seen Aunt May, Smiler?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s in the garden, Brother David.’

  ‘Please, just Dave.’

  Staring at him, Smiler nodded. When he’d passed them on the way to the garden, he said to Danny, ‘I knew he was gonna do that, leave the order.’

  ‘How? You a flaming mind reader?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘You better not be cheating.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that.’

  Danny stared at him, much the same way Smiler had stared at Dave. ‘No, I guess you wouldn’t.’

  ‘You believe me?’

  ‘That you can read minds and stuff?’ Danny shrugged. ‘I guess after everything that’s happened, I’ll just about believe anything. Er, it’s a full moon tonight… Don’t say--’

  ‘I’m gonna grow hair and fangs and howl at the moon!’

  Danny grinned, shrugged and looked at his cards.

  In the garden, Dave watched Aunt May as she pruned some pink roses. They owed so much to this woman, all three of them. She was the only mother he’d ever known. In fact, the whole world owes her, and others before her, a debt that can never be repaid. And now I need to tell her.

  ‘Aunt May.’ She looked up. ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘Do we bloody have to?’ She eyed him suspiciously, guessing what he was going to say.

  He gestured with his right hand towards the garden seat, near the pond. ‘Please.’

  She sighed. ‘OK, Dave.’

  He did a small double-take. ‘You know?’

  ‘Son, it wasn’t hard to guess. You were struggling a bit before this business happened, weren’t you? It wasn’t so hard to see.’ She sat down on the seat.

  Sitting down next to her, Dave took her hand. ‘I won't ask how you know. You’ve amazed us all in the past, Aunt May.’

  Smiling, she patted the top of his hand. ‘I won't ask if you’re sure, Dave. One thing is certain, you’ll have prayed long and hard about this. I guess Coral was the catalyst.’

  He sighed. ‘Sort of, but it's too soon for anything like that, I’m afraid. Aunt May.’

  ‘Just take it day by day, OK?’

  He nodded, then put his arm around her shoulders. ‘We all love you, Aunt May.’

  Before Aunt May could reply, Ella came running into the garden. ‘It’s Mitch, Aunt May. They’re all safe and out of there.’

  Aunt May clapped her hands. 'Thank God!’

  Dave grinned as Smiler and Danny came into the garden.

  ‘Does this mean Shelly’s on her way back?’ Danny asked, his eyes shining with hope.

  ‘It does, Danny.’ Aunt May took his hand and squeezed it tight.

  Feeling the tears pricking the back of his eyes, Danny nodded, and when Smiler patted his shoulder, he looked at him, managed a weak smile and, still blinking to stop the tears, nodded at him.

  ‘Told you it would be all right,’ Smiler said.

  ‘Zip it, Yoda,’ Danny cracked, and everyone in the garden laughed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Mitch slipped his phone back in his pocket as they turned the corner, and nearly bumped into Mike, who had stopped dead.

  ‘Shit,’ Mike said. ‘The car’s gone.’

  Both Shelly and Mitch looked at him. ‘How?’ Shelly asked. ‘Did you leave the keys in?’

  In answer, and still staring at the place where the car should be, Mike took the keys out of his pocket and jangled them.

  ‘Fuck,’ Mitch said. ’We’re going to have to get off this road.’

  ‘And go where?’ Mike asked. ‘All we’ve got is wide open fields.’

  But Mitch waved his hands to quiet him. Pulling out his phone. he dialled Ella. ‘You’re going to have to come and get us, girl. Plan A is in the ditch. And come armed.’

  Slipping the phone back in his pocket, he said, 'Follow me, this is the way she’ll come.’

  Mitch forced a way into the field through the hedgerow.

  Following him, with Mike in the rear, Shelly said, ‘Is it worth it?’ as a twig scratched her arm. ‘Ow, bastard,’ she muttered, before going on, ‘I mean, they’re gonna catch us anyhow. I know these guys, they never give up.’

  ‘I think these guys will be long gone shortly, that’s why they’ve nicked the car,’ Mike said.

  ‘Wouldn’t like to put money on it,’ Shelly replied.

  They carried on for the next ten minutes in silence, the muddy field from the recent rains hampering their progress, until Mitch, still in the lead, put his right hand up. He looked over the hedge. ‘Yes!’ He raised his fist in the air. ‘It’s Ella.’ He bent down to find a way through the hedgerow. The next minute, he was lying face down in the mud, with a bullet hole in his brain.

  Not seeing this and thinking he’d fell, Shelly laughed, as Mike stepped in front of her. Grabbing Mitch’s hand, he felt for a pulse, then looked up at Shelly.

  ‘Get down, now,’ he hissed.

  ‘What?’ She threw herself onto the ground. ‘Oh God, oh dear God, he’s dead, isn’t he? I thought he’d tripped.’

  Sensing her rising hysteria, Mike pulled his gun out and crawled through the mud. He was about to carefully look through the hedgerow when he felt something whiz by him. ‘Down, Shelly now. Keep down.’

  ‘But he’s dead. He helped me, and he’s dead.’ She crawled to where Mike was.

  ‘Can you shoot?’

  Shelly frowned at him, her gaze flickering to Mitch’s lifeless body. After a moment, she nodded, just as more bullets went over their heads.

  Without answering, Shelly, knowing what Mike wanted her to do, moved towards Mitch’s body. Hastily she rummaged in his pocket until she found his gun.

  Watching her, Mike nodded, then turning back he fired a round off in the direction that the bullets had come from, giving a satisfied grin a moment later when he heard a man's voice scream in pain.

  Then the sound of more gunfire aimed at their opponents made him grin. ‘Ella.’

  ‘Thank God,’ Shelly said.

  The sound of a car hastily driving off in the other direction, and then t
he sound of Ella’s voice calling them, made them both rise.

  ‘We’re here, Ella,’ Mike said, brushing aside some of the hedgerow and helping Shelly through.

  Ella ran across the road. ’Mitch?’

  ‘I’m afraid he didn’t make it, Ella.’ Mike grabbed her arms, as she swayed in shock.

  Her eyes welled up with tears. She implored Mike, ‘Are you sure? Are you really sure?’

  Mike nodded again. ‘Sorry, Ella.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Back there.’

  As Ella crossed the road, the sound of sirens invaded the sudden silence.

  ‘It's all right,’ Ella said. ‘They’re friendly.’

  She ducked under the hedgerow and stared down at Mitch’s body. They had known each other for a while now. At first Mitch had been a bit shy, had even turned red every time she’d teased him. But it was only recently it had seemed that they were destined to know each other better.

  ‘Now I’ll never know,’ she muttered sadly, placing a kiss on Mitch’s head.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Tarasov looked in the mirror. What he was about to do fairly went against the grain where the families were concerned. If ever it was found out, he and his would be hunted and hanged.

  But not Mike Yorke. He shook his head in wonder. Hours now, and still no sign of him. That stumbling great fool of a legal son would have been caught long before now, and that was a fact. No one looking suspicious on the CCTV cameras, and the agents had nearly finished interviewing the staff. Nothing!

  ‘Impossible,’ he said to his reflection. ‘Bunch of idiots, the whole fucking lot of them.’

  Walking over to the dresser he picked up the address, written on a piece of paper which he’d shoved under a blue glass vase. He was to meet her at a café in Norwich.

  He had been corresponding with the woman for over a year now, and working on her side for the last six months. Together, on his information, they had already averted a major war breaking out by diverting a missile, which a certain country had no knowledge of ever having sent, to a desolate spot on the globe.

  And now I’m about to meet her!

  Should be interesting.

  Going down to the hall, he waited while a car was brought round for him, then sent it back and demanded a smaller, less noticeable car without a chauffeur.