Holy Island Trilogy 03 - The Final Countdown

by Sheila Quigley

  Mike jumped down into the ditch at his side of the road. The plan was for Josh, who was an excellent marksman, to shoot the front tyre of the tanker, which would bring it to a stop close to Mike and Tony.

  When he was in place, Mike sat on a log that was lying in the ditch, and lit a cigarette he had cadged from Josh. Again he marvelled at how things had turned out. Only a few short weeks ago he had been unaware of the real driving force in the world.

  ‘And now here I am, at war with the bastards,’ he muttered, watching the smoke from his cigarette spiral into the sky.

  And Smiler... What a change there!

  Who would have believed it?

  The cigarette, now in danger of burning his fingers, was flung to the ground and stamped on. He looked at his watch. Still nearly fifteen minutes to go.

  And to top it all, me and Kristina back together. He shook his head in pleased amazement at the way things had turned out.

  I knew as soon as I saw her that I wanted her back. Why the hell didn’t I just tell her then, bloody idiot that I am?

  He looked at his watch again. Shit! Three minutes!

  OK, this is it.

  He strained his ears. Another two minutes went by before he heard the sound of a heavy vehicle pulling up the bank. Mike looked over the top of the ditch. There were clumps of grass where he knew he could see and not be seen. Just before the tanker came into view, he heard the sound of Josh’s pistol. A few seconds later he saw the tanker. It was lurching from side to side as the driver tried to bring it to a halt. Mike could see the white faces of the three men as they stared in front of them.

  Just in front of Mike, it finally came to a stop. In moments, Mike was up and running to the side of the cab, yanking the door open at exactly the same time as Tony pulled the driver's door open. The man on Mike’s side immediately put his hands up and started babbling in Spanish.

  ‘OK, I get the message, just get out of the fucking cab,' Mike snarled, gesturing for him to move with his gun. ‘And leave the weapon.’ The man obliged and Mike, quickly glancing at them, said to the man in the middle, who also had his hands up, ‘You an' all. Move it, now.’

  He had both men lying on the ground when he heard two rapid shots. Quickly, he moved back one step to the cab. The driver was slumped over the wheel, blood dripping onto the floor, and Tony was holding his arm and gritting his teeth as blood soaked through his jacket.

  ‘What the...?’

  ‘The bastard shot me. So much for Aunt May’s "Try to do it peaceful" plan.’

  ‘You gonna be all right?’

  Tony nodded. ‘It’s the top of my arm, think it’s just nicked me.’

  ‘Phew.’ Mike heaved a sigh of relief.

  It was short-lived, though. A few seconds later, they both looked downhill when they heard the sound of not one, but two cars heading their way. Quickly, Mike snapped a pair of handcuffs on each of the men.

  ‘Where the fuck's Josh?’ Mike said, looking across at Tony.

  Before he could answer, they heard rapid gunfire, then the sound of it being returned. The cars stopped, and three men jumped out of each car. Four ran into the trees where Josh was, and two ran up the hill. Mike took aim and fired.

  The first man fell, just as the second one fired at Mike, who dived into the cab. One of the handcuffed men on the ground screamed as Mike climbed across the cab towards Tony, and pushed the dead driver out. Tony started firing at the now retreating man. Five shots later, just as he was about to go into the trees, the man went down.

  For a brief moment there was silence. Then they heard gunshots from the trees.

  ‘You stay here,’ Mike said, as he reloaded his gun.

  Both he and Tony looked round when they heard another car coming at them from the other way. Tony raised his gun.

  ‘No,’ Mike said, pushing Tony’s gun down. ‘It’s Patrick and Dave with the new tyre and the gear to change it for the tanker.’

  ‘Thank God,' Tony breathed, as both men jumped out of the car.

  ‘Follow me.’ Mike waved them on as they both drew their guns. Quickly they followed him into the woods.

  Once among the trees, they followed the sound of shouting between the gunshots. Patrick was the first to fire his gun, his keen eyes spotting a man running through the undergrowth. He went down immediately.

  Suddenly, all the guns were pointing in their direction. After a five-minute standoff, one man shouted, ’Enough.’

  ‘Keep down,’ Mike said, as he moved forward. ‘OK, gun on the ground and hands where I can see them...Move.’

  An hour later, the tanker and its contents were in a safe environment, where people knew exactly how to neutralize the danger.

  Mike and Tony had stayed behind to watch the process, satisfied that it was over they headed towards Tony’s car.

  ‘Well,’ Mike said with a grin. ‘I guess this is the start of the end.’

  Looking at him over the top of the car, Tony nodded. ‘At last, the dream that people started all those centuries ago, we hopefully will bring to fruition.’

  ‘Not hopefully Tony, but truly.’ Mike smiled. ‘The final countdown has at last - finally began!’

  Together they headed home.

  EPILOGUE

  Two days later, Tony, his arm in a sling, sat facing Aunt May across the breakfast table. Rarely seen in a t-shirt, he had borrowed one of Mike’s pale blue ones, as he was adamant no one could tie his ties like he could. Mike had grumbled good-naturedly, saying both he and Dave needed to do some shopping, as between them he would soon have nothing left to wear.

  Tony had been staring at Aunt May, knowing full well that she was avoiding any small talk. He shook his head. Time to get it over with.

  ‘It’s time, Aunt May. You can't put it off any longer, I’m sure he suspects something.’

  ‘I bloody know.’ She lifted her head from her newspaper and looked at him. ‘Today, OK.’

  ‘Promise.’

  Mike walked in, passed their table and went over to the toaster. ‘Morning,’ he said, as he picked up two slices of wholemeal bread and dropped them in the toaster.

  He came and sat at the table and before he asked just what the hell was going on, Aunt May spoke.

  Smiling, she said, 'I hope you’ve got nothing planned for today, Mike.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked, before taking a bite out of his toast.

  ‘I need a lift to Finchale Priory.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘It’s just off Chester-le-Street. You know, near Houghton-le-Spring.’

  ‘I know where it is. I should have said, why there?’

  ‘Something I have to do. Plus I thought we could spend the day together.’

  Mike looked at Tony, who lifted his bandaged arm as an excuse not to take her.

  Mike sighed. He had never been able to refuse her anything. ‘OK, soon as I’ve finished this.’

  ‘Good. I’ll go and get ready.’ Aunt May hurried out of the room.

  ‘Fancy coming along for the ride?’ Mike asked Tony.

  ‘No, not today, feeling a bit under the weather. Have a good day.’ Tony rose and left the room.

  ‘Hmm,’ Mike muttered. as he watched Tony, through the open door, taking the stairs two at a time. ’Doesn’t look much like you’re under the weather to me!’

  He finished his toast just as Aunt May, dressed in a pink suit with a flowery blouse, came back in. She checked for something in her extremely large cream shoulder bag, before putting the strap over her shoulder and looking expectantly at Mike.

  ‘OK.’ He fished his keys out of his pocket. ‘Let's be off.’

  Two hours later, they arrived at Finchale Priory. Mike helped Aunt May out of the car and, after locking it, they walked over to the priory.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ Aunt May asked.

  ‘Yeah, why not.’ Mike was staring at the magnificent ruins of the priory. He’d forgotten how just big the place was. He remembered Aunt May bringing the three of them here with a picnic at l
east two or three times a year, when they were kids.

  ‘Find a bench,’ Aunt May said. ‘I’ll bring them over.’

  Mike nodded. Still transfixed by the beauty of the place, he walked over to a bench near the river and sat down. A few minutes later, Aunt May joined him and put a tray and a pack of ham sandwiches on the bench.

  ‘Thought you might be a bit bloody peckish. Long drive and all that. I know you like ham, really should have made a picnic.’

  Smiling, Mike tore the cellophane off the pack. He offered one of the sandwiches to Aunt May.

  ‘No, thanks. I would rather have a bloody biscuit.’ She dipped her chocolate biscuit into her tea.

  ‘What’s going on, Aunt May?’ Mike said suddenly, startling her for a moment.

  She looked over at the priory and, ignoring his question, said, ‘Many, many years ago, in the twelfth century, St Godric came to live here. Finchale remained a priory until the fifteenth century. But it has always kept its secret. The one St Godric brought with him from Norfolk.’

  ‘OK, you got me. What secret?’

  ‘Finish eating and I’ll show you.’

  ‘Aunt May, you minx,’ Mike laughed, as he ate the remains of his sandwich. ‘OK.’ He said, a few minutes later.

  She looked at him as she got up from the bench. ‘This way.’ She linked her arm through his as they headed up the grassy slope. When they reached the priory, they walked through room after room until they came to the far side.

  ‘It’s here where St Godric hid the book. It’s never been disturbed since. The key has been passed down the generations to the keeper of the book.’ She paused a moment. Taking a deep breath, she went on, ‘When the keeper reaches a certain age, they are obliged to pass the key on to the next keeper.’ She paused for a moment and looked up at him. ‘That’s you, Mike Yorke. As my son, you are the next keeper of the book.’

  Mike felt his knees wobble. Had she just said what he thought she’d said?

  Aunt May turned. ‘You heard right, Mike. You are my real son. I am your birth mother.’

  ‘But, how… What about Tarasov?’

  ‘He is your father.’

  ‘But--’

  ‘Simply put, Mike, I was once one of Tarasov’s slaves. He knew me as Melissa… I escaped. I had to give you up so that Tarasov bloody well wouldn’t find you. Those days he would have handed you right over to the families, you would have ended up pretty much the way Smiler did. But I managed to get a job in Social Services, close to the home you grew up in, until I judged it safe to get you out of there.’ She shrugged. ‘By then, I’d also grown to love Tony and Dave, who were both desperately in need of a home.’

  ‘Stop.’ Mike put his hand up. ‘Too much.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe that you’ve been lying to me all these years.’ He stared at her, his eyes full of pain.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mike.’ She put her hand on his arm, but Mike hastily shrugged it off.

  ‘I need time.’ He turned quickly and walked away from her, heading towards the river.

  Sadly, biting back the tears Aunt May watched him go.

  Then unable to help herself she began to sob.

  She had known that it would not be easy, that Mike could possibly reject her, and also the role of keeper of the book. But she’d had to wait until Tarasov was completely on board.

  An hour later, she was still sitting on the bench when she spotted Mike coming towards her over the footbridge. She had prayed and prayed over the last hour for Mike to see the bigger picture, and realise that she had done the only thing she could. A few minutes later, he was sitting opposite her.

  ‘Well?’ Aunt May stared into Mike’s dark eyes. She’d lived this moment over and over in her dreams, and now that the time had come she was terrified.

  ‘These…these people have touched and destroyed so many lives.’

  Aunt May swallowed hard as Mike hesitated a moment.

  ‘I guess, in the circumstances, you did the only thing you could…Mother.’

  Bursting into tears, Aunt May stood and reached out for her son, remembering all the years she had waited to hear him call her 'Mother'.

  Table of Contents

  Title page

  PROLOGUE

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  PART TWO

  NORFOLK 1110 AD

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE