by Pat Mullan
“Father Bernard. Oh, thank God!” She rose from the floor, held her arms out wide, crossed the space between them, wrapped her arms around him, and held him tightly. Tears flowed down her cheeks and her breast heaved with sobs. He didn’t speak, just held her with his good arm until her sobs subsided.
She wiped the tears from her eyes, pulled back from him and said, “You’re hurt.”
“My arm, I fell,” he said, explaining nothing, “Can I stay here for a while?”
“Bernard, I think that the Lord sent you to me. I’ve been praying and praying for you. Praying that He would intervene, ask you to stop. And my prayers have been answered.”
Father Bernard didn’t argue with her. He felt that the Lord moved in strange ways and if He had used that approach to get Sister Brigid to help, why should he argue with it. So he decided that it would be best to play along with it.
“You’re right, Sister Brigid. The Lord did send me here. He told me that you would take care of me, that I could rest here. And pray here. Pray for guidance.”
Sister Brigid’s orderly life had not prepared her for a situation like this. In fact, her sheltered life had assured her that she would not face the trials and traumas of the lay world around her. And her life was bounded by strict rules. She had to get Mother Abbess’s permission to even leave Dunfergal for a few hours. All of this flashed through her mind as she now knew she was about to break all those rules.
“Most of the nuns have retired so much of the residence here is unoccupied. I will take you there and you can stay until the Lord guides us.”
Father Bernard thanked his sister and they walked away from the graveyard, side by side. Sister Brigid had a new jaunt to her step and Father Bernard began to relax. He knew that the Lord would provide for him. After all, he was about His Father’s work.
High on the side of Dunfergal mountain, the watcher adjusted the focus on his infra red binoculars as the two figures emerged from the road that led from the little cemetery to the front entrance of Dunfergal Abbey. The stooped figure on the left with the nun’s habit easily stood out. But it was the man on the right that interested him. Looked about the right height, carrying his arm in a sling. But he couldn’t see the face. Nevertheless, he’d be willing to put a bet on it. They’d found their man. He scrambled down and ran to the rear of the administrative offices where he’d already jimmied open a window. The office staff had left for the day so he climbed in and picked up the phone. Mobile phones had no coverage at Dunfergal, access blocked by the hills.
Hugh Rogan was in his car near Athlone, on the road to Dublin, when the call came through on his mobile. He swung off at the upcoming roundabout and pulled up to the petrol pump. He needed a fill-up anyway so he gave a thumbs up sign to the Polish kid who was manning the pumps. Then he pulled his mobile off the dashboard, left the car and walked around the back of the shopping area before talking.
“You’re sure it’s him.”
“I’d swear to it. He must have hurt himself when he got away in Rathgar. Got his arm in a sling.”
“That’s good. It’ll give us an advantage. He’s a dangerous bastard. Don’t underestimate him.”
“I won’t. What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing. Keep him in your sights. We don’t want to lose him. If he leaves, follow him. If you see anything odd goin’ on, call me.”
“I have seen somethin’ strange.”
“What is it?”
“Maybe nothin’ but there’s been another priest hangin’ out with this Sister Brigid since yesterday. Might mean nothin’ but it seems odd to me. And around about the time I seen him, the gardai pulled in to the Abbey.”
“The gardai? That’s definitely odd.”
“It’s even odder. They’re still here. Two of them. Almost looks like a stakeout to me.”
“Maybe they’re watching for Flaherty, just like you.”
“Well, if they are they haven’t seen him. Otherwise this place would be surrounded now.”
“You’re right. We don’t know why they’re there but it sure as hell complicates things.”
“How long do I have to hold out here?”
“Not very long. I want to take out this bastard before he’s arrested.”
He called Dublin and cancelled his business appointment. Then he called O’Hara and updated him. Finally he called his two specialists and asked them to meet him in three hours time. Finished, he walked back to his car.
€45 euros to fill his goddamned tank. Fucking oil at $125 dollars a barrel. He swore under his breath as he gave the Polish kid a euro tip. The kid looked surprised. Probably only gets a tip from the yanks. . He backed out, turned left, entered the roundabout and took the exit to Mayo.
63
When Sister Brigid had taken the call from Father Roland Cormack, she had listened to him explain why he wanted to talk with her, why he wanted to contact Father Bernard, why he thought he could convince him to stop. He was most persuasive. She told him that she did not know where Father Bernard was, that she had not heard from him in years. But despite that, Father Roland insisted in coming to see her. So she had agreed. She never expected that Father Bernard would arrive first.
Now, she sat facing Father Roland Cormack, worried. She had informed him that Father Bernard had arrived at Dunfergal unexpectedly and that she had given him refuge. He insisted on seeing Father Bernard. Despite her reservations, Sister Brigid decided that she’d agree to Father Roland’s request and take him to see her brother. Maybe he’d succeed where everyone had failed. She didn’t really believe that. She only believed it would happen if it was God’s will. And, after all, Father Roland was God’s priest, his disciple.
So she prayed silently that he would succeed as he followed her through the empty residence building until they reached a closed door with light seeping out from under it.
She knocked, waited, knocked again, and when she heard nothing, she turned the handle and opened the door. At first the room seemed to be empty. Then as their eyes adjusted to the dim light they saw him: in the corner, in the lotus position, right arm now free of the sling, hands clasped together, eyes closed and lips moving without sound.
“Bernard, Bernard,” she said, and when he didn’t respond, she tapped him on the shoulder and said his name louder.
Slowly he opened his eyes and his lips stopped moving as he looked up and saw both of them. His eyes registered no surprise at the sight of Father Roland. He uncoiled himself from the lotus position, stretched out his legs and pushed himself to his feet.
“You know Father Roland Cormack. He wants to talk to you. I think you should listen to him,” she said and turned to leave.
“Father Roland, the Lord sent you to me. I know he did.”
“Bernard, I’ve been your friend for a long time. I’m the only person you could talk to at St. Curnan’s. That’s why I’m here.”
Sister Brigid thought that it seemed to be going well so she quietly slipped out of the room, closed the door behind her, and left the building.
Father Bernard pulled out a straight backed chair and invited Father Roland to sit down. Then he began to pace back and forth as he said, “Maybe we should pray together.”
“Maybe we can do that. But I want to talk. That’s why I came to see you Bernard. I want you to stop the killing.”
“Why? Are you afraid of me, Roland?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Maybe you should be. Are you afraid of hell then?”
“Everyone should be afraid of hell. If that’s what it takes to lead a good life.”
“Do you think I’m not leading a good life?”
“God will judge you. Only he can forgive you, Bernard. I am very sad. You killed Monsignor Fallon. A good man and a member of my family. And you ended the life of Cardinal Volpe, a man whom I admired and loved. So I can’t forgive you. Only God can. But I want you to stop. Turn yourself in. Spend the rest of your days asking God to forgive you, asking
Him to save your immortal soul.”
“I brought you a gift from Rome, Father Roland.”
Disconcerted and distracted by the unexpected change in conversation, he watched as Father Bernard took something from a back-back lying against the wall and walked behind his chair. He decided to get up. Too late. Suddenly a grip like a vice encircled his wrists and he felt them being bound to the chair. He kicked out his feet and the chair overturned, sending him on his back.
Father Bernard stood over him, laughing maniacally, “Duct tape. Your gift from Rome. Has so many uses.” Then he held each ankle and bound Father Roland’s legs to the chair, leaving him well trussed up. He lifted the chair and stood it upright.
“So you think I went to Rome for Cardinal Volpe?”
Father Roland sat terrified. I was wrong, I was wrong, Burke was right, I am his next victim, the silent words reverberated around his skull as he sought a way out of this. He could see only one way. Talk Father Bernard out of it.
“No answer. Why do you think I didn’t tape up your mouth? Because I want you to talk to me. That’s why. You can scream if you want to but there’s nobody here. Nobody will hear you.”
“Why did you go to Rome?” Father Roland didn’t recognize his own voice.
“Why? You know why? I came for you and you got away. I had to settle for my second choice. Poor Cardinal Volpe. He didn’t know that the Lord sent me to avenge Him. I’m afraid he didn’t study the bible, the warnings that God left for those who defiled. And he defiled, didn’t he? Just like you, Roland.”
“Bernard, you are wrong to believe that God sent you to avenge him. This is not the God we follow. Our God is a loving God, a forgiving God. He would never send you on a mission like this.”
“No? And why did He send you to me?”
“Maybe He sent me to talk you out of this. Why don’t we pray?”
Father Bernard realized that he was actually enjoying this. With time to spare and no need to run, he decided to let Father Roland think that he could save himself.
“Prayer? Is prayer your last meal, your last supper?”
“Why don’t we pray together and ask God for direction, ask Him to show you the way?”
“Alright, then. Your last wish. We’ll say a decade of the rosary. Like we did every night when I was a little boy,” and he went to a bureau against the wall, pulled out the center drawer and reached in. Then he held up a most beautiful mother-of-pearl rosary.
“Found it here earlier. The nun who used to live here left it for us. She must have sensed that it would be needed. Ach, sure with your hands like that, you won’t be able to use these beautiful beads. I’ll have to hold them for both of us.”
He knelt down on the rug that covered the middle of the floor, looked up to heaven, and began to say the rosary.
New black wrought-iron gates framed the main entrance to Dunfergal Abbey. Ed Burke had been here once before, a long time ago, and he still remembered. He drove left into the car park, designed for the brisk tourist business.
As he walked out of the car park, he paused on the little bridge and looked at the Abbey sitting majestically on the far side of the lough, at the foot of Dunfergal mountain. The air was fresh, the skies clear, and the sun shone; a perfect day to showcase Dunfergal Abbey. He lifted his eyes to see the imposing white statue of Christ standing high up the sheer side of the mountain. A path, not discernable by the naked eye from his position, carved out of the side of the mountain, led up to the statue. Dangerous due to slippage and erosion, it was closed. A shame, he thought, what a marvellous view one would have up there.
Walked briskly through the front entrance of Dunfergal Abbey, he almost bowled over two elderly nuns. He asked them where he could find Sister Brigid, and they pointed to the main staircase and told him to go to the music room.
He found her there, at the piano. Startled, she stopped playing and looked up at him.
“Sister Brigid, my name is Ed Burke. I need to see Father Roland Cormack now. I know he’s here.”
She dismissed the student and then asked Ed to follow here into the small changing room at the rear. Finding two old metal chairs in the corner, she sat down and invited Ed to take the other. He thanked her but remained standing. Then he introduced himself again, explained who he was, talked briefly about the death of young Terry Joyce and the killings carried out by her brother.
“Father Roland is naïve enough to think he can talk Father Bernard into giving himself up. But I think he’s in danger. I think he plans to kill Father Roland.”
She buried her face in her hands, saying, “Oh, dear God!”
“Father Bernard escaped from the gardai in Dublin. We think he might be coming here to see you. You may be his last resort.”
“I’ve prayed for Bernard every day. I asked Jesus to intercede. To stop him. Even to send him to me. I thought that I could reason with him. Sometimes our prayers are answered. And sometimes they are not. The Lord moves in mysterious ways. We have to be patient.”
“But we have no time for patience. I need to talk with Father Roland. I need to get him out of here in case your brother does come here.”
Her face changed at that very moment, almost like the sun moving across a meadow and leaving a dark shadow behind. She didn’t have to say anything. He knew.
“Your brother’s already here, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s here. And he’s hurt. He came here looking for sanctuary. How could I turn him away? I asked Jesus to send him to me and he did. My prayers were answered.”
“But he doesn’t think he’s been doing anything wrong, does he?”
“No, he thinks he’s on a mission from God, that he’s an avenger. I’m afraid it’s his mind, you know. He had a mental breakdown when he was a schoolboy and then, later, he had to leave the Marists. He was in hospital for over a year. But they said he was cured, that he was better. Sure, if he hadn’t been, how could he have taught at St. Curnan’s for all of those years?”
“You can’t protect him. He’s dangerous now. And deluded. You need to turn him over to the gardai. The sooner we have him in custody, the safer he’ll be. Can’t you understand that?”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple any more.”
“What do you mean?”
“Father Roland went to see him.”
“You mean they’re together! Now!”
“Yes.”
Ed thought, I’m too late, too late, and said, “You’ve got to get me there now. I might be too late already. There’s a garda car parked out in front. Go to them. Get them to follow me. Now, show me where I can find Father Roland and your brother.”
Sister Brigid led him out of the music room and out through the front door of the Abbey until they reached a small wrought-iron gate. She fished around in her habit for a key, opened the lock, and led the way towards a long grey, almost foreboding, two storey extension to the Abbey that once housed the many nuns who’d made this place their home. Then she gave him directions to Father Bernard’s room and turned back to talk with the gardai.
As Ed approached the room, he could hear voices, almost chant like. He stood outside the door and listened. Now he could discern it better. They were praying together, saying the rosary. Maybe Father Roland’s been right. Then I’ve been wrong. I’ve read it all wrong. But I was so sure that Father Roland was in danger.
He decided to wait until there was a break in their prayers. It happened almost immediately. Silence. Then a shout, a cry. This isn’t right. Something’s wrong.
He opened the door, stepped inside and froze. He could see Father Roland bound to the chair and Father Bernard hovering over him. Father Roland’s eyes showed fear and anguish. But Father Bernard stood, almost triumphantly.
“Back away! Now!” yelled Ed.
“It’s no use!” the words came out of Father Roland’s mouth in a hoarse growl.
Father Bernard moved towards him, swinging a length of rope like a lasso. But Ed ducked, moved sideways, and c
losed the distance between them, catching Father Bernard momentarily off-balance.
Ed moved quickly on the balls of his feet, never taking his eyes off Father Bernard. He aimed a high kick, thrusting forward and pivoting the heel of his supporting leg in the direction of the kick. He kicked upwards, aiming for the right arm, the one that Sister Brigid had told him was injured.
But Flaherty was swift and he countered the blow, sending Ed sprawling in the corner and rushed forward to kick him in the head. Ed rolled aside, came up behind him. He knew his opponent was stronger and that’s why he must avoid him. But he had an advantage. Father Bernard Flaherty was not skilled in karate or in how to fight such an opponent. So he rushed Ed in classic street fighter manner.
Ed jumped to meet him, grabbed him behind the head and knee kicked him, making him move his hands to his face. But Ed knee kicked him again bruising Father Bernard’s hands and forearms. Stumbling and in pain, Ed punched him hard in his right arm.
Hurting now and holding his right arm, Father Flaherty backed out of the room and ran. Ed picked himself off the floor and told Father Roland that Sister Brigid had gone for the gardai and he’d soon be free. Then he turned and ran after Father Flaherty. He could not let him escape this time.
He heard the clang of the little wrought-iron gate and knew that he was right behind. No sign of the gardai. He hadn’t time to think about that so he kept going. As he rounded the side of the Abbey he could see Father Flaherty disappear upwards, towards the school itself. He got there a minute later to see Father Flaherty fail to get into the school. Spotting Ed he fled upwards again, through the gate that led to the mountain path to the statue of Christ.
