by Des Sheridan
Chapter 24
Buedon, France, 25 October 2014
Two days had passed since the phone call to Ireland. Tara and Robert were still at the campsite, Janet generously insisting that they stay until things were sorted. The hospitality was much appreciated as it gave Tara’s ankle a chance to mend. But it seemed to Robert that the rest of her was heading downhill as the horror of Aoife’s disappearance ate away at her. Tara was looking more and more haggard and with good reason. She told him how Niamh, back home in Ireland, was out of her mind with worry.
‘She ends up shouting down the line at me, blaming me for everything, cursing the day I came home from the States. Why couldn’t you have just fucking stayed there? That’s what she said last night. It keeps banging around my skull. On one level I can understand it. She is totally distraught and under great stress so I just make allowances. The real issue is harder to accept, that she is right. It is my entire fault.’
Robert had done his best to persuade Tara that she had to distance herself from Niamh’s anger, that what her sister said was fatalistic nonsense, but it was a losing battle. Tara was becoming increasingly withdrawn, lost in her own musings. There had been no more lovemaking and he even wondered if she was having second thoughts. One minute he told himself not to be so bloody stupid only the next to wonder why she didn’t turn to him for comfort. He took some reassurance in the fact that she had stopped tasking her anti-depressants. She explained that she needed to know what she was feeling and face up to it. He admired her resolve.
Robert found himself glad of Pip’s big project – building a swimming pool. It was to be a major new asset for the campsite. For Robert it was an excuse to get out of the house and away from Tara’s introspection. It was as though she was waiting for something, something that never came. It felt incredibly intense and he could only handle it in small doses. As a result they were firing ahead now on the pool, with Pip making the most of having an extra pair of hands to help dig the foundations. Janet was busy nearby, in what was becoming a most impressive vegetable garden. She explained that she had created it from scratch in the spring. It was a tribute to her energy, each day fresh growth providing evidence that her efforts were being rewarded. Pip had rigged up an automatic hosing system to keep it irrigated.
A few times Tara came out to talk or help, but mostly she stayed in the house, working her way through Janet’s collection of opera records. Robert could have done without it. He found the combination of high octane emotion and high decibel levels grating. He noticed she kept revisiting certain pieces and began to understand what Tara was relating to in the music. It was the extremity of tragedy and pathos, like a kind of active haunting he thought as he headed for the outdoors once more. The ARAD team was active on the trail of Pascal but it was frustrating. There was no sign of them as yet, so he couldn’t help there.
That was how, when the call came through, a few days later, he wasn’t there. Tara was by herself.
Chapter 25
Nantes, 25 October 2014
Freya was in the lounge at the hotel suite sitting quietly and watching Erik busily packing Pascal’s belongings in readiness for the move to the hunting lodge at Esse. It would be their base for the Samhain ceremony. She reflected how Pascal’s immediate coterie was changing. Theo was dead and, from the odd comments Pascal made, she sensed that Jean was out of favour. That left Erik in pole position. When Pascal had accepted her advice on how to run the Samhain ceremony a few days back, she had believed that her star too would be in the ascendant. But something told her that was an illusion and a radical re-think was called for.
The key realisation was that her relationship with Pascal had irrevocably changed. He would have less need of her now that he could access his Avatar without her intercession. She had fed him a spiel about the need to manage the Other One safely but even she didn’t believe this. Pascal would fly solo – it was inevitable. Her other hold on him was as a link to Stephanie but she was uncomfortable with the latest development on that front. She couldn’t be certain, but he seemed to think she was a psychic sexual conduit to his mother. Instinctively she was wary of this. Superficially it placed her in a powerful position, but in reality it would be an entirely instrumental role. Freya had felt no psychic presence of Stephanie whatsoever and that meant she had no leverage on the content of Pascal’s experience. She considered him delusional and the whole thing to be drug-induced. Before long he would blame her for it not working. She would have to evade that role, somehow sink it without trace.
That would leave her back in her traditional role, as a freelance adviser that Pascal could call on when he wanted too. But there was too much at stake now for her to be happy with that. The Triskell was the real prize. She knew that, on recent form, Pascal might well blow his opportunity to master it. In that eventuality she was damned if matters would rest there. And he didn’t seem to realise that she, Ruane the Seer and the child - the old woman, the woman in her prime and the virginal girl - together constituted the Triple Goddess. Think of it! The combined powers of the Triple Goddess and the Triskell – what a prize! So what she needed to do was stay close to the Irish woman no matter what happened. And to be doubly sure of that she needed to know where Grainger was because, if circumstances changed, Ruane would run to him. Freya needed to know what Grainger was up to and play him if need be. But how could she locate him?
As she thought, Erik worked about her completing the packing. Although quite slim in build he had wide powerful shoulders, a strong chest and developed biceps. Not physically unattractive at all, she noted, but his face had a drawn quality to it as though imprisoned by his limitations. Principal among these were a short temper, limited intellect and a disinclination to wash as much as he needed to. But he had his uses. He was a good fixer for Pascal. That’s it, she thought, as the solution came to her. Erik fixed that sort of thing all the time. He could get her Grainger’s number. Freya acted immediately on the insight. She knew how to get men to do what she wanted. Time to talk to him.
‘You know, Erik, watching you pack I have been thinking. Pascal is lucky to have someone like you to rely on. Someone who is dependable and loyal.’
Erik paused, taken aback by the unexpected praise.
‘I just do my job, Freya. The pay is good, very good. But I take pride in what I do. It’s not always like this’. He waved a hand at the packed boxes. ‘Pascal needs me to do the difficult jobs as well - the real men’s work’. He gave her a knowing look. She saw that he was showing off, trying to impress her.
‘I know. I wish I had a strong man I could depend on sometimes.’
Erik laughed, ‘You seem to me to do pretty well as it is, Freya’.
She smiled back. ‘Yes I know. People say I am formidable. But I am a woman too. I can still appreciate a man like you. Admire real strength. You attract me. There is no shame in that.’
The come-on worked. Erik put down the box he was holding and came towards her. He stood close in front of her seated form, his crotch almost in her face, and leered at her.
‘Why don’t you show me what you mean, Freya? I am sure I can oblige.’
She could smell him - an unwashed whiff of testosterone, urine and sweat. She wanted to gag but thought instead of her longer term interest. She had done worse. Best to just get on with it. She needed Erik on side – for now at least.
Chapter 26
Buedon, France, 25 October 2014
The phone call took Tara completely by surprise. She had picked up her mobile and a voice she didn’t recognise came down the line. Yet she knew at once who it was, although he never spoke his name and nor did she.
‘At last we speak. I feel we are getting closer by the day, don’t you? What is there separating us, do you think? Twenty kilometres? Or maybe fifty? It really doesn’t matter because we are ordained to meet very soon. It is your destiny you know, so you really should stop fighting it and embrace it, as I will embrace you. You have proved a most resourceful antagoni
st.’
A silence rested in the air, before she spoke.
‘You can have what you want, but only if my niece goes free and untouched. Mark my words – only in that way can you get what you want. I will make sure of that.’
She almost added an epithet but bit her tongue.
A spluttering laugh resonated down the line. The bastard was enjoying this.
‘Relax, relax, all is well. The girl is fine. I find her more fascinating with each passing day. It is such an interesting phase, puberty. A time of transformation and emerging possibility. All those hormones oozing about. You know when we are finished our conversation I may go down and join her. Play doctors and nurses maybe!’
For a second time he burst into laughter.
‘Remember this; she goes free and unhurt or you get nothing. I will make certain of that. Now what do you want?’
She was icy calm, a calmness that surprised her.
‘It is very simple really, dead simple actually’.
Again, an inappropriate laugh, as though he couldn’t contain it. She wondered if he was on drugs or something.
‘I want the two Triskell pieces – the Rosnaree one and the Spanish artefact. And don’t pretend you haven’t got them. By the way what happened to my man in Santiago?’
Tara ignored this. ‘Where and when?’
‘First things first,’ Pascal replied. ‘You have three days to get the Rosnaree Triskell over here to Brittany. When you have it you bring it and the Compostela piece to me. Then you and the girl go free. But there is one condition – and it applies from this moment onwards – no more boyfriend. If you involve him I will kill the child. And I will film it nice and slowly for you and your sister to watch at Christmas time. Nice family viewing. Bring the tears to your eyes for sure – for always. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ Tara responded evenly, although her heart had plummeted into her boots.
‘And do you agree as well? That you must not involve lover boy? Maybe I can help you in that department instead?’
Again Tara ignored the provocation.
‘I agree not to involve him.’
‘Excellent, well then I will ring you again in a day or two. Get yourself organised - I don’t do second chances. And I am so looking forward to meeting you again in the flesh. I promise I will rise to the occasion!’
There was a strange noise on the line. Tara realised he was laughing again but this time trying to suppress it.
‘One more thing, how did you get this number?’
‘Easy, your sister gave it to me. Desperation is a great motivator. Think about that.’
The line clicked dead as Pascal cut the call.
Part III: The Deacon
Chapter 27
France, 26 October 2014, 11:42
Tara was clear headed and content when she left Buedon. She had told no one about the call. She had made sure that she and Robert had made love that night. He was buoyed at her rekindled interest and their love making was intense but gentler than before. She slipped away the following day, taking Nico’s keys and car, whilst they were all busy supervising the pouring-in of concrete foundations for the pool.
Taking charge of events galvanised her. It was like being back at work, on plan and in charge. Action was preferable to the past days of tortured indecision and endless waiting and she was satisfied that she had no other option. She had to try and save Aoife. Put simply, she could not face her sister if she didn’t and, more importantly, she would not be able to live with herself. She imagined seeing her reflection in the mirror every morning and thinking this is the face of the woman who did nothing to save her niece. She also took Pascal at his word - there would be a visual reminder of the child’s death. Of that she had no doubt.
Her feelings about excluding Robert were hopelessly confused, so she dealt with them by shutting them down. She felt sure he would see it as a rejection and knew she was jeopardising their fledgling relationship. She had been tempted to run a subterfuge, and involve Robert and Nico in a clandestine way, but a gut instinct told her that to double-deal Pascal was a recipe for disaster - he would know. So she had left Robert a short note of explanation before leaving with Nico’s semi-automatic in her pocket and twenty rounds in her bag. And she would have help. Malachy was bringing the Triskell piece over from Ireland and had promised his support.
It was late morning when she set out, her newly-found resolve providing focus and boosting her confidence. But, hours later, as darkness fell and it rained endlessly, tiredness and its bed fellow, doubt, crept upon her. For starters she should have realised how far she was planning to travel. Distances look deceptively small on a map of France, when in fact it is a huge country. She couldn’t fathom why Malachy had insisted they meet in Burgundy. Something about it being the right place for her to get ready for her mission. All she knew now was that it was a damn long way. And then there was Malachy himself. He was a great friend but no action man like Robert or Nico - she couldn’t expect strong-arm stuff from him. A wave of despondency settled upon her. She had deluded herself, when she had uncritically chosen Malachy as her port for this storm, especially for a situation as life-threatening as this one. But life wasn’t dealing her a great hand of cards right now. Plagued by fear that she was making stupid and fatal mistakes, she drove on.
After several lengthy mistaken turns, Tara arrived at the rendezvous point an hour and a half late, dog tired and decidedly on edge. It was nine p.m. and at first, peering out through the rain-spattered windscreen, in between wiper sweeps, she thought she had missed him. Then a figure caught her eye, standing in the shadows by a gate in a wall, holding a torch about chest high in his left hand. For a moment she felt frightened, for there was something spooky about the figure, with its head shrouded in a bright halo. Then he stepped forward to greet her and she saw it was Malachy. The light came from the moon, aloft in the sky behind him. Where were you, moon, when I was driving in the dark, she wondered. Pull yourself together, Tara, she thought, you are imagining things.
She slowed the car to a halt and Malachy climbed into the passenger seat, his smile at once putting her at ease. With him was a large outsize plastic bag which he put in the footwell of the rear seats. She didn’t need to ask him what was in it. They kissed briefly and a wave of reassurance swept over her.
‘Nice car, Tara. Moving up in the world are we?’
It was true. The Alpha-Romeo sports job moved like a dream.
‘Oh no,’ she laughed. ‘It belongs to a friend.’
The harsh words that Tara had rehearsed to herself in the car, about why the fuck had he chosen such a far-flung location, ebbed away. What was it about Malachy that his simple, quiet presence instantly restored her sense that all might yet be well? She knew it must be an illusion but it was a very comforting one.
He proceeded to give directions, so she drove the car about a quarter of a mile further on until he guided her through a pair of large gates to a parking area. A lot of mini-buses and coaches, with signs and stickers from all over Europe, were parked there. She turned off the engine and they sat and exchanged news. Malachy knew that she was acting without Robert and he listened intently as she updated him on events. The windows started to mist up so she opened the driver’s window to let in air. In the distance she heard singing, as though the influx brought with it a wave of choral tranquillity.
‘Malachy, what is this place?’ she asked.
‘It is a monastery called Taizé, a place of pilgrimage for young people from all over the world. There are about 6,000 visitors here today. Come on, you look whacked, I have arranged some food.’
The rain had eased to a light drizzle. They got out of the car and walked towards a single storied building, now bathed in moonlight. It was windowless but for a narrow aperture, designed to let in sunlight, all along its length just below roof level. Lights showed through the window in places.
‘The monastery, which is Christian but non-denominational, was founded by a
man called Brother Roger after the Second World War and is dedicated to praise of God. This is mainly achieved through simple, sung prayers. That’s what you can hear. Brother Robert said that God is love alone, and he formed a community where kindness of heart and simplicity would be at the centre of everything. Relax, Tara – it is a good place! Danger won’t touch you here. Brother Roger also said that in every person lies a zone of solitude that no human intimacy can fill and that is the place where God encounters us. You are going into the zone – my job is to prepare you for it.’
Chapter 28
Taizé, France, 26 October 2014, 21:28
Tara didn’t know what to make of Malachy’s words. She was expecting a showdown with Pascal not God. Malachy took her arm reassuringly as they continued towards the building. The light rain felt refreshing on her face after the hours spent stuck behind the steering wheel. Just as they reached the door, Malachy paused and turned towards her, taking hold of her elbows with outstretched hands, as if to pin her to the spot.
‘We will plan this as best we can, but what is happening to you cannot be dealt with through a material response alone, Tara. You can only defeat Pascal – and the Evil that is holding him up - if you are in a state of grace and are receiving psychic protection. That is why I have brought you here. It is a time of preparation of the soul, a time to get ready, Tara.’
It was as though he had read her thoughts. She looked at him afresh, taking stock. He was still recognisably the Malachy of old, but wearing a priest’s white summer suit, he seemed somehow different. It gave him an aura of authority. She had always seen him in casual clothing and thought of his religious calling as something removed from her, a part of him she didn’t need to engage with. Tonight she was seeing another side of him, more serious and much more spiritual. And it alarmed her – her recently rekindled faith was tentative and in no way ready for this level of engagement. One part of her wanted to stay near his reassuring presence. The other wanted to leg it away as fast as she could.
