The Celtic Serpent

by S. Robertson

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” whispered Nellie, the pain now radiating down her left arm. She felt faint.

  “All right, be stubborn, perhaps a little persuasion is needed.” Rudolfo released her arm, swung her around and slapped her hard across the face, causing a fine trickle of blood to appear at the corner of her mouth. “Believe me, you old witch, I’ve crippled men bigger than you, so start talking or my next tap will be more lethal.”

  For some unknown reason, as Dave and James finished their meal, instead of relaxing for a chat as was their custom, Dave asked for the bill, and with little comment, stood up to leave.

  Startled by his colleague’s sudden move, James asked, “What’s wrong?”

  By the time he completed the question; Dave had paid their bill and was out the door, James in close pursuit.

  Dave, walking rapidly towards their B&B said, “I don’t know. I just know we have to get back ………don’t ask why………hurry!” The two men were practically running as they crossed the street.

  Stepping quietly onto the porch they saw the door ajar, heard Nellie moan as her assailant struck a second blow followed by a loud demand.

  Dave signaled James and both barged through the door.

  Rudolfo had little time to react.

  Dave’s well trained military skills came into action. He pinned Rudolfo to the ground in seconds. Trapped, Rudolfo’s black eyes searched the room for an escape.

  James rushed to Nellie, noting her shocked symptoms. He wrapped his jacket and available throws around her. Hearing the 911 operator he picked up the receiver, explained the situation, and returned to Nellie. Her pulse was weak, there was a bluish tint to her lips and she was not responding to questions.

  Within minutes the ambulance attendants arrived. They bundled Nellie onto the stretcher and exited. James called to Dave as he followed the stretcher, “I’ll go with Nellie to the hospital. Contact Dr. MacAndrew. It’s best if he gets in touch with Angi.”

  On the heels of the ambulance the police arrived.

  Dave stated to the first officer, “I thought I heard a foreign accent in this bastard’s demands. He’s been silent ever since. He certainly doesn’t look like an Islander.”

  “Noted,” said the stocky policeman as he handcuffed Rudolfo, yanked him to his feet and escorted him out the door.

  “The younger female officer turned to question Dave. “Have you any idea what he was after?”

  Dave thought he heard ‘gemstone’ but wasn’t sure. “No, I can’t help you. Somehow he doesn’t look like a petty criminal. Check that accent. I’d like to know why a foreigner is after Nellie. He would likely have killed her if we hadn’t returned early.”

  “We’ll need to talk to you both later,” said the police officer who turned to leave.

  “Sure,” replied Dave, as he sat down in a living room chair. “James and I have been here often, we’re practically relatives. We’re here for the night. I’ll call the Royal Motel and fill them in. I expect Angi, her granddaughter who is a nurse in Halifax, will be here by morning.”

  Sitting alone in the empty house, Dave pondered. “Surely it’s a mistake. What could Nellie have that would be of interest to a foreigner? This Island has few secrets ……. or does it? …………My God, is Angi in danger? If the Gordons are the target, there could be others bent on some thievery. I must phone Dad, he might know.” He pulled out his cell phone.

  When no call came by their deadline, Antonino moved to his back-up plan. Cursing to himself as he checked out of the motel, he turned the rental car towards Halifax. “I don’t need this aggravation. I should never have trusted that idiot. Thankfully, he knew little about the gemstone but that’s bad enough. I’ll have to act fast.” He gunned the gas peddle.

  * * *

  Canada: The Charlottetown General Hospital

  The diagnosis haunted her days. Other than a referral to Dr. Wong nothing had been discussed with anyone except Graham. “If, or when, this news hits the gossip channels my career will be dead in the water,” she thought. “It is only a matter of time. Do I want chemotherapy or not? If not, I’ll be at loggerheads with the medical establishment. Can I live with that? I know patients who have survived without it. I’ll boost my immune system with meditation, exercise, a better diet, more rest and positive thinking….. I’ll do more research. Sooner or later I must face the cold reality of my diagnosis.” In her usual way, Angi’s work provided the perfect distraction.

  At three in the morning of another shift, Angi took her usual break. Before she had time to place her coffee and sandwich on the snack room table, she received an urgent call that a nurse had been assaulted in the ER walk-in.

  Racing through the hospital she found one of the triage nurses laying on the floor, dazed, with Ann, a senior volunteer at her side. Two security guards held a heavy set male who was babbling incoherently as he struggled to free himself.

  “Thank heavens you were nearby, Ann. What happened?” Angi asked as she surveyed the scene. Ann, in her early sixties, was one of a newly created volunteers, retired nurses enticed back into the workforce with a lucrative stipend. She had been an ER supervisor in the old hospital and was Angi’s mentor.

  Sara, the triage nurse, holding her right jaw, tried to speak “When I went around the desk to put on his hospital bracelet and check his blood pressure, he sprang out of the chair screaming something about being attacked, and socked me in the jaw. He showed no signs of mental illness, drugs or anything, otherwise I would have redirected him to the Psych ER.”

  As Angi took photos of the scene with her Airmid as she continued to listen. Confirming Sara’s description, Ann continued, “Angi, I was nearby. The man sat quietly. There was nothing to indicate or precipitate this attack. Unfortunately, this is happening all too frequently. So many walk-ins appear normal, and then something triggers this violent reaction. It’s getting worse. There are too many mentally ill and addicted people walking the streets.”

  Helping Sara to her feet, Angi responded, “You know Ann, no matter what we do, nurses are being abused like this on a regular basis. Nurses take self defense courses to protect themselves but even this doesn’t help. No wonder we’re short of professional staff. With so many choices today, why would anyone willingly take this path? Ann, I need you to stay with Sara while I readjust the staffing. You know what’s needed, she must be examined and the Workman Compensation forms filled out tonight.”

  “Sure, Angi, I know the drill,” replied Ann.

  Rubbing her chin, Sara interceded, “I’m OK Angi, you’re short-handed and it’s a busy one.”

  “Not on your life, Sara. If anything turns up later you’ll have nothing to fall back on. You’ve had a hard blow to your chin and I note your protecting your right arm. Did you hit your arm in the fall?”

  “I guess so. I was off balance and got propelled against the wall. Just a bruise,” replied Sara, still rubbing her arm.

  “Ann, I’ll check with you later on the medical report. I also need to send a report to administration.” Angi hesitated, as she observed the evening administrator walking towards her.

  Maryln MacDonald, was a forty plus, thin individual with a crusty personality. Coming from a technical background, with a post-graduate business degree, she was better at numbers than people. Recent media attention to health centre problems made her irritable, as she blamed hospital problems on incompetent staff looking for time off, a position which left her at loggerheads with the unions.

  Angi thought as she watched her approach, “I don’t need a battle with Maryln tonight. How did she hear about this incident so quickly?”

  “Good evening, Maryln, I expect you want a report on the assault?”

  “No, that’s not why I’m here,” was her abrupt reply. “There’s a long distance call from the Island for you. Come, I’ve left the party on hold.”

  Alarmed, Angi turned and followed, as her thoughts quickly shifted to home, “It must be Gran…….her hear
t.”

  A familiar voice responded to her “Hello” as she reached the office phone.

  “Angi, its Jock MacAndrew. I need you to get home at once.”

  “It’s Gran?” asked Angi.

  “Yes, she’s in hospital. I won’t waste time on the phone. I’ve already talked to your administrator. It’s serious.”

  Without asking for details, Angi replied, “I understand. I’ll sort things out here and I’ll be en route ASAP.”

  “Angi, jot down my cell number and call me from the Halifax airport, whatever the time. I’ll meet you at the Charlottetown airport and take you directly to the hospital.”

  “What is he not telling me?” thought Angi. “No time……..” Jotting down the telephone number she replied “I’ll give you mine as well, just in case.” Placing the receiver in its cradle she turned to the administrator who was lingering nearby.

  “Maryln, I need to leave at once, it’s my grandmother.” Angi stated, preparing herself for the usual argument about staff coverage and taking early leave.

  “I understand Angi. Give me an hour. We’ll manage.”

  Surprised by the mild reaction, Angi said to herself, “Wow, she’s almost human. Too bad this doesn’t show up more often.” Without assessing the reason, she sped off to alert her staff to the expected change.

  What Maryln wasn’t saying was that Dr. MacAndrew had explained the situation to her on the phone and the vital need for Angi’s quick departure.

  By 5, Angi was free. She raced to her condo, packed, and got a taxi to the airport where she phoned Jock, saying that she was booked on the Air Canada morning flight to the Island.

  It was a short trip. As the plane approached the Island Angi recognized the familiar cradle with its emerald fields, red soil, white beaches and the sun glittering off the water. “My precious Island home” she thought, “Every lane, shore, street and the warmth of its people are imprinted on my soul. While I love the excitement of Halifax, my soul belongs here.”

  As she reached for her suitcase at the airport carousel a familiar voice greeted her, “Welcome home, Angi, I wish it was under better circumstances.”

  She turned to greet Dr. Jock MacAndrew, an old family friend. She noted that he was a bit older with more gray hair, but the same old open, kindly face…..but today it seemed much more somber.”

  “How’s Gran?” asked Angi, focusing on the main topic.

  “She’s holding her own but we had to move her to the Coronary Care Unit,” replied Jock.

  “That serious, heh?” said Angi, still thinking it was a heart attack.

  Their conversation was brief as they walked to his car. Jock dropped Angi’s suitcase into the trunk and, when settled inside, turned and said, “Angi, I didn’t want to alarm you over the phone, but the truth is that your grandmother was attacked in her home.” He then proceeded to tell her what he knew of the incident.

  “My God!” replied a shocked Angi. “Why? Who would want to attack my dear grandmother? There’s nothing of value in the house. Do the police have any answers?”

  “Not at this stage,” replied Jock. “I’ve been mainly concerned about Nellie. There is some rumor the perpetrator had a foreign accent. He’s in jail and will remain there. That’s why we are heading directly to the hospital. It’s imperative you see Nellie at once. Then, after a brief visit, I’ll drive you home.”

  Struggling to grasp the enormity of the situation and what this might mean to her Grandmother, Angi replied in short sentences, “Thanks. That’s very kind of you. I must see Gran.” Angi said little else as they drove.

  At the hospital she went straight to the Coronary Care Unit with Jock and was startled to see the degree of facial bruising on her grandmother. While her grandmother slept, a cardiac monitor and an Intravenous were the only visible signs of monitoring and therapy. A sickening feeling engulfed her as she pulled up a chair and reached for her grandmother’s free hand. Jock left on rounds. Angi eyed the monitor. “This kind of shock could be devastating. I know she’s had a weak heart for the past decade.”

  Moments later, Nellie awoke, and in a faint whisper said, “Angi, you’re here.” Gripping Angi’s hand she tried to go on.

  “Don’t talk, Gran, save your energy,” replied Angi, her nursing instincts taking command. “There’s plenty of time for us to talk. I’m home for my holidays.”

  “No, I must tell you now,” her grandmother insisted. “Angi, he was after the medallion.”

  “What medallion?” asked Angi, thinking her grandmother delirious from the attack.

  Irritated, Nellie went on in a whisper, “Remember the summer you were twenty-one, I told you of our family legacy?”

  Angi suddenly remembered. “Oh……. yes….. I had almost forgotten.” At twenty-one she had dismissed it as some fading link to their British roots. “Surely this couldn’t be the target of the attack,” she thought. Then feeling a slight twinge of guilt she thought, “Am I just like the rest, dismissing critical family matters that generations have held dear. God, forgive my flippancy.”

  Struggling, Nellie continued, “Yes, Angi, this family duty now falls to you……..you must be careful!” There was alarm in her grandmother’s voice. “I never thought the ‘coming times’ would happen in my day or that I would be the trigger.”

  “Gran, what are the ‘coming times’?” asked Angi, not recognizing the term.

  Nellie, ignoring the question pressed on, “Angi, when you get home I want you to call Gracelyn Harrison in Boston and Brigit O’Keefe in Ireland. Promise me you’ll do that before you go to bed!”

  Not wanting to upset her grandmother she replied, “Sure Gran, I’ll do it. The phone numbers are in the plastic cardex on your desk.

  “Yes,” her grandmother’s voice growing faint, her grip eased as she closed her eyes.

  Realizing her grandmother needed rest, Angi released her hand saying, “Gran, we’ll both get some sleep and I’ll be back.” Troubled, Angi mulled over what her grandmother had been saying. “I should have paid more attention. I didn’t ask enough questions. It just looked like an old piece of jewelry with missing stones. And what does this ‘coming times’ mean? Gran will tell me later.”

  As she opened the front door of her grandmother’s house, Dave greeted her from the kitchen “Hi Angi, how’s Nellie?” Dave and James had decided to have some coffee and muffins while they waited.

  “She’s in the Coronary Care Unit and managing, but I’m worried. This attack has complicated her underlying heart condition,” replied Angi as she pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down, the events and her illness beginning to register.

  James, noting the tiredness, responded, “Have some coffee. You must be weary. Dave and I stayed the night thinking you might need company this morning. Everyone understands. The assault is all over the TV and Guardian newspaper.”

  “Thanks,” said Angi as she sipped her coffee and nibbled on a warmed muffin. “I really appreciate the company. I’ve been up all night and need some sleep.” She was now weary. Directing her question to the two men, “I wonder if one of you might handle the telephone and visitors, as Islanders will certainly start responding. I’ll have a rest and get back to the hospital. How long were you booked for?”

  “Another two days,” replied Dave as he refilled their coffee cups.

  “I wonder if you could stay for the next two days while I tend to Gran. No cost.”

  “No problem,” replied Dave. James and I will work out something. We will be glad to help. Nellie means a lot to us. We’ve been coming here for years. This has been our home away from home. We only wish we had been here earlier to stop that bastard before he got near Nellie.”

  “I am grateful,” replied Angi. “I heard from Jock that if it wasn’t for you Gran might have been killed outright.” Angi took steps to retire.

  “Your suitcase is already in your room, Angi. Let us know if there’s anything else you need. We’ll hold the fort,” said Dave, assuming charge duty.
>
  Remembering her grandmother’s request, Angi went to the kitchen desk, picked up the circular cardex container, “I’ll use the phone in my room to make these long distance calls. Perhaps these two women can enlighten me on why this medallion is so unique.”

  * * *

  Canada, Charlottetown: The City Jail

  Alone and caged, for hours Rudolfo paced back and forth in his cell like a captured beast, the sweat pouring down his face and tattooed arms. Furious, he kept mumbling Italian curses on everyone and everything. On Antonino for getting him into this mess, chasing after a nonexistent gemstone owned by some dimwit who likely lost it decades ago and on this damnable foreign town and its inhabitants who dared to incarcerate him. Finally exhausted, he collapsed onto his cot and stared at the blank ceiling. His thoughts rambling, he reviewed his situation. “I should have stayed in Italy and taken my chances. Now I’m trapped here with no contacts, dependent on a man I barely know, who might just as easily have me eliminated if I become a handicap. I heard rumors in Italy about this one. Cold and ruthless, that’s him. Yet, he can’t leave me here for any length of time in case I spill the beans. So, he’s likely working to get me out of here PDQ.” With that ray of hope he contemplated his legal predicament.

  “What’s the big deal? I hardly touched her…..just wanted to scare the old bitch. I hate old people…….some of them are just plain ornery It’s likely an assault charge, something Antonino should be able to bribe his way out of especially in this hick town. He’s got lots of money and connections. I’ll be out in no time. Antonino will be pleased when he hears that I have remained stone silent since being arrested. The false name on my passport and personal papers will confuse the polizia for awhile but my fingerprints will soon bring up my Italian record and name. I’ll play for time.”

  Hours passed.

  About nine in the evening, a loud, boisterous man, a lawyer, arrived at the jail demanding his right to see his client. After some negotiations, the evening administrator agreed to give him fifteen minutes in a lounge adjacent to the Guard Room.