Death in the Burren

by John Kinsella

  He was in time to see O’Lochlen and another man, who looked familiar, but whom he could not immediately identify, push Patsy out of the van and bundle her quickly towards the cave entrance.

  McAllister dragged himself up and went to check Paul Schmitt, who was lying in agony and bleeding profusely. He spoke some words of encouragement to Schmitt and, on seeing a car arriving and parking nearby, it’s occupants totally unaware of the events which unfolding, quickly explained the situation and asked them to help get Paul to a doctor.

  Turning his attention, now, to Patsy and her abductors, McAllister was in time to see them enter the Aillwee Cave and cause a commotion.

  O’Lochlen could be heard, over the wind, screaming dire warnings at the few people who had been standing looking out at the rain or wandering in and out of the doorway. They soon scattered, frantically, in an effort to get away from this sudden threat and quickly disappeared out of sight as if by magic.

  McAllister saw the trio go through the entrance and decided to follow. He was happy to make it to the shelter of the overhang outside the doorway and paused to catch his breath and take stock of the situation. At least he was out of the downpour.

  Should he go in straight away and risk being shot down or simply wait there in the knowledge that the Gardaí would have to arrive eventually, and lay siege to O’Lochlen and his companion?

  It was at that moment that McAllister remembered who this mysterious companion was. He had been introduced to him by Balfe, of all people, in the Orchid Hotel. Was it the evening of the concert there, at which Eileen O’Leary had played? No, McAllister remembered now, it was the following morning when he had called to see the Italian musicians before they left for Galway.

  Considine, that was his name. Considine. Now the incident was clear in McAllister’s mind. He was the tall stooped individual who had been talking with Jack Cameron and Andy O’Lochlen!

  Yes, O’Lochlen! But what on earth were they up to now? What motive could they possibly have for all this carry on? It made no sense whatsoever to McAllister, who was totally perplexed by the sequence of events.

  In fact, he told himself, he was really sick and tired, fed up and drained by all this danger, mystery and unwanted adventure. He wished the whole thing would go away and leave him alone. He did not need all this. He wanted to be somewhere else entirely, with Ann, living life as it used to be, and not scurrying, and being dragged, all around the Burren for reasons which were entirely beyond him.

  McAllister was becoming angry, which was a comparatively rare occurrence. Angry, not at anyone in particular. He did, of course, take exception to being robbed, shot at, burned out of his bedroom, and to being flung into the boot of a car and driven around all night. But in the absence of any discernible motive on the part of those who were doing these things to him he could not work up any personal animosity towards them. McAllister would be quite happy to call it quits now. If everyone put down their guns. let their prisoners go, patched up their wounded and just walked away, he would walk away too and try to forget it all.

  The door suddenly burst open towards him and a man threw himself on the ground and rolled over and over away from the cave entrance.

  McAllister watched in astonishment as the man then picked himself up and looked around. He was young and athletic and the whole exercise obviously cost him no effort. Eventually he spotted McAllister.

  “Blimey, I wouldn’t stand there if I were you, mate. I’d get as far away as I could, while the going is good. There’s some bloke in there with a gun and, if you ask me, he’s off his rocker. A complete screwball.”

  He made to dash off but McAllister beckoned to him.

  “Tell me what the situation is inside. What’s happening?”

  “This bloke just burst in and started screaming and waving a gun at everybody. There was a crowd starting a tour and he herded them into a corner over there against the long counter.” The young man pointed to the left of the entrance.

  “There’s another bloke with him and a woman, but she looks in very bad shape.”

  “Thanks,” said McAllister.

  “Is this something to do with you, mate?”

  “In a way. That woman is a friend of mine.”

  “Crikey!”

  He paused for a moment, then thinking better of it said, “Well I’m off, best of luck.”

  With that he dashed off through the rain towards his car.

  “Can’t blame him,” McAllister muttered to himself, as he squeezed back against the wall under the overhang.

  He had just done so when a shot rang out inside.

  McAllister shuddered and prepared, throwing all caution to the wind because of his concern for Patsy McBride, to fling himself through the door and take his chances inside. He wasn’t too sure in his mind what this might achieve but the tension of wondering about Patsy was too much for him and he simply had to do something.

  He took a deep breath, but again the door burst open towards him and another young man sprawled to the ground at his feet.

  McAllister hesitated and his new companion stared up at him, fear showing in his eyes. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old.

  “It’s alright,” McAllister said reassuringly, “I’m not with those men.”

  He could see the youth relax.

  “What was that shot all about?” he asked. “Who was he shooting at?”

  “Me!”

  “Why you?”

  “I had to make a run for it, right across the shop, and he tried to stop me. That other fellow was just inside the door and he was gone before anyone could react.”

  “Oh I see,” said McAllister.

  “What are you doing here anyway?” asked the youth, “What’s this got to do with you?”

  “That lady with them is a friend of mine and I’m trying to help her. I’m not sure what I can do though.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  “Oh, it’s a very long story,” sighed McAllister, “but the situation is that the Gardaí are searching all over for them and myself and another friend got caught up in the whole business and spotted them coming up here. I’m sure the Gardaí will be up in this direction before long.”

  “Is that woman a hostage or something?”

  “Correct first time,” said McAllister.

  “Wow. She does look as if she has been very badly treated.”

  “Now,” McAllister asked, “can you tell me the situation inside?”

  “By the way,” he went on, “are you with somebody?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I mean are you on holiday with your family, or friends?”

  “Oh no, I work here. I do guided tours and help out in the shop.”

  “I see,” said McAllister thoughtfully, “anyway, what’s happening in there?”

  “Well, they just burst in, screaming and waving the gun and pushed everybody into a corner. After that man escaped they made us lie down on the ground and said they’d shoot the first person who moved. I was the nearest to the door and decided to chance it.”

  “You were lucky.”

  “I know.”

  McAllister looked thoughtfully at the youth.

  “You say you work here. Can you think of anything I can do to upset those gangsters.”

  “Why don’t you wait for the Gardaí? You said they would come up here eventually. Anyway where’s your friend? Didn’t you say there was somebody with you?”

  “Oh yes, they shot him in the leg over there at the other end of the car park and some people took him away for help.”

  “My God, this is really serious.”

  “Don’t I know it,” sighed McAllister again.

  “The thing is,” he went on, “I really think the longer this goes on the more chance there is of somebody else being shot and I owe my friend Patsy McBride a lot. I can’t leave her in that situation without doing something, if it’s at all possible.”

  The rain beat down mercile
ssly and the wind, which had become violent, began to drive it into their inadequate shelter, soaking their equally inadequate clothes. They cringed and shivered under the onslaught.

  It may have been the misery of this situation which prompted the youth to say that there was another entrance into the cave where they would at least have shelter from the elements.

  “Lead me to it,” said McAllister with enthusiasm.

  CHAPTER 22

  McAllister followed as they dashed through the storm, around the entrance building, to a wooden door set into the rocky hillside.

  He shivered and groaned in the lashing rain as the young man fumbled with the door. Eventually it swung open and they went inside, grateful to be away from the torment of the elements.

  The contrast was quite remarkable. Once the door had closed and the wind and rain had been shut out they found themselves in an atmosphere of peace and quietness.

  Standing at the end of a passageway which stretched away into the hillside McAllister saw that it was lit dimly, but adequately, by electric lights fixed into the rock.

  They shook themselves and stamped their feet in a vain attempt to shed some of the rainwater which had soaked into their clothes.

  “This is actually an exit,” the young man explained. “The whole passageway that you are looking into was blasted out of the limestone a couple of years ago. It means that visitors can now make a circular tour.”

  “Yes, I remember hearing about this, although I haven’t done the tour for many years now.”

  “As you know the Aillwee Cave proper began forming about a million years ago but this man made section was only opened recently.”

  McAllister smiled as he noticed his companion slip into his guided tour script.

  “How long is this section, and where does it join the cave proper?” He asked.

  “This section is well over two hundred metres long and joins the old cave a short distance after the “Waterfall”.

  McAllister thought for a while. “So,” he said eventually, “if I go along this passageway and make my way back along the cave towards the main entrance I might be able to take them by surprise.”

  “That is if you want to do anything as brave as that.”

  “Oh, I know,” McAllister agreed, “I may have second thoughts, but it might be worth a try. I won’t involve you, however, but you might come part of the way with me in case I go astray.”

  “Alright, I’ll go with you as far as the “Waterfall”, just to make sure you negotiate the turn back to the main entrance properly, and then you’re on your own. You can’t go wrong, but the “Waterfall” itself might be running a bit full and I’ll see you over the walkway. Sometimes we cancel tours when it has been raining a lot because the water gushes out very strongly at that point. It should be alright, though.”

  “That sounds great,” McAllister thanked his guide, “and what you could do then is to make sure the Gardaí know, as soon as possible, what’s happening.”

  They set off down the tunnel. McAllister could see that the walls and the overhead surface had been freshly cut. It would be a very long time, if ever, before they bore any resemblance to the Aillwee Cave proper. It was obviously a good commercial development to bring tourists through the cave and then exit this way instead of backtracking.

  The walk was easy but McAllister was feeling the exhausting effects of his exertions and wondered if he was being ridiculous in following through with his plan to take O’Lochlen and Considine by surprise. It would be so simple to wait until the Gardaí inevitably arrived.

  But the thought of how irrational O’Lochlen had become drove him on. The situation at the cave entrance was highly volatile and if anything happened to Patsy he would never forgive himself.

  There must surely be some advantage in approaching O’Lochlen from the rear. Even if there was nothing he could do directly himself, he could, for instance, cause a distraction which might give a momentary advantage to the Gardaí if they were in confrontation with O’Lochlen and Considine.

  They soon came to a short decline which then brought them in a left turn over a walkway to a T junction.

  The young man turned left at the junction and this brought them to the “Waterfall”, which was just a few yards down the passage.

  The water gushed from the roof of the cave at one side and fell to the rocks below. Lit by an upward pointing electric beam the effect was magical.

  On the other side a bridge had been erected close in against the rising curve of the wall. This was on long metal stilts and a metal guard rail assisted passage past the flow of water.

  As his companion had forecast there was an abundance of water after the heavy rain of the past few hours and the bridge could not be negotiated without catching some of it.

  McAllister turned to the youth. “Well, this is the parting of the ways. Thanks for all your help, and please make sure the Gardaí know what’s going on.”

  “No problem. Take care now.”

  McAllister watched as his companion turned back, and soon felt very much alone. It was an eerie sensation standing there, at the end of the bridge, as the water sprayed out and splashed to the cave floor below.

  The sound gave the waterfall a peculiar sense of urgency and purpose, and McAllister felt as if he was an irrelevant and unwelcome intruder into a dynamic, but very private, ritual of Nature. It was a strange experience and one that could become unnerving if he were to stand there much longer.

  McAllister braced himself and made his way across the wet slippy floor of the bridge past the rushing water. He held on firmly to the hand rail, not wishing to chance a fall, and possibly a broken ankle. That would really put the lid on things.

  Safely over, but a little wetter, he followed the route of the cave which took him in a 90° turn to the right and then similarly to the left.

  McAllister then faced a long straight section which broadened out somewhat and led to a cavern with large stalactites which looked, for all the world, like a bunch of carrots hanging from the ceiling.

  He had a vague memory of these being pointed out as a feature when he had last made a tour of the cave.

  “I’m making good progress,” he told himself, “it shouldn’t be too far now.”

  At this point, however, he simply had to pause for a rest. His legs were feeling like lead weights and his back muscles were paining him with the sharpness of a toothache.

  McAllister sank to the cave floor and stretched out on the flagstones. He promised himself a minute or two of complete rest, and then he would have to press on.

  As he lay there he tried to let his mind go blank in an attempt to harbour all his strength for whatever might lie ahead, and was almost too successful as he found himself drifting off to sleep.

  Shaking himself awake McAllister crawled over to the side of the cave and, sitting upright with his back supported reasonably comfortably, continued his brief rest.

  He sighed, breathed deeply and tried to relax again, while keeping his mind on the task ahead so that he would not drift off.

  Then, some moments later, he dragged his tired body into action, steeling himself for the final effort.

  McAllister froze, he was certain he had heard somebody approaching!

  Instinctively he sensed danger, and, pressing himself close to the wall, listened intently.

  As far as he could tell the sound was coming from quite some distance away. However, he guessed he could not be near the entrance hall, so there must be somebody in the cave between him and his goal!

  The footsteps came inexorably nearer and McAllister could tell now, that it was more than one person. He could also make out the muffled sound of voices.

  Then suddenly there was silence.

  He waited, hardly daring to breath.

  A long time passed. McAllister listened intently. But there wasn’t a sound. His brow furrowed as he tried to deduce what might lie ahead of him, but he was really at a loss this time.

  Then he heard a
voice again but it was very low, and impossible to make out what was being said. It was a man’s voice. He was certain of that.

  More silence…………..

  McAllister’s curiosity was getting the better of him and, as well as that, he was aware that he had no option but to press on and find out what was ahead of him.

  That is if they did not come his way first!

  He cautiously craned his neck but saw that there was a bend in the passageway ahead of him.

  Perhaps if he made his way carefully there, he could see who it was.

  Step by step McAllister approached the corner, took a deep breath and peered slowly around.

  But all he saw was another curve in the cave wall a short distance away.

  He groaned inwardly. There was nothing for it but to repeat the process.

  This curve was quite gentle, and soon revealed a straight section of cave ahead.

  McAllister was totally unprepared, though, for the sight which met his eyes.

  Some ten metres away a metal guard rail jutted out from the right hand wall and went on to form part of a bridge, similar to that which he had traversed at the “Waterfall”. A spotlight illuminated the cave wall opposite the bridge and, highlighting the rows of straw stalactites suspended from the overhead rocks, revealed a scene of memorable natural beauty.

  However, McAllister’s gaze was riveted, not by this timeless spectacle, but by what he saw at the section of guard rail nearest to him.

  There, out of the direct beam of light, and consequently in half shadow, Patsy McBride lay, spread-eagled, alongside the rail, face down and turned away from him, her head towards the cave wall.

  Sitting with his back propped up against the opposite wall was O’Lochlen, gun in hand. He was positioned so that he could not be taken unawares by anything Patsy could do, and, at the same time, he commanded the bridge in such a way that he could not be surprised from that direction either.

  There was no sign of Considine. That was certainly unexpected.

  McAllister took stock of the situation.

  O’Lochlen and Patsy were just that bit too far away from him to use surprise in a sudden rush. He would never make it over that distance. On the other hand, if he was to take a risk on creeping towards O’Lochlen, and if he was lucky enough to cover half the distance undetected, he might have an odds on chance of grappling with him before he could use the gun. If he achieved that, then surely both Patsy and he could overpower O’Lochlen.