by Hill, Casey
Chapter 29
How can you replace a mother? What do you do when the one you turn to, the one you rely on, is no longer there? Permanence is part of the essence of motherhood – you know that she is always there, you know that she always has a comforting word, arms to hold you, time to heal you.
A mother is a balm, a lotion, an ointment for whatever ails you.
So what do you do when she is gone? Who can take her place? Who amongst the swans is ready to take that role, try and fill the space left by her departure?
She was just seven years old when she came to us – yet stronger than most adults could ever aspire to be. For her, motherhood was not something to take on, something to try, it was her destiny, her calling. How could she ever be anything else?
And yet now, inconceivably, inconsolably, she is gone. To what? She had everything – what more could she want?
‘Pull over here,’ said Chris.
The following morning Chris, Kennedy and Reilly were on a narrow country lane, not far from the McAllister place. He was pointing to a battered gate half-off its hinges, leading into a field. ‘The entrance is just up ahead,’ he continued. ‘I don’t want to drive up there and alert him to our presence too soon.’
Kennedy eased the car into the narrow space – they were far enough off the road for other cars to get by.
Reilly eased the door open and squeezed out in the space between the car and the gate. Chris and Kennedy climbed out the other side.
It was a typical Irish March day, the wind gusting, the air damp.
‘I don’t want to spook him,’ Chris explained. ‘It seems obvious that he has a fear and mistrust of the modern world and of outsiders, so the two of us banging on his front door is almost guaranteed to have him battening down the hatches.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ asked Reilly.
‘Plan A is to try and make contact, but we’ll have to check on plan B before we stroll on up to the gate.’
He indicated to the four Armed Response Unit vehicles that had just pulled into the side of the road. Two patrol cars also blocked the road a hundred meters either side of the turn in to the laneway where the entrance was located.
‘Let’s go and get the lowdown,’ Chris said, and headed for the van marked ARU command unit.
Inside they were greeted by O’Brien and head of the ARU, a man called Nolan, who beckoned them over. They were gathered around a table looking at aerial maps of the homestead.
‘Come in, we’re just setting up.’
‘How accurate are these images?’ Chris asked.
‘Very,’ responded O’Brien. ‘We requested a high-level fly-by from the Air Corps late yesterday.’
All buildings on the plot were outlined in highlighter pen and given a representative number. There were five buildings in total, although some bordering the lakeshore looked to have a series of lean-tos and extensions which meant they were virtually all joined up.
‘So I take it the heavy hardware is part of plan B?’ Chris pointed to a nearby trailer with officers unloading tools, motorised cutting equipment and ladders.
‘The paperwork is in place. I spoke to top brass this morning; we’re getting in there today, either by carrot or stick,’ said O’Brien, sounding a lot more gung-ho than the previous afternoon. Clearly head office were putting on the pressure.
‘So why bother announcing our presence and lose any element of surprise by knocking on the gates first?’ Kennedy asked.
‘Haven’t you been reading your procedural notes?’ O’Brien replied sarcastically. Ever since the Ballycastle Tribunal there were strict protocols for such situations, the first one being announcement of intent.
‘OK,’ said Chris, ‘so the plan is, we ring the buzzer a couple of times and give McAllister say, two or three minutes to answer, then your lot cut the gates down and move in?’
‘That’s pretty much it,’ O’Brien confirmed. ‘The ARU has been divided into two teams, and each have been fully briefed on the layout. You and Kennedy will join a team each as soon as the word to go in is given. We want to move fast and sweep each building before this guy knows what’s hit him.’
‘Sound’s good to me.’ Kennedy was already feeling a twitch of adrenaline at the prospect of Plan B.
Having finalised the details, Chris and Reilly made their way back along to the laneway, leaving Kennedy with the difficult task of finding an ARU vest that could fit around his middle.
The lane was in poor condition underfoot, full of bumps and puddles, probably intentionally to deter unwanted visitors. Or visitors period, Reilly thought. She and Chris started picking their way between the potholes.
‘You heard what O’Brien said – this ends today,’ said Chris. ‘I just hope it doesn’t get messy.’
‘You and me both. There’s no telling what this guy is thinking.’
Echoes of New Eden pushed their way into Reilly’s mind. She knew all too well just how messy things could get in these situations, and not just for those inside the property.
Many had lost their lives in the final takedown that day in North Carolina – innocent kids forced to live their lives to the tune of some psychopathic hardline survivalist, as well as the people tasked with saving them.
Reilly didn’t know three of the officers that died that day but the fourth – Bradley Jones – had been a good friend since their training days.
After the terror and carnage had raged, when cult members had opened fire at the surrounding officers and themselves, there had been an eerie calm as everybody crouched in a state of shock, gunfire still ringing in their ears.
Bradley had been part of the first response team, checking for remaining hostiles and then for survivors. Reilly was being briefed on the unit’s next move when she heard the explosion; the four-man team had walked straight into an improvised boobytrap.
She and Chris walked in silence now along the rest of winding track toward the first set of gates, the wind whipping at them, gray clouds scudding overhead, the misty rain ever-present.
Finally they reached the gates. They were not the friendly farm gates with three bars that you would expect to find at the end of a country dirt road –,these were industrial gates, the sort you would find on a trading estate, designed to keep people out, day or night. Over three meters tall, they completely blocked their view of what lay beyond.
Having pressed the intercom buzzer on one of the pillars, the two waited by the gates, looking through the gap to the inner area to see if there was any movement.
After a beat, Chris pressed the buzzer again and looked at his watch.
‘Two more minutes and I’m making the call.’
‘If he’s lost a family before and gone to such lengths to create and hold onto this fairytale he’s living I can’t see him giving them up quietly,’ Reilly said. ‘I fear this guy would rather die, and I don’t even want to think about what might happen to the kids.’
Chris shrugged then pulled out his phone and pressed the redial button. ‘It’s a no-go, sir, send in the cavalry.’ He put his phone back in his pocket, ‘Well, I guess that’s it. You might as well head back to your crew and start getting ready to process the compound.’
Three vehicles approached and Nolan climbed out, followed by Kennedy who wore a focused no-nonsense expression that Chris had only witnessed in similarly tense situations. He handed Chris an ASU vest.
‘You ready for this, mate?’ he murmured out of Nolan’s earshot. ‘Cos I don’t want a repeat of the last time something like this went down …’
Chris stopped short at the unexpected remark. He’d thought that what had happened during a takedown on an earlier case was over and done with, and that his partner had long forgotten his brief lapse in which – due to his condition – he’d failed to take control of a crucial situation.
It unsettled him.
‘Course I’m ready, don’t worry about me,’ he replied testily.
‘OK, listen up,’ Nolan began. ‘You all know
the drill, this is first and foremost a sweep and secure mission. Red Team, Detective Kennedy will be with you, and Blues, Detective Delaney. We suspect one adult male and likely three or four minors inside.’ With this, Nolan gave the order for an advance team to scale the first set of gates with ladders, and start cutting the inner gate hinges while at the same time the first set were being removed.
It went ahead swiftly and seamlessly and the two teams methodically manovered through the entrance. As they passed it, the generator that had effectively betrayed McAllister kicked into life with a load roar.
‘Holy shit, what’s that?’ one of the ASU guys shouted.
‘It’s an electricity generator,’ yelled Chris. ‘This place is off the mains grid.’
Which meant that right then, someone or something was using power.
Reilly picked up the pace as she headed back towards the GFU van.
She heard the noise from the angle grinder stop and knew that it wouldn’t be long before the entire scenario was played out – for good or for bad.
Either way her team was about to run a crime scene, so she needed to focus on that.
‘What’s happening?’ Lucy had started to speak before Reilly had the door open. She jumped into the seat.
‘Tactical entry,’ she replied, closing the door. ‘He wouldn’t answer at the gate.’
‘So what’s next then?’ Gary asked.
‘We wait. It could take an hour or more to secure the compound. In the meantime will you start getting the equipment and suits sorted out in the back?’ she asked Lucy, knowing that she needed to give the younger girl something to take her mind off what was unfolding.
‘Where are you going?’ Lucy asked when Reilly opened the door again.
‘To check with O’Brien. I’ll be back shortly.’
Reilly made her way to the ARU central command van. She knocked and entered before waiting for a response. Inside Nolan, O’Brien and two other men stood around the table.
Loud crackling from the radio headsets of the two team leaders inside the property played mostly static, apart from the occasional low-key instruction.
The tension in the room was as thick as the smell of sweat and humidity. The men shuffled through maps and took notes. O’Brien lifted his head to acknowledge her.
‘Everything OK?’
‘Yes, sir, just prepped my team. What’s the status?’
‘No visual on the suspect or any children yet. There is a single vehicle in the driveway – a white Fiat van. Main building has now been swept and is secure,’ O’Brien said casually, Reilly thought, as he flicked through some maps. His tough exterior was often hard to read, especially in these situations.
‘Any sign of life at all?’ Reilly asked.
Doorway straight ahead … clear… building secure, over. The radio continued to relay a shorthand acount of events inside the grounds.
‘Heating and lights have been used very recently, somebody is home.’
Reilly felt a knot in her stomach when she heard the tinny, crackling sound of Chris’s voice. ‘Mr McAllister, please make yourself known.’
Silence.
‘Mr McAllister, please make your location known. We need to ask you some questions.’
Between Chris’s announcements you could hear a pin drop in the van, everybody straining for some new development.
‘Proceed to outbuildings – on my mark,’ came a whispered command from another voice Reilly didn’t recognize.
She looked at the map with the highlighted buildings. McAllister would be running out of places to hide. The fact that he was unwilling to respond was not a good sign. Was there anybody in that place at all?
Kennedy stood with his back flat to the wall of the outbuilding. His team had been detailed with trailing the others who were sweeping the buildings from the outside in case the suspect tried to make a dash for it.
The only sounds they had heard so far were their own and those of the internal team. Then suddenly, in the distance, Kennedy heard what sounded like a muffled sob. All senses on high alert, he indicated to the team leader beside him, who nodded to confirm he’d also heard it.
‘Audio confirmed – building E,’ he whispered into the headset.
Building E was a wooden-clad outhouse near the lake that sat right on the water’s edge. It looked as though it had one time been a standalone shed, but was now connected to the other buildings by a network of cheaply built lean-tos and extensions.
One of the ASU officers named Hagan moved up beside Kennedy. He squeezed as close as he could get to a window on the side of the boathouse.
‘Mr McAllister, we need you to acknowledge your position,’ the officer called out. ‘We need you to talk to us, sir, we can hear you. We are police officers and need to ask you some simple questions then we’ll be on our way.’
Again, a faint sob broke the silence.
Finally, a deep voice spoke. ‘Leave us be. You’re not wanted here. By the Wrath of Balor I command you to go now while he allows it.’
Christ, Kennedy thought. This was the place. This was the guy.
Hagen looked at Kennedy with a questioning look.
‘The guy has built up some makey-up world of fantasy to keep the kids in check,’ he whispered. ‘We’re not sure whether or not he believes it himself. Just keep him talking.’
‘OK, Mr McAllister,’ Hagan continued. ‘I’m going to tell my men to fall back. We are not here to harm you, but can you please just confirm that the children are OK?’
Silence.
‘Mr McAllister…’
‘Be gone, snake, do not poison my ears with your venom and lies. Your tricks and spells are no good in this place; no demon can hide its putrid face or mask its slithering voice. Your invasion is a smite to Balor, and you will all pay a dear price.’
With that, a loud motor suddenly roared to life from within the building, making the wall vibrate behind them.
‘What the fuck is that?’ Kennedy spat. The AMU officers stared at each other, nobody quite sure what to do next.
They relayed the information back to control hoping for some external guidance, but the sound grew louder and Kennedy jumped away, expecting a bulldozer or tank to smash down the wall at any moment.
Suddenly a loud gunshot rang out above the cacophony, and the two ARU officers dived for cover.
‘Fall back! Fall back!’ Kennedy heard Nolan shout over the radio.
Before anyone could say or do anything, the roaring noise grew deafening and an RIB with a large outboard engine burst out of the building on the lake side.
The full-throttle engine forcing the nose into the air, the boat started to skip across the water like a flat stone. The team looked on open-mouthed as they saw a tall man at the controls, and alongside him the huddled shapes of two small children clinging onto one another while the third stood sentry, her back against the boat’s only seat for balance, and a shotgun held in the comfortable fashion of a person who knew how to use it.
‘Holy shit …’ Kennedy gasped.
The swans had taken flight.
Chapter 30
It took several minutes for the team to locate the source of the gunfire. An agricultural scare gun used for crop protection from birds had been set up in some bushes to the left of the building. McAllister had obviously spent time planning for such a day.
The initial scramble to pursue the boat had been chaotic.
Squad cars rushed to the forest road at the opposite side of the lake, but by the time they reached the shore, all they found was an empty boat with a cooling engine. McAllister had evidently moved onto phase two of his escape plan, and they were one step behind.
A further call went out to set up checkpoints on all possible escape roads, but O’Brien already feared the worst.
‘Shit, shit, shit!’ he yelled at himself as much as anybody else, when everyone reassembled in the CC van. ‘Why the fuck was that forest access road not on the maps we have?’ he demanded.
&nbs
p; Nobody answered.
‘Sir, what do you want us to do next?’ Chris asked, anxious to do something, anything to rescue the situation.
O’Brien snapped out of his daze.
‘Get on to traffic, I want McAllister’s details run again – see if he has another vehicle registered to his name. Try all variations of his name, and check this address as well.’ He shuffled through the maps. ‘I want a second set of checkpoints in place within twenty kilometers on all roads – this guy is not getting through the net.’ O’Brien was starting to get his thoughts in order. ‘And we need an up-to-date photograph – make sure the GFU know that finding one in the house is a priority.’
‘I must warn you,’ Chris replied, ‘having been in the house, it’s very olde worlde. We’re more likely to get a canvas painting than a photograph.’
‘Just see what you can fucking get,’ the inspector spat. ‘Look for a driver’s license or something; we need to let these checkpoints know who they’re looking for.’
‘Sir, there were three kids. All redheads. All under twelve, I’d say,’ Kennedy told him. ‘That’s pretty hard to miss.’
‘True, but this guy has had time to think. Chances are he may well have some means of concealment.’
The GFU team moved slowly and methodically through the McAllister house dressed head to toe in their white dust suits.
Reilly remembered sitting on the couch at home with Jess watching Little House On The Prairie and The Waltons, and right now she half expected Laura Ingalls to walk into one of the rooms.
The world McAllister had built up for the children was a simple one. There were no obvious mod-cons, and Reilly knew she was unlikely to find anything like a laptop or X-box here.
The room she was examining now had obviously been the main family room. At its center was a solid oak table with six matching chairs. Set into the wall beyond was a large open fire and two boxes with cushioned folding lids that acted as storage for fuel as well as a place to sit by the fire.
