Last Out From Roaring Water Bay (51 page)

“You should have had him arrested instead, you might have saved his life,” I said condemningly. “But if I’m honest, Deveron deserved to die. He had it coming to him when he murdered a war hero on the speculation there was money to finance a war against Britain. No, I’m afraid I’ve little compassion for Deveron. He hasn’t even paid me for my services. Do you realize I’ve been done twice by bad debtors!”

“You’re heartless, Shackleton Speed.”

“That’s good coming from the woman who used the poor sod,” I reminded her.

“It had to be done. The two officers of the Mounted Police deserved justice to be served. I only hope I can finish what I started.”

“At least we have something in common.”

“Anyway, Shackleton, you can thank me you’re still alive to even get this far.”

“Meaning what?”

“At McClusky’s warehouse, who do you think started the carnage so you could escape?”

“My brain doesn’t function under the term bedlam. I wasn’t exactly watching. I was trying to survive like every other frigging idiot.”

“I fired the first shot to cause the mayhem; a diversion.”

“Frigging hell” You nearly got me killed. I had to shoot some maniac who was shooting at me.”

“How do you think you got your weapon in the first place, by magic? I was the one who slid it across the floor to your feet. You just reacted to save yourself.”

“When were you going to confide in me who you really represented?”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t to be truthful. I rather hoped I’d never see you again.”

“Don’t you consider that a little bit selfish?”

“How could I be absolutely certain you were nothing more than just an anti-social militant against authority? Besides, you were a civilian for god’s sake!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence in my limited abilities.”

“Don’t be so touchy, Shackleton Speed, you’re proving to be quite a gladiator.”

We were silenced by the clanging sound of the anchor being raised. Morgan was going for it. I’d taken a tremendous gamble in boarding the vessel and I’d managed to survive so far. Now it was time to bring the entire nightmare to an end one way or the other and not to get killed in the process.

Two armed guards fetched us from our cell and hurried us up on deck. I was a little peeved with their over zealous use of prodding their machine pistols into my back to enforce their powers of persuasion, but it wasn’t the time to register a complaint or even think about retaliation. Things were happening, and happening fast.

On deck, the beginning of the day was a miserable misty grey, but I calculated that the sun was imminent within the hour. The sea air smelled good especially after being cooped up in the sweat box of a makeshift cell, and Deveron’s body had begun the first stages of decomposing. I suspected Deveron’s remains would soon end up thrown overboard.

From the ship we boarded a launch. Morgan and Hamer and six more crew were already aboard and all looking as pissed off as I was; not a happy face amongst them despite a possible hoard of gold waiting for them beyond the horizon.

Morgan gestured us to sit. “Make yourselves comfor table and secure yourselves. I don’t want you falling overboard and drowning at such a crucial part of the exercise.”

Shayna and I sat astern. She snuggled into me, which was pleasant until I understood her true intentions when she began whispering in my ear. “How long do you estimate we have before they realize there’s no gold?”

I whispered back. “Who said there was no gold?”

“I thought the submarine was empty?”

“It was.” I made a gesture with my finger and thumb indicating a fraction of space. “I was fortunate to find one gold ingot left inside the cavern where I discovered the submarine. While you were attending to Deveron, I showed the ingot to the greedy bastards over there. Hamer drooled over it.”

“That’s what you threw from the cell? One ingot proves nothing.”

“It indicated to me that the gold had been moved somewhere else. It’s there to be found.”

“How can you be positive on a whim?”

“Call it metal detectorist intuition. We can’t see it, but it’s there somewhere to be exposed and closer than we think. It’s my destiny to find it.”

Hamer caught us talking. “Shut the fuck up, you two!”

I said, “We’re flirting with each other you jealous bastard.”

Hamer scowled and turned away.

We reached the stone harbour wall at Crookhaven, clamoured out of the launch and up the stone stairway. Morgan had chosen his time well; the place was practically deserted apart from the odd stray cat stopping for a nosey and the inevitable screech of seagulls in search of scraps. It was a pity the quayside pub ‘O’Sullivan’s’ was shut, as being the condemned man I could have asked for a last glass of beer.

I led the way up the narrow road, Shayna and I remaining under the close scrutiny of the guards which stifled any chance to make a run for it. In truth I’d no intention of running. What for? I was just as excited to know if I my assumptions were correct as the next villain. I was probably more intrigued than the likes of Morgan or Hamer. In my eyes, finding the gold would be compensation for the amount of effort I’d put into exposing this bunch of murderous criminals, though the rewards I’ll probably never see, but I intended to make sure neither would Morgan or Hamer.

Morgan said, “Where now, Speed?”

I pointed in the direction of the stone church in the distance. “Over there, at Saint Brendan’s the Navigator church.”

I was gambling that this Saint Brendon’s was the place that McCracken was referring to in his journals; it was the term ‘Navigator’ that I’d spotted while driving towards Mizen Fog Station that had put me onto it, and Wandering Willie had said that McCracken sailed across the bay. It had made sense when I put it all together.

Morgan gave me an incredulous look. He said unconvinced: “Who in their right mind hides gold in such a small building frequently occupied by churchgoers?”

“McCracken did in 1944. Anyway, Morgan, I don’t know why you’re moaning, I’ve seen bank vaults smaller.”

Hamer didn’t hang around and he was off in a shot, actually sprinting up the hill towards the church. He moved remarkably well for a fat boy. He also reminded me of a thick dog chasing a stick.

Morgan said, “Remember, Speed, nothing stupid. One false move and the guards have the order to drop you where you stand. Now lead on and tread carefully; we don’t want any unfortunate hold-ups.”

We’d reached the small gateway leading to the church and I still hadn’t any form of plan in my mind. I saw that the arched church door had been forced open, the wood split where the lock would have been located. I went inside, eyes scanning as I weighed up the situation. It wasn’t the biggest church I’d ever seen nor was it the smallest. From what I could make out there was no apparent source of electric because all that hung from the ceiling was a candled light fitting and candled wall lights staggered along its length. There were rows of pews down each side with a central aisle of flags leading to the main Alter which was laid with a gold threaded cover and candle sticks on either side.

Hamer caught my attention. He was scratching around like a rampant rat in his search for the gold. It was embarrassing to watch. The poor sod actually believed my story of hidden gold. I only wished I did because my overall assessment of how the church was constructed didn’t inspire me with confidence. But why should McCracken refer to this particular church in his journals; a clear indication in his writings of concealment. I could hardly imagine there would be hidden passages in the church walls; they just weren’t thick enough. The floor beneath my feet revealed no hollowness. But I kept going back to the masonry and engineering skills of McCracken. What he’d created in the cavern below Dun an Oir was outstandingly real and something of such a great magnitude could have quite easily been created here in the church. Where does one start looking?

Hamer was beginning to annoy me with all his banging and clattering and stomping of his feet. I called over to him, “For a man of your brutish calibre and limited intelligence throwing things around in a tantrum won’t solve a thing. And on the subject of vandalism, there are other alternatives to gaining entry instead of kicking the door in. I thought you could pick locks effortlessly?”

Hamer ignored my remarks. His expression indicated that he could smell the gold better than I could. He upturned anything that would move, fingered objects, and circled the Alter twice.

“Where the fuck is it, Speed?” Hamer’s voice bellowed.

I shook my head. I thought Hamer had brains. It seems I was wrong. I said, “It isn’t likely to be sitting on a pew waiting for an impatient bastard like you Hamer.”

Hamer flew at me; his teeth clenched and rammed his gun under my chin.

“You’re getting right up my fucking nose with your smart remarks.”

I expressed surprise purposely. “Only up you nose? I want to fuck up your head!”

Morgan broke in, “I hope you haven’t brought us here hoping to change our ways because I hate religion.”

“I’m working on its location,” I said, trying to remember the exact writings in McCracken’s journals as I talked. “The clues point to this church and I can’t think with Hamer rampaging around disturbing my concentration.”

Morgan gestured with a wave of his hand. “Get on with it, Speed.”

I recited the words of McCracken inside my head:
beyond the line of light; when the sun rises and illuminates the Virgin Mary; through her eyes she will foretell my domain of madness
.

I disregarded the words ‘domain of madness’, as being his hiding place. I concentrated on the line: when the sun illuminates the Virgin Mary; through her eyes…the sun was the key factor here…through the eyes of the Virgin Mary, I repeated over and over...through the eyes of the Virgin Mary…

I scanned every corner, niche, alcove of the entire church hoping to spot that one vital piece of inspiration that would lead me to what McCracken referred to in his journal. I saw a plaster cast statue of the Virgin Mary near the Altar, crossed over to where she stood. Without touching the figurine I studied the brightly painted figure for a few moments, intrigued by the two foot high beautifully crafted sculpture. She looked radiant and proud holding the baby Jesus. I began circling the statue, not really knowing what I was looking for.

‘Through her eyes she will foretell’, I mumbled to myself.
What the frigging hell did McCracken mean?

And then it dawned on me that the statue I was looking over probably never existed in 1944 and could even have been placed there only a week ago. I guess I was clutching at straws but it probably bordered more of desperation, and I’d have taken anything to satisfy Morgan’s itchy trigger finger. I still had to convince him I was onto something, if only to waste time.

I pretended to examine the statue from different angles. I pressed and poked different parts of the sculpture, lifting the statue to look underneath, and all the time I was thinking about McCracken’s words and glancing around the church hoping for the emergence of a magical button to press.

Despairingly I glanced at Morgan. He was more than suspicious of my antics and I probably came across to him as being a pathetic crackpot on a nowhere chase. He’d have been right.

“You’d better not be stalling, Speed,” Morgan said in a bored tone. “I’d hate to disfigure the beautiful Shayna’s face with a bullet.”

Morgan wasn’t bluffing. He’d already proven his callous approach when he shot Deveron, and the way he held Shayna around her neck with the gun pressed to her cheek only confirmed he meant business.

I broke away from his stare and continued my search, but while I looked, I was also checking for an alternative escape route, quickly devising a contingency plan for when everything went sour. The main entrance seemed the only logical means of escape but Morgan had left two armed guards blocking the way, as if he was reading my mind. In all probability it would be suicidal to try and barge my way through the guards, mainly because I would be shot down before I got within ten feet of them. I considered the windows for escape but they were even too high for a high-jumper to create the momentum required to break through the glass windows successfully.

I concentrated on the task in hand even though McCracken’s madness had me stressed. Again I put his words through the grinder…the Virgin Mary illuminated by the sun. Why was it so prominent in his writings? It was frigging hard to think when you’re put under pressure, and it didn’t help having the probing stares from Morgan and Hamer burning a hole in the back of my head.

I thought long and hard.
A virgin
-I mumbled to myself-
someone who’s never experienced sexual penetration
. A virgin would be childless. Mary would be childless in image; is that what McCracken was referring to.

‘Through the eyes of the Virgin Mary, She will foretell’.

And then the answer slapped me in the face. I looked towards the stained glass window to the side of me. In the centre pane, in magnificent colour, clearly depicted an image of who I visualized to be the Virgin Mary. What had brought it to my attention was the image was suddenly highlighted by a burst of sunshine illumin ating the glass and spreading a colourful enchantment around the church walls. It wasn’t the whole image that made me take notice but the pieces of green glass that formed her eyes, like two large emeralds, and from them, the prismatic image of colour striking down two faint lines of green light that came together when hitting a particular point on the church floor in front of the Alter.

I shifted across quickly to where the rays of green hit the floor and went down on one knee and slid my fingers over the stone flags in the area where the light concentrated. My forefinger located an indentation; it was a hole clogged with dirt. I poked the hole in an attempt to clear out the dirt and then I blew out the remaining dust. I saw what looked like the top of a rusty steel stud. It seemed natural to press which I did but nothing happened.

I turned to anybody who was listening. “I need some sort of probing tool; something thin and strong.”