Scorpio's Lot (72 page)

ontrary
to the popular belief that the drug operation was relishing the police’s foiled
attempts, Neville Bradbury was starting to crack under pressure in trying to
cope with the onslaught at Broadbent. His warehouse had been subjected to a
constant barrage of media and police presence since the recent hill atrocities
and the strain was beginning to show. No longer projecting his usual calm and
controlled exterior, his patience had notably waned amongst his subordinates.
Both concerned and aware of these changes, it was time to reassess and take
account of his conscience and motives. It was time for confession.

It was late Sunday afternoon when
Bradbury arrived at the Pedley diocese of St Patrick’s. Standing beside the
font at the rear of the church, he was oblivious to the fact that Brad Morgan
had entered via a side door and was obscured from view by a marbled pillar.
Taking a short moment to kneel in prayer, the warehouse manager took comfort in
the peaceful confines of his surrounds. He didn’t have to be reminded that his
attendance was indeed overdue. Bradbury cast an eye around the church and
immediately noticed he wasn’t alone in prayer. Four worshipers were positioned
in the front pews and a priest was attending to some formalities near the
altar. He decided to approach the priest for some assistance.

‘Excuse me, Father, but would it
be possible to take confession?’ Bradbury asked the bespectacled priest.

The priest had a kindly face with
a stooped posture reflecting a man of around sixty-four years. His eyes were
acutely intelligent, but they also reflected a slightly disturbed look in
seeing the troubled Bradbury.

‘Father Duffy is taking
confession today, my son,’ he responded. Seeing Bradbury’s disappointment he
added, ‘But I’m sure I can help you in his absence, if you wish. I’m Father
Byrne. If you could make your way toward the first confession box immediately
to your right and I’ll be with you shortly.’ Father Byrne pointed in the
direction to be taken.

‘Thank you, Father,’ replied
Bradbury.

Brad Morgan had observed the
proceedings from the far end of the church and was now acutely aware of his
accomplice’s intention. In Morgan’s mind this behaviour was totally unacceptable,
knowing full well it was Bradbury’s purpose to declare syndicate matters and
ask forgiveness. He hadn’t trusted the warehouse manager for some time and now
he had the proof to substantiate his suspicions. Unfortunately for all
concerned, this demonstration of mistrust was Morgan’s work alone, whereby the
Piedpiper, among others, had no knowledge of this surveillance.

‘Bless me, Father, for I have
sinned. It has been ten years since my last confession and these are my sins.’
Bradbury paused, creating an uneasy silence.

‘Continue, my son,’ encouraged
Father Byrne.

Neville Bradbury explained with a
degree of difficulty his involvement with the accumulation and distribution of
drugs, but deliberately chose to exclude any direct reference to the syndicate
and its underground network. He went on to enlighten the priest regarding the
recent murders and their connection to a drug operation. Bradbury said he knew
the identity of the killers but that he personally had made no contribution or
held any pre-knowledge of this intended evil act. His guilt lay in knowing
those responsible and not understanding how to deal with it in fear of a
reprisal.

‘For these and all my sins of my
past I am truly sorry,’ he concluded.

The priest took some time before
responding. In all his years of confession he had never been privy to such
atrocities. He deliberated longer than normal to choose his words wisely.

‘Are you still there, Father?’
Bradbury feared the priest may have deserted him.

‘Yes, my son.’ The priest then gave
his confessor a suitable penance and some advice on how to deal with this
serious problem. Not surprisingly, he urged Bradbury to have the courage to
inform the authorities. ‘God will be your protector and guidance throughout
this ordeal,’ he added.

Following Father Byrne’s message
of guidance, Bradbury in turn made an act of contrition, which was immediately
followed by the priest’s prayer of absolution.

‘Your sins are forgiven, go in
peace,’ said Father Byrne.

‘Thank you, Father.’

With confession concluded, both
men went their separate ways, with Bradbury choosing a side exit while the
priest retired to a nearby room.

From a distance Morgan
deliberated and then decided to confront the priest to extract the exchange of
information. Bradbury would have to wait until his return. A knock on the door
brought the padre forward to greet his unexpected visitor, then he nearly lost
his balance with the haste of the stranger’s entry.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he
asked, gathering himself.

‘Never you mind! Tell me, priest,
what did that man say to you?’ demanded Morgan.

‘Which man do you mean?’

‘The one you just spoke to of
course!’

Father Byrne looked at the
stranger and immediately felt a distinctly evil presence. His acute judgment in
humanity and demeanor had served him well through the years. This apparition
was no exception, for he could sense an offensive aura about the man. He had
not experienced this awareness for some time.

‘But I cannot break the seal of
confession. That would be undermining a two thousand year old tradition,’ vowed
the priest.

‘Don’t piss me off, priest! Tell
me what he bloody said, for Christ’s sake!’ snapped Morgan.

‘Do not speak that way! Show some
respect for the church!’ retaliated Father Byrne, who was now upset with this
intrusion.

Morgan persisted with his
threats. Through either stupidity or ignorance, he didn’t realise the priest
would never disclose such information. He was trying to force the Father to
break a priest’s most sacred trust, but he didn’t know that a priest will
invariably suffer the consequences rather than betray this trust. Revelation of
this magnitude would literally shake the trust of the faithful in the
sacrament.

Morgan had chosen a formidable
opponent who wouldn’t relent to his bullying tactics. He lunged at Father
Byrne, inflicting a painful blow. The man of cloth let out a distressed cry. A
further strike landed in the priest’s midriff and he doubled up in agony.
Morgan continued with his madness. He grabbed and shook the winded man with
such force that the priest’s spectacles fell to the floor. Not content with the
onslaught, Morgan then increased his aggression against the defenceless man. He
was desperate for answers. Grabbing Father Byrne’s arm, he twisted the limb to
its extreme limit. The pain etched on the priest’s face indicated he was about
to pass out.

‘Tell me!’ called Morgan in a
controlled manner so as not to attract attention.

‘Never!’

‘Take your hands off the priest!’

The unexpected reappearance of
the Broadbent manager caught Morgan totally off guard. He could see the fury in
Neville Bradbury’s eyes. His scrawny frame was no match for Neville’s superior
size.

Morgan produced a knife and held
it to the priest’s side as Bradbury made his approach.

‘Have you gone mad? This is a
house of God! Put that knife away!’ Bradbury saw the terrified look on the
priest’s face.

‘Don’t give me any of your
religious bullshit!’ snapped Morgan.

Feeling responsible for having
placed the priest in this position, Bradbury had to play a cautious game. He
knew Morgan’s capabilities and lack of remorse if pushed too far. It was a
delicate situation that required careful deliberation in freeing the helpless
priest. Bradbury took a step closer. The blade was pressed hard up against
Father Byrne’s body. A further step and Morgan became distinctly uncomfortable.

‘Not one step further!’ he
ordered.

In the tension and uncertainty of
the moment, Bradbury could see the priest trying to signal with his eyes. His
eyes flicked toward the wall to Bradbury’s right. Bradbury couldn’t fathom what
the priest was implying. He again focused back to the matter in hand.

‘Why don’t you just scram and
leave the padre and me to sort out our little differences,’ insisted Morgan
arrogantly.

‘There’s nothing to be gained
from this,’ Bradbury said. ‘A priest will never break the seal of confession so
you’re wasting your time. It’s me you need to confront, not the church!’

‘I’ll decide what I want. There
are ways and means of extracting information,’ responded a defiant Morgan, who
seemed to relish the thought of being triumphant over the clergy.

‘Leave the priest, your problem
rests with me,’ Bradbury pleaded.

‘What, and deny me the challenge?
You really are a party pooper,’ Morgan taunted.

‘This matter can be handled
elsewhere. There’s no point involving even more people to satisfy your depraved
pleasures.’

The priest continued signaling to
Bradbury. A slight tilt of his head deliberately targeted the object in
question. Bradbury again focused on the area immediately to his right. He
surveyed the floor once more but nothing prompted closer examination. What was
Father Byrne trying to convey? Unlike the priest, whose back was against
Morgan, Bradbury’s position was more vulnerable, given he faced Morgan directly
and therefore his actions required a degree of subtlety. Morgan continued to
let fly with his arrogant and taunting threats. The priest grimaced at some of
the outlandish implications.

A black button suddenly caught
Bradbury’s attention. Discreetly mounted on the timbered wall some metre and a
half above the skirting board, the switch was situated three steps to Bradbury’s
right. He immediately focused back on the priest, whose eyebrows were raised in
acknowledgement. Perhaps an alarm of some sorts, and if so, what did it connect
to? Maybe it alerts an essential service, Bradbury thought. Perhaps a security
surveillance team or even the authorities themselves. Whatever the answer, this
was what the priest had been trying to point out to him. It could only mean one
thing - an opportunity to correct an otherwise horrendous situation. Whether
the police would be the recipient of the alert was irrelevant, for he knew his
own wellbeing was a secondary issue when considering the priest’s predicament.
He would dismiss any possible police intervention linking him with Morgan.
After all, his intentions were honorable in coming forward for confession.
Father Byrne had now become Neville Bradbury’s priority.

But how was he to reach the
switch without raising Morgan’s suspicions? He knew his compatriot was no fool
and it would be a mistake to underestimate him. Therefore a decoy would need to
be created to distract Morgan’s attention. But how?

Bradbury cautiously surveyed the
room in search of an answer. A desk with two visitor’s chairs and a wardrobe
were positioned in one comer. A sideboard sat adjacent to the entry and a large
imposing mirror hung on the same wall. This was the extent of the furnishings,
all of which were complemented by a generous window positioned on the north
side overlooking a tranquil courtyard setting. He noticed two nuns seated on a
park bench in deep conversation, oblivious to the tense encounter unfolding in
the vestry.

‘Penny for your thoughts,’
prompted Morgan unexpectedly.

‘I was just thinking how
unnecessary this whole incident has become,’ Bradbury said.

‘You’re so bloody boring and
straightlaced! Where’s your sense of adventure to perk up your otherwise dreary
life?’ Morgan mocked, still holding the knife to the priest’s side.

‘Not in this way.’

‘Anyhow, I want you to get lost
because Priesty and I have some business to attend to.’

Morgan then spotted the
spectacles on the floor. Unceremoniously he deliberately reached out with his
left foot to crush the thick-rimmed glasses. With one downward crunch and twist
of his shoe the spectacles were reduced to a pulp.