“Cahal said you were coming for him. He wants all of them to gather around him for protection. Burnell will be one of his protectors. If you can just talk to him, tell him I love him, maybe that will put sense in his thick head. And maybe he’ll help you, please don’t judge them too harshly, they’ve been brainwashed by some man in a mask. I think he’s a total shit.”
“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll see what I can do about your boyfriend when I see and if I see him.” Bernadette said.
Claire turned and walked down the street.
Bernadette walked the other way. That, she thought, was one of the strangest conversations she’d ever had.
By nine in the evening, she was ready. Wearing her black trousers and top with the black boots she brought with her, she fitted her hunting knife into a web belt she’d bought and fixed the small knife into her boot. Slinging the pack over her back, she made her way downstairs.
Sullivan and Bishop were waiting outside the hotel with two Garda patrol cars. They looked uncomfortable in the mission she proposed. Staring up and down the road to scan for anyone that might see what they were up to.
“The Garda have been informed you’re not really here by the way, solves any reporting issues for later.” Sullivan said.
“Okay, I’ll be a ghost like my so-called uncle, Cahal.” Bernadette said.
Sullivan looked over his shoulder at the Garda, “Well, let’s hope you stay hidden from all eyes tonight and not a real ghost. Here’s the phone and a bit of insurance.” He said handing her a phone and a button with a stick pin attached.
“Is that a GPS tracker?”
“Yes, if something goes balls up, we can track you. Most bad guys know we can track phones.”
“Thanks,” Bernadette said as she pocketed the phone and attached the button to the inside of her coat. It looked like a spare button and matched what she was wearing. Sullivan knew what he was doing.
“I’ll be off then.” Bernadette said taking in deep breath.
“We’ll be on your tail, try not to drive like a mad woman.” Bishop said.
Bernadette laughed, turned and went to her car. She started the engine took in deep breath and called upon every saint and protector that her dead mother and living grandmother knew to watch over her.
There was no way to know what she was going to be faced with. The Google map on her phone had the castle close to the road, then there were several houses in a field on the west side. She hoped they didn’t have trip wire sensors positioned in the field.
For a fleeting moment she had the voice of her grandmother come into her head. Her finger pressed onto the Google Map, reduced it and moved west. There were the Cliffs of Moher. Bernadette racked her brain as to the warning, wasn’t a castle on a cliff? She shook her head, not this couldn’t be it, this castle was far away from the cliff. She sighed, put the thought out of her head and plugged her cell into the cars USB port to keep it charged.
She started the car and began her journey out of Dublin. The detectives and Garda units followed her at a distance. This now felt more than just a capture of Cahal, this was to shut these people down. Their bombs had stirred anger deep inside her. Maybe it was her repressed Irish anger, she didn’t know and didn’t care.
The rain started slowly and then became a torrent mixed with wind. An hour into her journey a thick wet snow began to fall.
52
Wet snow started to fill the roadway. The traffic slowed to a crawl and Bernadette kept going. She pulled into the passing lane and put the car in third gear. She drove a bit slower but not by much. Driving in snow was nothing new to her. She lived in it six to seven months of the year. To her, it was just another kind of snow. Wet snow was easy, don’t accelerate too fast, don’t hit the brakes too fast, and no sudden movements.
Just before midnight she entered the little village of Leamaneh North. Few lights showed from house, no streetlights shone and only a solitary beam came from somewhere in the distance.
She drove past the Leamaneh Castle. It was a shell of ancient walls with no floors inside. The wooden floors that had once adorned the place, been warmed by numerous fireplaces were long gone. All that remained were the stone walls with the wet snow falling in.
There was a small layby a kilometer away. She parked her car, took out the pack, and strapped it to her back. She checked her knifes and glanced at her phone; she had a signal.
There was a small wire fence to climb over. It didn’t look electrified, but she tested it with a long blade of grass to be sure. Placing the blade on the top wire she pulled it towards her. Sensing no electricity, she climbed over and made her way into the field. A few sheep looked at her with mild interest from a small stand of trees then lay back down again as she went by.
The ground was wet, slippery, and covered in grass. She bent low and crept up on the castle from the back. As she approached the walls, they looked ominous. A small sliver of moonlight shone down showing the walls to be black with age. Moss stuck to the brick with rivulets of water flowing down them. The wet snow turned to a light rain, she moved forward, crouching to stay hidden from view.
She found her way into the once grand hall. It was two story’s high opening to the sky. Snow and rain had fallen down into the center. Bernadette felt herself shudder uncontrollably as she entered. Everything about the place was eerie and uninviting. It reminded her of the horror movies she hated watching.
“Calm yourself girl,” she whispered to herself. “Just some old ghosts floating about. They don’t have guns.”
Making her way to the back of the hall, she found the trap door. It had been recently used. She pulled on it—a light came from below it. She pulled it open further and could hear the hum of machinery below.
“I got it,” Bernadette said as she took out her phone. She dialed the Garda emergency line.
“Hello, Garda emergency. I’m at Leamaneh Castle, I’ve just spotted Cahal Callahan inside the castle walls—no I won’t give my name. Oh, he just went down a trap door in the back. I have to go,” Bernadette said.
Bernadette stood over the trap door. A ladder led down on the side of the wide entrance. Warm air emanated from it with the scent of lilacs and the sound of Irish Celtic music. She wondered how long she could stand there waiting for Sullivan to text her he’d received the call.
She looked at the phone, there was nothing—if they were going to be late, she was going to back out of the castle and wait for them. Under no circumstances was she to go in alone.
She was about to close the hatch door and go back to her car when she felt a presence. First a wave of cold air passed through her as if she’d just walked into a deep freeze, then she saw a form. Was that red hair?
The next thing she knew her body was tumbling down the hatch. Her backpack caught the ladder a few times, which bounced her into the walls and slowed her descent. She landed with a thud at the bottom of the shaft.
Detective Sullivan was hopelessly stuck on the motorway. He’d been following Bernadette closely until she’d pulled into the right lane and passed several cars. A large transport had pulled into his lane then blocked his way. A few minutes later, a car spun out of control in front of the transport taking several cars with it.
“What a ball of shite this is,” Sullivan said turning to Bishop.
“Let me see how bad it is,” Bishop said. He got out of the car and walked up the road. People were getting out of their cars. No one seemed hurt but this would take time to get the emergency vehicles to clear the road.
Bishop walked back to the car. “Not much chance of getting around this until it gets cleared.”
“Damn, I just got the call of the sighting of Cahal at the castle,” Sullivan said.
“Do you think Bernadette will wait for us?” Bishop asked.
“She’d better,” Sullivan said as he sent her a text that they were delayed. He put the last sentence in bold—STAND DOWN UNTIL WE ARRIVE.
Bernadette felt her phone vibrate in her pocket
. She hoped it was the text telling her they were on their way. Rolling over to one side she pulled herself up. She did a quick inventory of her body. No blood, nothing seemed broken, she was okay.
She looked up at the ladder. The bottom rung was well over three meters high. How was she going to get back up?
Voices came from down the hallway. They sounded like they were coming her way. Finding a small alcove, she ducked inside and turned off her phone.
Two men came into the tunnel.
“I heard something,” one man said. He was large with a sloping forehead, dark hair in a long braid, and a ring in his ear.
“Probably the ghost of Red Mary. She wants to get down here to keep warm,” the other man said. He was much smaller with short-cropped hair and a beard.
“That ghost is shite. I’ve never seen it,” the big one said.
“I’ve felt it, I have. It’s like a cold rush of air that blows over your very soul. I wouldn’t mess with her,” the other man said.
“Total shite,” the big man said turning around—he was looking right at Bernadette.
She came at him with a palm heel strike. Her palm came under his chin pushing his lower teeth into his upper teeth. She continued her momentum, throwing a fist into his solar plexus. He doubled over. She struck the back of his head with her elbow. He dropped to the ground.
Quickly turning to the smaller man, she advanced on him. He threw a right hook at her. She blocked it with her left arm, flicking her wrist and striking his nose. His head flipped back. She drove her elbow into his throat. He dropped to the ground gasping for air. Dropping an elbow on the back of his head, she put him in the same state as his buddy.
“Sleep well, you two. I hope you don’t dream of ghosts,” Bernadette said as she picked up her pack and ran down the hallway. The hum of machinery increased as she neared a set of double doors.
Pushing the doors open, she entered into a large room. The walls were white with a soft glow of lights. A long line of pods lined one wall. Walking towards them, she saw the pods were small, almost like incubators for babies. There were windows on each one, but they were frosted over. Each had a label. BC-1 to BC-25 was marked on front. Most of them had a red dot on them, only three had a green dot.
Bernadette walked past them. She couldn’t see anything inside the pods, and she moved on to a small lab off to the right of the room. A bank of computers sat on several desks. She turned to a laptop and entered the encryption code. There it was, the Genetic Edit project. Could it be this easy?
She pulled out a USB stick, inserted it into the laptop and downloaded it. She had it. All she needed to do was get back up the ladder and find Sullivan.
She turned. Cahal was standing there with three men with guns.
“Well, my dear niece. How nice of you to drop in. I’ll take that,” Cahal said, grabbing the USB stick from Bernadette.
“Is there anything on that?” Bernadette asked.
Cahal laughed. “Of course not. We erased everything after that Guardian broke in here last week. You must think us quite daft to leave it to be found again.”
“You left this lab as a trap for me, didn’t you?” Bernadette asked.
“Now, you’re getting it, my dear niece. You’ve become far too clever and come too close to our plans. I thought I had you taken care of, but you are a slippery thing. I’ll have to take care of you myself.”
Bernadette turned in the direction of the pods. “What about those pods? Were you growing some more followers for your master?”
Cahal laughed. “You’ll never know how close you came to meet some of your own kin, my dear. Now, we need to be on our way out of here.”
“The Garda will be here in minute, Cahal, you’ve no way out. Give yourself up,” Bernadette said.
Cahal smiled. “You have no idea, do you? This lab has numerous tunnels. We’ll be taking you out of here and blow this one up. When your Garda detectives arrive, they’ll set off an explosion. You’ve not only got yourself killed but those who come to save you. This will be a wonderful report in tomorrow’s papers.” He turned to the men. “Burnell and Conner, take her phone and weapons then bind her up, and do it good. She’s good with her hands, so make sure she can’t use them.”
“I’ll tie her hands so tight it’ll make her head pop off if she struggles,” Burnell said.
Bernadette felt Burnell tie the ropes around her wrists. He wasn’t kidding. When he finished, she couldn’t move her wrists and her hands were getting numb from loss of circulation.
Conner grabbed her shoulders, spun her around, and pushed her forward. They took her through a tunnel that led upwards. They walked for ten minutes then climbed circular stairs. A door opened, and she found herself walking into the room of a house. Bernadette looked out the window. The castle was seven hundred meters away. Her rage at being trapped was replaced by a sense of dread. Has she pushed her luck too far this time? She promised Chris she’d return him. Breathing deeply, she tried to calm herself.
“Get her into the boot of the car,” Cahal said.
Burnell took her to the back of the car, opened the trunk, and threw her in. He tied her legs together at the ankles. Now, no blood was getting to her feet.
Cahal stood over the back of the car looking down at her. “Have you ever heard of the Cliffs of Moher?”
She shook her head. “No, can’t say I have.”
“A sheer drop to the bottom. So many deaths each year. Sadly, you’re going to join them tonight,” Cahal said as he slammed the trunk shut.
Bernadette felt the car start, go into reverse, bump over the field then onto the road. Where was Sullivan, and would he enter the lab? She had no way to warn him. She’d walked into a trap and brought others with her.
Sullivan and Bishop stood on the roadway watching as emergency vehicles and tow trucks dealt with the mess.
“I don’t think we’ll get through this,” Bishop said.
Sullivan looked at this phone. “We have to. She’s on the move.”
“Who is?” Bishop asked.
“Bernadette is. The tracking device shows she’s headed for the Cliffs of Moher.”
“But she was supposed to wait there for us,” Bishop protested.
“Not if someone has her captive. She hasn’t answered any of my texts. I assume the worst,” Sullivan said.
“What do we do?”
“Improvise,” Sullivan said. He ran forward to the end of the wrecked cars. A large transport truck was idling by the side of the road.
“Hey, mate, is your vehicle operable?” Sullivan asked.
“Aye, it bloody is. I’ve just been sitting here on me arse filling out accident reports with you lot.”
“We need it for police business,” Sullivan said.
“Can you drive a rig like this?”
“Ah, well…no,” Sullivan admitted.
“Then, this rig is going nowhere, is it?” the man said with a grin as he slouched down in his seat.
Bishop walked up. “Look, mate, it’s bleeding life or death. A lady has been taken captive. We need to assist—now!”
The man sat upright his rig. “Well, why didn’t you say so. Come on then, get in.”
Sullivan and Bishop ran around to the passenger side of the big rig and jumped in. The man hit the gas and started going through the gears as they picked up speed.
“How fast can this thing go?” Bishop asked.
“Any Garda going to give me a ticket tonight?” the man asked.
“Not a one. You’re free to hit top speed,” Bishop asked.
“Just watch me dust, this monster can roll.” The driver said.
“What are you hauling?” Sullivan asked.
“Guinness.”
“Try to be gentle on curves,” Sullivan cautioned.
Bernadette’s hands and feet were losing feeling. The tingling sensation from the lack of blood was being replaced by total numbness. She wiggled them hard to bring them back to life. She tried to imagine how she
could escape when they opened the trunk. If they wanted to throw her off a cliff, they’d have to untie her so it would look like an accident. She planned on fighting. Her first line of defense was her fingers—a Nukite karate blow to the eyes with her fingers spread. The blow could remove an eye—she didn’t care. It wasn’t going to be her eye that was damaged. She flexed her fingers in anticipation of combat.
As she tried to clear her mind for her coming battle, she wondered how her grandmother’s warning could have been so off. The castle and the cliff were over twenty kilometers away. What was she thinking? She shook her head and tried to focus.
The car came to a stop, and a flashlight shone in her eyes as the lid opened. Two sets of hands grabbed her head. One forced her jaws open. A tube was pushed down her throat. A warm liquid cascaded into her mouth—Irish whiskey.
She choked and gagged. She couldn’t stop it. Her throat felt like it was on fire, she fought to breathe through her nose, or she’d suffocate.
“Take it all in now, my dear niece,” Cahal said “Nothing like a nice tipple of good whiskey on a cold night.”
They pulled her out of the car and stood her up. The liquor was coursing through her veins. The empty bottle lay on the ground.
“You can untie her now,” Cahal said.
“I thought you said she was deadly with her hands?” Conner said.
“Not when she’s had a whole bottle of whiskey down her throat,” Burnell said with a laugh.
Bernadette looked at Burnell. “I have a message from Claire. She loves you. Even though you’re a little shit, she said she loves you anyway. She wants you back.”
Burnell stopped and looked at Bernadette. A glimmer of recognition came over his face. “You spoke to Claire?”
“Yes,” Bernadette whispered. “She loves you and wants you back. She said you might help.” She knew she had to talk fast. Alcohol affects the brain in five minutes. She’d been given twenty-four ounces; her liver could only process one once per hour. In ten minutes, she’d be incapacitated. A warmth was already radiating through her body. She wanted to throw up.
Deadly Ancestors: A Bernadette Callahan Mystery (Bernadette Callahan Detective Series Book 5) Page 26