The Trust

by Ronald H. Balson

  “There, you see, I kept my word,” McLaughlin said. “Now let the hostages go.”

  “Don’t insult my intelligence, Farrell. Do you expect me to walk out of Dunluce and stroll into a field? Wouldn’t that be dandy for you? I’m not leaving the castle. Send the bird up here.”

  “All right. But when it’s on its way, I want you to let the kids go. I’m doing my part. I need to see some good faith. You still have three others. We need to work together here.”

  “All right, I agree. And Liam, I want you to take notice. This is how you negotiate.”

  The copter lifted off the field and slowly flew up toward the castle.

  “Sir, there are two children running over the bridge,” Megan said. I watched the children dash off the bridge and into the arms of two patrolmen who took them into the visitor center.

  The copter hovered a bit and then turned around and headed back to the field.

  “What the hell?” Lefferty said.

  “Charles,” McLaughlin said, “my pilots tell me the aircraft is too large to land in the castle’s courtyard. My guys can’t set it down.”

  “You transparent asshole. You intentionally brought an oversized helicopter. And you broke your word. Bad mistake, Farrell. Now I’ll have to kill one of the hostages to show you that I mean business. This one’s on you.”

  “Wait, Charles, you said you needed a helicopter with a range of twelve hundred kilometers. The Sikorsky’s the only one we have with that range. Charles? Charles, are you listening?”

  A shot rang out and reverberated off the walls of the castle. We heard a woman scream.

  “What did you do, Charles?”

  “And then there were two,” he said calmly. “Now do you get a sense of what I’m willing to do? Can you see that I’m serious? Do you know that I would take out every single person? I care nothing for them. The only life I care about is mine and I’ll give that up before I’ll let you take me to your jails.” Demonically, he sang, “If you take me back to Texas, you won’t take me back alive.” Then he burst into crazed laughter.

  He was a raving maniac. Catherine could be next. “Give me a gun and let me climb up the western bluff,” I said. “I can make it up that hill and scale the wall. I can get in there, I know I can. Just stall him.”

  “Liam, you can’t. There’s no cover and if he sees you he’ll kill another hostage, maybe Catherine. It’s too risky.”

  McLaughlin picked up the phone. “Charles, you’ve got your cell phone. Google helicopters and their ranges. I’m not lying to you. The Sikorsky is the only copter I have that will satisfy your distance demands.”

  The phone was silent. I kept urging McLaughlin to consider an attack from the west.

  “Even if you could make the hundred-meter climb,” he said, “you’d have to scale the castle wall in plain sight. Unprotected. It’s a bad idea.”

  “You could distract him.”

  “Liam, it can’t physically be done, but even if it could, what would you do when you got up there? He’s got two hostages that we can’t secure. Do you want a gunfight with a guy who’s hiding behind stone barriers holding hostages? I have to keep trying to talk him down. I have to work with him.”

  It was true. I was panicking. Thank goodness McLaughlin was thinking for both of us.

  “Farrell?” Lefferty said, “I’ve done a little research on your helicopter. You’re right about the range, I’ll give you that. It’s too large to land in the courtyard here, but the Sikorsky has a very stable hover. They use it in rescues all the time, especially over the ocean. It can drop a rescue basket while hovering over the castle courtyard. So here’s my final offer. Send the helicopter up here, lower the basket for me and my sweet lady, and I’ll let Mrs. Goodston go. Liam’s wife is going to go with me for safe passage.”

  “Let them both go, you don’t need her for safe passage. You’ve got my two pilots.”

  “I said that was my final offer. I know you’ve got this figured out, at least partway. I can’t get to my final destination without stopping to refuel and when I do, I’m going to change pilots. But even when I have my own men piloting the copter, I’ll need a hostage. Otherwise you’ll blow me out of the sky. I’ll take sweetie with me and let her go when I get to my final destination.”

  “No, he won’t,” I said. “You can’t let her get in that helicopter.”

  “I may not have a choice, Liam. As long as he thinks he needs Catherine for safe passage, he won’t hurt her. And he’ll be freeing Mrs. Goodston. We’re buying time. We need that time and I’m getting another hostage. I’m hoping he’ll let his guard down long enough for one of my pilots to take him out.”

  “Then put me on the copter. Let me be one of your pilots. I’m the one who should be up there protecting my wife. I can’t let her get into that helicopter without me.”

  “He knows you, Liam, and he knows you’re not one of my pilots. He’ll panic when he sees you.”

  “Where’s my money?” Lefferty shouted. “Send it up here.” He laughed loudly.

  “The money’s on the copter.”

  “Farrell, if one of your men has a gun, if I even see a gun, I’m taking everyone out. If one of your men makes a move in my direction when I’m on the copter, I’m taking everyone out. Understand? The pilots, Mrs. Goodston and sweetie. I’m not going to be taken alive, and if I go down, so does everybody else. Are you following me, Farrell?”

  “I understand, Charles.”

  I was as desperate as I’d ever been. “Listen to me, Farrell. When he goes into the back courtyard, he’ll lose sight of the front of the castle and the bridge. I can make it across the bridge and take him down before he gets into the rescue basket.”

  Farrell put his hand on my shoulder. His face was inches from mine and he had a solemn look in his eyes. “Lefferty’s an insane killer who can start shooting wildly at any moment. The castle grounds, the copter, the landing zone, are all exposed and unprotected. You couldn’t get close. You and I, we both know the score here. There’s a good chance that the people up there—my pilots, Mrs. Goodston, even your wife—may not come back. Liam, you have a baby and that baby needs a parent. You want to stay right here for your son. You need to stand down.”

  Farrell’s words drove home the anguish of the moment. I was forced to come face-to-face with the likelihood that I would lose Catherine and would be left to raise Ben alone. Of course, he was right. I was out of options.

  “Charles,” McLaughlin said. “You’re going to get your helicopter and your money. All I care about is the health of the hostages. I’m going to send the copter up now and when I do, I expect to see Mrs. Goodston.” McLaughlin spoke into his radio, “Send the Sikorsky up to the rear of the castle.”

  The large helicopter lifted off the field and headed back toward the castle. When the Sikorsky was hovering in position over the back courtyard, I heard Megan say, “There’s a woman running across the bridge.”

  McLaughlin spoke into the phone. “Charles, the helicopter is there for you, just like I promised. I’m pleased you let Mrs. Goodston go. You kept your word and I kept mine. Now let Mrs. Taggart go and I give you my word we will not follow you to the continent. You can change pilots and we won’t interfere. You still have my unarmed crew as hostages until you get there. You have my word and you know I keep my word.”

  “What don’t you understand about final offer, Farrell? Sweetie’s going with me. I like her company. She’s kinda cute in a tied-up sort of way.” He started laughing hard, an insane laugh. “Some might say she’s fit to be tied.” More laughs. “Nope, I need her. Your pilots are only hostages until I change pilots. Then what? You shoot me down? Nope, nope, nope. She stays. We’re going on holiday together, right, sweetie?”

  McLaughlin gave me a sympathetic look. “I’ll let you make the call, Liam. Catherine’s the only one left up there. If you think we stand a better chance of getting her back with further negotiations, I’ll tell the Sikorsky to turn around and return to the fi
eld. We can always keep talking to him. Maybe we can work something else out.”

  How could I do that? How could I make that decision? If we withdraw the helicopter, if McLaughlin didn’t keep his word, Lefferty might conclude the game is over. He might shoot Catherine and himself. But if I let her get on that copter, I’ll never see her again, I’m sure of it.

  “Farrell, what should I do?”

  “Liam, if it were me, I’d let her board the copter. I have my two men up there and there’s a chance Lefferty will make a mistake.”

  “Do you think he’ll let her go when he gets to where he’s going?”

  McLaughlin sadly shook his head. “I can’t say. Still, if it were my wife, I’d let her get on the copter. He’s deranged and at the end of his rope. There’s no telling what he’d do if we turned the copter around. My instincts tell me he’d go berserk.”

  My heart sank. He was right. We had done the best we could in the hostage negotiations. We lost one out of five, but three were now safe and Catherine was still alive. We were buying time and hoping. Maybe Lefferty would look the other way and one of McLaughlin’s men would overpower him. After all, they were professionals. Maybe we’d get lucky when he exchanged pilots on the continent. With GPS we’d follow the helicopter and we’d know where the refueling would take place. Maybe he would still need her for safe passage like he said. I gave McLaughlin the okay.

  The black Sikorsky hovered over the rear of the castle. I watched as it lowered a wire rescue basket slowly down to the castle’s courtyard, behind the wall and out of our sight. I felt as powerless as I had ever been in my life. I felt so bad for Catherine. Her predicament was all my fault. I never should have brought her to Northern Ireland to begin with. I certainly shouldn’t have left her alone at the house. I wished there was something I could do. I held onto the slimmest hope that Lefferty would keep his word and let her go, although I knew that was foolish. Other than his freedom, Lefferty wanted nothing more than revenge against the Taggarts. Especially me. King Rat.

  The Sikorsky moved from side to side as it hovered thirty or forty feet over the castle. I heard McLaughlin say, “David, take her up a few more meters.” And the response, “Roger that.”

  The Sikorsky rose twenty feet higher. The orange basket came into view, rising slowly into the air above the walls of Dunluce Castle. I saw Catherine sitting beside Lefferty inside the metal basket. I feared this might be the last time I’d ever see her. I blew her a kiss. I said a prayer.

  The basket swayed from side to side as it slowly rose beneath the belly of the Sikorsky, Catherine on one side and Lefferty on the other, his gun in his left hand pointed at my wife. Lefferty got to his feet and began laughing and waving at us with his right hand, a final punctuation to his victory. “Bye-bye, Farrell,” he shouted, laughing loudly. “Bye-bye, King Rat.” Back and forth he waved his arm. Back and forth. Suddenly, his head snapped to the left, he stumbled backward, tumbled over the edge of the basket and windmilled down through the dark night into the sea. I looked to the side, to the field where Megan was lying. She smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.

  The Sikorsky finished raising the basket into the aircraft, turned and headed back in our direction. McLaughlin breathed a sigh of relief and patted me on the back. “Like I told you, Dooley’s the best.”

  I hugged him. “I don’t know how to thank you,” I said.

  He smiled broadly. “Just another day at the office. Go get your wife.”

  He unclipped his radio from his shoulder lapel and set the cell phone down. “Now I have to go and talk to Mrs. Goodston.”

  The Sikorsky heading back toward the visitor’s center was the sweetest thing I ever saw. I willed it to hurry up. I needed Catherine in my arms again. I dashed to the landing zone and watched the copter settle gently onto the pavement. Two officers helped Catherine disembark. I could see that she was weak. I lifted her into my arms and kissed her a thousand times. Her first words, barely audible, were, “How’s the baby?”

  “He’s fine, Cat. We’re all fine now. I love you so much.”

  “He was a monster, Liam.”

  “I know, but he’s gone. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head and the tears started coming. “Oh, Liam, he shot that young father. For no reason.”

  I couldn’t hold back the tears either. “I thought I’d lost you, Cat. I knew if you got into that helicopter, I’d never see you again.”

  “He was a madman. I had just put the baby to bed when I heard the dog bark. I heard a number of shots going off and the dog squeal, and then the door burst open and Charles, he had a crazed look on his face and…”

  I shook my head. “Stop. It’s over. We don’t need to revisit it. Ever.”

  I carried Catherine to the paramedic van where they examined her and gave her water. They said she seemed physically all right but they wanted to take her to the hospital for further evaluation. She declined. “I want to be with my husband and my baby,” she said. “I don’t want to go anywhere else.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  WITH LEFFERTY DEAD, THE trust’s preconditions were satisfied. It was time to settle the estate, distribute the assets and return home. To that end, we gathered in O’Neill’s office a few days later, all that was left of us. According to the terms, only those beneficiaries alive at the time of distribution were entitled to receive their shares, but Deirdre suggested that Riley’s share be given to his widow and children. Everyone agreed.

  “I have no objection,” I said, “but can we do that legally? The Bridget McGregor Trust is a beneficiary. Wouldn’t we have to have unanimous consent? Wouldn’t her trustee have to agree as well?”

  O’Neill nodded. “Liam’s right. We need the concurrence of the trustee for the Bridget McGregor Trust.”

  “And we don’t know who that is, do we?” I said.

  “We certainly do,” O’Neill said. “I drafted the instrument.”

  I was peeved at that answer. “All along I’ve been under the impression that no one knew who the trustee was. Why did you leave me in the dark?”

  “I’m sorry I was unable to correct that impression, but I was following my client’s instructions. So long as there were enemies of the Taggart family, so long as a threat remained, the Bridget McGregor Trust and the identity of the trustee were to be confidential.”

  “Who is Bridget McGregor?”

  O’Neill smiled in an apologetic way. “I’m not authorized to divulge that information.”

  “Well, who is?”

  “The trustee.”

  I was getting frustrated by this merry-go-round. “And I take it you’re not authorized to divulge the name of the trustee.”

  “Liam, my good man, if you were listening, I just told you that I couldn’t divulge the name of the trustee while there were enemies outstanding. Given the events of the last few days, that impediment has been removed. The trust instrument provides that during his lifetime, Fergus Taggart was the trustee of the Bridget McGregor Trust. Upon his death, Ms. Ann Grossman was appointed successor trustee.”

  “Annie?”

  “Quite. Any further disclosures are at her discretion.”

  I looked around the room. Robert, Conor and Janie all shrugged. “We didn’t know,” they said. Deirdre, however, had a Cheshire smile.

  “You knew?” I said to her.

  She nodded. “I’m an old woman. Annie’s young. She can take care of the trust for years to come.”

  “I would like to know who Bridget McGregor is.”

  Deirdre nodded her understanding. “I think you should, but the decision is not mine to make. Talk to Annie.”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t spoken to her since the afternoon of the kidnapping. What she did, what she tried to do, offering to sacrifice herself, it took the air out of me. It still does. I’ve left messages, but she hasn’t returned my calls.”

  “Annie’s a wonderful woman, but she still blames herself for what happened years ago. I suppose if she ha
d ever picked up the phone and talked to you, found out about your life, found out you didn’t hate her, it would have lifted that burden, but as you know, those calls are hard to make.”

  Didn’t I know that! Hadn’t the fallout with my Uncle Fergus left me with the same guilty feelings for sixteen years? A phone call would have given me peace of mind. The same is true for Annie. While there’s still time to make amends, while there’s still time to set things straight, you’ve got to make it happen. That’s the lesson we’ve all learned.

  “She didn’t need to punish herself. I moved on a long time ago.”

  “I think she knows that now. I’ll call and tell her to come over to the house, that you want to talk to her about the Bridget McGregor trust.”

  * * *

  CATHERINE WAS DOING HER best to rebound. She was staying busy tending to Ben and spending time with Deirdre in the kitchen. They were good for each other. Catherine had faced death twice in the past month, and a woman could not be expected to suffer those traumas without scarring. Yet, I knew that if anyone could right the ship, it was my Catherine and I could see that she was working on it every day.

  Annie arrived after the lunch hour. I greeted her at the door, immediately hugged her and tried to tell her how overwhelmed I was by what she’d done and what she’d tried to do, but she waved me off with a smile. “Would it be all right if we just didn’t talk about it right now? It doesn’t need words. We were all working for the same result. Let’s leave it at that.” She immediately went into the kitchen to inquire about Catherine and Ben.

  In a little while, Annie and Deirdre asked me to step into the living room. “You want to know about Bridget McGregor?” Annie said. “Some years ago, Uncle Fergus made me promise that I wouldn’t disclose anything about the Bridget McGregor trust to anyone other than Deirdre and your uncles. But that is a promise I will no longer keep. Given what we’ve all been through, I think you have a right to know and I think Uncle Fergus would now agree. If you want to know who Bridget McGregor is and what the trust is all about, come with Deirdre and me and we will show you.”