by Ray Smithies
‘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.
Bradbury had to think quickly, for Morgan’s patience was beginning to wear thin. He glanced through the window and saw that the nuns had finished their discussion and were walking toward the church. He was in no position to deliberate any further; the two sisters would have to become the diversion. He moved to his right as he called on the decoy to work its deception.
‘Looks like we may have company,’ Bradbury said to Morgan, successfully managing the three-step transition.
‘Get back against the wall!’ ordered Morgan, peering through the window. ‘I doubt they’re heading this way.’
It was Father Byrne who responded to Morgan’s uncertainty. ‘For your information, I’m expecting visitors shortly.’
‘Shut up!’ Morgan was clearly agitated by this new development.
Bradbury had moved to the wall and was now conveniently standing directly in front of the switch. With his arms clasped behind his back, his fingers commenced searching for the elusive button. A brief smile of encouragement from the priest reinforced his will to succeed. He finally located the button, but hesitated for a moment in executing the alarm. Would a noise be heard? What would Morgan’s reaction be? Would Father Byrne, in his vulnerable position, be subjected to some physical outpouring of vengeance? The risk was evident but the gamble was necessary.
Bradbury pressed the button and immediately heard a repetitive bell. The hallowed confines of the church seem to intensify its blaring effect.
‘What the bloody hell is that?’ roared Morgan, holding the priest with a firmer grip.
‘That alarm informs both the police and security of an existing problem at the parish,’ declared the priest, committing a white lie to mislead his assailant. In reality the alarm was no more than a fire alert, but he wasn’t about to divulge its true purpose to Brad Morgan. The priest thought that perhaps his own confession was now in order after having deliberately lied to and deceived the aggressor. Still, he had just cause, he thought.
‘The authorities will be here shortly.’ Bradbury moved in closer to the priest.
Morgan was clearly taken by surprise. The look on his face indicated he was in two minds about what next to do. A noticeable twitch had suddenly become apparent. The arrogance and taunting remarks had now ceased. He had unexpectedly become an individual of anxiety and uncertainty. Morgan suddenly appeared vulnerable and, perhaps more disturbingly, unpredictable.
Bradbury heard movement from within the church. Perhaps the clergy or worshipers were retreating to the safety of the outdoors.
Amidst the confusion Morgan momentarily forgot about the knife he held, his arm releasing the priest to investigate the commotion from the vestry door. Seizing the opportunity, Bradbury made a charge and wrestled Morgan to the floor. Morgan lashed out with his weapon as the two men struggled to gain the upper hand. A second swipe caught Bradbury on the side of the body, the switchblade ripping through his clothes and penetrating the skin in a long sweeping arc. Blood flowed as Bradbury clutched the wound. The priest watched helplessly on one side. Morgan had regained the ascendancy.
Realising he could be inundated with the authorities at any time, Morgan grabbed the priest for assurance as he departed the room. Two parishioners trying to alert everybody of a suspected fire screamed at the sight of the priest being held at knifepoint. They simply stared at the unthinkable.
Bradbury had now revived and was determined to put a stop to this madness. Despite the blood flow from what appeared to be a superficial wound, he stepped forward into the hallway to rescue the priest. Such was the man’s determination, adrenalin and will to succeed would now override his apparent physical handicap. Unfortunately Bradbury’s heroics were short-lived. No amount of brute force could reverse the situation, for Morgan clearly held the advantage with the priest pressed up hard against the switchblade. Bradbury stopped, not wanting to provoke the psychopath. He couldn’t underestimate Morgan’s callousness. Patience to strike when opportunity begged was now the smart option.
More parishioners were beginning to arrive, horrified to see the assailant’s control over Father Byrne. These circumstances had now presented Morgan with an ultimatum. There were simply too many people to deal with and escape had become mandatory. He was in need of refuge, for in his mind the police would be arriving at any moment. He had made life difficult for himself, given his appetite for public exposure. The underground network now loomed as his one and only retreat from the world. He had run out of options and would therefore have to confront Bradbury at a later stage. Realising that Father Byrne would only slow his escape, he pushed him abruptly to one side, causing the terrified priest to land awkwardly and injure his leg. With only concern for his own survival, Morgan made his getaway by a side exit door in anticipation that the police would enter via the front entrance.
Deciding to allow Morgan to flee his trail of chaos,
Bradbury went to the aid of the priest, who lay on the floor in apparent pain. Bradbury told the spectators there was no fire and asked someone to switch off the annoying alarm. He then turned his attention to the priest, reaching down carefully and placing Father Byrne’s upper body against his own shoulder for support.
The priest returned a smile of gratitude as Bradbury sat for a moment comforting the padre following his dramatic ordeal. The emotional strain of the incident was beginning to show its effects. With moistened eyes Bradbury looked on the priest with concern and admiration and couldn’t help but feel responsible for his dilemma. A tear unashamedly ran down his cheek.
‘Don’t be upset, my son, I’ll survive this ordeal. I’m a tough old nut who doesn’t crack that easy.’
‘But Father, you’re injured and in need of medical treatment. The least I can do is take you to the hospital.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘I can’t accept that. I’m sure I speak on behalf of everyone here that a checkup is warranted,’ Bradbury insisted.
‘This is sound advice. I don’t want to hear a repeat of your stubborn ways,’ came unexpected support from Father Duffy.
‘Then all is settled. I will return with Father Byrne following his checkup,’ Bradbury declared.
~ * ~
The short trip to Pedley Base Hospital provided the priest with an opportunity to ask some fundamental questions. It seemed that even a man of the cloth had need to satisfy certain curiosities.
‘What is your name, my son?’ he enquired.
‘Neville Bradbury, Father. I’m the warehouse manager at Broadbent.’
‘Ah yes, I’m aware of that establishment in Covert Road. We’ve had need to purchase some commodities from time to time,’ the priest responded.
‘Please ask for me if ever you need something.’
‘Who was that man, Neville?’
‘He’s a ruthless killer with drug connections and no respect for anybody. He’s extremely dangerous and best avoided at all times. I assure you he won’t be troubling the church any more.’
‘You realise the police will need to be approached on this matter.’
‘Of course, the sooner this man is apprehended the better for all,’ replied Bradbury with complete truth and conviction.
‘How is your wound?’ asked the priest.
‘The bleeding has stopped, but I’ll have them take a look just to be sure.’
Bradbury parked his car conveniently beside the outpatients’ entrance. The triage nurse on duty immediately ushered the priest through to a waiting doctor. Fortunately it was a quiet time so there was no laborious waiting period. Having taken care of Father Byrne, Bradbury proceeded to have his flesh wound cleaned and dressed as a precautionary measure against infection. Following the hospital discharge he would drive the priest back to the church and then contact the Piedpiper regarding the actions of Brad Morgan.
~ * ~
‘That’s a load of crap! I can’t believe Neville would tell anyone about the syndicate’s operations,’ remonstrated Sol from the underground headquarters.
‘He’s a threat to the organisation,’ claimed Morgan, trying to manufacture resentment against the man.
‘Bradbury has proven his loyalty over the years. His service has always been without question,’ insisted Sol, not taking kindly to Morgan’s insinuations.
‘People change and this one’s no exception.’
‘The man has simply gone to church. There’s no crime in doing that.’
‘I saw him go into a confession box. That priest probably knows where the underground network is located.’
Sol lashed out. ‘You’re a bloody drama queen, Morgan! Have you any idea what confession is all about? For starters, Neville had a conscience and has asked forgiveness. It doesn’t imply he told the priest about our operations. Get a grip on yourself!’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Listen to me, Morgan. You’re barking up the wrong tree with this accusation. Tell me, did you overhear what was said?’
‘No, but I still don’t trust him.’
‘What made you follow him to the church anyway?’
‘Ditto!’ responded the arrogant man.
‘For Christ’s sake, even if Bradbury did divulge some information the matter wouldn’t have gone any further,’ said Sol.
‘How can you be so bloody sure?’
‘Because a priest will never break the seal of confession. It’s just not done.’
‘That’s your trouble - give people the benefit of the doubt and it’ll turn around and bite you, wait and see!’
‘You really have a personal vendetta against Neville. Why is that?’ Sol had become totally pissed off with Morgan’s allegations against his respected colleague.
Morgan had become desperate. Knowing Bradbury would soon be seeking his revenge, he decided to devise a story to persuade Sol and others to believe his side of the argument. He quickly came up with a cock-and-bull story.
‘Then explain to me why he was seen in the church grounds with two suspicious men passing a document of some kind.’
‘What... perhaps they were priests.’
‘Wearing dark suits and sunglasses? Hardly.’
‘Did you recognise either of them?’
‘No, I’ve never laid eyes on them before.’
‘And what about this document you saw?’
‘It was a manila folder. I couldn’t see the contents, but it seemed to have a number of papers inside.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘The way Bradbury was holding it. He held the opening of the folder upright so as not to lose the contents.’
‘Did you hear any part of the conversation?’
‘Nothing. They were too far away.’
‘Did this little rendezvous happen before or after confession?’ quizzed Sol, who was now totally engrossed with Morgan’s story.
‘Before –‘
‘That’s a lie!’ roared the unexpected voice of Bradbury.
Morgan defended himself in the only way he knew, using torment and sarcasm to undermine Bradbury. ‘Look who’s paid us a visit. It’s our resident turncoat and I don’t mean the one turned inside out.’ His front had to be convincing for Bradbury would now challenge and deny any wrongdoing.
‘You bastard, Morgan! What you did back at the church was a prick of an act. You haven’t got an ounce of decency in you!’
‘Oh, that’s calling the kettle black. Who’s the one caught passing cardboard and bond paper on the church grounds? No, on second thoughts, transfer paper would be more appropriate.’
‘What in the hell are you talking about, Morgan?’ challenged Bradbury.
‘Try explaining that little get-together beside the church and why you passed a document to those men.’
‘You’re talking bullshit! There was no fucking document and no such meeting.’
‘I beg to differ because you made the transfer so blatantly obvious. You need to take a short course in subtlety. I recommend the School of Loyalty. They’re renowned for students maintaining a high degree of allegiance, but unfortunately you chose the path of deceit and now you’re pushed into a corner. The bottom line, Bradbury, is that there can’t be a place for renegades in this establishment.’ Morgan was relentless in his attack.
‘Don’t believe him, Sol. The bastard’s imagination has got out of control.’
‘Denial is such an overly predictable choice. History has given us Judas, Quisling and Benedict Arnold. You’re just another bad seed to throw onto the pile,’ taunted Morgan.
‘This fuckin’ nonsense has gone far enough!’ snapped Sol.
‘No, let me finish, Sol,’ said Bradbury. ‘You haven’t heard my side of things. I went to church with the sole purpose of taking confession. What was discussed is irrelevant because a priest will not disclose the nature of these sins, but I assure you there was no reference to the underground and no mention of names.’
‘
And we’re supposed to believe this hocus-pocus,’ grumbled Morgan.
‘For Christ’s sake, shut the fuck up and give Neville a chance to speak!’ shouted Sol.
‘Following confession Morgan decided to confront Father Byrne and pressure him into breaking the sacred trust. I told him he was wasting his time and to take the matter up with me and leave the church alone. He decided to tackle and injure the priest instead.’ Bradbury then elaborated on the rest of the confrontation and eventual trip to hospital.
‘Is this true, Morgan?’ Like Bradbury, Sol regarded the church with a degree of respect and believed it was no place to commit violence.
‘Bullshit! I was the one trying to protect the priest,’ Morgan claimed.