Blood From A Shadow (2012)

by Gerard Cappa

  He reached over to the sink, rinsed a face cloth in cold water, wiped the blood and sweat from his face and neck.

  “Ferdia was doing a grand job, over there in Turkey,” Artie said. “He had been accepted into their circle, faked his death. That’s when the appeasement do-gooders got interested. Your friend Duffin wanted to send one of his people to cultivate the contacts Ferdia had made. We couldn’t allow that, Ferdia would have been compromised, the whole operation was in jeopardy.”

  “So, you needed a puppet, somebody easily manipulated,” I said. “Who decided it should be me? Ferdy?”

  Artie had recovered his dignity, the arrogance started to blossom again. I resisted punching him.

  “You were the natural choice, Con,” he said. “You are family, after all.”

  “All Ferdy had to do was ask,” I said. “He knows I would never let him down, there was no need for all this shit.”

  He looked me up and down, making one of his character judgements, confirmed my inferiority, I think that’s why I had always disliked him, his assumption that he was superior, was somehow entitled to make those calls.

  “The real world isn’t that simple,” he said. “The problem we hit was your friend Swansea.” He was in his story telling mode now, I listened. “You saw the memorial to Sarah’s brothers, didn’t you? Your uncles that were ambushed and executed by Swansea and his gang? Well, the past was going to catch up with him on that one. The American Friends of Justice had enough on Swansea to finally nail him, after all that time. He was desperate, only interested in saving his own neck.”

  Gallogly came to the bottom of the stairs, called me, “Where’s Rose?” I told him to wait down there, I would be down in a minute.

  “We always suspected that the two boys were sold out by an informer, but we never knew who it was,” Artie said. “Swansea told me a few months ago that it was John McErlane, he was the traitor. There was a family wedding that day. John said he couldn’t make it, some important business to attend to. Then he phoned the two boys, asked them to come back over and give him a lift, said he could make it after all. Swansea and his killers were waiting on them.”

  Artie was back on form now, full of his own importance. I stood up and gripped his fleshy red ear, forced him to kneel beside the toilet.

  “That’s twenty years ago, Artie, I don’t need a history lesson here,” I said. “Just start from where I come in to it. Ok?”

  “That’s another problem with you people today,” he said. “You think things just happen on their own, like there was no yesterday.”

  I slapped him on the ear.

  “Alright, I am trying to tell you!” he said. “Swansea said if he went down, he was taking John McErlane with him. I told Sarah, just to warn her, I didn’t know what was going to happen next!”

  “Shit! Are you saying Ferdy came back from Turkey to murder his own father?” I said.

  He didn’t answer, rubbed furiously to clean the blood off his white priest collar. I slapped him again.

  “No! Not Ferdia, he would never have hurt his father, no matter what the old fool had done,” Artie said.

  He didn’t have to confirm it, I knew already. Sarah did it, my banshee mother, killed her own husband, blew his head apart with a shotgun, then waltzed back to baking wheaten bread and oatmeal biscuits.

  “I told you she was a formidable woman, didn’t I?” he said. “Swansea would have pinned it on her, eventually, so Ferdia had to come home and take care of it. Not that Swansea’s own people were too worried, to tell the truth, suited them to get Swansea away, as well.”

  Sarah in the Yonkers apartment, twenty five years ago, in her nurse uniform, screaming her red anger at us all.

  “What about the Turkish property scam? Was that a lie as well?” I said.

  “Oh, there was a scam alright,” Artie said. “John McErlane lost all that money, but doesn’t matter a damn, it will never be recovered now.”

  “Did Duffin know about Swansea?” I asked.

  “No, of course he didn’t!” Artie laughed again. “But it could have made things a bit awkward with the Brits in London. They are working with us, you know, on the big picture.”

  “So, I was the fall guy after all? I was there to be framed, to take the heat off Ferdy?” I said.

  “No, not really. Not at all!” he said. “We just needed Duffin and his crowd of do-gooders to think Ferdy’s work was being continued, what they thought his work was, anyway. We had to stop the appeasers sending any of their own people.”

  “And Lutterall? He was part of Swansea’s murder?” I said.

  “No, not Lutterall,” Artie said. “He’s just a cog in the machine, like Duffin. He thought you really were Duffin’s man at the start. Lutterall thought Duffin was using you to bust him.”

  Sarah, with the shotgun, tying John McErlane up, putting it in his mouth, squeezing the trigger, walking away, sitting in her room, looking out that bullet proof window, seeing things that weren’t real to anyone else.

  “So where is Sarah right now? What has she done with Rose and Con?” I asked.

  “She took them out for a drive,” he said. “Don’t worry, they will be safe with her, she would never let anything happen to her own grandson, would she?”

  Another image, Sarah’s revenge on the poitin maker, her insane outrage with red hot tongs, the devil striking terror into his soul. The icy hand stroked my neck again, my spine shivered.

  “Where are they, Artie, for Christ’s sake?”

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  Cora was hauling Flo Conroy out the door as I trailed Artie down the stairs behind me. Conroy’s hands were tied behind her back with a length of blue plastic coated wire that Cora had found in the kitchen.

  “She is ours. I’m taking her in,” Cora said. “My orders don’t include Mr McErlane or Monsignor McCooey, but someone else will be here soon to secure the premises. An ambulance is on the way for Mr McErlane, but don’t worry, he will be fine. I expect we will be speaking to both of them, very soon.”

  Cora faced up to me, prepared for a challenge. I shrugged, pushed Artie into the room where Ferdy was, she nodded, turned quickly and disappeared down the steps with her right hand steering Conroy by her collar. Gallogly helped Artie into a chair beside Ferdy’s bed, I watched Cora place Conroy into the Chevy sitting outside before they bumped off down the track.

  Gallogly saw the damage I had put on Artie’s face, realised the old priest had been pulling our strings, reached back and punched Artie in the mouth, knocking him back off the chair. I had to hold him back, push him away from the old priest, wasn’t easy, Gallogly’s rage almost too much for me. I calmed Gallogly down, Artie was back on his feet, dazed, and with a stream of blood trickling down his nostrils and out of his lips.

  “Two brave men, aren’t you?” Artie scorned. “Two of you to beat an old man!”

  Still defiant, still thought he was in control, that he was leading us to our redemption, whether we wanted it or not.

  “It’s all over, Artie!” I shouted at him. “You heard Cora, they are on their way here for you now. Just concentrate on getting Ferdy taken care of and tell me where Sarah took them!”

  He flinched as I shaped to punch him.

  “I told you I don’t know where she is,” he said. “They went out when Florencita got here, but what’s your problem? Sarah is looking after them, they will be grand.”

  Gallogly primed himself for another assault, but I kept in between them. Artie was puzzled, we were wasting time on family trivia when he had the salvation of the Christian world to score, but he looked old now, old and confused. I pushed Gallogly back.

  “I’m going after them, Jack,” I told Gallogly. “I’ll take Artie with me. You stay with Ferdy until the paramedics get here, ok?”

  Gallogly was torn between payback for Artie and stepping up for Ferdy. He relented for a second, thinking it through, Artie pushed past us to reach over and take Ferdy’s hand. He started to cant his prayers
, clicking his beads, that thing that irritated me. Latin maybe, or Irish, not English anyway. And it was still there somewhere in Gallogly and I, deep down, that inherited deference, stalled us, invoked the taboo that put Artie off limits while he interceded for Ferdy’s soul. Gallogly was as uncomfortable as I was, like trespassers, unclean and unworthy, we fudged over to the doorway, Artie toned his credo in rolling waves of breathless whisper. But then he stopped in mid-flow, Ferdy lifted his head, tried to get up, slowly, at first, then violently, as if desperate to escape. I knocked Artie out of his chair, cradled Ferdy in my arms, stroked his gray face.

  “Con, she needs you. Go quick and save her,” Ferdy said.

  “Where is she? Where is Rose, Ferdy?” I said.

  “No, not Rose,” he said. “It’s Mom, she needs you now. She’s in one of her seizures, like happens to you, that black hole demon shit, she doesn’t know what she is doing. You’ve got to help her, Con, you know what it is like. You can save her.”

  He squeezed my hand, I gripped hard.

  “Where are they, Ferdy? Where did she take them?” I said.

  “You know where she will be, Con,” he said.“Where she always took us when she was like that, you remember it all, as well as I do.”

  It hit me. Yes, I did remember now, through all the shadows and shrouds between these real and other worlds. Sarah McErlane screaming at us, two frightened little boys, up there in the hills, at that waterfall. One of us had done something, a stupid kid thing, and it had ignited her rage. She dragged us up there to the falls, shrieking her anger above the roaring waters, her fury steaming to ritual sacrifice. And I didn’t understand her words, just a child, but I knew I was guilty, I must have caused this to happen, had done some evil thing to her. It wasn’t her fault. I deserved it. She was the victim of my stained soul. I needed her penance, craved it, to heal the hurt I had infected her with, then she would be restored to us, and we would be safe again. I just wanted her to decide for me, tell me how to fix it. But then John McErlane had appeared through the mist hanging over the falls, and surrendered his flesh to her violence. She punched and kicked and slapped him, pulled his hair by the handful, tore the shirt off his back. John submitted before her, motioned us to leave them there. But we were kids, we couldn’t go away on our own, we needed them, so we watched from behind the nearest tree while she pummelled and thrashed out her hurt. After a long time, her fire blazed out, and John quietly took our hands to lead us back down the trail. I had pissed my pants again.

  Something was unlocked now, more came back to me, things I hadn’t understood as a child, and had buried. John hadn’t sent us up there to keep Ferdy out of trouble in the city, he had decided it was best to send us away whenever Sarah was troubled.

  “They are at VerKeerderkill Falls,” I told Gallogly. “Stay with him, I’ll be right back as soon as I can, ok?”

  I bundled Artie out to the other automobile, a Honda CR-V, the keys were in it, I shoved him into the passenger’s seat.

  “I’m taking you with me to keep Gallogly away from you, Artie,” I said. “But the first sign of any hassle from you? I’ll break your neck. Get me?”

  Gallogly ran after us, told me to drop him at his automobile, he felt better knowing his own wheels were outside. Artie looked straight ahead, didn’t reply, that disappointed look. I turned down the track. A Fordham keyring fob, a Marymount Jubilee sticker on the passenger window, rosary beads hanging from the rearview mirror, a figure of somebody, maybe St Ignatius. Christ, who had Artie borrowed the Honda from, what did they think he was doing for the weekend?

  I bumped down the track, the gate was open, the chain and padlock hanging in the air. Gallogly got out, he would take his SUV back up to the house. I hit the gas as soon as we made the road, the CR-V clawed a grip, straightened up, Artie swayed in his seat, held on, told me to slow down, I laughed at his discomfort. Into the Nature Conservancy park, the rocky outcrop above glazed in ice, trees white hooded, Sam’s Point Road muffled deeper in snow as we climbed, a set of black tracks to follow now, I knew it was them.

  The road shape shifted into a forest trail, skirted back around Lake Maratanza, I fought the CR-V over the ice, choked back the fear of being too late, just focused on keeping the car out of the trees. Artie turned on the car radio, still confident the news would confirm the plan had succeeded, that I had been lying. I smacked his hand away, turned it off, forget about that shit. Then we saw it, a silver Jeep Patriot, front wheels skewed over the edge of the trail, back door open, snow flakes settled on the back seat.

  The Falls were close, the roar and thunder split the chilled mountain air, could taste the halo mist ghosting through the trees. I grabbed Artie by the loose folds of skin at the back of his thick red neck and drove him in front of me, dragging him onwards when he stumbled over rough ground, slipping and skating over ice and snow. I had him under control, like a wayward dog, but I couldn’t escape that icy hand on the back of my own neck, that caused my stomach to churn and my throat to tighten, so my heart hammered and my lungs scorched.

  Then we saw them. Sarah at the cliff edge, braced against the icy winds, screaming her rage at the plunging waters. Rose was flat on her back, a few feet away, motionless, her right arm twisted un-naturally under her body. Young Con lay at Sarah’s feet, his shoulders and head propped against her legs, but lifeless, and helpless. A rainbow shimmered upwards from the waters, green and blue, framed her as a mirage, played with light and sound and senses.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Artie blessed himself.

  I froze, all the fear and terror I had ever felt was condensed into that split second, and multiplied, a thousand fold. Artie rested his hand on my shoulder, steadied me, urged courage. I started forward, but she saw me, and turned her red burning eyes on me.

  “She isn’t getting him!” she screamed. “I’ll kill him before I let that whore have him! You hear me? I’ll crash his skull off these cliffs before I give him away to her!”

  She stood over me, like a great ghost queen, her banshee voice paralysed me, I was slipping into blackout, but Artie squeezed my arm, whispered in my ear.

  “Be careful, Con, she thinks you are your father,” he said. “She thinks your son is you, as a baby. This is what she was like back then, I thought we had cured her.”

  She half lifted young Con by his shoulders, his right arm flopped over the cliff edge, his face was suspended 180 feet above the rocks below.

  “Oh, it’s Father Arthur McCooey as well, our holy saint!” she scorned. “I’ll never sign your papers! Call yourself a priest? You’re just a holy hypocrite, I know all about you!”

  Her foot slipped on the ice, she veered over the edge, but recovered, used young Con’s deadweight to stabilise herself. “Sarah? Let’s talk it over,” I soothed. “I will do whatever you say, whatever you want, you can trust me.”

  I moved closer, slowly, she was 30 feet away, I inched towards her.

  “You are a liar! A damned liar!” she screamed. “You think you can make a fool of me again? I’m going to do it this time! I am! If I can’t have my baby, then nobody can!”

  I stopped, turned my face to Artie.

  “She couldn’t cope, Con,” Artie whispered. “She had problems when Ferdia was born. Then you were born just fifteen months later, Sarah wouldn’t have coped with both of you. It was for the best. We did it for her own good.”

  Con’s face was white, like the snow that crusted his hair. His lips were black purple. The only thing stopping him falling to death was this mad old woman. I was afraid, but not like the last time. That time, and all the other times, I had thought that I must be to blame, must have deserved her anger. And all my life had been like that, I thought I had deserved whatever shit happened to me, whatever any scumbag decided for me, it was all my own fault, I couldn’t hope for any better, I wasn’t worthy. But not now, and never again. None of their mixed-up trash was my fault, and this wasn’t young Con’s fault either. I was taking him home, this was the end
of it, he wouldn’t be another hostage to our twisted gene.

  I edged a little closer, spoke to her, calmed her, asked her what she wanted, promised she could take the baby home. I would go with her, and her two babies, no-one else would ever touch them. She shook with anger and tears, not so much a demon now as just an old woman who knew she had wasted her life, had taken a wrong turn somewhere, had submitted to the voices that pushed her down the wrong path. I was close now, maybe 20 feet away, edging closer. A frozen branch cracked behind us, she swivelled around, young Con slipped further, one arm and one leg hanging over the lip of rock.

  “Mom, it’s me, it’s Ferdia!”

  He was there, on the other side of the clearing, Gallogly hoisting him along, Ferdia dragging his feet, fighting back the sedative she had pumped into him. Sarah looked at him, then turned and looked back at me, her brain nested the sequence behind her eyes, torqued our faces to fit her anger.

  “Ferdia, they want to take our baby, your baby brother!” she shouted to him. “Quickly! Come over here to me now! We have to stop them getting the baby! Come quick, you have to jump with me!”

  She was going to do it, levered young Con’s torso to the edge, she was going to do it! I was 15 feet away, almost close enough to dive headlong and grab him. She screamed at me to get back, screamed at Ferdia to join her. Ferdy signalled me to stay back, keep her talking, he left Gallogly and staggered forward, scrambled along to her feet. She took his hand, took young Con’s hand, and stood up straight, she screamed her hate at me and the world, then stepped back, dragging young Con with her. I dived forward, but couldn’t make it, just saw Ferdy grip young Con’s arm with his left hand and push Sarah away with his right hand. Young Con balanced on the edge, Sarah spun on the threshold of this world, looked me in the eye, floated in the rainbow for a second, then dropped over the cliff. No scream, no cry. Ferdy had his arms around young Con, squirmed away from the drop, I grabbed both of them and dragged them away. We fell in a heap, couldn’t speak, Ferdy and I just held on to each other and cried, like the times before. Gallogly and Artie helped us up, we stood at the edge and looked over. No sign of her, just the icy waters of the Falls, the rainbow, and the rocks far below.