Confession at Maddleskirk Abbey (21 page)

T
O REACH THE
security of the helicopter with his captive, Goddard had to pass the western end of the chapel, then cross a wide empty space. Its surface was anything but smooth or level – it was a patch of rough moorland covered with stones, heather and stubbly scrub plants. Some rescuers were searching nearby but paid no attention to the two men emerging from the toilet. Goddard hissed at Father John, warning him not to draw attention to himself. The gun pressing on his ribs persuaded John to remain calm even if he was trembling with fear. They walked side by side, apparently chatting amiably about some forthcoming action, and the illusion was strengthened because John was dressed as one of the searchers. Napier’s hastily arranged plan had had an unforeseen outcome, the complete opposite of what he’d intended. But Goddard was no fool – he realized in an instant that he had fallen into a clever trap. John had not been wandering or lost, he was here, up front and in disguise. He was the bait and it was time to leave. John had become his guarantee of freedom and so Goddard would ensure they walked closely together, side by side, looking like colleagues or friends.

‘Rachel’ had noticed the pair walking towards her and it took a few moments for her to realize that this was indeed the John they were seeking. So why all these searchers? Something
odd was going on. She knew her husband would be holding a handgun that would be invisible to casual observers while pressed into John’s side. Goddard would take no chances – the pistol would be loaded. Such behaviour had become increasingly common in recent years when he’d had to deal with those who had sought to undermine or control his business empire.

Right now, he seemed to be coping easily with his captive so she hurried ahead to open the helicopter doors. Michael/Joe would not linger one second longer than necessary – after the useful if brief publicity surrounding their arrival, they could now depart with honour, claiming an urgent and unexpected family commitment. For them, the search was over.

All the others were concentrating upon their own tasks and no one seemed to notice Father John making his slow progress towards the helicopter. But Sue was acutely observant. Just as she realized John was rather late emerging from the toilet, she noticed the pair walking close together, with the older man sometimes stumbling. Instantly she knew Father John had been trapped and that meant his certain death. On her mobile, she alerted Napier, who was hidden in the nearby woodland awaiting his dramatic role.

‘How in the name of God did that happen?’ he bellowed. ‘Get Carter! Tell him to do something. Alert the firearms unit. We have to stop the helicopter taking off, stop them getting Father John on board. If they succeed, he’s a gonner. Look out for guns … these people are dangerous villains, very dangerous … I’m on my way.’ And his phone went dead.

Sue was unknown to everyone except Father John, and almost anonymous in her searcher’s outfit. She hurried across the expanse of heather to where uniformed constables in white helmets were combing the moorland. She was not to know they were monkstables. She reached them without attracting undue attention; she appeared to be a rescuer going for an urgent chat with a police team.

‘Is Inspector Carter here?’

‘Not with us, he’s with the firearms unit, over there,’ replied the uniformed monk, pointing to the inspector.

‘Who’s in charge here?’ she demanded.

‘Me. Prior Tuck and the monk-constables of Maddleskirk Abbey at your service.’ And he raised his white helmet. ‘How can we help?’

‘Monks? As policemen? Specials, are you?’

‘No, we’re professionals from Maddleskirk Abbey. We’re fully trained so how can we help?’

‘I’m not quite sure but it is urgent … deadly urgent … that man over there.’

She pointed to Goddard and John. ‘That man is your Father John and he is being led at gunpoint into that helicopter. He’s got to be stopped. Chief Superintendent Napier has ordered us to prevent him being taken inside and we have to prevent the helicopter taking off. …’

‘By us, you mean?’ asked Prior Tuck, somewhat shocked. ‘So who are you?’

‘My name is Sue, I’ve been looking after Father John. There’s no one else here right now and we’ve only got seconds … it’s vital we stop the ’copter taking off.’ And she produced a small pistol from her clothing.

‘But how does Father John come to be here?’

‘There’s no time for questions, Prior Tuck. John’s in great danger – action is needed now! And I mean right now before that thing starts its props and gets airborne! And the kidnapper is armed. We must stop him. …’

‘Say no more!’ Prior Tuck sprang into action, his police experience coming to the fore as he found himself imagining he’d jumped into deep water with no knowledge of how to swim. He’d have to work things out as they progressed. ‘Who’s got the gun?’ he asked. ‘What sort is it?’

‘The man with Father John. He’s Goddard, he’s got a handgun of some kind, a small pistol.’ She pointed. ‘You can’t see it but it’s there …’

‘I’ll call the monkstables, they’re all here.’ He produced a police whistle from his tunic and blew hard. It worked. They all turned to stare in his direction and he shouted as he waved his arms. ‘Here! Now!’ He blew it two more times. The trouble was, it also alerted Father John’s captor.

‘Run, damn you, run!’ shouted Goddard, prodding John with his pistol.

But John’s legs seemed to give way. He was almost on his knees as Goddard tried to bundle him towards the helicopter, still many yards away. As one, the monkstables started to run; his whistle had also alerted other searchers who followed the example of the monkstables and began to move towards him, if a little slowly and with some uncertainty before increasing their pace. The good old-fashioned police whistle could still produce results! The helicopter should soon be surrounded.

‘That’s impressive,’ she breathed. ‘Are they all monks?’

‘Those in uniform, yes, but trained as policemen. And I used to be in the regular force.’ The seven monkstables of Maddleskirk Abbey and a crowd of searchers arrived together. Prior Tuck addressed them. ‘We must make sure that helicopter remains grounded but the man on the left has a gun. It’s a handgun which means you couldn’t hit a barn door with it if you sat on the sneck but if he fires at random he might get in a lucky shot. If we run towards him, zig-zagging as we go, he won’t know how to stop us, except he might attempt a lucky shot.’

He paused momentarily to allow his words to have an effect, then continued, ‘Pray hard he misses! It’s the man in the search gear who’s at risk … let’s hope his captor doesn’t loose a shot into him but I think he’s too valuable to lose. Let’s go.’

With the monkstables and searchers closing the gap, Goddard was struggling to force Father John into a faster pace. Father John kept letting his knees collapse so that he fell to the ground or else stumbled every few yards, playing for time as he realized he must never board this helicopter. ‘Come on, come
on, come on!’ shouted Goddard. ‘Get up … you’ll be safe with me, John. …’

As he struggled with John’s apparent incapacity to move any further or any faster, Goddard noticed his wife racing across the heather, intent on gaining the pilot’s seat as the group of uniformed police officers closed in. Neither he nor she realized they were monks.

As they all stampeded towards the helicopter, they were encouraged by a lot of very loud shouting from a huge monk in a cowl who was bellowing, ‘Stop it taking off! Stop it! It must be stopped!’ as he led his troops. ‘Look out for guns! You, the armed police, take the lead, get that couple in your sights, disable them, stop them shooting us or John …’

Police officers, a few carrying loaded rifles, realized the shouting monk was the mighty Detective Chief Superintendent Napier in disguise, his monk’s habit flapping as he bellowed, ‘Stop them, stop them!’

But these cavalry-like reinforcements, with armed police officers among them, still had a distance to travel before they became effective. It was the monkstables who were ahead and leading the charge. The pilot was now aboard and she started the rotor blades to allow them to build up speed once her husband and his captive had clambered inside. And all the time, the monkstables were gaining valuable ground.

‘Drape yourselves across the boom!’ shouted Prior Tuck, panting as he galloped ever forward. ‘That’s the long slender bit that sticks out at the back, with the little propeller on the end. The ‘copter can’t take off with a large weight on there … and the rest of you – everybody – do likewise. Drape yourselves across its tail, that’ll ground it. …’

‘No! Don’t do that!’ bellowed Napier who had caught up to the others and arrived with giant strides in his thick black habit. ‘Those blades will rip your heads off. The ’copter will keel over … keep clear … it’s too bloody dangerous … back off …’

And so they did, halting their onward gallop.

‘He’s coming with me or he dies!’ shrieked Goddard, hauling Father John to his feet yet again. This time he ducked beneath John’s limp body and hoisted him upon his shoulders, his arms effectively immobilizing John’s legs and arms. It was a swift and well-executed manoeuvre as John was carried over the final few yards towards the open door of the helicopter and unceremoniously dumped inside. Goddard clambered in after him and closed the door. The pilot was in her seat ready for lift-off. With Father John struggling weakly as the pistol, still in Goddard’s fist, was mere inches from his face, the rotor blades gained momentum as their tips rose higher into the air with their earaching throbbing, chopping sound.

The tail rotor was spinning to give stability to the machine as it prepared for take-off from its pair of long skis.

‘I want them all alive!’ shouted Napier to anyone within earshot as the pitch of the engines and the throb of the rotors drowned all other sounds. ‘Don’t shoot now but keep your weapons cocked and ready to fire. Everyone …’

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion and it appeared that Napier had capitulated – but then he broke into a short and rapid sprint as he stripped off the heavy black habit and ran to the rear of the helicopter. Standing as close as possible to the whirling tail rotor as he could, he flung the habit over the blades and within a fraction of a second, the thick fabric became entangled with the blades and the prop shaft, literally smothering the rotary motion. It was now impossible for the helicopter to take off. He’d learned that trick from a helicopter pilot.

‘Firearms unit, take aim. Cover the pilot and crew … Father Mutch Miller, you’re the strong man of the monkstables, get John out of that cab … fast as you can … we’ll cover you!’ shouted Napier.

As Father Mutch made his way towards the passenger door under the protection of rifle cover, Napier shouted, ‘One of you cover the pilot. Mrs Goddard, leave that machine. Now!’

She had to await the gradual wind-down of the rotors, with the helicopter disabled in a strange silence.

‘Out!’ snapped Napier, who opened her door when it was safe. ‘Cover her every move,’ he directed his armed officers and she cautiously left the aircraft.

Napier addressed Goddard. ‘Now you, Goddard, drop your gun and put your hands on your head, NOW! Do it now, or you get a bullet … raise your arms above your head. You’re both nicked.’

Without taking his eyes off the pair, Napier shouted, ‘Everyone else – get as far back as possible and lie flat on the ground … everybody … NOW! This machine might be booby-trapped … it might explode. …’

Father Mutch had managed to manhandle John out of the helicopter and was running with him at his side, heading as far away as possible before lying on the ground behind a hummock. When the pilot was safe from the rotors, Mrs Goddard obeyed Napier’s orders, a marksman having her in his sights. He had a good view as she descended from the cockpit and covered her every step. She appeared to be in a desperate hurry.

‘Over here!’ called the officer with a rifle. ‘Now!’

She obeyed, then Sue frisked her for concealed weapons; there was none, no stiletto, no firearm. The policeman produced a set of handcuffs and locked her wrists behind her back.

‘Can I go now?’

‘We’ve a vehicle waiting,’ said the police officer.

‘I want to get away from here. …’

‘You’re going nowhere!’

While almost all eyes had been on the pilot, Goddard had emerged from the ‘copter under the close watch of an armed policeman. His hands were clasped together on top of his head. He was walking from the helicopter as Napier eased himself closer to the firearms officer, who had his rifle aimed at Goddard’s moving head. ‘We need him alive,’ he whispered to the officer. ‘He’s got something in his hand, look. Right hand.
On his head … it looks like a mobile … bring him down, shoot him in the leg, the knees if you can. I’ll stage a diversion.’

For the briefest of moments, no one moved.

Then Napier shouted, ‘I’ll walk towards Goddard with an offer he can’t refuse. Keep your eyes on whatever he’s clutching on his head …’

There was silence as everyone stopped to watch this drama.

‘Goddard!’ shouted Napier. ‘I’m coming to talk to you, I’m sure we can discuss this like civilized men. I am not armed.’ He began his lonely, dangerous walk, arms raised above his head.

‘Keep away, keep away, keep away!’ shrieked Goddard. ‘Keep away, I said!’

He waved his right hand and Napier saw he was still clutching the gadget that looked like a mobile phone. Immediately two shots rang out as Goddard sank to the ground with both knees broken, the device spinning away from him.

‘Get me away from here!’ he screamed.

‘Run!’ shouted Napier at Father John, then he bellowed, ‘Everybody stay down … cover your heads …’

Napier managed to gallop about twenty yards from the helicopter as it exploded in a fireball which produced a huge cloud of black smoke and sent metal splinters and other debris flying in all directions. The blaze crackled and produced lots more minor explosions as the searchers dropped to the ground for safety or hid behind boulders. Many of them witnessed Goddard’s instant death from a piece of flying jagged metal that hit him in the neck whilst he lay immobile. His wife, still handcuffed, tried to flee but there was a police officer in pursuit; a rugby tackle brought her to the ground as she had been heading for shelter in a small clump of conifers.