Gabriel's Revenge (The Adventures of Gabriel Celtic Book 2) (22 page)

Chapter 58

August 28, 1998

The drive home was a blur, compounded by the additional note I had found on the windshield.

“Great!”

I was in no mood to read it then; so I threw in on the passenger seat and hightailed it out of the lot. I really couldn’t remember anything else of the trip, until I was standing in front of the door to my house. I was unsure how long I had been standing there, but it was quite a few minutes if I had to guess.

Allen’s irrational tirade still had me shaking; I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this angry. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to calm myself before entering the house. I had a few decisions to make, and I needed a calm head to rationally work them out.

Entering the house, the phone immediately started ringing.

I was definitely in no mood to talk to anybody!

Nevertheless I checked the caller ID, seeing Abby’s cell number. I continued to debate answering it, but finally relented on the fourth ring. I had left her in the lurch, and she deserved some kind of explanation, although I had no intention of giving her a blow-by-blow of the
whole
conversation.

“Gabe! What happened?”

Unsure myself what
exactly
had happened, I kept quiet, trying to decide what to say.

“Did you punch Allen? He came out of his office all beat up, said you had smacked him. The cops wanted him to press charges, but he declined…‘for now’ he said. He stomped out of the office, mad as hell. What happened?”

Finding my voice finally, I told her the gist of the conversation, leaving out the last part of course. She was also extremely upset about him telling me to stay away from the church.

“That’s awful! What can we do now?”

“
We
can’t do anything kid; I’ve resigned. And I’ve already jeopardized your job enough. He will assign someone else to the case; you need to lay low if you want to keep your job.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked, upset.

“I have some decisions to make; I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”

“But you can’t just give up!” It sounded like she was crying.

“I have no authority now Abby! I don’t know what I
can
do now!”

Calming down a bit, “Listen, I’ve got things to think over; I’ll talk to you tomorrow, after I’ve calmed down a little.”

She relented then, telling me not to do anything rash, and that she would call first thing in the morning.

Hanging up the phone, I realized that my hand was throbbing. It had been a long time since I had hit anyone; I would be lucky if something wasn’t broken.

I got a pan out from under the sink and filled it with cold water. Adding a few ice cubes, I laid it on the kitchen table and stuck in my hand. Sitting there while my hand soaked, I mulled over my situation.

On one hand, I was more than justified to just leave it alone, let them try to figure this mess out themselves. If they had to be hemmed in by the ridiculous restrictions that Allen had put in my way, they would probably never be able to find the answer anyway.

On the other hand…there was Frank!

Anger flared again in me as I thought of this robed asshole getting away with murder, the murder of my friend!

Thinking of the monk reminded me of the note.

Not finding it in the kitchen, I determined that I must have left it in the Jeep. Grabbing a dishtowel, I wrapped my hand in it and went out to retrieve the note. Finding it, I took it back in the house, replacing my hand in the water before reading it.

My soul ran as cold as the water on the table as the words passed before my eyes.

“It has been an honor Gabriel, an honor indeed. But in this, as in life, all things must come to an end.”

“What the hell,” I said, the implications plain.

He was saying goodbye!

But did it mean he was leaving, or that he thought
I
was? Knowing his track record, I was guessing the second option applied, at least to his thinking.

My mind had been made up for me. I was a target now, whether I was working for the prosecutor or not.

Wrapping my hand once more, I made my way to the spare bedroom, pulling up the carpet and unlocking the safe. Taking out the bundle wrapped in an oil soaked cloth and another box, I closed up the safe and made my way back to the kitchen.

Laying the cloth on the table, I unwrapped it carefully, revealing my grandfather’s 1911 Colt .45 automatic. I immediately started disassembling the gun, cleaning and oiling it thoroughly before reassembling it. Opening the box I had brought with me, I loaded the clip with shells, also adding one in the chamber.

Clicking on the safety, I set the ancient gun down on the table, before reinserting my hand in the cold water. I may need the use of my hand later, and I wanted it functioning as well as possible.

The ground rules had been laid out for me; I could no longer work for the prosecutor,
and
I was most probably a target. I set about making plans for the night, plans that would hopefully bring this case to a close. I was on my own, but I suddenly realized that I felt very free and unencumbered, having no restrictions in my quest to end this.

And I realized another thing.

Justice had taken a back seat; for I now had the freedom to pick my causes, and justice was too confining.

Revenge however…

Chapter 59

August 28, 1998

Girard was ready, and it was 8:45, time to go!

All of the preparations had been made. He had but to go down the street and pick up the old car and drive to the jail. His pulse was pounding in his chest, and he thanked the Lord that He had allowed a lowly man such as himself to participate so closely in His work.

Exiting his quarters, he walked through the manicured lawn and up the steps to the street. Looking left down the street before turning right towards the car, his heart nearly leaped out of his chest when he saw it. Hiding any emotion, he continued down the street, ready to enact his plan.

But now, he had yet an additional inspiration!

“This could end tonight!”
he thought happily as the engine ignited. Putting the shifter in gear, he made his way across town toward the jail. The additional excitement he was feeling made him jittery in the seat, and he had to force himself to calm down.

“First things first,”
he said to himself,
“let’s just get Mr. Leffler out of the pokey first.”

***

Walking nonchalantly from Maple Street, Girard carefully crossed the tracks, and made his way into the yard of the jail. Finding the tree he would use as an anchor, he stood stock still for a couple of minutes, making sure that no one was watching him before untying three pieces of rawhide he had sewn into his robe.

As he untied the last tie, the coil of rope dropped out of his robe to the ground, surrounding his feet like a halo. Working quickly, he tied off the free end to the trunk of the tree. Standing up and looking around again, he then pulled the pocket watch out of his robe and checked the time, using the far off street lights for illumination.

“Two minutes to spare,”
he thought with excitement.

Remaining still until the appointed time, he then grabbed the coil of rope, easily throwing it over the wall. Checking the knot again quickly, he then made his way off of the grounds.

An eerie song emanated from his pursed lips.

He suddenly realized…it’s very hard to whistle when one is smiling.

***

At exactly 9:00, Pierce Leffler stuck his finger down his throat, gagging and easily expelling everything in his stomach into the sink. He hated that, and had never had the nerve to do it before. This was definitely worth the effort though, he thought to himself.

When he was done throwing up, his skin was covered in a cold sweat, and he felt spent. Feeling almost as sick as he was pretending to be, he reached under the mattress and pulled out the ketchup packet he had snuck back to the cell at lunch.

Ripping off a corner, he tried streaking the ketchup through the contents, but it looked like ketchup on puke. Stealing his nerve, he started putting his finger in the goo to spread it around, which caused him to wretch once more. When he was done, it looked more like he thought it should.

“Fuck it!”
he thought while wiping his fingers on his pants, “
If that ain’t enough, I’ll stay here!”

Lying on his bed, he let out a bellow as he gripped his stomach in false pain. A guard came to investigate after a few minutes of screaming, finding the prisoner doubled up in pain.

“Something’s wrong!” Pierce groaned. “It hurts something terrible, and I threw up blood!”

The guard got on the radio to get another guard on site before he opened the door. When he had finally arrived, the first guard called to open the cell, and then went in to check the sink. He backed out immediately, telling the second guard that they had better get him to the infirmary.

They both entered the cell, pulling Pierce up as they started walking him down the hall by his arms. Reaching the infirmary, the first guard said, “Your duty, you stay with him until the Doc gets here. The second guard nodded as the first left, and then he turned to face the prisoner.

“How the hell did I get in this mess?”
Jason Glad sighed to himself.

***

“I sure am
Glad
to see you Jason,” Pierce said to the guard with a sneer when the first guard had left.

“Now, get me outta here, willya?”

Sighing again, Jason let Pierce Leffler to a side door. Opening it and looking out, he motioned for Pierce to follow him outside. As Pierce was getting ready to go, Jason said, “Hold on!”

“I ain’t going down for this,” he said as he held out a set of handcuffs. “Put these on me first and you better hit me once just for…” 

Pierce obliged the guard before he ever got the words out of his mouth. Knocking Jason down with the first punch, he proceeded to continue hitting him in the face until the guard was unconscious.

Taking the handcuffs, he attached them to both wrists before standing up and looking at his handiwork.

“
Glad
to be of service!” Pierce whispered with a sneer as he turned and made his way down the wall.

Finding the rope as promised, he climbed over the wall easily, dropping to the other side like a cat. Pulling the rope down behind him, he untied it from the tree and coiled it up haphazardly. Standing and checking his surroundings, he left the yard and crossed the tracks, walking carefully down Maple Street. He smiled as he spied an old dark colored Toyota ahead. Making his way to the driver’s door, he thought he almost had a heart attack when a voice came to him from the front seat.

“Change of plans, get in!”

Chapter 60

August 28, 1998

I ducked down quickly as the monk unexpectedly emerged from the church grounds. Although I was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be able to see me at this distance and with it being almost totally dark, I did not want to risk it.

He casually looked around before heading on down the street. I didn’t know where he was going, and I didn’t care. I was more interested in his apartment.

Michael Naples had told us that the monk, Brother Jim, had created a sort of apartment out of the corner of the church’s basement. I figured there was no better place to start than there to try to find some evidence on the good Brother. Waiting ten minutes from the time he had left the church, I casually got out of the Jeep and walked down the street until reaching the stairs to the church yard. Seeing no one from either direction, I ducked down the stairs and into the well maintained church grounds.

Empty.

As nonchalantly as I could, I continued down the walkway, acting as if I belonged there. When I reached the dark alleyway between the church and the school buildings, I plunged ahead like I did it every day. The level of blackness here was magnified about ten times, and I more or less had to feel my way along the wall until feeling the recess of the wall that indicated the location of the door I was looking for.

Feeling around for a latch, I located it and tried the door.

Locked.

Kneeling down, I could just make out the shiny surface of a modern looking deadbolt. Sighing, I retrieved a lock pick set out of my pocket. I have never been great at picking a lock, especially under pressure.

While on my third try, I heard people approaching out on the street. Redoubling my efforts, I started repeating the mantra that I had used before in these situations,
“work the lock; ignore the people, work the lock; ignore the people.”

It wasn’t working; I was getting nowhere and three laughing couples had just started down the steps to the church yard. They couldn’t see me yet, but it would be but a matter of seconds before they would be able to make out my silhouette in the alleyway. I picked up my tools and flattened my back against the door, hoping that the recess of the wall would hide me well enough to avoid detection.

Suddenly, I felt like I was falling as the door flung open behind me. A hand reached out and grasped my shirt by the collar, pulling me quickly into the room. I heard the door shutting behind me as I tripped through the dimly lit room, coming to a stop when I ran into a waist high table, the force of the throw causing my upper body to lean over the table as I came to a stop.

Looking down, I saw that I was not on a table at all; it was some kind of screen, or mesh. Something on the other side of the screen was moving and I tried to make it out in the low light. I finally make out a set of eyes! Beady black eyes.

A Snake!

“Uuuuuhhhh,” was the only noise I could make as I pushed myself away from the cage. A hand slapped over my mouth, followed by a low “Shhh”.

Turning quickly, I saw a darkly dressed Abby, her finger to her lips indicating quiet.

“I hate snakes!” I whisper loudly, “And what the hell are you doing here?”

“Same as you I’m betting, looking for evidence,” she continued the whisper.

“How did you get in?”

“Door on the other side of the church was unlocked,” she added simply, “I had just gotten in here when I heard you scratching on the lock. I finally figured out it was you when you started talking to yourself…work the lock you said, or something like that.

I felt like an idiot, an open door, why didn’t I think of that?

“Thanks for the save,” I said, “might have been hard to explain myself if they had seen me.”

Abby just smiled.

We started looking around the sparse apartment, a mishmash of old oddball furniture and an old mop sink. One dim light bulb glowed dimly above the sink, and there were numerous unlit candles placed throughout the room. A straw hat hung on a peg by the door, an old tan colored robe next to it. A ratty looking cot was stuck into a corner of the room across from the sink. The place reminded me of a clubhouse I had made once in my parents’ basement. 

“That door over there leads to the rest of the basement.” Abby pointed as she started looking through drawers. I took a moment to look at the snake…from a distance. I was pretty certain it was a Burmese Python, probably eight or nine feet long. I could still see the snake eyeing me, and I quickly covered the cage with an old towel, shuddering.

“Odd choice for a pet,”
I whispered out loud as another shiver ran down my spine; I really, really hated snakes.

I spotted a drawer in the side of the primitive looking table in the middle of the room. Walking across the room, I pulled it open slowly as it resisted with a quiet
‘squeee’.

There were some papers inside, and I pulled them out. There were three piles, each pile stapled together. Taking the first pile over to the sink to see, I soon motion Abby over to have a look.

Handing it to her, “It’s a list of members.”

She studied it for a moment, and then her eyes grew wide. “All of the victims, they all have a star next to them!”

“Yes,” I state excitedly, “but something else.”

Looking it over again, she didn’t catch it…at first.

“These two names, Sarah Winston and Bradley James, we don’t have a file for them!”

“That’s because they are still alive! I know Sarah; I saw her walking down the street yesterday. He’s not finished with his
mission
yet.”

Taking up the second pile, I saw yet another list of names, this one from a different church, St. John’s, in Lewisburg, IN.

Again it was page after page of names and addresses of parishioners, with stars next to about twenty of them. The star at the top of the page sent a cold chill down my back as I realized the implications of what I was seeing.

Handing it to Abby, I pointed out the name of the church. “This must have been where he was stationed last, look at the name at the top of the list.”

Abby studied the list for only a few moments before her eyes grew wide once more, unbelief showing plainly on her face.

“The priest? He killed the priest?”

“It would appear so,” I said, still coming to terms with the idea as I picked up the final pile of papers. This one was definitely the smallest with only fifteen names listed in total. At the top of the page, it listed ‘Abbey of St. Bernadette’, the address listed of the abbey and all of the members being Westville, IN.

My jaw dropped when I looked through the list, there was only one name on the list that wasn’t ‘starred’.

Brother James Michael Girard.

Brother Jim!

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed a little too loudly, Abby immediately shushing me before looking over my shoulder at the list.

“He killed them all,” whispering again, looking Abby in the face. “He’s killed everyone in his Abbey; he is the only one left!”

“How could he do that? Have they shut it down? Surely he isn’t keeping it open just for his personal use?”

Thinking about what she had said, it seemed to me that it may be exactly what he had done, no one to question him, or his methods. I had no clue how big an Abbey was, but fifteen monks could easily live within the confines of a large house.

“I don’t know,” I said, putting the stack of papers together and depositing them back in the drawer. “We need to figure out a way to get a warrant, so that we can
‘discover’
these in a legal search.”

Not that I cared enough not to take them, but to hold up in court, even I would have to obtain all of these legally. Besides, I had taken down the names of the other church and the Abbey in my notebook, as well as the corresponding addresses.

“We should go,” I said to Abby. “Let’s go out the way you came in so we can leave the door locked.”

She nodded and led the way to the back of the room, opening the door quietly and walking through. The room was dark, except for another single bulb over the doorway we had just gone through.

“Creepy place,” I said as I started to follow her through the huge basement, winding our way through a myriad of folding chairs and tables.

Suddenly, there was a flash and a pop to our left as the light bulb over our head exploded with a burst of light and the tinkling of glass. Again a pop and a flash, this time something imbedded itself into wood somewhere to my left, peppering my face with splinters.

“Down, now!” I shouted, both of us diving behind a pile of tables that we had seen there when there had been light.

I hear a painful
“Ooofff”
and the crash of tables sliding off of a pile as Abby landed a little short of her mark. I landed clear of the pile, but flat on the concrete, knocking the air out of my lungs. I pulled out the old Colt before collecting enough air to croak out “Abby!”

“What the hell was that?” Abby asked, fear in her voice.

“Silencer,” was all I could get out, but it was enough, as I heard the click of her hammer being set.

“Gabriel Celtic!” a happy sounding voice rang out from across the basement. Releasing the safety I cocked the Colt, aiming over the tables at the location the sound had come from. Another
flash/pop
as metal somewhere close to my face
pinged!
Ducking down again I whispered toward Abby “night vision!”

I could make her out vaguely in the dark now as our eyes became used to the darkness, there was also some weak light filtering in through a couple of high windows from a security light.

She nodded that she had heard me and hunkered down farther. She too had been rising to try a shot at the sound of the voice.

“That’s me!” I called from my hiding place, “who might I be talking to?”

A loud laugh floated across the basement.

“You probably don’t know of me Mr. Celtic, my name is Pierce Leffler, but for the purposes of this discussion, you can just call me…
Your Worst Nightmare!”