Confession at Maddleskirk Abbey Read online

  The broad guidelines did not affect the helicopter – it would cover the immense open space with ease, hopefully guiding searchers towards their target if he was spotted. Press photographers and TV cameras had arrived and were in action, whilst among them were two police photographers, indistinguishable from their media counterparts. Their presence was for a totally different purpose – after all, this was a trap for a cold-blooded killer even though most of the searchers – and many police officers – were unaware of that.

  As the large group of volunteers spread out, Mr and Mrs Morton remained at the back of the crowd but then approached Inspector Carter. So this grey-haired man and blonde-dyed woman in smart flying suits were the infamous Michael and Geraldine Goddard? They did not look at all like drug dealers, murderers or villains – even now, were being regarded as benefactors to the community! Inspector Carter decided to treat them with feigned respect as, in his guise as Joe Morton, the man took the lead.

  ‘You’re Inspector Carter, I heard you say. I’m Joe Morton, this is my wife, Rachel. Linneymoor Ceramics. You’re expecting us, I believe?’

  ‘We are, and it’s good of you to help us like this.’

  ‘No problem,’ responded the man with a faint Lancashire accent. ‘I heard your briefing so where do you want us?’

  Inspector Carter handed him a copy of the map that had been issued to the other searchers. ‘You can see how the search parties are spreading out so I think a sweep of this particular part of the moorland, as far as we can see from here and beyond, needs to be searched from the air. I think that will be a good place to start.’

  ‘What’s the procedure if we spot him? We might not be able to land nearby.’

  ‘You should contact me on this mobile number,’ advised the inspector, handing him a card. ‘We will direct a ground team to the scene to assess the situation and probably help the monk to your machine to be brought to shelter.’

  ‘So if it’s possible for us to land near him, and if I see that he needs urgent hospital treatment, can I take him directly to hospital? That would make sense. Speed is of the essence …’

  ‘That’s a welcome offer, Mr Morton, but let’s deal with that if and when it occurs,’ said Inspector Carter as several photographers, including those from the police, took photographs. ‘Our immediate priority is to find him, then assess his physical condition.’

  ‘Point taken. So where was the last sighting?’

  ‘It was rather vague, a call from a hiker who didn’t want to be identified – dodging off work with a woman who wasn’t his wife! He’d seen our target near this old chapel but failed to give more precise information.’

  ‘Obviously he provided some useful information otherwise we’d not be here?’

  ‘From what he told us, this is our starting point, and now centre of operations. Apparently he wandered aimlessly close to the woodland but that was some time ago. He has been missing since Saturday but if he’s still able to walk, he could be anywhere. He might be in that wood, lying hidden perhaps. Ill or injured.’

  ‘So it’s anyone’s guess where he might be?’

  ‘If he’s hiding, he might be in that woodland. Have you any experience at searching woodland?’

  ‘Not a lot, I must admit. It’s not the easiest of jobs when airborne but not impossible – often there are open patches, tracks running through and so on. We can only do our best. What do you think, Rachel?’

  ‘We came here to do a job, Joe. We know what’s required. We should get started right away – don’t forget a life is at stake.’

  ‘Does that fit your plans, Inspector?’

  ‘It’s fine, there’s no time to lose.’

  ‘I’ll fly over this open section of moorland and then towards those woods,’ announced Rachel. ‘I can cope with the wooded areas and we can always guide searchers on the ground if we spot him …’

  ‘Right, sounds fine to me,’ said Inspector Carter.

  ‘Rachel’s the pilot and I’m the observer today, but before I go, I need the loo,’ announced Joe. ‘You said there’s one behind the chapel. – I can’t cope with this suit! How about you, love?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Rachel. ‘See you back at Crusoe.’

  ‘Crusoe?’ queried the inspector.

  ‘After Robinson, our machine’s a Robinson R44. Four seater, that is. Like him, I suppose you could say we’re looking for footprints in the sand today.’

  ‘I need the toilet,’ whispered Father John to Sue, both dressed in their hooded outfits with POLICE SEARCH emblazoned their backs. They had followed and mingled with the crowd for only a short time but no one had talked to them.

  ‘It’s urgent,’ John pressed her. ‘It’s my prostate cancer. When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go. It’s a bit open here, no trees …’

  ‘I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight like this but the inspector said there’s a loo behind the chapel. Don’t be long. I’ll wait here. We can catch up with the others.’

  Sue watched as the search party left her behind. It was now divided into several groups, each with a leader, and they were making their first tentative steps in what already had all the appearances of a major hunt. She waited as Father John disappeared behind the bulk of the old chapel. At that point, she lost sight of him.

  As Father John hurried about his urgent business, he saw a man in a flying suit heading in the opposite direction to the other searchers as he also hurried towards the stone toilet at the rear of the chapel. It was the man from Linneymoor Ceramics with his smart helicopter, here to help in the search. In this situation, Father John wondered how the man would cope with his flying suit. He might find out because it was a sure bet they’d arrive together – so would there be more than one stall in there? He sincerely hoped so.

  They arrived together from opposite directions and John, being a polite monk, stood back to allow the other first entry. But the man stopped and at that instant John recognized him despite the passage of time. He said nothing, doing his best to conceal his surprise and horror at the situation in which he now found himself. Alone with Michael Goddard. …

  And Goddard recognized him.

  ‘I’ve been looking for you, John. All these years. You’re coming with me, very peacefully and very quietly, for a ride in my smart new helicopter …’

  ‘No, no, I can’t …’

  ‘This says you can and you will.’ Goddard pulled a tiny handgun from a pocket in his flying suit. ‘Nobody is going to see us, nobody is going to see you. I need you alive for a little longer then you will disappear for ever. These people will never find you. But first we have a little job to do, both of us … After you …’ And he stood in the narrow doorway to block any attempted escape by Father John.

  Chapter 22

  TO 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 wh
y 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 unc
eremoniously 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.