Lies And Consequences Collection

Chapter 9

Mr X

The outside early Sunday morning silence would have disturbed the quietest of libraries with its concealed secrecy until, that is, I heard the footsteps. Next came the squeak from the gate as it opened then closed on the noisy catch, followed by heavier footfalls along the paved garden path. I never heard a car. The closing of the front door reverberated through the house on his entrance.

“Are we awake?” he called out, to which Fianna replied, “I am, but can"t say about the boy.”

The smell of frying bacon had wafted into the bedroom where I lay rekindling fond memories of home, but I had not slept with many warm homely thoughts beside me that night. Certain conclusions that I"d drawn from both listening to Fianna"s tale, and reading Jack"s, had caused me to worry about the task that lay awaiting me; but I had no doubt that it was something I wanted to do. A wiser man may have come to a different answer, mine was, “Yes I"m awake, Jack, and can"t wait to get started.” Inwardly I wondered if I had been drugged whilst being persuaded from being a person who wanted to uphold the law to someone who was to become at best a withholder of the truth, but by the time it took to go down the stairs to Fianna"s breakfast those thoughts had disappeared.

“Morning, Jack! How do you want me to kill Mr Kurt?”

“Bejesus, my lot of papers must have had a page or two missing and no mistake, but I"m glad I wasn"t wrong about you, Shaun,” Fianna stated as plates of sizzling bacon with thick buttered slices of bread were placed on the table where Jack had already taken residence.

“Are you not eating, Fianna?” Jack asked without glancing in my direction.

“Mine"s coming,” she said. “In time for the fireworks, I"m hoping.”

“I think I"ve worked out who was Mr A. B is a bit of a puzzle.” Not waiting for Fianna"s return I began. “I guess you"ll be telling us about any trips you may have taken to the Bahamas, Jack? That"s if you have a mind to, of course. Or was it in Paris that you two had a heart to heart? I wonder where his wife was when he was playing games in Vienna? Oh, and if I"m right, didn"t he die back in May this year? Are we to hear of the escaped family today and what it is exactly you want us to do with them?” I changed track when she came back into the room.

“Did you buy any mustard last night, Fianna, or must I go without?”

“I did not, brother, as I had no inkling of your liking for the stuff.”

Phlegmatically ignoring my question, Jack replied, “You two seem to be getting along fine.” He had that wide grin cemented to his face, the one I was to remember for years to come.

“Is it to the Bahamas that we"d be going after this trip to America then, Mr Price? I quite fancy a trip there. Mind you, Paris would be nice as well. I"ve heard it"s good at this time of year. It would do at a pinch,” Fianna, standing with both arms folded across her chest reminding me of a school mistress, both asked and announced.

“While we"re at it, could I also get the history on the green jade ring you"re wearing?” I responded.

“You gave it to me the week before you disappeared. That"s what started my fears. The priest said you"d run away and "twas better you"d gone as you were a troublemaker. No one cared enough to see through his lies, "cept me! It was I who cradled you in me arms when you cried every night till he called for you that last time. I gave myself a birthday present when I turned twenty-one. A nice long, sharp carving knife which I held in my lap after slitting his throat with it. Sat there in his room at St. Mary"s Church, Liverpool awash with his blood for hours waiting for the police to come. He had skipped away from Ireland when I was alone in that home so I had to bide my time, but I got him in the end. Are you sure it"s to be you doing the killing, Shaun, and not me?”

“I won"t be asking for any tomato sauce now then.” I remarked flippantly.

“I"m surprised you never asked Fianna that question about the ring last night, Shaun,” Jack replied.

“I had too many other things on my mind. Like why now, for one?”

“Now is the right time, as I told you,” he answered.

“You mean he might meet the same end as his ex-aide; hit by an errant driver if he doesn"t agree to your demands?”

Fianna was enjoying her breakfast as much as we were, showing less interest in what was being discussed than in the cup of tea that was beside where she ate. Death, by whatever means, held no diverting fascination for her, it seemed. How different from last night?

I heard her singing a sad story of love from the bathroom whilst I was studying Jack"s paperwork. I"d taken little notice of the words as it was her divine refreshing tone and the softness of her voice that made me think of standing in a meadow of long grass with a gentle summer breeze fluttering everything around. Until sadly, my dream burst as if it was a bubble from her bath.

“Did Jack tell you, Shaun, that I"d killed a priest?”

* * *

“Before you two came into our sights we had no one who could effectively do what"s required,” Jack was quickly into his stride expounding on the task ahead. “The priest that Bridget Slattery murdered was the same one who gave my man, Mr X, sanctuary in Austria during the war years. He went to Ireland, and more specifically St. Patrick"s orphanage in Athlone, straight after it ended in "45. The legend we"ve put together for you, Shaun, involves that priest and the originally named Sternberg family, known now as the Stockfords and more particularly the man I met, Mr X; Alain Aberman. Kurt Schuschnigg might die sooner than his allotted time, but not at my bequest, nor that of anyone I"m directly associated with. I also doubt it will come about at the request of either Richard Stockford or his sister, Leeba; the girl who bore the child conceived in Schuschnigg"s stately rooms, but you"re going to say Schuschnigg orchestrated Aberman"s murder because Father Finnegan told you so as way of a threat against both your lives.” He finished speaking, walking over to his jacket which was lying on the settee.

“Here"s some more reading for you to do. Not as much this time, just an outline of what the priest told you and how it was said. The why you"ve come to them now is self-explanatory. Shaun ran away in fear when Finnegan threatened you and it"s only now that you"ve met up again courtesy of two strokes of luck. One: you, Shaun, read of Kurt Schuschnigg in The Evening News of last Friday being presented with an award for literature, his published biography, on his seventy-second birthday, one week"s time from now. And two: three weeks ago you, Fianna, were told by the family reconciliation services in Manchester of your brother"s new address. Happy families all round. We"re not as dumb as you may have thought, Shaun. We may even be smarter than you, my boy. The pseudonym of Bridget Slattery was immediately undone by those higher powers I"ve previously referred to, leaving us waiting for a suitable brother to appear since Fianna went into prison. You not only solve our frustration but open untold doors for yourself on completion of this matter. As to what"s in it for Fianna, that depends on many unquantifiable things at this moment, but there is a place in my department for the both of you.” He sat, and Fianna and I stared at one another in bewilderment.

The Evening News“How could two children remember a name such as Schuschnigg, Jack? I wouldn"t know how to pronounce it now, let alone when I was a toddler.” I stated.

Once again he avoided answering a direct question, leaving me both confused and astounded.

“Your flight leaves Heathrow at five-thirty tonight, I will not be at the airport to wave you off. I"ve somewhere I must be now, but I shall be back before you depart. There"s a cab booked for four p.m. By the way, as far as we know none of the surviving family know who the father of Leeba"s daughter was. She, as all the others, wore a blindfold throughout the ordeal. Incidentally, and a point to remember please, Penina, Leeba"s daughter, does not know that Leeba is her real mother. Both Leeba and Richard have told Penina that she is their younger sister born to their mother, Mayanna Stockford, after their arrival in America. That"s the status quo and it must remain the case; understood?”

It was Fianna who responded first. “Oh, I understand, Mr Price. Too right I do! In order to stop the Yanks and some Red bastards finding out that this Leeba was r***d at a party thirty-five years ago, a seventy-two-year-old man has to be murdered. That seems a good enough reason to you, and Shaun here don"t seem too bothered by it all as well. I"m thinking to myself that there could just be another reason that you"re not letting on about. But I"m a simple Irish girl with no mind to the politics of men, so I"ll be keeping me mouth closed and doing me duty in the kitchen as you two discuss the murdering and the like.”

“There I was a moment ago thinking you had no morals or misgivings over the death of people, Fianna. Was I wrong?” I asked her.

“Only God is justified in taking a life, Shaun, and sometimes even He can get that wrong. Men, and sometimes women, interpret His wishes purely to fulfil their own ends. The church is more full of corruption than piety.” She lit a cigarette before she spoke again.

“What I did was worse than what you did. Maybe it was right for you to kill that Henry Acre with him being a terrorist and all that, but it was not right what I done. It"s true that filthy-minded priests that a***e kids are beyond God"s forgiveness, but they are not there for the likes of me to deliver vengeance upon them. I"m a heathen that"s going to hell anyway, what"s another body on my conscience? This man"s already knocking on the gates of Hades, so I"ll hold his hand as he passes through if that"s what you need, Mr Price.”

The harsh reality of acceptance was reflected in her sad eyes and expressed in her short speech, leaving Jack outwardly unmoved, but not me. I was still imprisoned by conscience, but as yet in no need of the word penitence.

“Fianna has eloquence on her side, Jack. Care to enlighten us with the real reason behind this masquerade?”

He didn"t! We were left to examine the passports, travel documents and other things that he left, with his noisy footsteps echoing along the path on his way out, as our own squeaky gate to hell closed shut on another unanswered question.