The Brotherhood - Book 2 The Tadhg Sullivan Series

The Brotherhood is a second story in The Tadhg Sullivan Series in which Detective Sullivan comes in contact with an evil cult known as The Brotherhood.

Prologue 

She knew nothing of the white van that pulled up behind her, until the two men grabbed her and bundled her into the back. She’d been jogging along the road, with her headphones on listening to Mumford and Sons. At first she’d thought it was a prank by some of her friends. But as the van tore along the narrow road at top speed and she found herself being tossed from side to side, she knew something much more sinister was unfolding. She screamed. Suddenly the van took a sharp left, and she smashed her face against the side panelling. They seemed to be on a long, pebbled lane. She stared at her headphones, the music still blaring, lying on the floor, and cursed herself for not listening to her parents, who had begged her to bring her mobile phone. The van jolted to a halt. She heard men get out, heard their feet crunch on the pebble drive as they walked to the back and opened the doors. She cried with terror as the two middle aged men dragged her out and carried her across the forecourt towards a huge wooden door. One rang the bell, and seconds later she heard the door creak as it inched open. A tall man of about sixty with a nose like a beak moved to the side as the men carried her inside and along a dark hallway. She tried to struggle but to no avail. They were too strong. She screamed, but her voice seemed to be swallowed by the old house. When they reached the back, they made her stand. She begged them to let her go home. Tears ran down her face when they ignored her pleas, opened another door, and pushed her through. She found herself in an old church. They prodded her along the aisle towards an altar. One went over to the wall and pulled down a handle disguised as a candlestick. The altar started to move slowly, revealing a stairway leading down into a dungeon. The two men propelled her into the dark hole below. The altar moved back slowly. She tried to climb the stairs, but the men forced her back down. She screamed one last time. Then the darkness surrounded her, as the marble altar ground itself into place, eventually drowning out her pleas.  

Chapter 1 

Detective Tadhg Sullivan awoke and stretched out his arm to embrace Helen, only to be struck once again with the shock and pain of her absence. It had been a month since she’d gone back to Dublin, but the emptiness she’d left in his life felt as fresh as it had the day she’d walked out. For the first couple of weeks he’d hit the bottle and the nightclubs, looking for solace. After a fortnight of debauchery, he’d gotten back on the wagon, as he saw his life disintegrating back into what it had been before they met. He dragged himself out of bed and got in the shower. When he’d finished and dressed he put the kettle on, sat down and lit his first cigarette for the day. He lay back and inhaled deeply. Once the kettle boiled he made himself coffee. When Helen had been there, they’d have had cereal, fruit, croissants, and proper coffee. Now all he got was a w***e’s breakfast, a cigarette and a cup of instant. He slipped on his tie, picked up his jacket and walked out the front door. Once outside, he felt better. He liked Ennis. It was modern, but still managed to retain its Irish character. Its narrow streets reminded him of Wexford, where he’d spent a lot of time during his last major case, trying to track down a political serial killer known as The Deerstalker. During that case, even though he’d become a bit of a national hero, he’d also become a pariah in the political circles of Dublin. He’d been given a choice by the commissioner: leave the force, or move down the country. He’d chosen Clare. It seemed like a good place for Helen and himself to make a fresh start. They had been so exhausted after the horrors of that case they would have been willing to move to Mars at the time, if they’d thought they could find peace there. He got into his car and drove to the Garda Station in Abbey Street. That was another thing he liked about Ennis, being able to drive to work without having to battle traffic. He went into his office, sat down at the desk, turned on his computer, and Googled the local news. A nineteen year old girl had gone missing in Clare the evening before, but no other details were available. He sat back, expecting a knock on the door any minute. The superintendent, Frank Doyle, didn’t bother Sullivan very often, except for the odd murder that happened in the area. Otherwise, he was more or less left to his own devices. The expected knock came, and a uniformed Garda stuck his head around the door. “Tadhg, the superintendent would like to see you.” Sullivan got up and went out to Doyle’s office. When he walked in, the superintendent, an obese man, headed towards retirement, was sitting at his desk. Sullivan thought his retirement would be short lived, but then Sullivan couldn’t talk. The only thing that kept him slim was the fact his nerves were so bad, his metabolism was always going a hundred miles an hour. The superintendent struggled out of his chair and grabbed his hand. “How are you Tadhg? Thanks for coming in. I know you’re a busy man.” Sullivan started to laugh, and squeezed Doyle’s hand in a firm grip. He hated limp handshakes. “I’m fine superintendent, and far from busy.” “I suppose there isn’t a lot of terrorism around the Clare region these days. Although in our day, we had our fair share.” Sullivan didn’t feel like a history lesson, so jumped in quickly. “So Superintendent, how can I help you?” Doyle sat back down with a thump. He looked like he’d just run a marathon. “Less of the superintendent, Tadhg. Frank will do. I was just wondering if you’d like to help out in a missing person’s case. You’ve probably heard about it?” “Yes, superin … I mean Frank, I saw it on the news this morning. I’d be delighted to help.” “You’d be doing me a great favour. An investigator with your high profile on the case will show the parents we’re doing everything in our power to find their daughter.” “You’re sure she’s not a runaway? They usually are.” “I’m not sure, but it doesn’t look that way. She was out jogging when she disappeared. She’d left her mobile phone at home, but it’s possible she’d arranged with a boyfriend to meet her. Maybe someone her parents didn’t approve of.” Tadhg sat down in a chair and stretched his legs. “Still, it would be an unorthodox way to elope, dressed in running gear.” “That’s what everyone else is thinking. That’s why we’re taking it so seriously.” “What’s the family like? Any possibility of abuse? That’s one of the major reasons for kids running away.” Doyle looked shocked. “Absolutely not, I know the parents personally. They’re the most functional family you could meet. Whatever you do Tadhg, don’t even hint in that direction. These people will be distraught enough, without adding to their misery.” “We have to look at every angle.” “I appreciate that, but I know in this case, abuse is not a factor. I’ll drive out to the house with you to meet the family so you can see for yourself.” “I’m ready whenever you are.” Sullivan said, eager to get started. “Good. The sooner we get going, the better chance we have of finding her,” Doyle said. “I have men out there already, but I’d like you to lead the investigation, if that’s alright?” “I’ve no problem, as long as the other detectives don’t.” “Don’t worry. They’ll be glad to have you in charge. There was a similar disappearance here just over a year ago, up near Kilfenora, and the girl was never found. There was a lot of local anger about the way the case was handled, so I don’t think anyone will be fighting you for this one.” “That’s very reassuring Frank.” Doyle pushed himself up out of his chair with a groan. “Well, we’d better get going. Sean Flood will be driving us. I’ve asked him to team up with you for the duration of the case. I hope that’s alright?” “Great,” Sullivan replied, and headed for the door in resignation. Flood transferred from Dublin as well, and claimed he’d been bullied there by the other officers. It wasn’t hard to see why. Already, due to Flood’s lack of personality, the local Gardaí had christened him the mannequin. At least he wasn’t going to be burdened with any deep and meaningful conversations, Sullivan thought to himself, In fact, from what he’d seen so far of Detective Flood, he wasn’t likely to be burdened with any conversation at all. Sullivan walked out of the station and sat in the back of the car behind Flood. Doyle waddled out behind him and flopped into the front passenger seat. The car seemed to jump when he landed, and Sullivan’s head banged off the roof. Sullivan thanked God he’d sat on the right. He feared if he’d sat on the left, the car might have turned over. Flood started up the engine and they creaked their way out onto the road. “Where are we headed?” Sullivan shouted forward. “Ennistymon,” Doyle replied, without turning around. Flood drove for about fifteen miles, until just before they reached Ennistymon, where they took a sharp left down a narrow winding road. After about a mile, Flood pulled into the driveway of a seventies style bungalow. There was a squad car and numerous others, possibly belonging to neighbours, parked in the drive and on the road. The three men went to get out of the car, allowing Doyle to get out first to avoid the car nearly tipping over. Sullivan got out last, laughing to himself until he saw the distraught parents standing at the front door. Suddenly, Sullivan realised Doyle had been right, this wasn’t the home of a runaway.