Bright Angel (25 page)

There was a lot of talking afterwards, though – to the police, first, who though they were kind and patient with us, were obviously determined to get to the heart of what had happened, on that moonlit night at St-Just. Daniel and I had to speak to them separately I suppose so they could check our statements – though they were already fairly sure of what had happened and forensics would soon confirm it. But Freddy persuaded them she might stay with Gabriel while he was gently questioned. When they came out of the interview room, Freddy was holding Gabriel by the hand, and he wouldn't let go of it.

Daniel and Gabriel stayed with us that night, and Marc did too. Gabriel finally fell asleep on the couch, still holding Freddy's hand, but the rest of us stayed up most of the night, and slowly, jerkily, Daniel and I told our story. And to my relief and my gratitude – for I knew now how desperately worried they'd been, how much pain and grief I'd caused them through my own reckless disregard of danger – my sister and my aunt didn't once scold me or reprove me or say anything but the most loving and gentle things. In fact, the only people they seemed to want to reproach were themselves, for having been in so deep a sleep when Radic had burst into the house that they had heard nothing, and not realised what had happened till Marc had rung them. As to Marc, he was careful not to interfere, but he did talk briefly about how he'd found me in the shelter in the forest, and he said warmly that I had been so brave, which made me blush but didn't really sink in, if you know what I mean. I never felt brave, not in any of that time, not once, but scared and angry and uncertain. But it was no good just doing nothing, was it?

To Daniel they were very kind, very careful, for now he and Gabriel were quite alone in the world. There was no question but that his uncle would face trial, perhaps not for the killing of Mick – he could spin that as self-defence – but certainly all the other stuff, all the cruel fraud he'd masterminded, which had led to these terrible events. There was no way it could be hidden now, it must all be investigated, it would all come out and Benedict Udo's respectable mask would be ripped away and he would be exposed before the whole world as a gangster and a heartless scammer, and he likely faced a long prison sentence and complete disgrace. I thought of how readily Udo had killed Mick and the look on his face as he prepared to put the bullet in Radic's brain and I thought that he was used to guns, very used to them and confident, and there was likely much more darkness in his past than even we suspected. And what a thing that was for Daniel to have to cope with! Gabriel was very young and would I hope be protected by his innocence from the full knowledge of his uncle's doings, and I hoped one day he would forget what had happened, or at least it would fade gently into a dark but distant memory. But Daniel could never forget. He'd always have it hanging over him. He'd never be able to forget, not really, and no-one could ask that of him, not even me. Especially not me.

But that night we held each other close for hours and Daniel seemed able to talk more or less calmly. It was numbness rather than real calm, the false detachment of shock, but in those first few hours it is better if it's like that. It's a kind of anaesthetic, if you know what I mean. I knew all too well that it wouldn't last but while it did, it sort of insulates you, and that's good.

And yet in all the numb horror of what had happened, there was that moment of wonderful beauty and strangeness when suddenly there'd been the rush of wings, and the bird, launching itself into the air. I described briefly what had happened and Freddy looked bemused and said it sounded like we'd disturbed a skylark, that they nested in grass and the males launched themselves into the sky, hanging there to sing their beautiful song. ‘But a skylark singing in the middle of the night, I've never heard of that before,' she said. ‘Still, I suppose nature has strange ways of doing things sometimes.'

Daniel and I looked at each other, with the memory of what Gabriel had said just before the skylark had appeared strong within us, and I thought too of that dream I'd had, and of the grey, gleaming figure – whom I'd never seen again, it was as though he – or she? – had been just a dream too – and we said nothing, because really, what could you say?

I am still not sure that I believe in the watching presence of angels among us, at least not quite in the fervent way Gabriel does anyway, but I remember my dream, and then that figure by the wall – and suddenly my mind trembles on the edge of something so big and awesome I can hardly take it in. Then I think, but – then – if that was truly an angel I saw, that grey gleaming figure, then he or she didn't look anything like any angel I'd ever heard of. Could that be true? But maybe after all it had just been a trick of the light, me imagining things in my keyed-up state, who knows? I am not even sure whether it was all just an amazing coincidence, the bird being disturbed right at that moment. Anyway, I am not sure of anything other than that
it happened,
and it was amazing and miraculous and beautiful and
meant,
somehow. And I know, deep in my deepest heart, that just as there was evil and pain in the churchyard of St-Just that night, there was also a healing, loving, protective good.

I didn't think much of Mick that night. I shied away from the memory not only of him lying dead but also of the treachery, the falseness, of what he'd been. The mark of Cain – pretending to be a friend, then stabbing you in the back when you weren't looking. And that blank fanatical glitter of his eyes – the killing rage – it was only later that I would think of him a lot more – not kindly, no, not that, really, but with a kind of horrified pity – a sense of terrible waste, of something that could have been good, but had been twisted and deformed and curdled by hatred and revenge. It was an evil thing, revenge, I thought. It was like a raging cancer that ate away at you till nothing good was left.

Days passed. Daniel and Gabriel stayed with us. The police came again to interview us and told us that both Stanislas Radic and Benedict Udo had each been charged with very serious offences and would remain in custody till their trials could be arranged. Pilar had thankfully come out of her coma and was going to give evidence against Radic, too. They also said that Daniel's uncle had asked for him but that there was no need for Daniel to go, and Daniel had just nodded but not replied.

Mum and Dad arrived, pale and worried and ready to whisk us off back to Australia at a moment's notice, but they calmed down a little after Freddy talked to them and agreed to stay for a while till things could be cleared up a bit. It was good to have all my family around me again, and I thought it was good for Daniel and Gabriel too – Gabriel still shadowed Freddy, he'd really taken to her and she to him, they seemed to understand each other really well, it was amazing to see it. But Daniel, after that first burst of confidence, had gone very quiet, even to me, and it was beginning to worry me.

He still seemed to love being with me and we spent a lot of time in each other's arms or walking together in the garden or listening to music or playing ball with Gabriel or eating with Mum and Dad and Freddy and Claire and Marc. He didn't talk of the past, or of the future (though I really really wanted to ask him if maybe he and Gabriel could come and live with us in Australia, but I didn't quite dare, in case he responded badly, or even in case he just said no). He only spoke of the present, of small things, of daily events, nothing more. But I knew there was something held in check in him, something that was more than bad memories, and the post-traumatic stress – as the psychologist who Freddy dragged us to that week put it – of the kidnap and everything that had happened.

The psychologist told us we had to expect a good many unexpected reactions, that some people went haywire, and others went inwards, and others still pretended nothing had happened. We had to take care. We had to come and see him if we felt trapped or if the thoughts got too over whelming. Especially me, he said, as I'd had it happen to me before and there was the danger of a cumulative effect. ‘Do you keep a diary?' he asked. ‘Or a journal?' When I shook my head and said I wrote poetry sometimes and made clips, he said, ‘Well, if you can do that, do it. But you might find that just writing down what happened – an account of it all – it might help.' I know he meant well. But I didn't feel like it then. I just didn't have the heart. I felt helpless, in limbo, unable to go backwards or forwards. How could I write about the past, when I felt so uncertain about the future?

And then one day a strange thing happened. I got a message from the police. Stan Radic had asked to see me. Mum didn't want me to go, saying the man probably just wanted to intimidate me. Dad and Freddy were for it, saying it would be good closure. Claire was uncertain. Marc thought I should. Gabriel was too little to know. And Daniel, well Daniel wouldn't say. I was going to say no and then quite suddenly I changed my mind without knowing why. Not because I wanted closure, whatever that means, but because I felt that if I didn't go I'd regret it all my life and it would be something that would grow bigger and bigger with every passing year.

Mum and Dad and Freddy came with me to the prison and there were three policemen in the room with me and Radic. I got a shock when he came in. He didn't look any more like the confident thug of the past. No mocking smile now, no arrogant certainty. His frame seemed to have shrunk, his eyes had dulled, his hands shook, his voice was a thin thread. The first thing he said to me was, ‘Why did you do it?'

‘Why did I do what?'

‘I should have died.'

‘I-I don't know.'

‘But I need to know. I need to understand. Please.' There was urgency in his voice, but also a pleading tone that had never been there before. I looked back at him and saw, with a twist of embarrassment, that there was the shine of tears in his eyes.

‘I-I can't explain it,' I whispered. ‘I just knew I had to. That there had been too much death already – too much.'

He looked steadily at me. ‘Yet you must have hated me.'

I looked away and nodded.

‘That's where you and I differ.' He broke off, bit his lip, and his voice changed. ‘If only I hadn't encouraged Steve in his crazy plan – if only Tom had talked to me before – then they might still be alive.'

I still found it hard to think of Mick as Steve. I said, my throat thick, ‘Yes.'

‘But that man destroyed both my nephews,' he said, and his hands clenched and unclenched while his eyes glittered. ‘Both of them! I cannot live while he lives.'

‘You have to,' I said, tightly, recoiling from the lava flow of renewed hatred. Why had I come? What good was it doing? This man had learned nothing. Being here was just churning my stomach up again. It would probably make me have a relapse. I was a fool. Daniel was right, to refuse to see his uncle. Right not to talk about it any more. It was best to leave matters buried and never to look at them again. I was about to get up and say I wanted to go when he said, quietly, ‘Forgive me. I never intended to–' He broke off, briefly, and then went on, with an obvious effort, ‘I cannot thank you for my life – there is precious little in it now – but I wanted you to know that you are one of the bravest people I have ever met. I only wish our paths had not crossed. And I wish you a good life. You deserve it.'

He looked at me straight in the eyes then, and stunned, speechlessly, I stared back. Abruptly he got up and gestured to the policemen that he wanted to go and left without looking back once. And I was left there with a huge lump in my throat and a prickling in my eyes and a confusion in my head and the strangest of feelings in my heart, as if something tight and hot and painful had suddenly loosened its grip.

It was after that I found the courage to broach the subject of the future with Daniel and to my huge surprise found also that he'd been worried too about raising it with me, in case I felt he was pressuring me too much! And that accounted for the feeling I'd got that he was holding something back, because he'd been worried about it and thinking about it a lot, and not about his uncle at all. It just goes to show that even when you're very close and you love each other, you can still get crossed wires and that can lead to misunderstandings which can then lead to much bigger problems and if you don't solve them in time then maybe things can drift and maybe you can never get them back to what they were.

Wealthy UK businessman Benedict Udo, who was recently revealed to be the brains behind a large-scale internet fraud ring of the sort known as ‘Nigerian scams', under cover of his company, Fox Financial, and Australian former police officer Stanislas Radic, were sentenced in separate hearings this week in Paris to a total of 45 years between them. Udo, 47, convicted of several counts of serious large-scale fraud, with other cases pending against him, was sentenced to 20 years in jail, while Radic, 44, convicted of kidnap, serious bodily harm, extortion, attempted murder and conspiracy, was sentenced to 25 years' jail. Neither man entered a plea, and it is not thought they will appeal. The two men will be held in separate maximum-security prisons, as it is felt proximity to each other would constitute a security risk.

Radic helped to engineer a kidnap plot against the family of Udo, in revenge for the suicide of his nephew, Thomas Radic, who shot himself dead in front of dozens of witnesses at the Wedding Heaven bridal shop some time ago. Radic attributed the death to Thomas being defrauded by Udo's fraud ring. His other nephew, Stephen Michael Carter, the mastermind of the plot, was shot dead by Udo during a violent confrontation near the small French Pyrenean town of St-Bertrand de Comminges.

Petro Radic, father of both Thomas and Stephen, was too distressed to comment on the double tragedy and the family are not returning messages. It is believed that Benedict Udo's family are in seclusion somewhere in an unrevealed location.