Steps to Heaven: A Sgt Major Crane Novel (25 page)

Chapter
Forty-Four

The fire alarm suddenly stopped its insane clamour and Crane fell back against the brass rail. The ringing in his ears still making hearing difficult. He could see Elias’ mouth moving but couldn’t hear the words. He looked up at the Church Elder, who was standing on the steps leading to the back of the stalls and the exit and shook his head to clear his ears.

“I
said, I don’t think so, Sergeant Major.”

“Don’t
think so, why the hell not, man?” Crane pushed himself upright in his indignation.

“Because
you’ve caused me quite enough trouble as it is. I don’t intend to let you cause me anymore.”

The
words and the deep basso voice caught Crane’s attention and he looked closely at Elias’ face. As he examined it in silence, he saw plumped up cheek bones and wide nostrils. But no Rastafarian hair, just a bald pate. No robes, just a sober black suit. Crane’s eyes travelled downwards and saw the gun in the Church Elder’s hand.

“How
could I have been so stupid?” Crane questioned himself rather than Elias.

“Understandable,
my dear Sergeant Major. Did you like my disguise?” Elias puts his hand in his mouth and removed two large plastic wedges from his cheeks. He then put a finger up each nostril in turn and poked out a piece of plastic.

“Latex,”
explained Elias. “Works rather well. I particularly like the hair and robes though, don’t you?”

Crane
actually nodded before he realised what he was doing. Agreeing with this madman. “Was it you who hit me over the head?”

“Yes,
rather stupid of me not to kill you then.”

“Why
didn’t you?”

Keeping
the gun pointed at Crane’s chest, Elias explained, “I suppose I wanted an audience. A witness to my total control, my triumph. Then I was going to kill you.”

“Weren’t
you going to kill yourself when your ‘followers’ or whatever you want to call them, killed the children and then themselves. Your contribution to the ‘rivers of blood?”

“Oh
no, Sergeant Major. I need to continue God’s work.”

“God’s
work? Is that what you call killing innocent men and children?”

“But
I didn’t kill them!” Elias shouted, the gun wavering in his hand. “They sacrificed themselves and their children, so they could enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”

“But
this lot haven’t.” Crane nodded towards the auditorium.

“No,”
Elias’s deep bass voice became a growl, “but your soldiers did.”

Crane
said nothing. He was incapable of speech.

Elias
broke into a grin. “I was rather proud of them, actually. A simple phone call and the control words, ‘steps to heaven’ was all it took to trigger the inevitable.”

“Why
my soldiers?” Crane demanded, shaking with rage.

“That’s
simple. Because they were easy to manipulate, Sergeant Major. How could you ever hope to keep men sane after what you and your precious army put them through? Day after day thinking they are going to be the next one to die, lose a limb or their eyesight. Watching their friends being blown to smithereens before their very eyes. Not really understanding why they are there, or what they are trying to achieve. Oh yes, Sergeant Major, you and your superiors contrived to give me the perfect subjects. The only slight flaw was Peter Fisher. He was supposed to kill his wife as well, but the stupid man decided on his own that she wasn’t to be part of it. If he hadn’t hated her so much, maybe we wouldn’t be in this position now. But still, there’s no point worrying over spilt milk, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’ll
make you pay for this.” Crane had never hated anyone as much as he did this righteous, religious, madman.

“I
don’t think so. I’m the one with the gun remember.”

As
Crane stared at Elias, desperately thinking how to get out of this situation, his mobile phone began buzzing. In the split second that it took for Elias to glance down at his leg, Crane threw himself to the ground and went for the axe.

The
gunshot echoed through the old cinema as Crane’s fingers grasped the axe and threw it at Elias. There wasn’t enough power in the throw to do much damage, but it had the desired effect of startling the Church Elder. Crane saw Elias look at his leg in horror, as blood began to seep from the glancing blow from the axe head. Looking back at Crane, he fired a second shot and then turned and ran up the stairs.

Chapter
Forty-Five

Crane sat on the floor of the stalls, stunned for a moment, both by the revelation that Elias was Zechariah and by the fact that he’d been shot. The bullet caught him high up on the left shoulder so there were no vital organs for it to hit and he was right handed, so that was an advantage as well. But he was bleeding profusely. He could feel, rather than see, the warm, sticky blood seeping from the wound like warm honey. Not having anything to put against it as a pressure pad, Crane just had to hope for the best. He got to his feet, feeling as unsteady as a toddler taking his first steps.

He
turned and looked over the railing again. It seemed the auditorium was still full of men and boys, milling around. The floor was littered with knives, all of which were now ignored by the men who just a few minutes ago were going to use them to slit their son’s throats. Crane wondered why they hadn’t left, taking the children to safety.

He
saw Billy in the middle of the throng, looking up at the stalls, his head turning this way and that as if trying to catch sight of someone. Then he stopped, stooped down and picked up a knife from the floor. Placing Shaun’s hand firmly into that of the man closest to him, Billy disappeared from Crane’s limited view. Crane realised Billy must have heard the gunshots and was either coming for Crane or going after Zechariah.

Holding
the axe in his dangling left hand and pressing his right against his wound, Crane turned and slowly took the steps up the stalls to the exit. By the time he got to the red curtain, he was sweating and his hand was doing as good a job as a sieve trying to staunch the bleeding. Giving up, he wiped the blood off his hand the best he could on his trousers and took the axe in his right hand.

He
found the stairs leading down to the auditorium and half ran half fell down them, ending up ignominiously on his bottom. Climbing to his feet, he circled the room, keeping to the shadows as much as he could. For one thing he didn’t want to alarm the men and boys. But neither did he want to alert Zechariah to his presence.

He
saw Zechariah, sat on the edge of the staging. The gun wasn’t in sight, but his hands were in the pockets of his suit jacket. None of the congregation seemed scared of him. But then they wouldn’t, Crane thought. To them he’s Elias. He also realised they may have very little memory of the hypnotic Zechariah.

As
he looked across the crowd, he saw Billy opposite him. Circling the room, as he was. He saw the knife grasped in his hand. They nodded in agreement and Crane motioned with his head for Billy to continue. So, a knife and an axe against a gun. Not such good odds. Crane let the axe hang by his leg and stepped into the space before the stage.

“Good
afternoon, Elias,” he called, raising his voice only slightly, so as not to alarm those near him.

“Ah,
Sergeant Major. We meet again. How nice.”

Crane
took a few steps towards Elias.

“That’s
far enough, I think. Don’t you?” the Elder said. Crane was on one side of Elias, close enough for the two men to converse without raising their voices. Elias had a clear view in front of him.

“Elias,
this has to stop.”

“Oh,
not just yet. I’m in quite a good position, don’t you think? Consider how many of these faithful souls I could shoot before you reach me.” Elias slowly took the gun from his pocket and placed it in his lap, the folded of his suit jacket hiding it from any curious eyes.

“The
police will be here soon, Elias, give yourself up now.” Crane kept his voice low but insistent.

“Oh
you mean the good Detective Inspector Anderson.” A deep chuckle followed the words. “Such a nice man. Luckily for me, he was very respectful of our church and didn’t investigate me as vigorously as he should have done.”

“Well,
he’s vigorously investigating now,” Crane countered. “He knows I’m in here and I’m sure backup will have arrived by now.”

“That
may be so, but he’s going to have trouble getting in. Why do you think they are all still in here?” Elias nods at his followers. “I’ve locked and barred the main door.”

“So
why aren’t they panicking and trying to get out?”

“I’ve
spread the word that the old locks have become stuck. We’ve been meaning to replace them for a long time, but never seemed to get around to it. They’re just waiting for someone to come and rescue us.”

Crane
followed Elias’ gaze towards the front of the cinema and as he did so, took a quick look to check Billy’s position.

Billy
was level with Crane and Elias now, on the other side of them, continuing his slow, silent journey towards the back of the staging.

“You
surely don’t think you can get away with this?” Crane knew the question was a stupid one, but he had to keep the man talking, whilst Billy continued his stalking.

“Get
away with what, Sergeant Major? I am merely Elias, the Church Elder. When I speak to Anderson, I’ll regretfully inform him of your death, claiming that Zechariah killed you and then escaped.”

“Not
a bad plan, I guess,” Crane went along with the theory, glancing up to check on Billy’s progress. “But what about your fingerprints on the gun?”

Elias
lifted his hands and plucked at the latex gloves encasing them. “What finger prints?”

“Well,
it does seem that you’ve thought of everything. What about witnesses?”

“Witnesses?”

“Yes, what if one of these faithful folk sees you killing me?” Crane’s eyes swept around the room as if to make his point, noticing that Billy was no longer in sight.

“No
chance of that, Sergeant Major, I shall make sure they’re out before I kill you. I’ll call out to them to go first. The police won’t be able to get in through 40 people all trying to get out at once. And of course, they’ll have to let them through. They won’t risk children getting hurt.”

“Oh,
so now you’re concerned about the children? Not 10 minutes ago, you were hoping they would all be killed.”

“Not
killed, Sergeant Major,” Elias growled. “Saved. Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve been saying? I was going to save them all from the sins of this world. Ensure the children kept their innocence forever.” Elias continued, his voice low, reminding Crane of a growling dog, aware of a threat but not wanting to pounce just yet.

“But
surely murder and suicide are sins? How do you reconcile that with your theory of saving their souls?”

“What
an imbecile you are, Sergeant Major. Don’t you know that Jesus forgives all our sins and the sins of our fathers? The men confess their sins before they kill themselves and then cover their children with their healing blood.”

“You’re
nothing but a cold blooded murderer,” the words spewing from Crane’s mouth before he could stop them, “hiding behind your religious rhetoric.”

“How
dare you!” roared Elias, leaping to his feet and aiming the gun at Crane’s stomach.

Chapter Forty-Six

The force of the explosion knocked Crane off his feet. He staggered backwards but as there was nothing to break his fall he toppled over, knocking the air out of his lungs as he landed. On his way down, he saw vague images shimmering in front of him as if lost in a heat haze. Billy was grappling with Elias, both men trying to wrench control of the gun and the knife. Then the images slid away and all Crane could see was the ceiling.

The
noise of a second explosion caused him to turn his head towards the sound which, seemed to come from the front entrance. Through a mass of legs that were constantly moving, obscuring his view, Crane saw army boots swim in and out of his line of sight. His last conscious thought was ‘thank God the lads are here.’ The last thing he saw was Anderson leaning over him, before the darkness took him. The light fading, like an eclipse.

“Tina,”
he managed to mumble through parched lips. But there was no reply.

Crane
floated away once again.

“Sergeant
Major,” a voice calls urgently. “Can you hear me?” Crane wanted to say that he could, but his mouth wouldn’t work. His head wouldn’t work either. He couldn’t seem to turn it to look at the speaker. The darkness of the eclipse claimed him once again.

“Damn
it, Crane, hang on.”

This
time Crane recognised Anderson’s voice. But he couldn’t seem to understand the words. He managed to open his eyes, but seemed to have trouble focusing. It must be that damn heat haze again he thought. Never realised it got this hot in Aldershot. Or maybe he wasn’t in Aldershot. Maybe he was in Iraq or Afghanistan. It was bloody hot there. He was thirsty as well. Maybe that’s why his tongue feels so thick and immobile. Must be dehydration. And he was tired, so very tired. His eyelids fluttered as he fought the tiredness.

Through
the heat haze a figure appeared, walking towards him, her dark hair shining in the sunlight, bobbing up and down with each bounce of her step.

“Tina,”
he croaked, the word splitting like brittle wood, dried out in the heat of the desert.

“Tom,”
he heard her call. “Tom, can you hear me?”

He
tried to warn her about the heat, frustration building as he struggled to form the words. He saw the eclipse starting again, threatening to engulf the world in blackness, taking him and Tina with it.

“Tom,
no!”

Her
voice broke over him, pieces of refreshing ice amid the searing heat. He had so much he wanted to tell her. Gathering all his strength he called, “Tina!” screaming her name over and over again. He struggled against the draining effect of the heat, forcing his limbs to work, struggling to sit, but he was held down by the flowing white robe he seemed to be wearing.

“It’s
alright, Tom, I’m here.” Tina’s voice once more soothed and refreshed him, bathing him in coolness, forcing the heat away.

“The
fever’s broken,” another voice said. “He’ll be alright now.”

Crane
didn’t know who had spoken, or what they were talking about, but he believed them and gave himself up to the cooling ministrations of his wife.