The Silent Pool (39 page)

‘Who killed Father Michael?’

Bovind frowned but his eyes remained expressionless and trained on Erasmus.

‘Why, Erasmus, you did.’

CHAPTER 51

‘Follow me,’ said the Pastor. He turned his back on Erasmus and began to walk away into the gloom. Bovind nodded. Erasmus stood up and followed.

They passed through corridors with dark red carpet and stone walls. They walked in silence. Eventually they came to a wooden door. The Pastor tied a blindfold around Erasmus’ head before opening the door.

‘Walk,’ said the Pastor, pushing Erasmus forward.

There was gravel underfoot and Erasmus could smell the sea and hear the sound of a buoy clanging not too far away.

A car door opened and Erasmus was roughly pushed inside. The Pastor got in next to him. Nothing was said.

They drove for maybe twenty minutes and then the car came to a halt. The Pastor removed the blindfold. Erasmus looked out of the window. They were outside Father Michael's church.

The Pastor had a briefcase on his lap, which he opened. He pulled out a handgun and wiped it down with cleaning fluid. Erasmus noticed the Pastor was wearing gloves. The Pastor offered the gun to Erasmus. He could see where this was going but he couldn't see a way out of it.

Erasmus just looked at it, unwilling to take it, to accept his fate.

‘Take it.’

Erasmus took the gun and immediately raised it pointing it at the Pastor's forehead.

‘I could blow your head off right now and go to the police.’

He pressed the barrel to the Pastor's head.

The Pastor smiled and then took hold of the barrel. He slowly pulled it down his face until it reached his open mouth. He placed his lips around the barrel.

Erasmus’ finger tightened around the trigger for a second and then relaxed. The image of Abby kneeling on the carpet of their front room filled his mind.

‘Fuck!’ said Erasmus. He lowered the gun.

‘Remember, I do not fear death like you do. Once you have killed Father Michael, leave the gun on the floor of the church. We will be waiting for you here.’

‘You're not coming with me, make sure I do the job?’

‘You will complete your task. Your family's lives depend on it. And, well, you'll see. Go now.’

Erasmus said nothing. He got out of the car. As he walked slowly up the steps to the church it began to rain.

CHAPTER 52

Erasmus opened the door of the church. Inside, it was empty. The only light came from votive candlelight that cast flickering shadows on the limestone walls. Erasmus couldn't help but feel he was being watched. His footsteps echoed off the stone walls. He looked up at the TV gantry high above his head. There was a lone red led light in the darkness: he was being filmed. That explained why the Pastor didn't accompany him. Erasmus was going to be on YouTube again, this time as a murderer.

Erasmus walked silently towards the altar. He considered for a second falling to his knees, saying a prayer, offering up some promise for assistance from a supernatural being he doubted existed. He dismissed the thought. He was on his own in this world and he would just have to learn to deal with it.

Off to one side of the altar was a door that led to the vestry. Erasmus tried the handle. It turned in his hand and he pushed the door open.

It was a small room, a study, and Father Michael was sitting at old mahogany desk writing. He looked up in surprise when Erasmus entered the room.

‘I didn't think it would be you,’ he said.

Erasmus moved into the centre of the room. There were no other doors to the room: Father Michael was trapped.

‘Are you here to kill me?’

Erasmus raised his right hand and levelled the gun at Father Michael's head. ‘Yes.’

‘I knew someone would come.’

‘How?’

‘All sins must be accounted for. First Stephen went missing after I had paid the money to the moneylender for Bovind, and then Malcolm, Marcus and Giles were killed. I knew it was the time of judgement come upon me. Stephen had been judged for our crimes.’

‘Do you know who killed them? Bovind says it wasn't him.’

‘I do. It was the Angel of Death, the pale rider rendering judgement. A crime like that should not go unpunished.’ Father Michael put his head in hands.

‘Bovind said it was an accident, a fight that got out of hand. It's tragic but these things can happen.’

‘Such good boys, such lovely boys. Until that day so innocent. You know it has been a trial this life, being who am I, what I am, in the love of the Church.’

Father Michael began to cry softly. Erasmus recognised it for what it was, self pity.

‘What do you mean?’ said Erasmus.

‘I never wanted to be this way; I never asked for this curse. I never meant any harm to the poor boy.’

He was sobbing now.

‘I loved Tomas, so beautiful, so damaged yet so sweet, what happened to him was my fault.’

‘What did you do?’ said Erasmus.

‘That cursed boat, the
Everlong
. I asked Kirk to punish Stephen and Tomas for disobeying me, for working on the Sabbath but the truth was I was jealous of them, their friendship, their love for each other and that boat. I knew it was wrong but I didn't realise what had grown among the boys, in Bovind's heart there was a darkness. In that place, that pool, there was evil.’

Father Michael was sweating. There was fear but also something else in his eyes, Erasmus thought it was excitement at a memory revisited. His pressure on the trigger increased.

‘The other boys found Stephen and Tomas working on the boat in the dunes. They set the boat alight and when Stephen tried to stop them they beat him. Tomas tried to intervene but they held him down, hit him with sticks and tested his faith. He wouldn't reply. After what had happened to him in Bosnia he no longer believed. It was too awful to bear.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘I was watching from the dunes. I had followed Tomas and Stephen.’

‘Yet you didn't stop them?’

‘I couldn't move. The heat of the flames, the boys, something, some evil stopped me from moving.’

‘Bullshit. You were enjoying it, you sado-masochistic creep!’ said Erasmus

Erasmus stepped forward and pressed the gun to Father Michael's temple. It would be so easy, so right to just to pull the trigger and end the life of this sad, twisted man. An easy choice, a release, a self-righteous act and who would judge him? And then he realised who: Abby.

‘Fuck! What happened?’

Father Michael looked up at Erasmus. A thin film of sweat glistened on his forehead. He smelt of fear, shame and excitement. Erasmus felt sickened.

‘Bovind sodomised Tomas and the others followed, one by one.’ Father Michael said this in a matter of fact tone.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Erasmus.

‘At the end when Tomas lay like a broken doll on the sand they gave Stephen a choice. Either the same would happen to him or he could burn Tomas face with an ember from the
Everlong
. Stephen, Tomas’ best friend and perhaps his only friend in the world, didn't even hesitate. He took the ember and pressed it to Tomas’ cheek. Tomas didn't scream, he just looked at Stephen with acceptance and then passed out. They dragged Tomas down to the sea and Bovind baptised him. I watched, I watched it all.’

Erasmus felt his right hand grip the weight of the pistol. ‘Did Bovind kill him?’

Father Michael paused. ‘Yes.’

‘And you could have stopped him but instead you covered it up. Why?’

‘I was there. It would have ruined me, ruined the lives of the boys and to what end? God's will had been done, however hard it is to see the purpose. I went down to the beach and cradled Tomas. He was dead. What was to be done? I waded out to sea and let him go. The currents are strong, he would have been in the Irish Sea in minutes. Frank Burns was just a coincidence, a gift from God. It made me think I had been forgiven, but now I see judgement. Do what you will. Shoot me.’

Erasmus put his hand in his back pocket and pulled out the photograph of Tomas he had found in St Marys.

‘Here, this is yours.’

He put the picture on the desk. Father Michael picked it up and examined it.

‘I will always love you, Tomas,’ he whispered the words.

‘He trusted you.’

Erasmus felt the anger rising again, felt the heat of it in his heart and in his hand. He had felt this way once before, in Afghanistan, and had not been able to control his fury. He breathed in and then exhaled and thought of Abby.

There had to be another way.

‘I'm not going to kill you, you don't deserve the release.’

‘It is not you?’ murmured Father Michael.

And then it hit him that there was a chance, a slim chance, to get out of the church and use Father Michael as a bargaining chip. If he could smuggle Father Michael out of the church alive he could use him against Bovind, who needed him dead. It was a gamble but then he had no guarantee that Bovind would release his family even if he did do what he wanted.

There was a noise outside in the chancel.

Father Michael looked up.

‘Listen, I'm not going to kill you but I need you to come with me. Is there a back way out of this church?’ said Erasmus.

Father Michael didn't look as happy as he expected someone to look who had just had a death sentence reprieved.

He nodded. ‘There is a passage that leads from the crypt to the rear gardens.’

‘Right, lead the way. We're getting out of here.’

Father Michael stood up and walked to the vestry door. Erasmus followed him.

The church was darker. Maybe some of the candles had gone out but Erasmus felt spooked. He guessed Father Michael was too by his body language. Each step he took was like a step towards the gallows, hesitant and reluctant.

‘Where is the entrance to the crypt?’

‘The altar. There is a trap door.’

‘Come on,’ said Erasmus and he grabbed hold of Father Michael's vestments pulling him along. There were three steps up to the altar. When they reached the top Erasmus couldn't see a trap door. Father Michael shuffled in front of him and pulled back the large ornamental rug that covered the floor. There in the middle of the exposed flagstones was a wooden door with an iron ring.

‘Open it,’ ordered Erasmus.

Father Michael kneeled and grasped the ring.

Suddenly, the church lit up as all the lights, including the dazzling TV lights housed in the rigging, came on in a blaze of diamond hard light.

‘He is here, the Angel of Death!’ shouted Father Michael.

A booming voice came over the PA system, so loud Erasmus had to cover his ears. ‘Do you believe?’

Father Michael had sunk to the floor where he lay prostrate, a look of mortal terror on his face. Erasmus looked around trying to locate the source of the sound. He looked up into the rigging but the lights were blinding.

‘No, leave him be!’ shouted Erasmus.

‘Yes, my Lord, I believe, I believe!’ Father Michael got to his knees and raised his arms in supplication. ‘I believe!’

‘You believe.’

There was the sound of something heavy being moved and then the
whoosh
of displaced air. A moment later a TV camera, maybe 250 lbs of metal machinery, crashed into Father Michael's head making a sound like bags of wet concrete splitting open.

‘No!’ screamed Erasmus.

The lights went off.

Silence.

Erasmus ran over to the shattered remains of Father Michael. The camera had crushed his skull into an unrecognisable pulp. There was no point checking for a pulse.

He looked up at the gantry. There was no one there. Erasmus knew now who had killed Father Michael, Giles, Malcolm and Marcus. He knew that he was in no danger but he also knew that with Father Michael's death he had lost all hope of saving his family without detonating the bomb.

Erasmus held his arms to each side and began to speak out loud. He wasn't sure if he thought anyone was there, or whether he was breaking the habit of a lifetime and actually praying but he couldn't stop himself. He told the seemingly now empty church exactly what Bovind had asked him to do. He cried out, imploring the void for help. When he had finished a solitary tear ran down his cheek.

‘Are you there? Are you listening? I need your help!’

There was no answer. Just the echoes of his voice bouncing off the stone walls as if mocking his entreaties.

Erasmus turned his back on Father Michael's remains and walked out of the church.

The black Mercedes sat at the side of the road.

Back in the car the Pastor patted Erasmus down.

‘Is it done?’

‘Yes,’ said Erasmus.

‘You still have the gun. I told you to leave it on the church floor.’

‘Change of plan. I had to improvise. But don't worry, he's dead.’

The Pastor held out his hand. Erasmus handed him the gun.

‘Once a killer always a killer, eh?’

Erasmus didn't reply.

‘You need a good night's sleep. Tomorrow is the end.’

Erasmus settled back into the car's upholstery. Tomorrow would be the end. He had to be a machine, rest, don't think, prepare for the day ahead because he realised that tomorrow he would have to kill. There was no other choice now.

He didn't even flinch when the cloth was placed over his mouth.

CHAPTER 53

Erasmus awoke to the sound of low mumbling, incantations and spells. He was back in the room from the night before, back in the same armchair, but this time the room was filled with light.

The room was huge, a great hall of a stately home or a castle. Erasmus stood up gingerly, whatever they had given him the night before had left him drowsy and weak.

In the corner of the hall Kirk Bovind was kneeling before the Pastor praying.

Erasmus walked over to them.

‘Good to see who wears the trousers in this relationship, Bovind. Are you praying for forgiveness?’

Bovind's head snapped round. ‘You wouldn't understand. You think I like the sacrifices that have to be made to bring the Lord into people's lives!’

Erasmus gave a contemptuous snort. ‘You are all the same. I dealt with your kind in Afghanistan, you kill because you can and because you like the power and the feeling of immortality it gives you. You preach death in this life and promise everything in the next, you are snake oil salesmen.’