Authors: Phil Kurthausen
Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Crime, #Mystery & Detective, #Traditional British
A fist landed in Erasmus’ side but he was cushioned by the vest. He knew that impact shouldn't set the chemical charge off but his heart jumped nevertheless. He dodged away from the immediate brawl and tried to make his way through the crowd. A man with a beard grabbed him by the shoulders.
‘Do you believe the Lord saves?’ the man shouted spittle flying into his face.
‘Most definitely,’ said Erasmus.
‘Hallelujah!’ said the man and he let him go.
A young man heard this exchange and hit Erasmus in the nose. It wasn't a hard punch but it drew blood. Erasmus couldn't get involved in a brawl so grabbed hold of the man with his left hand and pulled him close to him.
‘Leave now or I will break your arm in three places,’ he whispered in the young man's ear.
There must have been something in his face or his tone. The man shrank away from him and nodded meekly.
Erasmus let him go. He scurried off into the crowd.
As Erasmus watched him go the crowd parted for a second and there, hundred yards away, he saw a man staring at him. His blood ran cold as he recognised the face of his torturer, the man who had killed him, but for the first time he had hope that he might make it out of here alive, that someone, however malevolent their intentions towards others, was watching over him. Erasmus nodded at the man and there was an almost imperceptible return nod of the head. Then the crowd closed and he was gone.
There was a surge in the crowd away from the stage and Erasmus felt his feet leave the floor. He pushed hard against the movement and managed to propel himself in the right direction. A gap appeared in the crowd and Erasmus staggered into it. The majority of the Third Wavers were standing back, appalled at the violence engulfing them. An elderly woman took Erasmus’ hand and pulled him away from the riot.
‘It's always the same, a few young hotheads causing all this bother. Are you OK, love? There is a tea stand near the stage. Let's get you there and get a cup of the good stuff down you. I'm Emily, by the way.’
Erasmus nodded. He realised his nose was bleeding. ‘I'm Erasmus Jones,’ he heard himself say.
The woman led him to the tea stand. A younger woman with two young girls who looked like her daughters was serving tea. She gave Erasmus a huge, generous smile.
‘You look you've been in the wars. You need tea with plenty of sugar.’
‘That would be lovely,’ he mumbled.
Something was happening on the stage, a young guy in a red T-shirt was adjusting the microphone. Behind the stage Erasmus saw a black car pull up and then the Mayor stepped out.
His fingers caressed the top of the pen inside his pocket. The Mayor was less than fifty metres away now. If he detonated he would almost certainly take him out.
‘Here you go, darling, get that inside you, you'll feel a lot better,’ the young woman handed him a cup of tea.
‘You can hold my arm while we listen to the speeches, if you would like?’ said Emily.
Erasmus smiled weakly at her but took her arm nevertheless. He scanned the buildings again, looking at each window: nothing. Even if he saw the Pastor or his men, what then? He had no way to communicate with Pete. His only hope was that Pete would find the Pastor in time.
The young man in the red T-shirt stepped up to the microphone. Erasmus could see he was crying.
‘Ladies and Gentleman, I have news, news of a terrible sin! Silence please!’
Some of the Third Wavers disengaged but most of the brawls continued unabated.
The young man was shouting into the mike. ‘I have just learned that a man dear to us all has passed over to the other side. Father Michael was murdered last night!’
Pandemonium broke out. There was wailing and for the first time in his life Erasmus genuinely thought he heard the gnashing of teeth. Cries of ‘murderers’ and ‘they must be punished!’ went up from the crowd.
‘That's right, he was murdered by the Godless! Killed in his own church! Killed by a secularist, Erasmus Jones, a murderer known to have persecuted Father Michael before his death. An atheist killer!’
What had been a series of brawls became a riot. Those Third Wavers who had not been involved in the violence turned and attacked.
Emily had turned pale and was starring at Erasmus. ‘Is it, is it you?’
Erasmus shook his head. ‘It's not like that – ’
The brawl swept towards and engulfed Erasmus and Emily. A man with a goatee beard swung a punch at the young woman who had served him tea. Erasmus pushed her out of the way of the punch and then felled the man with a head butt. Behind him Emily was pushed to the ground and disappeared. The two little girls were crying and Erasmus realised if they didn't move they were going to get crushed.
‘Come on!’
Erasmus picked up the girls, one in each arm. He realised that things were spiralling rapidly out of control.
‘Follow me!’ he shouted to their mother.
He reached the side of the stage where a nervous looking policeman stood guard by a gap in the railings.
Erasmus put the girls down and pulled out the pass that the Pastor had given him. He showed it to the policeman who beckoned them through the gap leading to the rear of the stage.
Erasmus turned to the young woman. ‘Listen, don't ask me why but you've got to get your daughters out of here right now. Take this pass, get behind the stage and then get as far away as possible. Do you understand?’
She nodded.
Erasmus plunged back into the crowd to try and find Emily.
Behind him the Mayor took to the stage. There was a roar and Erasmus risked a look around. The red shirts were bringing children onto the stage and Erasmus recognised with Tom, from Father Michael's church. He was wearing the same Nirvana T-shirt as he had when they met.
The Mayor was appealing for calm and being ignored. Then a cheer went up and again the violence waned.
Erasmus looked up at the stage. Professor Cannon had joined the Mayor on stage and he took hold of the Mayor's hand and lifted it above their heads. This wasn't in Bovind's script.
A quiet descended on the crowd. They hadn't been expecting that.
Professor Cannon began to speak.
Pete had watched Erasmus move with the crowd towards the stage and then stood there for a moment wondering how to proceed. He gave a contemptuous snort. For a second he had been thinking like a civilian, wondering who would sort this out. He knew the answer: him and he better get cracking.
It was obvious that he had probably had one shot at finding the Pastor. If he chose a building and got it wrong there would be no time to pick another.
Pete looked at the street, there were many buildings lining the street from where the Pastor would have a line of sight on the crowd. If he had to pick one which would it be?
He looked up and the answer was obvious.
***
In the midst of the riot Erasmus spotted Emily. She was sitting on the floor next to an injured protestor. She was stroking his head.
‘Are you OK, Emily?’ asked Erasmus
‘I'm fine but this man needs medical attention.’ She was cradling a young man, maybe only twenty-one or twenty-two. His eye was swollen and bruised.
Erasmus knelt down and checked the guy's pulse. It was strong and the man's healthy eye focused on Erasmus, following his movement. A black eye and a sore head was Erasmus’ quick battlefield diagnosis.
‘He'll be fine. Listen, Emily, you have to get out of here.’
She shook her head. ‘I'm staying. Don't kill anyone else, please. You don't seem the type.’
She was wrong.
On stage Professor Cannon had got hold of the microphone. He began to speak in clipped tone. ‘We want you to stop the violence, right now. It brings nothing to the debate. It's just not on. This is about ideas and we can be rational about this or at least some of us can be.’
There were boos.
The Mayor took the microphone from Professor Cannon.
‘This city should be united in its opposition to any form of totalitarian oppression whether it is religious or secular! This city has a proud history of independence of thought in all matters both spiritual and secular. I am a friend of the faithful, I want to assure the Third Wavers here today and members of all faiths that I am one hundred percent behind their freedom to worship and I will be unwavering in that regard. However, this does not mean that those who have faith have a monopoly on the education of this city's children. Independence of thought and inquiry are the building blocks of education. What choices an educated child makes after that, whether to choose the path of faith or not, is up to that child, but only after they have had the best education we can provide for them!’
Hesitant murmurs of approval passed through the unsure crowd.
‘I want to speak with you and I want to assure you that what I have to say is on behalf of myself and Professor Cannon,’ said the Mayor.
Professor Cannon grabbed the microphone back. ‘What he means to say is that you ignorant, religious bigots won't be teaching anyone fairy tales as science any more!’
There was disbelief from the Third Wavers, boos and hissing followed. Bovind wouldn't like this at all. Erasmus had assumed the Mayor was nothing more than Bovind's mouthpiece but here he was coming over all rational and reasonable.
Somebody gripped Erasmus’ elbow.
He thought it was Emily but when he turned around he came face to face with PC Cooper's mean little face.
‘Hi Jones, bet you didn't think you'd see me again so soon?’
Erasmus pulled Cooper's hand from his elbow. ‘You just can't stop touching me can you, Cooper. You know you could just tell your fellow officers, they wouldn't mind, it's the twenty-first century after all.’
Cooper smirked ‘You won't be making jokes in a minute when you're in a million pieces. The Pastor is watching you and he wants you to walk to the stage and detonate now.’
Erasmus’ heart sank. How could he have hoped Pete would find and disable the Pastor and his men?
The Mayor was speaking again.
‘This city has been at war with itself. False choices have been given and I take responsibility for some of those choices. I have not been the mayor I wanted to be.’
‘I'm going to walk back that way – ’ Cooper indicated with a nod of his head ‘ – and then in sixty seconds you will arm the bomb, walk towards the stage and detonate. If you don't, your family die.’
‘I have failed you, I have failed your children, I have brought religion into science lessons, banned moral choices for all on the basis of others religious beliefs and all for the sake of money,’ continued the Mayor.
Cooper put his hand to his ear and Erasmus realised with dismay that he must have a receiver there.
‘Now!’ screamed Cooper.
The lifestyle choices that Pete had made were beginning to tell. The lift had been out of order so he was forced to walk up hundreds of steps that crawled around the inside of the spire of the gothic Anglican cathedral.
The stairs clung to the inside of the walls and as it got higher the drop beside and below became longer. He was blowing hard by the time he came to a wooden door that led to the viewing platform. The door should have been locked but a broken padlock hung from a bolt.
It had been a hunch on Pete's part, but an educated one. The Anglican cathedral was Britain's largest, and with a tower at over 300 ft tall afforded magnificent views along Hope Street and back towards the old Catholic Cathedral, Paddy's Wigwam. It would be a perfect vantage point to look at the protestors.
Pete didn't have a weapon. He was going to have to rely on surprise and speed. He took a deep breath and gently opened the door.
Cooper's eyes were bulging as he shouted in Erasmus’ face.
‘OK,’ said Erasmus.
He took out the pen that was linked to the bomb and held it in front of Officer Cooper. He pressed down on the top of the pen. There was an audible click as the nib popped out and the bomb armed.
‘Are you sure you don't want to come with me and find out whether your God exists?’ asked Erasmus.
Copper's face paled and he started to back away from Erasmus.
‘You have to wait until I am back there by the police van. The Pastor is watching,’ said Cooper. The police van was some two hundred yards away. Cooper would be out of the immediate blast radius and assuming he stood behind the van, relatively safe from shrapnel.
In the distance Erasmus heard what sounded like firecrackers.
***
As soon as Pete had opened the door he realised the odds were stacked against him. The platform at the top of the tower was maybe seventy feet square and planted in the middle was a flagpole, another twenty feet high, flying a huge cross of St George.
There were three men on the platform but the Pastor was not there. They were all standing at the parapet looking out at the city, their backs to him. One of the men had a pair of binoculars trained on the crowd below. Pete recognised Barry.
There was no time for finesse. Pete ran up behind the largest of the men and picked him up by his legs. He raised the legs to his chest and gravity did the rest. The man's weight took him over the parapet.
The second member of the security detail made a mistake, he went for his holstered gun instead of trying to hit or defend himself. Pete kicked him hard in his groin and as he doubled up in pain he planted his knee in his face. He felt bone break.
A bullet slammed into Pete's stomach, sending him flying across the floor. He came to rest by the flagpole.
Barry was pointing a gun at him. Wisps of smoke lingered around the barrel. He levelled the gun at Pete.
‘Always you twats. I am going to enjoy killing you and then your friend.’
Barry walked towards Pete to apply the killing shot.
Pete reached and grabbed the ratchet that that held the huge flag in place. He pulled on the loose end of rope and the flag collapsed immediately, crashing down and knocking Barry to the ground. He fired his gun blindly, emptying the magazine, putting scorched holes in the St George's Cross.