A Man of Sorrows (15 page)

‘I very much doubt it,’ Webb replied. ‘They’ve got far bigger things to worry about.’

‘Oh?’

‘The Pope,’ said Webb, slipping into lecture mode, ‘advocates strict orthodoxy. He sees the Church as a citadel of truth and righteousness against the realms of atheism and deceit. Britain’s Catholics are rather more liberal, and enthusiasm for his visit is, by all accounts, lukewarm at best. Of course, the child-abuse scandals have not helped either. Some relatively senior people in the Vatican, meanwhile, try to argue that it is a problem caused by gays.’

Carlyle frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

Webb laughed. ‘Cardinal Ignazio Acerbis, the Vatican Secretary of State, one of the Pope’s most senior advisers, claimed last year that psychiatrists have demonstrated that there is no relationship between celibacy and paedophilia, but that there
is
a relationship between homosexuality and paedophilia.’

Carlyle felt a familiar anger rising in his throat. He had a brief flashback to his performance with Father McGowan in the basement of the police station. ‘These people . . .’ he ground out.

Webb took another mouthful of Scotch and sighed appreciatively. ‘You have to understand the mindset, Inspector. If you are the Pope, you see yourself as a descendant of the Apostle Peter.’

Carlyle, ever the happy, ignorant, atheist, stifled a yawn.

‘Catholicism has set itself up as the Church Christ intended to build. This allows it to claim a monopoly of the deepest truths of humanity and the universe.’

‘Jesus!’ Carlyle mumbled.

‘Quite.’ Webb waved a hand airily in front of her face. ‘This place can be annoying at times but we have a simple and decent goal, which is to improve society and to understand the causes of things.’ Leaning forward, she gave Carlyle the kind of stern look that had doubtless put the fear of God into many a poor undergraduate over the years. ‘The LSE has always been about engagement with the wider world. In that sense, we are an institution completely at odds with the ways of the Church.’

Carlyle said nothing, happy to let the Professor say her piece.

‘There is an old joke,’ Webb continued, ‘that says everything is foreign policy to the Vatican. It exists to do three things: maintain the primacy of the Pope, define and sustain doctrine, and appoint bishops. The bishops do the rest. There is a widespread view that civil authority must be kept out of Church affairs, however criminal they might be. Obsolete canon law means that the Vatican appears in grave breach of the convention on the right of the child, and an enemy of human rights. This leads to lots of difficult questions. Is the Pope legally liable for the system that has allowed terrible crimes to go unpunished? Should the Holy See continue to enjoy immunity from prosecution in matters such as this?’ Finally, she saw the glazed expression on Carlyle’s face and eased off on the rhetoric. ‘You see what a difficult situation it is.’

‘Yes,’ he lied.

‘So you can also see,’ Webb chuckled, ‘why Roger Leyne doesn’t really feature as a major player in this holy mess.’

Carlyle suddenly felt hugely weary.

‘The good news,’ Webb continued, ‘is that it will crumble.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The Church. It is most definitely on the way out, Roger Leyne or no Roger Leyne.’

‘But,’ Carlyle replied, ‘I thought you were just telling me how successful it was?’

‘Exactly!’ Webb beamed. ‘How successful it
was
. The future is a different matter entirely.’

‘I guess it would be,’ Carlyle said weakly. Never a man for the big picture, he wondered how much longer his little tutorial was going to go on for.

‘When the last Pope came to Britain,’ Webb continued, ‘he drew large, enthusiastic crowds. This time, there will be sullen hostility, reflecting the widespread opposition to the Roman Catholic Church as a political entity. The Church’s moral turpitude, its scandalous disregard for its victims, has stripped it of all moral authority. There is no chance that it will be able to get it back. The Vatican cannot accept that it does not have a monopoly on truth, that individuals have their own values. A changing moral code is part of social evolution. Meanwhile, the Church’s own moral failings should induce more than a little humility.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not possible. You can take comfort in the fact that they will be swept away by history.’

That doesn
’
t stop me from wanting to nail that bastard McGowan in the meantime
, Carlyle thought as he pushed himself out of the chair. ‘Yes.’

‘Just remember one thing.’ Webb’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

‘What’s that?’

‘If you ever do manage to get round to arresting the Pope,’ she chuckled, ‘you have to address him as either “Your Holiness” or “Holy Father”.’

‘Thanks,’ Carlyle smiled. ‘That’s good to know.’

TWENTY-ONE

Wandering back through Covent Garden, the inspector tried to summon up some measure of enthusiasm for the Leyne case. In a vaguely dissatisfied mood, he allowed himself to be waylaid by a café called Coffee, Cake and Kink on Endell Street. Ignoring the selection of teas on offer, he ordered a latte and a slice of banana and cherry loaf. The place was full but he was able to nab a seat by the window, just as it was vacated by a disappointingly ordinary-looking customer. On the table was a copy of one of the comics CC&K had on sale. Carlyle flicked through it aimlessly; even
Fetishman 6 – Nuns
couldn’t raise him from his torpor.

After a considerable wait, the waitress, dressed in a black leather cat-suit with matching cap gave him a smile as she brought him his order. The coffee had a sharp edge, which he liked, but it was not hot enough for his taste. He thought about asking the girl to heat it up for him, but couldn’t be bothered. The cake, however, was delicious. Carlyle, conscious of the need for potential replacements for Il Buffone if – or, rather, when – Marcello called it a day, made a mental note to add this one to his list. Popping the last of the loaf into his mouth, he carefully returned
Fetishman 6
to the nearby magazine rack and pulled out his mobile. There was a text from his wife. Opening it, he frowned.

Don
’
t forget the school at 2 x

What the hell?
It took him several moments to remember that he had promised to give a talk on drugs to the sixth-formers at Alice’s school. He had been bounced into it by the Headmaster, Dr Terence Myers. Carlyle and Helen had been summoned to the Headmaster’s office after Alice had been suspended for possession of cannabis. They had been so relieved that she hadn’t been kicked out for good that he had happily signed up for the talk. That had been more than a year ago. It had been almost three months since Myers’s office had confirmed the date. He had completely forgotten all about it.

‘Bollocks,’ he muttered, typing in a reply:
Sure. No problem. X.
As the message disappeared into the ether, the phone started ringing in his hand and Roche’s name appeared on the screen. ‘How’s it going?’ he asked.

‘I’m just going in with Dyer now,’ Roche said excitedly.

‘Eh? I thought you would have been finished by now.’

‘We’ve got a major result. Dyer’s fingerprints were recovered from the scene and they’ve found some jewellery at his mum’s flat.’

‘That’s the great thing about criminals,’ Carlyle said. ‘Some of them are so fucking stupid that it’s unbelievable. God bless the cretinous little sod.’

‘I’ve left him and his lawyer to stew for a while and I’m just about to go in and hit him with both barrels. I wondered if you might want me to wait for you?’

‘I’ve got to do something else right now.’

‘Okay,’ Roche replied, some of the enthusiasm draining from her voice.

‘Get as much out of him as you can, charge him and get him processed. In the meantime, can you get someone to do some basic background checks on the recently deceased Professor Leyne. He’s been married three times apparently, so we need to track down the wives. Also, we need to check finances, et cetera, et cetera. I’ll chase the autopsy report and forensics and we can compare notes at the end of the day.’

‘Suppose so.’ Roche sounded more than a little pissed off now, but Carlyle didn’t have time to worry about that. Ending the call, he borrowed a pen from the waitress and began scribbling some notes for his talk on the back of a flyer advertising an exhibition of photographs of female bodybuilders at a gallery in Camden.

Gazing out across the rows of bored faces, careful not to make eye-contact with any of them, Carlyle stood at the front of the classroom, desperately trying not to feel intimidated. After a moment, he turned to the Headmaster and whispered: ‘This is the sixth form, right?’

‘No, no,’ Dr Myers smiled apologetically. ‘The sixth-formers are sitting exams this week. This is the fourth form.’

Good God.
Carlyle’s heart sank. Alice would be in this class soon enough, assuming she didn’t get caught with any more drugs in the meantime. The twenty or so girls sitting in front of him oozed self-confidence and maturity. At least half of them could have passed for twenty-five at a casual glance. All of them looked like they could eat him alive. He glanced at his notes. Gibberish. What in God’s name was he going to talk about?

Sensing his anxiety, Myers gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Inspector, they are all very interested in what you have to say.’ Turning to face the group, he gave Carlyle a gentle push forward. ‘Ladies, we are very fortunate to have with us today Inspector Carlyle from Charing Cross police station.’

Trying to smile, Carlyle nodded. ‘Good afternoon.’

While a couple of the girls mumbled a desultory ‘good afternoon’ in reply, the majority sat in stony silence.

‘Inspector Carlyle,’ Myers continued, ignoring the lack of enthusiasm that had sucked all of the energy from the room, ‘is here to talk about drugs.’

‘Has he got any then?’ a cheeky voice piped up from the back, precipitating a few giggles from her mates.

‘Thank you for that, Tara,’ Myers said stonily. ‘I’m sure that the inspector will be happy to take any sensible questions you may have.’ He gestured for Carlyle to take the floor. ‘Inspector . . .’

‘Thank you, Headmaster,’ Carlyle replied, his mouth suddenly dry. ‘It is very nice to be here this afternoon. Thank you for inviting me.’ Finally realizing what he was going to say, he broke into a smile. ‘I’m not going to talk for very long, I promise!’ He scanned the blank looks. ‘First, though, hands up anyone who has done drugs.’

His opening gambit got a few bemused looks, not least from the Headmaster, but no hands went up.

‘No one?’ Carlyle’s smile went wider. ‘Are you sure? Dr Myers?’

Blushing slightly, the Headmaster shook his head. There were a few laughs.

Carlyle gave him a quizzical look. ‘Are
you
sure?’

‘Quite sure, th-thank you,’ Myers stammered.

‘Okay.’ Carlyle put his own hand up. ‘Well, I have tried drugs,’ he looked around his audience, ‘and lived to tell the tale.’

There was more laughter and some whispering. Carlyle felt himself begin to relax, knowing that he was going to be fine after all. He put down his hand. ‘I was a bit older than you, but not much. I experimented with them when I was at school and when I was a young copper.’

‘What types of drugs?’ asked a serious-looking girl near the front.

Carlyle shrugged. ‘I did a bit of cannabis but I didn’t like it much; I found it made me feel nauseous. Mainly speed was my thing – amphetamine sulphate. It was relatively cheap and easily available. I would buy it from a mate.’

A hand went up at the back.

Carlyle nodded. ‘Yes?’

‘Why did you give up?’

‘I just kind of grew out of it, I suppose. I was never that into it. If it was there, I would do it; if it wasn’t, I never really felt the need to go looking for it.’ He spread his hands wide. ‘The point is that I’m not here to lecture you that it’s evil and that you should never do it. What you
should
do is be informed about the issues and the consequences of using and abusing restricted drugs. As a policeman, drugs are not a moral issue . . .’ he paused, scanning the faces to see if they were taking in what he was saying . . . ‘they are a
crime
issue. Drug dependency is an important factor in robberies, violent crime, people-trafficking, prostitution and money laundering. There are other important issues in terms of drug-related deaths, ill-health, unemployment and the break-up of families.’

A girl in the front row shot him an exasperate look. ‘Isn’t that why drugs should just be legalized?’

Carlyle glanced at the Headmaster. Dr Myers seemed to be getting unhappier by the minute. He turned back to the girl and said honestly, ‘Maybe it is – I don’t know. But it isn’t going to happen. For whatever reason, politicians are just as addicted to the war on drugs as any junkie is to smack. There is some tweaking round the edges – Holland is famous for its liberal attitude towards soft drugs and there have been similar initiatives in Portugal. Even here, in the UK, there have been some attempts to reform the Misuse of Drugs Act, which dates back to 1971. Cannabis, for example, was downgraded to a Class C drug a few years ago and then changed back to Class B later on. However, the basic point that I want you to take away from our session today is that you really need to be aware of both the potential consequences of restricted drug use. You have to be clear about the
legal
consequences of using drugs. There are various types of drugs offences that might be committed in certain situations: mixing tobacco with another herbal substance in a roll-up cigarette, for example – that’s called possession; carrying several small plastic bags containing a herbal substance is “possession with intent to supply”; smoking cannabis at home with friends is “allowing premises to be used”. And so on . . .’