Death of a Village (18 page)

‘Breaking and entering,’ teased Jimmy. ‘We should arrest you.’

‘Listen, I found a note on the kitchen table. It’s handwritten. It says, “I’ve gone down south for a bit. See you soon, Charlie.”’

‘Got it there?’

‘Here.’ She pulled it out of her pocket and handed it over.

‘Is that his handwriting?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Elspeth. ‘And why leave a note like that in a locked cottage?’

‘I don’t like this. It’s something to do with Stoyre. I’m going over there now. See if I can spot his car.’

‘I’ll come with you!’

‘No, I’ll go on my own. I’ll be less conspicuous that way.’

In vain did Elspeth protest. Hamish set off with Lugs.

It was a clear, starry night with a hint of frost in the air. Hamish left the Land Rover on the waterfront and proceeded to walk all round the village but could see no sight of Mr
Jefferson’s car.

‘We’ll just walk out to the north,’ he muttered to Lugs. ‘The silly auld fool might have gone that way again.’

Master and dog set off out of the village. They were just reaching the crest of a hill where the track petered out when suddenly a huge cloaked figure rose up in front of Hamish. At first he was
frozen with superstitious terror, but then he looked down at his dog. Lugs was sitting there placidly in the moonlight, glad of the rest after all the walking. Hamish took a deep breath.
‘Come on, boy,’ he said, and walked straight through the apparition and out the other side. He turned and looked back and it was gone.

He hurried back to the Land Rover and drove as fast as he could to Lochdubh. He knew now what had killed Annie. He rushed into the office and his hand wavered over the phone. Instead of phoning
Strathbane, he phoned Elspeth and told her what had happened. ‘It’s a hologram,’ she said excitedly. ‘Have you seen one before?’

‘Never.’

‘Oh, they sometimes have one in castles or museums of some historical figure.’

‘Do you know anyone who could make one?’

‘I think so. I’ve got a former boyfriend, bit of a geek, lives in Strathbane. You’d better phone headquarters.’

‘Not yet. I’ve got to show these gullible villagers how they’ve been tricked. Can you get your friend up here tomorrow with his equipment? Would it take long to make
one?’

‘I’ll need to ask him. I think he was experimenting with them at one time. I know a hologram is light-wave interference pattern recorded on photographic film that can produce a
three-dimensional image when illuminated properly. What do you want a hologram of?’

‘Jesus Christ.’

‘Is that an oath or a request?’

‘A request. What’s this boyfriend’s name?’

‘Ex. Graham Southey.’

‘After you’ve spoken to him, get him to phone me.’

Hamish paced up and down, and when the phone rang, he seized it. It was Graham. Hamish filled him in on the background and then asked, ‘Can you do it?’

‘I’ll bring the stuff up tomorrow,’ said Graham. ‘This is very exciting. But remember, the room hasn’t got to have too much air movement or too much ventilation
noise or other kinds of vibration. There should be a uniform stable temperature.’

‘I think that’ll be all right.’

‘I’ll work all night and be over tomorrow.’

Hamish thanked him and rang off. Now he would see if he could produce something at last to break the uncanny silence of Stoyre.

Mr Jefferson sat bound to a chair in the cellar of the manse. He was not gagged and he had screamed and yelled until he was exhausted. At mealtimes, two masked men untied him
and waited until he had eaten, then they marched him over to a bucket with a lavatory seat on top of it and stood patiently while he tried to perform like a child being potty-trained, and then they
tied him up again. He was unusually fit for his age but he was beginning to feel weak and frail. The villagers of Lochdubh had been very solicitous about his well-being since Annie had died and he
was sure they would have been calling at his cottage and having not found him there, would have alerted Macbeth. If this was the manse, then what kind of minister was this? At least they
hadn’t beaten him up. The food, although he had been able to eat little of it so great was his fright, had been tasty and nourishing. He tugged futilely at his bonds. He sensed that the manse
above him was empty. His greatest fear was that they – whoever
they
were – would kill him eventually.

The villagers of Stoyre gathered uneasily in the church. Blinds of old blackout material dating from World War II covered the windows.

Fergus Mackenzie, the minister, stood up and addressed them. ‘Mr Macbeth here, for some reason, believes we have been tricked and is about to demonstrate how.’

‘Rubbish,’ shouted an angry woman. There was a move towards the door. But Hamish had made sure they were all locked in.

Graham was standing at a table at the back of the church with his equipment. Hamish had expected him to be a weedy-looking nerd with thick glasses but Graham was tall and handsome with blond
hair.

Hamish nodded to him. The church filled with the sound of celestial music, swelling and rising, and suddenly a hologram of Jesus Christ appeared before the startled eyes of the congregation, who
began to fall to their knees. The eyes of the Christ were compassionate and his arms were spread out over the kneeling villagers.

The music died away. Hamish’s usually soft voice was harsh as he shouted, ‘So that’s how it’s done. Someone has made you believe you saw a vision. All this is, is a
simple hologram. Go and join Graham at the back of the church and he’ll show you how it’s done.’

Elspeth began to tug up the blinds one at a time and shafts of sunlight lit the church as everyone gathered around Graham, who gave them a succinct lecture on how a hologram was made. There was
a gasp and the sound of someone falling. Mrs Mackenzie, the minister’s wife, had fainted dead away. Several men carried her to a pew.

‘So now I want you to come forward,’ said Hamish when Graham’s lecture was finished, ‘and tell me how they tricked you.’

People stood shuffling their feet, their heads hanging.

‘I’ll tell you,’ said Fergus Mackenzie. ‘It was a dark day a few months ago and I was just about to start my sermon when God appeared before us.’

‘How did you know it was God?’ asked Hamish.

‘It was like in the religious illustrations in the Bible.’

‘Long hair, long flowing beard, and open-toed sandals?’

‘Don’t be blasphemous, Officer.’

‘Get on with it,’ shouted Hamish. ‘An old woman has been frightened to death with one o’ your visions.’

‘There was music and then we heard this unearthly voice. God told us that men working in His cause were going to raise the Holy Grail from the depths of the sea. It would be a long and
arduous task and we had to make sure no one from inside or outside the village spoke of this, or His wrath would descend on us and we would all burn in hell fire.’

‘And have you seen these men? Where are they?’

‘They have a boat out to the north in Scorie Bay. You must not blame us, Officer. We are simple people.’

‘And did God tell you to blow up the major’s cottage?’

‘We had another vision . . .’

‘What was it this time?’

‘It was the angel Gabriel. He told us that the major was a sinful man and that the Grail could not be brought into the village church if he was present.’

‘So who did the dirty deed?’

The minister hung his head. ‘We are all responsible.’

‘I’ll deal with that later. You’ve all to keep your mouths shut and go about your business as usual. I don’t want these men alerted. Now,’ said Hamish, ‘what
have you done with an elderly gentleman called Charlie Jefferson?’

Mr Jefferson heard footsteps clattering down the cellar stairs. He could feel a wave of fear engulfing him. What if they had come to finish him off?

The door opened and Hamish Macbeth walked in, followed by Elspeth and Graham. Mr Jefferson’s eyes suddenly blurred with tears and he choked out, ‘I thought you would never
come.’

Hamish took out a clasp knife, opened it, and cut Mr Jefferson’s bonds. Elspeth knelt down and massaged his ankles. Hamish handed Mr Jefferson a flask of brandy and he took a hearty swig.
‘Anyone got any cigarettes?’

Graham took out a packet and lit one and handed it to him.

‘So what happened?’ asked Mr Jefferson.

‘First, you’d better tell me how you got here,’ said Hamish.

‘I learned that Annie had been frightened to death. I thought I’d come over and have a look in the manse while they were all in church. I mean, that minister had such a grip on the
whole village, I thought there might be something here. I was just looking in his desk when I got a bag thrown over my head and then I was frogmarched down here.’

‘Mr Jefferson, I can hardly charge the minister with kidnapping you because Strathbane knows your record and will ask nasty questions about why you were breaking and entering. I will take
you back to Lochdubh, and I want you to stay there until this business is cleared up.’

‘I don’t want to stay in Lochdubh any more,’ said Mr Jefferson, his eyes filling with tears again. ‘It’s not the same without Annie. Do you think she’d mind
if I sold her cottage and moved back down to London? It’s too violent up here.’

‘I don’t think she would mind at all,’ said Hamish. ‘Let’s get you home. Elspeth will drive you. Your car’s in the minister’s garage. Leave it for the
moment. You’re not fit to drive. I’ll get someone to bring it over.’

‘I’ll drive it now,’ said Graham. ‘I left mine at the police station.’

‘Thanks for all your help, Graham. Now let me deal with the minister.’

When they had left, Hamish joined the minister in the manse kitchen. ‘You will need to excuse my wife,’ Mr Mackenzie said heavily. ‘She’s gone to lie
down. This has been a terrible strain on her. She was frightened that old gentleman would die. I think we were all turned mad.’

Hamish looked at him curiously. ‘This is a whole new century. How can people be so isolated from the real world with television and all?’

‘We don’t have the television in Stoyre. The mountains block off reception and they are not going to bother about a little place like this. We have a very strong belief in
God.’

‘And damn little common sense,’ said Hamish. ‘Now, I do not trust you enough yet to confide in you. But you are all to sit tight or I will book the whole village for murder and
kidnap. Do you understand me?’

He nodded his head.

‘If you do this, I will let you off for the kidnapping of Mr Jefferson.’

‘I will do what you say.’

‘Have you seen these men diving in Scorie Bay?’

‘We were instructed to keep clear of it. But I think they hide their boat somewhere during the day and dive at night. You must forgive us. We thought it was the will of God.’

‘You ought to try Christianity or Judaism for a change,’ said Hamish sarcastically, ‘and stop going on as if you’re members of a weird cult. Do you know how the myth of
the Holy Grail started? It dates back, just like the beliefs of the people of Stoyre, to the old Celtic legends of magic drinking vessels.’ A vision of Annie Docherty’s contorted face
rose before him and he added savagely, ‘Chust grow up, man. Grow up!’

When he left the manse, he thought, Now for Strathbane. I’ve some explaining to do.

Back in Lochdubh, Hamish tried to leave Lugs with Elspeth, but the normally good-natured dog growled and bared his teeth, and so Hamish had to beg Angela for her help again.
Then he drove to police headquarters and marched up to Chief Superintendent Daviot’s office, only to find his way barred by Daviot’s secretary, Helen.

‘You are
not
to go in there,’ she said, standing in front of the door. ‘He is busy and is not to be disturbed.’

Hamish lifted her aside and marched straight in. Daviot was seated in an armchair in front of a small television set watching a Rangers versus Celtic football match. He struggled to his feet and
demanded wrathfully, ‘How dare you burst in here? I asked not to be disturbed.’

‘You won’t mind when you hear what I’ve got to say,’ said Hamish amiably.

‘Very well. You may sit down. It had better be good.’

Hamish patiently began at the beginning, telling about the hologram that had been operated to frighten him and Annie Docherty and about his demonstration to the villagers of Stoyre. He did not,
however, say anything about Mr Jefferson.

‘So,’ he finished, ‘they’re diving on Scorie Bay at night and that’s when we should catch them.’

‘We should get on to the Secretary of State’s office and find out what they are diving for.’

‘I’ve already done that,’ said Hamish patiently. ‘There’s no record of any wreck there.’

‘We could have got started on this sooner if you hadn’t decided to keep all this information to yourself!’

‘Until I’d managed to get the villagers and the minister to open up,’ said Hamish, ‘you would have found nothing. You’d have sent a squad along there in daylight
and found nothing.’

‘Goal!’ shouted a voice from the television set.

Mr Daviot twisted round and looked at it and sighed. ‘Very well. I’ll see to it and keep you posted.’

‘No,’ said Hamish.

‘I
beg
your pardon, Macbeth?’

‘I mean sir, I want to be there when the squad goes in. This is my case.’

‘It’s too big for you. Oh, very well. I’ll try to get the men rounded up and we’ll go there, say, at midnight and meet you in Stoyre and then we’ll all go
along.’

‘I know where they moor the boat,’ said Hamish. ‘It’s in a cave and the only access to it is down the cliffs, and you can’t get in at high tide. You’ll need
expert climbers.’

‘We’ll have boats
and
climbers,’ said Daviot, his eyes straying longingly towards the television set.

‘But you will let me know it’s on for tonight?’

‘Yes, yes.’

Hamish waited impatiently all day. The phone rang several times but it was only locals phoning up for a chat, and Hamish had to restrain himself from shouting at them to get
off the line.

At last at five o’clock, Jimmy Anderson rang. ‘It’s off for tonight, Hamish,’ he said.