The Silent Pool (16 page)

‘Miranda?’

‘You have to come quick, Erasmus. Abby's school now. I am inside with Abby. There's trouble!’

‘What trouble?’ he asked.

‘There is a protest and – ’

The line crackled and then went silent.

He was only ten minutes away.

‘I'm coming!’ he shouted to a dead line.

He ran to his car.

CHAPTER 19

He was there in five minutes.

He flung the car around the final corner and there it was: Dovedale Junior School. The building was an old red brick Victorian school that stood between a pub and a row of terraced houses with neat hanging baskets adorning their crumbling façades.

The school stood back from the road, protected by old iron railings. Standing in front of the main gate was a large crowd of about one hundred demonstrators being held back by a team of six private security guards. Fifty yards inside the gate were confused looking mothers holding their children's hands and shuffling nervously. He couldn't see Miranda anywhere among them. What he could see was scared children's faces pressed at the windows of the school.

Erasmus didn't bother looking for a parking spot he just stopped the car on the pavement outside the school gate and jumped out. The nearest placard holder was a man wearing a corduroy jacket with leather arm patches. The man was smoking a roll up cigarette and his placard bore the message: I've never seen faith move mountains, but I've seen what it can do to skyscrapers.

‘What's going on?’ he asked the protestor.

‘The Foundation have delivered the science textbooks. Evolution is out completely. We won't let the classes go ahead.’

‘I need to get into the school to see my daughter.’ Erasmus pushed past the man.

‘We aren't letting any more kids in.’

‘I'm not a kid,’ said Erasmus.

The protestor grabbed hold of Erasmus’ arm. A mistake.

Erasmus spun on his heels. ‘Let go of my arm,’ said Erasmus calmly.

The man held firm. ‘You're not crossing this line.’

Erasmus wrapped his right hand around the man's wrist and twisted violently to one side and backwards, causing him to cry out in pain and sink to his knees. He dropped his placed. Some of his colleagues looked on but didn't seem inclined to intervene.

‘I am going to find my daughter.’

Erasmus pushed his way to the front of the crowd quickly. They were shouting a lot but there was no physical threat that Erasmus could identify. Soon he was face to face with the security detail: six burly chunks of beef, probably ex-military by the looks of their crew cuts and posture, stood guarding the gates. They remained still but their eyes were scanning the crowd. One man stood just ahead of the others and Erasmus presumed he must be in charge.

‘Are you in charge here?’ asked Erasmus.

The man quickly appraised him, checking for weapons, assessing the threat. ‘I am yes. How can I help you, sir?’

He had an American accent and spoke in a clipped tone.

‘My daughter is in there. I need to go and get her.’

The guard shook his head.

‘That's a negative. We have a situation inside and we can't let anyone in or out until it has been resolved.’

‘“A situation”? What sort of situation and where are the police?’

‘A violent situation, sir, but to your second question we are contracted to look after school security and we are taking care of the situation, sir, so please step away from the gate.’

‘My daughter is inside. Is she in danger?’

‘Everything is under control. One of the demonstrators got inside. He is threatening to burn the science books. He has poured petrol on himself and the books but nothing will happen. It's a publicity stunt.’

‘Let me in. I want to take my daughter out of there.’

‘Sir, the children are being held on the upper floors. They are perfectly safe.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Who, sir?’

‘The protestor with the petrol!’

‘That's classified information, sir.’

Erasmus leaned forward and grabbed the commander by his lapels, bringing his face close. The other security guards moved forward, a TASER was raised.

‘Is he in the gym?’

From the flicker in the man's eyes he knew he was right. The gym had a loading entrance so it was a natural place to store several thousand textbooks. However it was also directly above the propane tanks in the cellar which were now a sprung floor and some five feet away from a mass of books and a lunatic with a petrol can.

A TASER was placed roughly on Erasmus’ face.

‘Step back, sir,’ commanded another American voice.

Erasmus let the commander go.

‘Move away from the gate!’ came a shouted command.

Erasmus looked at the badge on the man's black flak jacket: BF Security. He weighed up his options. This man and his men were clearly ex-Marines or US Army. There was no negotiating his way in. He contemplated jumping the fence and making a run for it but the odds were stacked against him and by the look of the kit on the security guard's belts he would be TASERed within five yards.

‘OK, thanks for your help. I'm going.’

Erasmus made his way back through the crowd. He thought about checking the rear of the building but it would be pointless. There would be more security guards there he was sure and to access the rear would require him to get to the end of the street and walk for maybe five minutes just to confirm this fact. He had no time.

He walked back to his old Golf and got in. He tried Miranda's phone but he got no answer.

There was only way he was getting in the school and that was through the front door. He turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine.

He swung the car around away from the protestors and headed down the street away from the school. When he was fifty yards down the road he did a U-turn and pointed the car at the gate. He pressed hard on the accelerator. His old Golf jumped forward and began to pick up speed.

Erasmus pressed repeatedly on the horn. At the back of the demonstration the man with the corduroy jacket turned round and his eyes became saucers, a millisecond later he was screaming and running away. Panic transmitted through the crowd like an electric current, people turned, ran and the crowd parted for the battered VW. Erasmus swung off course for a moment to avoid a protestor who didn't move and then swung back towards the gate.

The security guards remained stock still, holding their position, they were well trained but Erasmus was close enough to see uncertainty in the commander's eyes. Ten feet away from the gate Erasmus saw the first guard break and dive to his side. By the time he hit the gate at 40 mph all the other guards were moving, all except for the commander who remained still.

So be it
, thought Erasmus.

The car smashed through the gate sending it flying to the side. At the very last second Erasmus moved the wheel to the side and the car's front bumper clipped the commander's legs instead of ploughing straight into him. He checked his rear-view mirror, the commander was on his back and holding his leg.

He drove straight at the entrance and stopped the car outside. He risked a look behind: two of the security detail were running towards him, the injured commander was back on his feet and hobbling along at the rear.

Erasmus ran up the steps that led to the heavy school doors and, to his surprise, found them unlocked and unguarded.

In the lobby he had a choice. If he turned left it took him to the gym and the protestor threatening to burn the books. But he had seen children's scared faces at the first floor windows. A staircase ran off the lobby and Erasmus took it to the first floor.

Erasmus ran down the corridor checking each classroom, they were all empty until the last one at the end of corridor. Through the glass window on the door Erasmus could see a group of children and a few adults standing at the classroom windows looking out. Abby and Miranda were sat together on the teacher's desk.

Erasmus tried the door but it was locked. He banged on the glass.

Miranda saw him and jumped off the desk. Abby smiled at him and waved as though it was the most natural thing in the world that he should be standing outside her classroom. Erasmus waved back. Miranda came over to the door.

‘It's locked!’ she said.

Erasmus had assumed it was locked from her side.

‘Stand back!’

He kicked hard at the lock, the door buckled and there was a crack. He tried again and the door gave way. He ran in the classroom and hugged Abby and Miranda.

‘What's going on, Daddy?’ asked Abby.

He kissed her.

‘Nothing, honey, it's just a fire drill. How come the door was locked from the outside, Miranda?’

Miranda stayed calm but he could tell from the way she was chewing at her cheek that she was scared.

‘When the protestor stormed the school saying he was going to burn the books a man told us we would be safest in here. He locked us in.’

‘A man, the headmaster?’

‘No, he said he was with the Bovind Foundation, he had security guards with him. He was an American.’

Erasmus nodded. Something wasn't right.

‘OK, we are getting you out of here now. Everybody get your children and follow me.’

A man in an immaculately cut suit and a razor sharp tie approached Erasmus.

‘And who are you? The security forces told us to stay in here.’

‘See any of those security forces around lately? We are going. It's your choice.’

Then man's lip quivered as though he was about to put forward a case for staying but he was already facing Erasmus’ back.

Erasmus picked up Abby and took Miranda's hand. Together they walked out of the classroom followed by the other parents and their children, including the man in the suit and his son.

Erasmus led the children and their parents down the corridor. Something was very wrong. Why would anyone choose to put the kids in the classroom at the far end of the corridor? The classroom immediately next to the gym? If there was going to be a fire then this was putting them in harm's way.

Abby pulled his hand.

‘What is it, honey?’ he asked.

‘I like it that you and Mum are holding hands that's all.’

He and Miranda exchanged an embarrassed glance.

‘Come on.’

Slowly and quietly they made their way down the steps. At the bottom there were the two security guards who had followed him. They looked nervous and unsure. Erasmus took control.

‘You can arrest me in a minute. The first thing to do is to get these kids out of here. Miranda, will you go with them? Make sure everyone gets well back from the school.’

The children moved forward enveloping the security guards. One of the guards picked up a child.

‘Get going, I'll follow!’ commanded Erasmus. He directed this at the older guard. Erasmus pegged him as an ex-sergeant. The man regarded him for a moment, his eyes locked on Erasmus’ and then he nodded in agreement.

‘Everyone follow me!’ said the older guard.

The guards led the children and the parents out the doors. Erasmus hung back.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Miranda.

‘Something's not right and I intend to find out what it is. I need you to get outside and call the real police right away.’

Miranda shook her head. ‘Erasmus, this is not your battle.’

‘Someone put you and Abby in harm's way. That makes it my battle.’

She held his hand for a moment longer and then let it go. ‘Be careful.’

He smiled and then headed left towards the gymnasium.

Once he was out of the lobby the eerie quiet of the school returned. It was all wrong. If this was a genuine siege or hostage situation the police should be dealing with it, not Bovind's private security forces. He knew most services had been contracted out by the council but he was pretty sure the Mayor would have drawn the line at tactical response units. Yet here there was nothing.

The corridor was lined with art class pictures: red and green houses, yellow flowers and windmills. His footsteps echoed as they clacked on the tile floors.

The gym was at the end of the corridor, rising directly alongside the first floor classroom that the children had been locked into.

Someone was laughing.

The sound made Erasmus stop and listen. Yes, laughter, soft but vicious. And something else, the sweet sickly smell of petrol.

Erasmus moved forward and came to the gym entrance. The doors were closed but through the glass window a strange scene greeted him.

Against the far wall were books, textbooks, maybe five hundred stacked on pallets. At the bottom of the pile there was jerrycan lying on its side. The book pile was five feet high and sitting on top of it was a young man. By his beard and ill-fitting clothes Erasmus would have placed his mortgage on him being a student. His right hand handcuffed awkwardly to the wall bars. He was wet through, hair plastered to his face and he was shivering. He was looking, eyes wide with terror, at the man in the centre of the room.

The man was tall and even though he was slightly hunched over, Erasmus would have guessed he was pushing seven feet. He was wearing an old-fashioned single-breasted black suit and a felt hat. Erasmus recognised the Pastor immediately. He was holding a Zippo® lighter and clicking the top back and forth.

Erasmus paused and then entered the gym.

The young man, wild eyed and desperate, saw Erasmus and a desperate look of relief replaced the fear for a moment.

The Pastor turned slowly and faced Erasmus. His stare was like being fixed upon by a large bird of prey.

‘What's going on?’ said Erasmus.

The Pastor's eyes seemed to bore into Erasmus as though he were trying to find his very essence, his soul.

‘You,’ he paused as though he were recalling the depth of Erasmus’ sins. ‘This sinner, this malcontent, this atheist, broke into the school and wishes to immolate himself and the Foundation's books in the name of his sacrilegious cause.’

The young man moved forward, his chain pulling taut and stopping him.

‘That's a lie. I was going to burn the books but he caught me, handcuffed me here, covered me with petrol and is going to burn me!’