The Silent Pool (37 page)

‘Let me hear what you have to say first then I'll let you know.’

Burns lent back in his chair. ‘OK, we have a deal, let's talk. But I must warn you that anything we say is confidential. I will not jeopardise my appeal.’

‘It's very simple. Why did you admit to killing Tomas Radzinski?’

Burns said nothing for a moment. When he did talk his voice was quiet. ‘I'm glad you believe me, it makes this so much easier, Erasmus. I call the man who killed those children Lochran, it's my middle name, you see, part of me but not me.’

‘OK,’ said Erasmus.

‘I have some of Lochran's memories, but a lot seems distant and grey, like a memory of a TV show I saw as a child. When Lochran was caught he was in a state of ecstasy, almost a state of grace as he believed with every atom of his being that he was doing God's work.’

‘God was telling you to kill those children?’

‘Not me. Lochran,’ said Burns, and for a moment there was a flash of anger in his right eye.

‘Sure, sorry about that. What can you remember about Lochran?’

Burns shut his eye now. He was leaning back in his chair breathing more heavily. The socket remained facing him, dark and deep. It was fanciful but Erasmus thought of the socket as Lochran and he couldn't shake a crawling feeling that Lochran was looking at him through the empty socket.

Burns began to talk, but slower and more deliberately than before. ‘Lochran was convinced that there was a plan and he fitted into that plan. The eyes are the windows to the soul but those little eyes needed to be removed before the poison, the filth of the world, seeped in and corrupted their souls.’

‘Tomas Radzinski?’

‘When Lochran was on remand, a young offender looking to make a name for himself took his left eye, just scooped it out with a sharp metal spoon while two others held Lochran down. Lochran screamed and screamed but the guards who were watching with smiles on their faces, by the way, took a lifetime to pull them off Locharan. They would have put Lochran back in the cells there but Lochran was visited by a kindly man who arranged for Lochran to be moved to a part of the prison where he could be surrounded by his own kind, for his own safety. And the man assured Lochran that even in prison he could continue doing the Lord's work, saving the souls of the little ones.’

‘Who was the man who visited you?’ asked Erasmus moving forward in his seat.

‘Lochran was visited by a priest, Father Michael. He told Lochran that he had killed another boy in the forest and delivered him to the sea. Lochran wanted that boy, wanted to do the Lord's work.’

‘To be clear, are you telling me that you didn't, that Lochran, didn't kill Tomas Radzinski?’

Burns slowly turned his head to one side, the sinews straining and bulging. His mouth constricted as though he were chewing his thoughts. He held this position for a few seconds and then spoke. ‘Lochran didn't kill Tomas Radzinski.’

‘Then who did?’

Burns shook his head. His voice had reverted to the tone he had when Erasmus first spoke to him. ‘I have no idea.’

‘And why won't you go to the police with this?’

‘Why would they believe me? Lochran was a killer of children, he admitted to another murder, and now I would be trying to convince the authorities that it was one of the most respected religious figures in the country who made me, Lochran, say it? I have no proof and the conviction will stand, all it would do is undermine my appeal, which is based on the sentencing guidelines being assessed after my operation and remorse. I am only telling you because of Theo Francis, and on condition that this remains confidential.’

‘What about your conscience, doing the right thing? What would have the Frank Burns from before the car accident have done?’

Burns ran his fingers around the circumference of his empty socket. ‘Lochran is dead, but so is that man.’

Erasmus had heard enough. He stood and banged on the door.

‘You must believe me. It was Lochran and not me who killed those children. Tell me you believe me.’

The door opened. Erasmus said nothing.

‘Tell me. You promised!’

Erasmus turned around before leaving the room. ‘I can't do that.’

Burns face changed, it contorted into a mask of hatred.

‘See you around,’ said Erasmus.

Outside, Erasmus picked up his Biro® and mobile phone from the guard.

‘So, what do you think? Is he guilty, Mr Jones?’

‘Honestly, I don't know who I just met in there.’

Back in the warmth of his car Erasmus called Dan. Unsurprisingly Dan's phone went to voicemail. Reception was never too good in the Mosquito Lounge. Erasmus left a message telling Dan to call him as he had evidence that Father Michael had been part of a cover-up of Tomas Radzinski's death and that Bovind may have been involved. He wanted the firm to be briefed before he took his evidence to the police. It was the least he could do given the huge embarrassment it would bring to the firm.

Before starting the car Erasmus removed the miniature transmission device that was disguised as a button on his leather jacket. The device had a transmission range of 250 metres so Erasmus was pleased when he hit the playback button on his phone and heard Frank Burns admit that he had not killed Tomas Radzinski.

He called Rachel.

‘Rachel, I've got it. I'm going to send you the file now. Are you sure you can trust your contact?’

‘He's right at the very top. It won't be a problem.’

Erasmus hit send and the audio file was on its way.

CHAPTER 47

When Bovind and the Pastor left his office the Mayor had been asleep, deep in a narco dream. He dreamt of Elena and a black cat. The cat was chasing Elena. The Mayor was trying to catch the cat and he found that in his dream he could bound over buildings with one stride. He should have been able to catch the cat easily but each time he tried to pick it up, the cat grew smaller and smaller until eventually it was the size of an ant. He tried to grab it but his fingers were too big. Elena was screaming.

He woke with a start. Anthony was shaking him.

‘They've gone now.’

The Mayor sat up on the couch. The speech that Bovind had prepared was on the coffee table. The Mayor picked it up and handed it to Anthony. ‘Read this.’

Anthony read the speech, occasionally shaking his head.

The Mayor grabbed the speech back from Anthony. ‘Listen to this bit, “The godly have been given a role to play and that role is a cleansing role and we have begun the job here in Liverpool and we intend to spread our message, town by town, city by city until this country is restored to God.” I can't read this!’

Anthony shuffled awkwardly in his armchair.

The Mayor threw the speech on the floor. ‘They are blackmailing me.’

‘I'm sure they wouldn't do that.’

‘It's Elena.’

Anthony sighed and put his hand to his mouth. A moment later he was smiling. ‘An affair, this is easy. I can get you out of this, it's straightforward. This is meat and drink to me but I think what is important now is not to bite the hand that feeds us.’

‘What have they promised you, Anthony?’

Anthony blushed. ‘I'm sure I don't know what you mean.’

The Mayor snorted. ‘This Saturday we have the biggest ever Third Wave march in the country and Professor Cannon leading his counter march for secular values, and Bovind and you want me to declare a fucking theocracy in Liverpool. The world's gone mad!’

The Mayor's stomach heaved involuntarily.

‘Sir, we discussed this, the time is right for a religious politician to seize the moment and to ride this particular tiger. Look at the US. Third Wave politicians are the coming force. The Republican Party is dominated by religious politicians. You will be at the vanguard!’

A flashing red light appeared on his desk phone. It was Dr Grey's number. The Mayor ignored it.

‘Fetch me some antacids, would you.’

‘Yes, Mr Mayor.’

Anthony went to the desk drawer where he knew that the Mayor kept his pills.

As he rooted around inside the drawer his BlackBerry® began to vibrate. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked his messages. He smiled. That message was going to make him a very rich man.

CHAPTER 48

Rachel pulled her collar up against the sudden downpour.

The Pier Head was busy at this time of night. There were some late night commuters making their way back across to the Wirral with the usual mix of tourists and students.

Rachel waited at the top of the gangway. Its motion made her feel a little queasy as it rocked to and fro with the movement of the river but from here she had a good view of the esplanade and she could see every approaching figure, walking or half running to make the ferry that had just docked.

From the corner of the Cunard Building a figure emerged, head down, shoulders slumped. The man was carrying a holdall. She recognised her source immediately.

Rachel waved at him. He recognised her and raised his arm in salute.

Disembarking passengers were knocking against Rachel and for a moment she lost sight of him for a few seconds until she saw him again about twenty yards away.

Someone pushed hard into her side spinning Rachel round.

‘Sorry, love,’ said a pale, retreating face of a harassed commuter as he hurried on.

Rachel turned to greet her source who was almost upon her. He pulled her by the elbow and walked her onto the ferry.

‘Walk with me,’ he said.

Once aboard he steered her to the rear of the boat. It was a cold night and they were the only passengers to brave the deck.

He lit a cigarette and offered one to Rachel. She declined.

‘So, Rachel, I found your message intriguing. You say you have something for me that will destroy Kirk Bovind. You did the right thing to call me. The city is full of Bovind supporters.’

‘I have evidence of a murder and a cover-up.’ She was forced to almost shout this to be heard above the din of the thrashing water as the propellers turned faster and the ferry began its crossing.

‘Bovind murdered someone?’

‘When he was a teenager he killed a young Bosnian boy. Father Michael arranged a cover-up. That's why Bovind ended up going to America and now he's returned he's trying to cover it all up once again. I think he is behind the recent murders. He is a psychopath.’

Her source lent forward on the railings. ‘Do you have any hard evidence of this?’

Rachel pulled out her mobile phone. ‘This is Frank Burns. He confessed to killing Tomas Radzinski. On this tape he admits he was put up to the confession by Father Michael.’

She played him the recording. He held the phone to his ear and listened. His face betrayed no emotions.

‘Fascinating. We need to get this to Chief Constable Mulholland. You realise that this is going to have huge political ramifications? Bovind may or may not be guilty but he will be investigated, at least charged with assault. The publicity will destroy his project here.’

‘I know. That's why I came to see you, Anthony. I don't know who else we can trust.’

Anthony Torpenhow turned and faced Rachel. ‘Who else has a recording of this?’

‘Erasmus Jones, he's a private detective.’

‘OK, I need to call the Chief Constable right away. Can I borrow your phone?’

‘Sure,’ she handed him her device.

‘I am just going to pop inside, it's too noisy out here.’

She nodded. Anthony opened the door to the rear cabin and disappeared inside. Once he had gone she leant on the rail to watch the city recede. The ferry was in the middle of the river and the lights from the Three Graces sparkled in the dark giving the city an unworldly, ethereal air.

She heard the door open again.

She turned around but it wasn't Anthony who was standing behind her. It was the removal man she had seen entering the house, tall and birdlike.

She gasped.

‘Hello Rachel. I'm the Pastor.’

CHAPTER 49

Back in his flat Erasmus decided to relax with a large Yamazaki and a classic The Fall album,
This Nation's Saving Grace
.

He put on track seven and the bass rhythms of ‘Gut of the Quantifier’ began to fill the room. Music helped him think, blocked out the chatter that part of his brain ceaselessly generated unless subdued by alcohol or nicotine. He stood at the window overlooking the Mersey. From here he could see the ferry, brightly lit, crossing the Mersey at the edge of the horizon.

His phone vibrated. It was a message from Rachel: I need to see you urgently. Meet me in the car park of Liverpool One in fifteen minutes. Level 2 pay station.

He immediately rang her but her phone went straight to voicemail.

He sighed and felt a tightening in his chest. He had been told to take it easy for the next couple of week by the doctor who had visited him at Theo's house. Rest and relaxation had been prescribed. Erasmus grabbed his coat.

Ten minutes later, Erasmus drove down the ramp into the bowels of Liverpool's biggest underground car park that served the needs of the Liverpool One shopping centre. At this late hour the traffic was light and although there were a few cars parking up for the evening, the car park was generally quiet. Erasmus followed the signs to Level 2.

As he turned onto the level he could see the pay station at the end. There was a black Mercedes parked in the bay next to it and then maybe seven clear spaces all of which were nearer the stairs and elevators. There were exhaust fumes coming from the tailpipe of the Mercedes.

Erasmus knew something was wrong.

In his rear-view mirror another car appeared behind Erasmus’, effectively blocking his way back should he choose to turn. This car, like the Mercedes, had tinted windows. Erasmus slowed his speed to 5 mph, and the car behind followed suit.

He realised he was trapped and he made a snap judgement. He undid his seatbelt, opened the door and parachute rolled out of the car, landing between two parked cars to his right. He immediately got to his feet and began to run in a low crouch between the parked cars.

There was the sound of his car slowly bumping into the pay station. He risked a quick look and saw three men wearing balaclavas and carrying handguns fanning out and pursuing him. One of them was heading directly for the elevator, cutting off his escape route.