by Adam Grinter
I smiled along with his chuckle not knowing what else to do with a joke I didn’t understand.
“Well, let’s get on with this then.” Peter announced decisively. Maybe I’d misjudged him.
“Of course.”
“Do you believe in God?” Peter asked.
I’d run through my work and personal history on the journey up to Norwich. I had tried to anticipate what I might be asked this time around. In all the scenarios I’d run through, my belief in a supreme being never came up. As I thought about it I realised in this modern age it was probably illegal to even ask. However, in for a penny, in for a pound.
“No, I don’t.” I replied emphatically.
“Why not?” Peter came back at me immediately.
I tried to pick my words carefully not knowing if I’d given the correct answer to the first question. “I have never been convinced by any of the arguments for a supreme being. The bible seems to be the work of man rather than the word of God. And science seems to be filling the gaps, religion seems unable to.”
Peter steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and contemplated my words. I still could not tell if I’d given the answer he wanted.
“What about the hope and solace it gives to millions of people? What about the thousands of years of history that back up its claims? The good works carried out in the Lord’s name?”
It became obvious I had given the wrong answer but I couldn’t change my mind now, and after my honest answer in the first meeting I felt honesty was the best option.
“Hope and solace are found in many things: drugs, alcohol, food but it doesn’t make them the right choices. All of them are harmful over time, my examples destroy the body whilst your example destroys the mind by eliminating critical thinking. I’m not sure any deity that I would want to worship, would want mindless drones for followers.” I paused wondering if I’d already gone too far. Peter was staring at me intently and giving nothing away. I continued, “History doesn’t prove a God it just proves the power of the church and the need for people to find meaning in their mundane lives. As the scientific community increases human knowledge the church and religion are becoming less important and they are dying, attendances are dropping, fewer and fewer people feel the need for the crutch it provides.”
I must have gone too far by now but Peter was giving nothing away. I would hate to play poker against him. I took a breath and addressed his last question.
“The good works carried out in his name are carried out by people and only proves to me the inherent good within the human spirit. Good works are carried out by non-religious people as well, which only proves my point.”
I picked up my mug and tried to hide my face as I took a swig. I knew I’d gone too far, I’d blown it. I’d been honest but that wasn’t going to be enough.
Peter was still deep in thought He gave a nod to himself as if a decision had been made. After a final swig of his frothy coffee he stood decisively.
“Thank you Thomas.” Peter said dismissively.
He offered his hand again. I took it, stunned it was over already. It had only been two days but it had been the most interesting days in my recent memory. The ‘opportunity’ had filled my thoughts and I’d imagined scenarios that I hoped fitted the lack of information I had. They were all infinitely better than the emptiness before and now stretched in front of me again.
Peter had almost reached the door when I made my decision to force the issue.
“Peter.” I called across the coffee shop. He paused and turned towards me. “What was all this for? What is this ‘opportunity’? Who are you?” The words tumbled from me.
“All good things to those who wait.”
And with that he opened the door and was gone.
Chapter Three
I’d lived in West London all my life, I enjoyed the pace of life, the amenities, the community, the diversity but most of all I just enjoyed the feel of it. I’d walked the streets as a child and a teenager and had patrolled them as a bobby, keeping them safe. It was my home, my roots.
As I drove there now, back from Norwich I dreaded them. I felt like a failure, I’d tried to reach something I didn’t fully understand. And failed.
I was honest about my views on religion but it wasn’t the answer they were looking for. During my time on the force, I had seen the after-effects of religious extremism and seen how easily belief could be twisted for whatever motives. I couldn’t claim to believe something I didn’t. Honesty, I have found, in most cases is the best policy.
My despondency lasted the drive home. I arrived in my street almost on auto-pilot, I found my usual parking space, left the car and plodded up to my front door. It was only as I opened the door and stepped over the threshold that my mood changed.
Peter had said ‘All good things come to those who wait’. Only now did the comment register. It meant I was going to find out. If I hadn’t been successful he would have said something far less enigmatic.
A smile brushed my lips and I fumbled in my pocket for my phone. Had I already missed their call? The screen showed nothing had happened while I had been driving but in my mind it was inevitable.
The evening passed slowly as I waited for the phone to ring, to deliver the news I was sure was coming. I put on the TV to pass the time and welcomed the background noise and fake company it provided while I willed the call to come.
I still had no idea what I was aiming for but I’d set my sights on it none the less. Three people in two locations on opposite sides of the country suggested an organisation with a large reach. This was a step up from the usual retired police officer security guard job.
After an hour of waiting and letting the digital cacophony wash over me, I returned to the question that had been posed.
Why was my belief important?
What employer in this day and age would care?
It was a clue. It was a thread I could pull at. However, with no other information, it was futile. No answers were forthcoming.
I tortured myself like this for a couple of hours. Checking my phone every couple of minutes for missed calls. It sat next to me on the sofa, my companion for the evening. It was on the loudest volume setting, I wouldn’t be able to ignore it when they rang.
The mental stress I was putting myself through, coupled with two days of driving took its toll and sleep engulfed me where I sat. My last conscious thought as my eyelids closed was ‘I’ll find out tomorrow.’
Chapter Four
I woke early, the dawn light streaming through my open curtains. It was too early for the phone. I busied myself around the house. Killing time waiting for my purpose to call me.
Eventually after hours of nothingness my phone rang. Although I had been waiting for it, willing it to ring, it still made me jump as the sound reverberated through the house. I grabbed the handset quickly and looked at the caller ID. Hoping, needing, praying to see the by now all too familiar ‘unknown number’ message. Not this time, I knew this number, I even had his number saved.
Robert Northam was my old boss when I’d been on the force. We’d always had a good relationship. He’d been supportive when I was injured, he tried to understand the difficulties when I came back and he’d been sad when I left. We’d kept in sporadic contact for about three months after I was gone. Life moved on and contact stopped. He was busy, I was not. We’d never been friends in the real sense of the word, but it was close.
His name glared at me now and I debated what to do. I might miss my other call, my important call. However, human contact was needed in my life. I’d had too little of it in the previous months.
I forced a fake smile on my face and answered.
“Hi Robert.” Now he was no longer my superior he’d encouraged me to call him by his first name.
“Thomas, how are you?” His bombastic tones rattled through the handset’s speaker directly into my ear and I had to pull it away quickly for fear of being deafened by him.
I gingerly brought it
back to my ear and turned it slightly to redirect his voice. I didn’t want to do lasting damage to my hearing.
“I’m good, you?” I was out of practice in the art of small talk.
“Fine, fine.” He replied briefly. “How’s Joanne?” Robert had always liked my ex-wife. He’d been sadder than both of us when the marriage ended.
“Last time we spoke she was good.” I didn’t tell him, the last time we’d spoken was five years previously.
I waited, knowing the reason for his call would come out quickly. There’d be a reason, there was always a reason. He didn’t call just to find out how I was.
“Thomas, my boy,” although he was only two years older than me I’d always been ‘my boy’ to him. I didn’t mind, in fact, I quite liked it. “What have you done?”
“Sorry Robert, I’m not with you.” I answered, genuinely puzzled at the question.
“Yesterday afternoon, I received a call from the top brass telling me I was going to take a call from a gentleman who wanted to ask some questions about you.” Robert started to explain. “I was ordered to answer honestly and not ask questions in return.”
“OK.” I said blankly, genuinely perplexed.
“The guy grilled me about you. Sorry, but I told him everything he wanted to know.”
“That’s alright,” I replied, “what did he want to know?”
“He focused a lot on your work record. How you approached cases, your clearance record, how you worked with others, how you worked on your own.”
“That’s OK.” My record with the force had been good, my clearance record had been excellent so I wasn’t worried.
“He knew about your injury.” Robert continued.
The realisation dawned on me. They were asking for a reference. I’d been out of the detection game for too long, the connections were slower to coalesce than they should have been.
They knew about my injury because I’d told Martin about it. The ache intensified but not to a distracting level, more just a nudge as if it knew we were talking about it.
“Yeah.” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but inside I was elated. Things were moving, unseen wheels were turning.
“I told them it wasn’t your fault.” Robert had told me the same, on more than one occasion. I hadn’t believed him then, and I struggled to believe him now. “I told them about your come-back and how you were eventually retired.”
“That’s OK.” My platitudes sounded empty but I genuinely was OK with Robert vouching for me because he would honestly tell them I was ideal for this mystery opportunity.
“What’s it all about, Thomas?” Robert asked.
“I wish I could tell you.” I replied and paused trying to find the words to explain what had happened to me over the previous three days.
Robert took my silence to be something I hadn’t intended.
“I know they were looking for a reference for you. But who has the pull to get the top brass to order me to talk to them? MI5?”
I hadn’t thought about the intelligence agencies but the seed of the idea had been planted. I felt it might grow.
I went through the last couple of days starting at the website. Telling him about Liverpool, Norwich, the interviews and now the waiting.
It was Robert’s turn to pause when I’d finished. I let him think.
“Well,” another slight pause, “I don’t think it’s the government.”
I didn’t dismiss it quite so quickly.
“It certainly sounds mysterious.” Robert conceded. “I wish I could shed some more light on it for you.”
Robert sounded genuinely sorry he couldn’t help further.
He’d given me more information. Another piece of the puzzle. I’d thought the organisation had a large reach before, I now knew the reach extended into the higher echelons of power. It was large politically as well as geographically.
“You’ve helped Robert. Thank you for letting me know.” My platitudes sounded slightly hollow but I’d genuinely meant them.
“Keep me in the loop.” Robert concluded. He’d said this at the end of many meetings over the years and I always had. However, on this occasion, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to.
“I will.” I said not knowing if I was lying.
I put my phone down next to me and pondered the new information. Still, the solution eluded me, there just wasn’t enough to create a firm answer. The government angle was a possibility, but it didn’t feel right. I didn’t totally reject it but I hoped another idea would fit better. My James Bond days of running after bad guys and sniper shooting from a mile away were behind me. I wasn’t sure if my knees were up to the task, at my age.
I smiled at the thought of me Jason Bourne-ing around the globe, car chasing, hand to hand combating and getting the girl or saving the world at the end. My phone rang for a second time that morning, ending the movie playing in my head.
Absent-mindedly I answered without looking at it.
“Thomas Benson.”
“Ah, just the man.” An unknown voice announced. “We need to see you again.”
This was the call I had been waiting for. I refocused very quickly.
“Where and when?” I asked a little more curtly than I’d intended. Maybe the spy theory had sunk more into my subconscious than I’d thought.
“Starbucks, Howick Place, London, 11 tomorrow morning.” The voice instructed.
“I’ll be there.” I said firmly.
And I would.
Chapter Five
Ten-fifty the following morning I sat with a cooling cup of coffee, waiting. I was nervous but I felt sure now I would get the answers that would help me complete the puzzle.
I watched the grey pavement through the window and saw people going about their usual business. They were all trying to get to their destinations on the bustling street. I tried to work out whose destination was me.
The coffee shop seemed quiet with only four of us taking up seating in the large space. Although I enjoyed the bustle of the capital, I was thankful for the relative peace inside. My vigil was undisturbed by the crowds that usually thronged these establishments.
I saw him before he saw me. A tall, dark-haired, smiling individual in a smart suit with a pristine white shirt and bright red tie. This had to be my meeting, the uniform, such as it was, was a dead giveaway. He walked straight-backed, head held high. With purpose he pushed through the front door. He walked to the counter and placed his order. The only words I overheard were, “to go”.
Not my man, I was wrong. I continued to scour the street.
No other likely candidates passed. I looked at my watch, two minutes past. They were late.
There was a light tap on my shoulder and I looked up at the culprit. The tall, smiling man stood above me, holding a take-away cup. His eyes reflected my confused face within their gleeful pupils.
“Thomas.” He said. It wasn’t a question. Although we’d never met, he knew me. “Walk with me.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned towards the door and started to leave.
I picked up my phone from the table, looked wistfully at my half full mug before deciding to leave it and scurried after him.
I caught up with him as he reached the door and I exited immediately behind him. He turned right and walked slowly but deliberately down the street, I fell into step beside him.
“Glad you could make it, I’m very happy to meet you at last. I’m William.” We both stopped and he offered his hand. I shook it politely.
“Pleased to meet you.” I said.
William continued walking again, I walked with him.
“I bet you’ve been wondering what all this has been about.” William mused.
“Yes.” I replied blandly, keeping my anticipation at the answers to come in check.
“Well,” William stopped walking and looked up at the building in front of us, “here it is.”
My attention had been taken up with William and had not been focused on where we
were going. I turned slowly and looked at the edifice.
A large building stood in front of us, it had a large tower on its left-hand side and the front was dominated by an archway that accentuated its solid black doors. The multi-coloured windows glinted in the morning sun.
Westminster Cathedral had always been an impressive building but now as I stood in front of it, I realised how large it really was. Even so, I didn’t quite understand what relevance it had to the events of the previous couple of days.
“Come on in.” William said gently reading the confusion on my face.
I followed him through the imposing doors, he sat on one of the empty pews towards the back of the sanctuary. I followed his lead and sat next to him.
I waited for William to begin.
“My name is William Webster and I am the Archbishop of London.” William stated. “For many years, the Catholic Church has suffered from a credibility problem and everything we have done just makes us seem more out of touch. Our demographic is too old we are struggling to attract new followers. Our ‘business model’ is unsustainable.” William gestured the air quotes.
I nodded at William encouraging him to continue. I didn’t want to break his flow now answers were coming.
“Religion in the twenty-first century is seen as a relic of the past.” William continued.” We have been tasked with trying to halt the rot. Having discussed this at our last conference the Bishops decided we needed someone from outside the church to help us.”
I nodded again, feeling I needed to add something even if it was just meaningless assent.
“Everything we do within the Church, we do from the prism of our beliefs. We assign divine meaning to things that could have a less than supernatural explanation. Pope John Paul II was granted sainthood for a healing many have stated wasn’t anything to do with God. Things like that do us no favours, it makes us seem superstitious and out of date.”
I could now see where this was going.
