The Temple Scroll

by D C Macey

  Helen hugged Elaine and Elaine allowed her arms to circle Helen in response. Helen felt her friend’s hands lightly rubbing and patting on her back. Then Elaine pulled away. This was as much intimacy as she could tolerate and certainly nobody other than Grace, her own daughter, would be allowed so close. As Elaine stepped away, Helen gripped her arm, allowing it to slide through her hands, before gently holding her wrist. She made herself look at Elaine’s hand, inspecting it to see how it was healing now the tortured finger had been removed. The surgeon had done a good job, very neat. Elaine’s hand looked in far better shape than her face.

  Helen looked up at Elaine; saw a warmth of welcome in her eyes that was not obvious in the woman’s stern and now broken features. They headed for the office. To get there they had to walk through the vestry, the scene of Elaine’s suffering. Helen watched for a reaction. Nothing. If Elaine could cope, then so could she.

  Once in the office, Sam dropped the boxes and made his excuses. Leaving the two women, he went back to the nave and sat in one of the pews near the front where he spent a little quiet time reviewing the pictures Helen had taken of the Norwegian dagger.

  Finally settled in the office, Helen wondered why Elaine was engaging in any church work at present. She really needed to recover properly, see to herself first. With a wave of her arm, Elaine swept the observations away. The church had yet to reopen and pastoral visits were shared out amongst the other elders. She was taking it easy, but James Curry, the presbytery clerk, whom Helen had clashed with before, had summoned Elaine to the Edinburgh Presbytery’s office in Manor Place - specifically her. She hadn’t known why: now she did.

  ‘James Curry intends to close the church down completely,’ said Elaine.

  ‘What? He can’t do that, can he?’

  ‘Well, no and then again yes.’

  Helen squinted at the contradictory answer. ‘It can’t be both.’

  ‘With membership falling everywhere and presbyteries required to submit forward plans, it’s obvious one of the churches in the city will have to close, that’s just the pressures of life. It was talked about by James Curry’s predecessor, so it’s no surprise. Should it be St Bernard’s? We don’t have such a big membership anymore, but there are few churches that do. I could point to several that are in a worse state than us.’

  ‘So why us then? Can’t we fight it?’

  Elaine nodded. ‘Of course, and rest assured I put down a marker, he knows I don’t agree. Though he has made a strong hand for himself.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Changes like this are meant to be negotiated, consensual; he’s taken advantage of there being no minister at St Bernard’s, and my being off after the attack, to do his listening and consultation in a hurry - I’m not sure how he’s managed to get it all concluded so quickly. I think everybody outside the parish may be quite keen to see St Bernard’s swept out of the spotlight as soon as possible after what’s happened.’

  ‘Is that possible?’

  ‘It seems that way. Maybe anything’s possible if nobody challenges him. He’s arguing that recent events in the parish will always be a focus for media attention and that will detract from our Christian message both here and in the wider presbytery. Apparently, if St Bernard’s continues, then it might attract a ghoulish element that can only make things worse for everyone. He’s arguing that events have created a stigma around St Bernard’s that brings the whole Church into disrepute.’

  ‘Rubbish.’

  ‘I know, but the numbers don’t lie. Economics dictate that at least one Edinburgh parish will have to merge with its neighbours. And let’s face it; none of them will be turkeys voting for Christmas. We are suddenly the obvious and maybe the popular candidate for closure. In the meantime, he’s suggested that we don’t resume services. Rather just continue to support members in attending at their next nearest parish church until a final decision is reached.’

  ‘It sounds like a decision has already been made,’ said Helen, throwing her hands up in despair. ‘And what about his thing for rules and procedures, surely there is a process to follow.’

  ‘Yes there is. It’s all meant to be by mutual agreement. The individual parishes do have a lot of independence, but he’s guided the presbytery to take an emergency decision in the interests of members of both this parish and the whole presbytery. There are lots of steps to go through but, apart from us, who is going to stand up?’

  ‘Where does this leave us?’ Helen had other battles to fight, but the parish had become dear to her and the people here were her people now.

  ‘In a difficult position…’ Elaine’s voice trailed off.

  ‘Well?’ said Helen. ‘I can see there is more bad news, you may as well get it over with in one go.’

  ‘The Church will probably want to sell the parish property. There’s always a demand for development property in the city. James Curry thinks they will get a good price. It seems he’s asked the Church’s General Trustees to back his disposal proposal and…’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘He wants to sell the manse too. He wants vacant possession ASAP so the estate agents can start marketing it. The elders, which really means me, are to give you notice to quit the manse. Incidentally, I could tell he really enjoyed having me pass that message on.’

  ‘It’s only a few weeks ago that I was asked to move in. The police recommended the manse be kept occupied. Doesn’t he remember that?’

  Elaine nodded. ‘Of course he does. I think he wants to cause you as much discomfort as possible.’

  ‘Well he’s done a good job of that.’

  ‘No, there’s more. Since there will be no parish, there will be no parish assistant. You are to get a month’s notice. He thought you could help prepare the parish for closure before leaving. And you’ll need to give back the keys to your own church flat too.’

  A silence fell. In a world of threats and surprises, all this was the very last thing Helen had expected. ‘The tunnel. What about the tunnel? We can’t give that up. Oh, what is that man doing to us?’

  She and Sam had planned to explore the secret tunnel that ran beneath the manse. If James Curry’s plans to sell were implemented, they would lose access to the tunnel - disaster.

  • • •

  Relaxing in the comfort of an opulent chateau bedroom, Cassiter was feeling very pleased with himself. His research team had come up with something very special. He looked again at his laptop screen, watched the loop of video as it continued to display footage extracted from Edinburgh Airport’s security archive.

  The camera caught the glistening high spots of reflected light as a polished plate, cup and cross all sat proudly on the check-in counter. Framed behind them was Helen Johnson’s smiling face. Beyond her, just in the edge of the frame, were her friends. These recorded images had been found and extracted by his team. It had taken them a while, they had a myriad of different sources to search, running facial recognition and comparisons, but steady work pays rewards.

  It was clear the girl was going away, and he could just make out a United Airlines logo on the ticket in her hand. It had been easy enough from that clue for his team to find out exactly where she was going and why. And now he was very interested in what she was taking. The St Bernard’s communion set. He remembered it from events in the vestry when he had so nearly come a cropper. Watching the video loop play through again, he wondered what was so important about the communion set. Then, in a flash of inspiration he knew, recognising it for what it was. He paused the tape, zoomed in on the cross and after careful consideration gave a grim smile of satisfaction.

  He called a number on his mobile phone and waited for an answer, it came quickly.

  ‘Excellent piece of work with that security footage, well done. Now, there’s more to do. But first, who have we got on the Eastern Seaboard right now?’ he said. Acutely aware that this chateau wasn’t his place, he was careful with his voice projection and the words he used. Parsol would have the room bugge
d - it would be negligent not to. He waited for a moment while sour face got the information he needed.

  ‘Good. I am going to send you some instructions; they must be acted on at once. Ensure it is understood they must overcome any resistance; they will only get one chance at this. Is that clear?’ A few moments later, he hung up, still very happy. He typed up instructions and sent them back to his office. Once the instructions had been sent he deleted them and then wiped the video too.

  Cassiter looked out of the window, allowing himself a moment to appreciate the beauty and scale of the chateau gardens; he thought he might take a stroll around before meeting Parsol at dinner. Then he noted more guards patrolling in the distance. He reckoned there were always at least two teams on the move. This was a serious arrangement.

  • • •

  By the time Helen and Elaine emerged into the nave, Sam had put away his phone and was sitting, gazing almost absently at the glass in the windows behind the communion table. He recalled, before the summer he had thought them quite distinctive, still did now.

  With just a friendly wave towards Sam, Elaine left Helen and hurried away.

  Helen selected a place at the front of the church and paused for a minute’s quiet prayer. She thought of all the people who had served here, prayed here, thought of all the secrets that had been kept and thought again of the horrific violence and killings she had witnessed. This was not the quiet little parish church it seemed.

  Finally, she stood and headed towards Sam.

  He pointed up beyond the communion table. ‘That’s an unusual window you’ve got there. I’ve not really registered it before,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ she said, turning to look at it.

  ‘It’s quite a mix of styles; the old Scottish churches went for just plain glass, quite austere. But this one has a series of small images dotted across the plain glass to depict various scenes. It’s a real jumble,’ said Sam.

  ‘Right… John Dearly explained it all to me. Apparently, they’re very old. They are out of scale with the window setting because they all came from the original parish church long ago. That building was much smaller - they were installed here when this one was built. And even this is an old building now,’ she stopped for a moment. Thought again of John Dearly, remembered his warmth and kindness and his cruel ending. She shivered, and then continued. ‘I’m sure I made a note of it all at the time he told me. I haven’t the foggiest where it is now though. I’ll see if I can find it.’

  ‘No hurry, I just thought it looked interesting. I recognised the burning bush in the middle, but as for the rest, biblical imagery is not my strong suit.’

  ‘Well we know that, Sam Cameron. And don’t think I won’t be working on it one day. But yes, you’re right, that is the burning bush. It’s the Church of Scotland’s symbol. John did say it also represented the parish for some reason. I can’t recall exactly what. Some of the other images are a bit obscure though. I’ll try to look the note out.’

  They locked up the church and headed back to the manse.

  • • •

  Cassiter and Parsol ate in an intimate dining area. It lacked the palatial splendour of the grand dining room he had noted earlier while wandering round the chateau’s more public spaces. Nonetheless, the food was excellent and the swift, hushed table service made clear that Parsol’s home base ran on the strictest of hierarchies. The heavy silver cutlery and crystal glass spoke of high values whilst the elaborate coat of arms engraved on each piece spoke of something else. Embedded within the heraldic symbol was a tiny shape, a cross, one that Cassiter had seen frequently during recent weeks.

  ‘I am so glad you could spare the time to visit me here,’ said Parsol.

  ‘Least I could do,’ replied Cassiter. ‘We do need to wrap up this project. I told you the other day that I intended to close off my group’s involvement completely. You asked me to continue and I have, pending this discussion. Now, I think you need to tell me why I should remain engaged. After all, my own base in Edinburgh has been compromised and we’re in the process of relocating. That doesn’t matter of itself; one base is as good as another. But in the short term, it has disrupted workflows, to say nothing of my personal living arrangements. I like Edinburgh; it’s a comfortable place to live. Now, I have to move, at least for a while.’

  Parsol tutted in sympathy. ‘Yes, it’s unfortunate. I regret that it all spiralled out of control. Yet, you seem to have reasserted yourself. And you are here with me now.’

  Cassiter was mindful of why things had spiralled out of control. Ultimately, it was because Parsol had arrived in his theatre of operations and insisted, against Cassiter’s advice, on accelerating recovery of the daggers. He now took the opportunity to make his views clear to Parsol.

  Parsol listened carefully then glanced around, gave the slightest of hand signals and immediately a steward arrived from some unseen quarter, topped up their glasses and retired.

  ‘I accept, with hindsight, that your more measured approach might have proven more productive in that instance. If you agree to continue, I agree not to interfere operationally in the future. Cassiter, I need to acquire the missing daggers. I have all the assets to support that goal, plenty of manpower to call on. Every resource you could ever want, but I must have the daggers.’

  ‘I recognise your urgency but I have my own team, my own network of resources; my own contacts in high places,’ said Cassiter.

  ‘Yes, yes, I know. And very accomplished they are. I know it is your team’s expertise and skills that can resolve my problem. Though, while they may be experts, they are small in number. I simply meant I have the manpower to support you, whenever you need it, wherever you need it.’

  His elbow on the table, Parsol raised his hand, one finger gently pointed up, describing a little circle in the space above them. ‘And yes, you have contacts in high places; but I own high places. Right now, I need your specialist skills. Work with me on this and I can guarantee that you’ll never need to worry about local police in future. Given a little time, I can cut away any pressure, from the top down. No authority will ever want to challenge you again.’

  It was an interesting concept; Cassiter tilted his head back slightly, nodding, listening, not quite persuaded. He had always been a lone wolf. But these were turbulent times; he was at least prepared to consider the advantages of the pack - at the very least, be seen to consider the offer.

  Parsol let his hand drop. ‘Europe, the Americas, the Antipodes: wherever you have one business relationship I have a score of friends, more even. Let’s work together. I will reward you handsomely, whatever you want. You want a nice island home to retire to one day? I will get you the whole island. Tell me your price and it will be met, anything. I need you and your team’s intelligence network. I have the numbers, the brute strength to complement your stealth. Nothing must block achievement of the goal. Nothing.’ Parsol’s normally calm, expressionless delivery had risen very slightly as he finished talking.

  ‘But what do you want, exactly?’ said Cassiter.

  ‘I want the dagger from St Bernard’s. I want the other daggers, all of them.’

  ‘All of them? How many are there?’

  Parsol fixed Cassiter with his cold unswerving stare and was suddenly slightly unsettled. Perhaps for the first time in his life he found it mirrored back at him. ‘I am happy to tell you, but there are some things you can only know if you commit to us completely and you should understand, once in, if you step away from us, there is only death.’

  Cassiter gave the slightest of nods accepting Parsol’s warning.

  ‘There are nine daggers. I have one, my family’s. We also have those two you retrieved for us, the dunes dagger and the one from the museum.’ Parsol paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts; he sipped from his glass and then continued. ‘Of course, by rights, I claim them all as mine and I need them all to solve an old mystery - a family mystery.’

  Cassiter could tell the daggers were importa
nt to this wealthy man, more important than anything else. Yet he felt he was not quite getting the whole story. Again, he nodded encouragement for Parsol to continue.

  ‘I must have them all. But most important is the dagger from St Bernard’s. Where they hid it I don’t know, but it is the key to everything. I cannot stress enough just how important it is. Merde!’ a little bit of French fire finally slipped out as Parsol banged his hand on the table. ‘Those women, they blocked us before, it must not happen again. Get me that dagger. And one day I want you to destroy those churchwomen, sweep away everything. Leave nothing behind. But for now, I think we should give them a little rope. It seems they were looking for the same thing as us before. So let them search. Keep close behind and if they do find something, we can just take it like sweets from a child.’

  Cassiter acknowledged Parsol’s goals before indicating he would need a little time to consider circumstances and plans, and then he steered the conversation on to more general topics. The edge slipped out of the meeting as dinner progressed to a natural conclusion. Cassiter asked about the little cross on Parsol’s family crest, without ever receiving a direct answer. He did learn that Parsol’s family were survivors: wars, revolutions, republics - nothing moved the Parsol family; they had held their land and estates for a very long time.

  Both men retired early. Cassiter had a long journey ahead of him next day and a good deal to think about. He knew of a dagger in Norway, corralled in a bank vault, he had people working on that. Now, thanks to a video loop and a flash of insight, he had finally worked out where the St Bernard’s dagger was and he had that in hand too. Perhaps he should have mentioned these things to Parsol. Not yet, he decided. With so many secrets ghosting around, it might be sensible for him to hold one or two of his own, at least for a little while. And once the plans he had set in motion earlier in the day were executed he would be in a more secure position.