by D C Macey
Grabbing the emergency kit, he pulled out the flare gun, banged in a cartridge and looked up at the bank, which was now below his eye line - nothing. Taking advantage of the lull, he worked to untie the mooring line; then heard the laboured breathing of the gunman hurrying for the bank. Abandoning attempts to free the line he straightened and aimed up at the riverbank.
The man appeared, his pistol in hand, he raised it to aim at Sam just as Sam fired the distress flare. It punched out and fizzed straight into the gunman’s chest. The gunman screamed and fell, disappeared from Sam’s view and the pistol dropped onto the bank. Sam turned his attention back to freeing the mooring line and quickly worked it loose.
For a moment, nothing happened. Sam looked over the side; the RIB’s bow was now settled into the muddy bank, trapped. Curses from above told him the unhappy gunman had survived his flare attack and a burning jacket flew over the bank, splashed into the water beside him to be carried swiftly downstream. But no sign of the gunman - he must have been hurt by the flare.
Sam could hear more distant shouts, knew the third man would soon be arriving. He stood and carefully edged to the back of the RIB, which was still in deep water. He started to jump up and down, trying to dislodge the bow from the bank. The RIB didn’t shift. He looked back at the bigger RIB, still tugging on the mooring line that tethered it to his. He coordinated his jumps with the big RIB’s tugs. His boat shifted a little but still stubbornly stuck to the bank. He jumped again; it rocked, edged out a little and settled once more.
Changing tack, Sam took hold of the larger RIB’s mooring line and heaved it in towards him, pulling against river current and tide. His only hope now was to jump ship. Hand over hand he pulled in the line and the big RIB edged in closer, all the while straining against the river.
A voice shouted at him from above, the third man had arrived. Sam looked up; he was out of time. The third man stooped and picked up the pistol from the riverbank, brought it to bear on Sam. There was nothing more Sam could do; he let go of the big RIB’s mooring line and raised his hands in the forlorn hope the man might show mercy. A glint of white teeth behind a cruel smile told Sam there would be none. The pistol fired.
Suddenly Sam found his world in a spin, he grabbed for the side to stop himself going into the water. Loosed from his hand, the big RIB had been rushed by the current out to the end of its mooring line and come to a halt with a jerk. In turn, it had yanked his RIB hard from the bank and, as a result, the shot had whizzed past Sam’s shoulder instead of planting in his chest. Now, the steady pull of the big RIB was edging his own RIB away from the muddy bank winning the fight against the sticky mud.
Sam regained his balance and looked up again; the third man was squeezing the pistol’s trigger in frustration, it was out of ammunition. Further out into the flow now, his boat’s stern was being tugged by the river. If he could get the engine going it might finally break free of the mud. Sam moved towards the controls.
The third man realised that Sam was slipping away and he jumped for the RIB. Just as Sam slammed the engine into reverse, a stronger tug from the big RIB behind finally jerked his RIB free. The third man landed where the RIB’s prow had been, now there was just muddy riverbank. His determined features registered horror as his boots entered the mud and kept going down. Ankles, calves, knees, all vanished. He finally stopped sinking with the mud about his thighs.
Sam heard his cry, saw the man’s hand reach out for help; he ignored it. Pulling his RIB out into midstream, he took a moment to untie the larger RIB; caught by the current it moved away, quickly gathering speed on its journey downstream. Then he turned his attention back to the riverbank. He gave the trapped man a cheery wave and pointed to the bank above him where the burned gunman was slowly struggling to his feet. They could see to themselves.
Turning the RIB upstream he moved off. He had business to attend to and wanted to be beyond Monmouth before too many people were up and about. If he could manage that, he just might create enough clear water to keep himself free.
• • •
Helen walked into the manse, exhausted by what seemed like days of almost non-stop flying, she dropped her travel bag in the hall and made straight to the study. Elaine was there already and wasted no time on ceremony, just pushed the play button for Helen to hear Sam’s message. Once it had played through, Helen felt Elaine’s steady gaze and gave a drawn smile.
‘Well, it’s heating up again,’ said Helen.
Elaine nodded. ‘What will we do?’
Helen sank into the chair behind the study desk. Then she leant forward, placed her elbows on the desk edge and cupped her chin in her hands. She closed her eyes and shook her head gently. ‘What can we do? We can’t run. You see their reach, Norway, even the States. Nowhere is safe. Like we said before, the only way to stop them is to take it public -’
‘And until we’ve cracked the puzzle of the daggers there is nothing to take public,’ said Elaine, finishing Helen’s train of thought.
‘Exactly. We’re right back to where we were before. So what are we going to do? Well, I’m going to join Sam in England. You have to stay here, Elaine. Grace is too young and Francis too old to be dragged into this. You’ll need to look out for them while I’m away. And if it does all go pear shaped before we get back, you must call DCI Wallace. I know we agreed not to involve him in some of this, and telling him will certainly get us into serious trouble for holding back the things we couldn’t tell him last time; but if you’re caught in a corner, needs must.’
‘Okay, but are you sure it’s wise for you to go down south?’
‘No, I’m not sure of anything just now, but Sam’s on his own. His message says he’s heading for Hereford. That’s where I’ll go. I’m going back to my flat now, to grab a shower and then get some sleep - I’m wiped out. Later on today, we can meet to discuss this business about James Curry closing the parish and maybe for you and me to catch up properly. In the meantime, hopefully Sam will get in touch. Tomorrow morning I’ll fly down. What do you think the nearest airport will be?’
‘Birmingham, I would think. I’m sure Hereford will only be an hour’s drive or so from there.’
‘That’s where I’ll go then.’ Helen left the room, grabbed her travel bag and returned to the study. She dumped it on the desk and unlocked it. After rummaging inside for a moment, she pulled out the communion set box. Inside were the plate and cup and a very battered lump of silver, the base and stock of the cross. Without the dagger completing the top of the cross, it looked forlorn. She held it up for Elaine to see. ‘That’s all we have left. They got the blade.’
Elaine tutted quietly to herself. ‘How is your father doing now? Your mother must have been distraught.’
‘He’s a tough old bird. Conscious now, talking but sore. At least all the moving parts still move. He’ll be fine, thanks. My mom’s upset but she’s not going to let that interfere with life. I wish to Heaven that I hadn’t taken this over there now, just don’t understand how they found it. Could they have been spying on us again? Maybe you could get your surveillance expert friend to check it out, what was his name?’
‘I’m ahead of you there. If it’s any consolation, I’ve just had Scottie Brown sweep for bugging devices everywhere, including your flat. He found nothing. So our privacy is assured here. I’ll have him check regularly in future. They must have other sources of information but I can’t think what. At least we have a photograph of your blade, so its information’s not lost. But Scottie did say they might be able to monitor email and web stuff too. Perhaps that’s a weak spot. We’ll have to be more careful.’
Helen put the base back into the box and closed the lid, then she slid the box across towards Elaine. ‘I’ll get going now. We need to hide this in the tunnel. Could you do it please? That’s the only place we know that is really safe and secret. I just wish I’d thought to hide it there from the outset.’
‘Okay, I’ll do that for you. Well, I’ll have Grace do it. She�
��s coming over in a little while. She’ll be sorry to have missed you. She’s shown me how to open the secret tunnel doors but I’m still not up to all that stretching and twisting.’
‘Oh, Elaine, I’m sorry. With all that’s going on, I didn’t ask how you are doing. Tell me now, how do you feel?’
Elaine waved a dismissive hand. ‘Don’t worry about me. I get stronger every day. I’ll soon be up to speed. It’s you I’m concerned about, deliberately flying towards trouble. Remember, DCI Wallace has said they are maintaining a watch up here. We should be fine. The danger is where you’re headed.’
Helen gave Elaine’s arm a gentle squeeze. ‘Don’t worry. I don’t intend to let a bunch of crooks get the better of me,’ she said.
‘That’s as may be. But Francis reckons this is not just a bunch of crooks. He and Xavier are convinced it’s much bigger than that. And I don’t think Sam would want you going down there. Why not at least wait until he gets in touch again?’
‘Listen, it’s not up to Sam to decide what I do. If he’s in trouble, he will need help, and who else can go if not me? Sam and I will be back before you know it. We’ll see whatever he’s found out down there and then we’ll all take stock together. Try to resolve the puzzle, okay?’
‘Okay, but this is the last delay. If we can’t solve it when you get back, I’m going to the police anyway. I don’t want to see Grace or anyone else harmed. That’s not negotiable.’
Helen nodded acknowledgement, then sat down at the desk again. She reached beneath it to the computer tower and pressed the power button. ‘I’ll just sort out my flight and hire car now so I have travel times to leave with you in case Sam gets in touch again.’
‘All right. But Helen, at some point we will need to talk about how we respond to James Curry. I’ve been sounding people out. It’s as I thought, Curry did do some fig-leaf consultation whilst I was off sick, folk didn’t have the stomach for a fight after what happened in the church and he just rolled everything up. Nobody here is happy about it but I’m not finding any support in the surrounding parishes. It does seem correct that one parish has to close because of the falling membership rolls across the city. Transferring our membership amongst the neighbouring parishes will help to make all the others stronger. If we’re the one to close, the others feel safe.’
‘Well, I guess no one wants their own church to close, right?’
‘Right,’ said Elaine.
‘You can’t blame them. Let’s talk about it later on. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it on all my flights in the past few days. We can try again to rally some support, but if we can’t beat James Curry on this, then at least I think I might have a solution of sorts. I don’t want to say much in case it spooks things.’
Elaine’s face betrayed no emotion. ‘I hope it’s a good solution, because we are losing ground here. It’s not looking good and we’re almost out of time.’
• • •
‘Right now, I don’t care how it happened. Tell them to forget about Novack’s body, just leave it. He’ll be found when the tourists start to walk around. They must get themselves away from the area and keep out of sight,’ said Cassiter. His calm voice betrayed none of the irritation he felt. The trace and track mission he had set his team had somehow morphed into a hunt and kill - and it was his man who was dead. ‘Once they have shifted location they can let you know where they are and you can pick them up.’
Robertson nodded. ‘I’ll head down that way now. They said they are outside the village and with plenty of cover to hide in, close to the riverbank. I should have them picked up within the hour.’
‘Quick as you like then and be careful, don’t let yourself get drawn into any trouble. If it’s too hot when you get there, just drive on and let the police have them, we’ll sort it later.’
‘Okay, I’m off. It’s all quiet there now; we might just get away with it.’
Cassiter watched Robertson cross the room, open the door to his suite and walk out. The big man was halfway through the doorway when Cassiter called out and the big man paused, turning back to listen. ‘And remember, Robertson, make sure everyone understands exactly, I just want to know what Cameron’s doing, hang back and observe. He’s worth more to us alive than dead right now.’
Robertson gave a curt nod then glanced along the corridor. ‘Here’s your breakfast coming, boss.’
Cassiter heard the sound of a trolley rolling along the corridor. He nodded towards Robertson and waved the big man away just as room service arrived.
Sitting at the dining table in his suite, Cassiter savoured the aroma that suddenly surrounded him as he lifted the silvered cover from his food. His breakfast looked as good as it smelled. He took a moment of pleasurable anticipation before eating.
It had been a long night. He had lost a man, which was a high cost, but he was content. Thanks to Collette’s overhearing the quayside phone call, they knew exactly where Sam Cameron was going and when. He did not really understand the why yet - all Collette had been able to tell him was he had set up a meeting with the cathedral’s dean. He would just let things run there for now. Pick up Cameron when he kept the appointment. See what happened then, see what was for him.
He put thoughts of Cameron and the debacle at Tintern from his mind. It would only spoil his breakfast.
• • •
Sam slowed the RIB down to a crawl and pulled it across towards the east bank. He waved a greeting to the pair of anglers on the west bank. They nodded a greeting back, acknowledging his consideration in not scaring the fish on their side of the river.
Once past, he manoeuvred back into midstream and opened up the throttle a little more. Monmouth was well behind him, passed without incident or notice. Now he was making his way through the calm of rural Herefordshire. As he powered the RIB on against the river’s flow, his mind continued to churn over the early morning events. He hoped Helen had picked up his message. Hoped Howard Vance had got back to his hotel safely. Wondered what he would learn in Hereford.
Red and white beef cattle grazed happily on riverside pastures. One or two lifted unworried heads to watch him pass before returning to their grass. Tired now, he forced himself to focus on the surroundings; above and beyond the pastures rose heavily wooded hillsides, sometimes gliding smoothly down to the riverbanks, elsewhere dropping away in cliffs.
Everywhere now combined to form a green and winding gorge that the river flowed through, sometimes looping back on itself, always finding the course of least resistance. Symons Yat; the banks rising to form towering cliffs that hemmed the river, and everywhere that gravity permitted, trees gripped and grew to create a sound deadening blanket. Sam was alone with just the gentle purr of his RIB’s engine and the sounds of the river. The sense of seclusion was not threatening here, just calming. He knew this place well enough from his canoeing days but today there was no time to linger and he kept the RIB moving upstream.
He passed a couple of pleasure cruisers, moored, unmanned and silent: waiting for the arrival of the day’s tourists.
At Ross-on-Wye, he was more cautious. If there was to be an ambush, it could well be here. Approaching the road bridge that crossed the river, he paused to scan the parapet and banks, nothing. He gunned the engine and the RIB shot under the bridge, he followed the sharp bend in the river and immediately had to weave around some river shallows. All the while, high above, perched like a citadel was Ross, forever watching the river’s tranquil flow beneath. He pushed on for Hereford.
Sometime later, Sam guided the RIB into the shallows and then drove ahead hard, beaching firmly on to what was today a sandy riverbank. Come the winter rains it would revert to riverbed but today it was dry. He stepped out, pulled the mooring line tight and secured it to a tree trunk. Without a backward glance, he climbed the bank and found himself in what seemed like a public park. A little footbridge led across the river, he took it and then, having fixed his bearings, he cut across the green, heading straight for the city centre.
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br /> A charity clothes shop answered an immediate need and he paused there to select trousers and a sweatshirt that he guessed would roughly fit. He paid for them. Then stepped to the back of the shop and, before the assistant could object, he stripped off his dirty clothes, bagged them and pulled on his purchases. Then he aimed for the nearest prominent hotel.
Inside, a slightly circumspect receptionist eyed his dishevelled appearance. For a moment, Sam thought he was going to be turned away. He explained that he had been travelling all night, his suitcase had been lost and he really needed a room to get cleaned up and some rest. He promised her he was more respectable than his worn appearance suggested. Finally, aided by sight of a platinum card, the receptionist softened, took pity on his plight and booked him in. She lent him a phone charger from the stack kept beneath the reception desk.
Before heading off to his room to get cleaned up and a quick sleep, Sam handed over his carrier bag of dirty laundry and asked for coffee and a sandwich to be sent up to his room. A little later, with his phone on charge, the sandwich remained uneaten as sleep overtook him.
• • •
Sam woke in the early afternoon, called Helen immediately and was pleased to learn she was safe and planning to travel to Hereford tomorrow. He looked forward to seeing her again. In the meantime, he wanted to see how the land lay.
It was only a short walk to the cathedral and Sam took his time about it, taking in the environment and layout. It was set amidst its own greened policies and here and there little groups of friends sat out, enjoying the afternoon sun. Around them, a steady flow of the city’s residents crisscrossed the green, going about their business.
Sam wandered around inside the cathedral, admiring the craftsmanship evident in every corner. Finally, he followed the signs for the gift shop where he bought histories of the cathedral and the Mappa Mundi. Stopping at the café he bought a drink and took it out to sit in the quiet of the adjoining chapter house gardens; enjoying a few minutes of tranquillity as he browsed the books and brochures. By the time he visited the dean next morning, he would be properly informed.
