The Temple Scroll

by D C Macey

  She would try to get to the recording through the university’s computer network - but this building seemed such a security backwater, she just hoped that it wasn’t an isolated recording device. If it was, she might have an access problem.

  CHAPTER 13 - TUESDAY 20th AUGUST

  The early morning air was crisp and salty clean, the tide was out - it was Oskar’s favourite time for running. The stretch of recently exposed sand in front of his home was just about perfect for his fitness regime; much better than the rocky run he had to make inland on those mornings when high tides came early in the day.

  He’d studied hard, worked hard; reckoned he deserved the rewards his efforts had brought him. He was a happy man running in what seemed a deserted world - though not completely empty. He knew that at this moment Ida, his wife, would be in the kitchen of the house that stood in splendid isolation at the head of the inlet. She would have just put the coffee on, may even now be watching him from the window before going to get their little Magnus up and ready for the day.

  In just a few minutes, Oskar would be showered and eating breakfast; ready to share the start of the day with his perfect family in their perfect home. Ida had inherited the house and land around the inlet. That was their good fortune. But they could afford to live there because of his hard work and her willingness to pitch in with whatever was needed.

  Heading for home, Oskar ran past their private jetty that stretched out over the now exposed sand. At the jetty’s head was his little leisure boat, still just afloat, tugging gently on its moorings, catching the last pull of the ebbing tide.

  He kicked off his training shoes in the back porch and stepped into the kitchen, there pausing to drink from the glass of fresh orange juice Ida had left on the table for him. He put the empty glass down, placed his mobile phone beside it. Then he headed on towards the shower. As he stepped into the shower, he thought Magnus was being particularly quiet this morning; then the silence disappeared under a rush of water.

  A few minutes later Oskar entered the kitchen, tying his tie and calling out for his son - nothing, just silence. He wondered what was keeping Ida. She and Magnus were always in the kitchen by the time he’d showered. The food was laid on the table and coffee ready. He poured himself a mug, took a sip and wandered along the corridor to his son’s room. Still silence. As he approached the room a little tingle of concern ran down his back, there was no reason to worry but it didn’t seem right.

  The room was empty. Oskar turned to check the living room, nothing, still silence. Now he was worried, it was inexplicable. Where had his family gone? He called out, no reply. He shouted again and again, running from room to room. Silent emptiness; worry turned to anxiety and then to fear. Where were they? Back in the kitchen he looked again at the table, it was laid and the coffee hot. His wife and child must be here; must have been here only moments before. Then he noticed his phone was not where he had put it, and something unusual caught his attention on the table. It was a note. Had that been there when he stopped for orange juice? He didn’t think so.

  Snatching up the note, he scanned it quickly, didn’t recognise the handwriting and didn’t understand the message. His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it; he followed the written instruction, hurrying to the kitchen window and looking out and down across the beach to the jetty. He gasped in fear and anger. There were people on the jetty and with them, Ida and Magnus. Pulling his shoes on, he sprinted for the beach.

  Standing at the start of the jetty were two men, big and mean looking. A few steps further along the jetty was a nondescript man, Oskar scarcely registered them; it was what he saw at the jetty’s head that consumed him. Ida was kneeling, her hands tied. A man’s hand had a tight grip on his wife’s collar, holding it firm and preventing her from rising to her feet. The other hand held the black threat of a pistol that pressed against his wife’s skull.

  He could see his wife was shaking her head, looking up, mouthing words towards another man who towered over them all. Oskar knew his wife was pleading, begging. The towering man was huge, a troll; in one hand he held little Magnus up high while watching Oskar’s approach.

  As Oskar neared the jetty, he screamed in anger and redoubled his speed. The two big men braced themselves and broke his charge. As he struggled valiantly to get past them, the nondescript man raised his hand. The troll at the jetty’s head immediately thrust an arm out to the side, suspending the frightened toddler over the clear cold sea that lapped gently perhaps five metres below. Magnus’ frightened screams reached him, high pitched over his wife’s now equally audible cries.

  Realising that he was helpless, Oskar stopped struggling and, with his arms held pinned to his sides, glared defiantly at the nondescript man who was now walking along the jetty towards him.

  ‘Oskar, thank you for joining me and at the run too. That’s good, I like to see enthusiastic people,’ said Cassiter.

  It registered with Oskar that the man was speaking English; he glared at Cassiter but managed to compose himself enough to reply in English. ‘What the hell’s going on here? You can’t do this. Who are you?’

  Cassiter smiled at him. ‘Now, now, stop struggling and I’m sure things will work out well.’

  ‘My boy, Magnus!’ shouted Oskar, jerking his head, gesturing beyond Cassiter towards the end of the jetty. ‘Stop this,’ he struggled again but to no avail.

  Cassiter did not turn his attention away from Oskar, but simply dropped his arm. At once, the troll swung the toddler back over the jetty and tucked him under a giant arm.

  ‘Now, shall we talk?’ said Cassiter.

  Oskar nodded, resigned, he stopped struggling and tried to catch his wife’s attention; she only had eyes for the crying toddler.

  ‘What is this about? Are you mad? There’s money in the house if that’s what you want. Don’t hurt the boy,’ said Oskar.

  ‘Oskar, Oskar, Oskar. You misunderstand me; we’re not trying to rob you. I just need a little help from you that’s all. You do what I want and this will all end happily.’

  ‘What help?’ said Oskar, confused.

  ‘You have something in your bank vault. Something that’s very important to me.’

  ‘What can be this important?’ said Oskar. ‘Anyway I can’t just take things from the vault, it’s not that simple. There are procedures to be followed.’

  ‘You’re the manager, Oskar. You implement the procedures. You can override them if required. Now stop arguing or I will get impatient.’ Cassiter thrust his hand up and the troll swung little Magnus out over the water again. The frightened cries resumed and mixed with the terrified screams of his wife.

  ‘Yes! Yes. Whatever you want. For God’s sake, stop. I agree.’

  Cassiter dropped his arm and Magnus was swung back in to safety.

  ‘Good, I’m glad we understand one another. Now before I send you to collect what I want, let’s look at the sea, shall we?’ Cassiter turned to look, pointing to guide Oskar’s view. ‘I think the tide’s about out; it’s slack tide now. Not long and it will start to flood. In a little while, I’m going to have my boys tie your wife and son down there beneath the jetty. Look; that spot just there. Nice and dry now but it won’t be for long. I think you should have the best part of three hours to get back with what I want. If you make it back in time, I’ll let you untie them. Take too long and I’m afraid it’s going to get very wet and very deep down there.’ Cassiter turned to look at Oskar and smiled coldly. ‘I’d hurry if I were in your shoes.’

  Cassiter walked past Oskar, headed back towards the house. ‘Come on now, you’ve got work to do. I’ll give you your instructions as we walk.’

  Cassiter had completed his retrieval instructions by the time they walked round to the drive at the front of the house. There he paused and, stretching out an arm towards Oskar, he handed back the missing phone. ‘And don’t think about calling the police. We will be monitoring your calls and the bank’s too. Any foolishness on your part and we’ll immediate
ly do the tide’s job for it. You won’t have any reason to hurry back then. Do you understand?’

  Oskar nodded as a black 4x4 entered the driveway of his home and came to a halt behind his own car; two men were sat in the front seats.

  ‘To be on the safe side we’ll give you an escort into town. You go straight to work. And remember it’s a long quiet road out here. If you did something silly, we’d see the authorities coming long before they arrived. And you see,’ he gripped Oskar’s arm and turned him, forced him to look out to sea, ‘we don’t need the road.’ Beyond the inlet, holding its position in the deeper water was a powerful launch. Invisible from the beach level, it explained how Cassiter and his team had been able to appear as if by magic.

  ‘Now off you go and do as you’re told. If you do, everything will be fine. But hurry, time is not your friend.’

  For a moment, Oskar held his place, stared down at the beach and jetty. The worry in his belly took a further jolt as he saw his wife and son being manoeuvred down on to the sand. His wife was forced to her knees and tied to one of the supporting legs beneath the jetty, close to the water’s edge; Magnus was tied across her breast. It was currently dry but he knew it was well beneath high water mark.

  ‘You can’t do this,’ said Oskar. ‘It’s inhuman. Mad.’

  ‘No, it’s business, my friend,’ said Cassiter as he stepped back and waved a hand. His men moved into action at once, hustling Oskar towards his car.

  ‘Drive carefully,’ said Cassiter, watching as reality finally surfaced in Oskar’s mind and he drove off quickly. The black 4x4 followed.

  • • •

  The impatient knocking on the manse front door started to repeat its sequence for the third time just as Helen reached it. She opened it and was surprised to see James Curry. Putting on a welcoming smile, she invited him in.

  ‘We weren’t expecting to see you here, James,’ she said. ‘How can I help you?’

  With the thinnest of smiles in acknowledgement, James Curry stepped past her and then strode up the hall inspecting as he went. ‘I thought I had better come and see how things are proceeding here. We don’t want any delays in getting the property on the market once I’ve got the go ahead from the Church’s General Trustees, which I’m confident of getting very soon. How is the clearing out going?’

  ‘What with being away on holiday and one or two problems since I got back, we haven’t really got much done yet,’ she replied. ‘Elaine’s made a start in packing up parish archive papers in the basement store and Grace has packed up most of John’s clothing, but you know the furniture and everything else belonged to John too.’

  ‘It’s all very unfortunate, but the presbytery can’t be considered responsible for John Dearly’s possessions. He’s dead and arrangements must be made. Can’t you and Elaine get a skip and dump it or engage one of those house clearance businesses? I want this place cleared as soon as possible. It’s no good the pair of you dragging your feet, the inevitable will happen. The manse will be sold as soon as possible. Sadly, the church has to go too.’

  Helen could not detect any hint of sadness in his voice.

  James Curry opened the kitchen door, strode to the centre where he paused and did a slow pirouette. He cast a critical eye over the upgrading work that the parish elders had organised in her absence and then he sighed. ‘I suppose it’s an improvement on before, certainly fresher. Could the parish have done the job for a little less money though? I wonder?’ James Curry pulled open two or three cupboard doors, swung them shut again. Pulled open a drawer to test its runners. ‘Hmmm,’ he walked over to the window while tutting to himself.

  ‘We think it’s a good job,’ said Helen.

  ‘I’m sure you do, my dear. Now, what about the garden? I hope Elaine has somebody engaged to keep it tidy. We don’t want prospective buyers put off by a jungle outside.’

  ‘It’s in perfect shape.’

  ‘Today, yes. I want to be sure Elaine is not going to let things slide and has an arrangement in place. I certainly don’t want to have my office staff’s attention diverted into making horticultural arrangements once we’ve closed the parish down.’

  ‘I’m sure Elaine will have spoken to the gardener and passed on payment arrangements to your office.’

  ‘Well let’s hope so. Now we have the presbytery ready to follow a course of action, I want every arrangement in place so we can act as soon as the General Trustees approve the sale request. I want the manse emptied now. The church too. I’m sure neighbouring parishes would welcome the chance to harvest anything of use from it before we put it on the market. I’ve sent Elaine an email asking her to organise a viewing of the movables. Nothing must obstruct our progress.’

  Curry turned from the window and smiled directly at Helen. ‘And you must be busy packing up your own flat at Causewayside too. We would appreciate it if you could be out as soon as possible, there’s a ready market for such properties and it would be good if we were able to catch the traditional market upswing in September. That will be alright for you, I’m sure.’

  Curry walked out of the kitchen and made for the study. He called over his shoulder as he went. ‘Don’t let me hold you back, I’m going to do a little walk around, inspect the property. I’ve asked estate agents to call round and do a pre-sale assessment this afternoon and I don’t want any nasty surprises. Oh, they will be wanting to visit your flat too. My office told them to liaise with Elaine over access but since you’re here, perhaps you could give them a key when they call?’

  Helen scowled in the direction of the now vanished James Curry. She turned to gaze out of the kitchen window. Suddenly she understood why Elaine had been expressing so much concern. Curry really was steamrolling the process, there was no negotiation, no consideration, he was pressing ahead with his plan to wipe St Bernard’s away completely, with no thought for those concerned. She could sense it was personal and nothing was going to stop him.

  • • •

  Oskar parked his car in the allocated parking spot behind the bank. Saw the black 4x4 pulling to a halt a little further down the road. It was illegally parked but he did not think the occupants were worried about that.

  He hurried to the bank’s front doors where his deputy, the second key holder, was waiting. Together they opened the bank and disarmed the alarm systems. Oskar forced himself to behave normally. He couldn’t be seen to be breaching the regular procedures, could do nothing more until the time locks on the main safe released for the day. He sat in his office and pretended to study some documents; thought over events again and again. Could the authorities help? Should he call them in? No, he knew it was hopeless.

  One of his staff brought him in a coffee; he thanked the lad and forced himself to engage in a little chat about nothing in particular. Then, alone again, he watched the clock tick away and formed his plan. He called his deputy in and announced he needed to make a visit to one of the other banks in town, a meeting to discuss how they could enhance their participation within the local community - he’d be back before lunch. But first, he had received an all manager email from headquarters, instructing all branches to carry out a snap inventory of the safe custody holdings.

  The deputy accepted his reason for leaving the premises without question, but grumbled about the checks. ‘Again? We only did a full inventory check three weeks ago. You’d think head office would understand we have other things to do. They keep pushing for efficiencies and savings and then keep throwing these extras into the workload. I’d let them know next time you’re up there if I were you.’

  Oskar nodded acknowledgement and then shrugged in resignation. ‘I know, but what can you do?’

  He made himself wait a few minutes after the time lock had disengaged before stepping into the bank’s back office where a member of staff handed him a printout of the safe custody holdings. He nodded thanks. His deputy accompanied him through to the vault while still grumbling about the extra work.

  ‘Look, I’ll do it mys
elf; I know you have a load on at present. It won’t take me too long, and then I’ll get away to my meeting,’ said Oskar, as he pulled open the heavy steel door.

  The deputy looked a bit doubtful for a moment. ‘Shouldn’t we do this together?’

  ‘Yes, but as you said we only did it three weeks ago and you’ve got a lot on. Leave it to me, okay?’ Oskar started inspecting the inventory without waiting for an answer. After a moment’s hesitation, the deputy nodded, turned and left his boss to get on with it.

  As he worked, Oskar moved slowly around, manoeuvred his body into a position that formed the smallest of blind spots, just managed to obscure the camera’s view. In the unlikely event that any employee was watching him, they would not see what he was doing. He cracked opened the dagger’s container, made sure it was inside. With relief, he slipped it out of the container and into his briefcase. The next twenty minutes were hell as he made himself work through the printed list of holdings. Ticking things off, one by one. Eventually he was done. He closed the vault, handed the clipboard over to one of the staff and left the bank, keeping tight hold of his briefcase as he headed for his car.

  Driving through Sandefjord, Oskar made himself keep to the speed limit. The one thing he did not need was to attract attention. He noticed the black 4x4 was still behind him. He cursed them under his breath and headed south and west, taking the road that would eventually reach along the long narrow tongue of land that led home to his family.

  Once he got out in the countryside, he dared to pick up speed. The road was narrow now but that didn’t matter. Pretty houses and well-maintained barns were dotted amongst little fields whose sturdy tree lined fringes were fully greened in the Nordic summer. Here and there were blocks of grey rock thrusting out of the ground, some isolated, some combining together to create barriers around which the road wound. As the road worked south, he got more frequent glimpses of the sea and they told him the tide had turned, it was on the flood. He pushed the engine harder, would he make it in time?