A Soldier's Honour Box Set 1 (Sgt Major Crane Crime Thrillers Box Set)

by Wendy Cartmell

  “Soon,” replied Crane continuing with his kisses and caresses. When she stopped struggling he murmured, “I want to say sorry first.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Crane’s meeting with his Captain wasn’t going well. Sitting behind his desk with the files open in front of him, Captain Edwards said he was relieved the Padre had been found, but pointed out rather snootily that Detective Inspector Anderson’s men found the Padre, not Crane. As he couldn’t be bothered to score points and remind the Captain that the RMP and SIB had no jurisdiction in the town of Aldershot, and that it was Crane himself who insisted empty warehouses be searched, he merely turned to outlining the evidence they had so far.

  “So, you’ve got nothing then,” Captain Edwards said as Crane finished.

  “Sorry, sir?”

  Shrugging, Edwards explained. “No physical evidence, no description. You don’t even know if this Zechariah person attacked you and the Padre.”

  “No, sir,” Crane admitted.

  “What about the other garrisons?” Edwards leaned forward to point at the files.

  “What about them, sir?”

  “Any evidence from them about a mysterious preacher?”

  “Well, obviously I want Catterick to make enquiries of their Church about a preacher called Zechariah, after the interview last night with Mrs Fisher, and the same with Colchester.”

  “Well, what are you doing here then? Get on with it, Sergeant Major. Dismissed.”

  Crane collected his files and left the office swearing under his breath. On the way out he instructed Kim and Billy to do the follow up calls to Colchester and Catterick and then went to his meeting with DI Anderson.

  ***

  He was searching for a parking space when he caught sight of Anderson running after the car, his coat tails flying in sync with his hair and his hands waving in the air. Turning his vehicle around Crane pulled up next to the now puffing DI and wound down the window.

  “Did you want me?” he asked smiling at the bedraggled Anderson.

  “No, I was running to catch a bloody bus. Of course I do,” Anderson reached for the door handle and got into the car. “Just heard from the hospital. Padre Symonds had a good night and is conscious, thank God. So I thought we should get over there, if you promise not to smoke in the car.”

  “No problem,” Crane said as he pumped the accelerator and dropped the clutch, rapidly leaving the car park.

  Once at the hospital, Crane parked in the car park this time. He used the overflow car park due to the large numbers of cars parked in every available space, as if their owners were desperate not to have to walk any further than was absolutely necessary. Grumbling at the amount of money demanded by the health authority for the privilege of parking there, he retrieved his ticket from the machine and put it on his windscreen. As they took the long walk through the car park to the hospital itself, Crane lit up, once again ignoring the no smoking signs. Anderson challenged him, but Crane explained he had no idea what damage his smoke could do to someone in an acre of car park with only sky above them. And anyway he hadn’t smoked in the car. Conceding the point Anderson led the way to the ICU.

  This time they were buzzed onto the ward straight away and met at the central desk by the young doctor from the night before, who by now looked ill himself, exhaustion hooding his red rimmed eyes.

  “Oh hello, Inspector, Sergeant Major. Glad you arrived before I left the ward. Padre Symonds had a good night and the pressure on his brain is easing, meaning he regained consciousness this morning. Obviously we’re continuing to monitor him closely but it looks like we won’t have to operate and we should be able to transfer him to ITU this afternoon.”

  “ITU?” asked Crane.

  “Oh sorry, Intensive Therapy Unit. It’s actually the other half of the Intensive Care Unit. What we have in ICU is a nurse assigned to each patient, but in ITU it’s a nurse to between two and four patients. So as a patient recovers and needs less individual constant attention, we are able to move them to free up a much needed ICU bed.”

  “How long do you think he’ll be here?” Anderson asked.

  “Well that’s a bit more difficult, but I would say if he continues to make good progress, we should have him on a general ward in a few days. Obviously we still need to monitor the head injury, make sure he’s hydrated and get him eating.”

  “Can we see him?” was what Crane really wanted.

  “Yes, of course, but only for a few moments, you understand.” The doctor pointed to the Padre’s bed and then returned to his paperwork.

  Crane couldn’t see much difference in the Padre’s condition from the night before. He was lying very still with his eyes closed, with IV tubes still connected and beeping monitors at the head of his bed. Crane took the Padre’s hand and squeezed it. This time there was a response and the Padre opened his eyes.

  Crane was relieved to see a smile of recognition. “Hello, Crane,” the Padre croaked.

  “Hello, sir, glad to see you awake.”

  “Mmm, head hurts.”

  “It seems you had a bad blow to the head, Padre. Can you remember anything about what happened?” Crane hated to push, but knew they only had a few minutes.

  “Not really,” was the slow reply. “In my office, tidying up, someone hit me.” The Padre closed his eyes again.

  “Did you see him? Padre?”

  “Not really. Black, all black.”

  “The person who hit you was dressed in black?”

  But the Padre’s hand went limp in Crane’s.

  “Crane,” Anderson indicated they should leave with a jerk of his head.

  Having to admit there wasn’t going to be any further conversation, Crane followed Anderson out to the central desk. Anderson asked if it would be okay for them to visit again that evening, but the nurse told them to ring first for permission.

  With no choice but to agree, the two men left.

  “So, at least we know the Padre was attacked in his office, as we suspected,” Crane said to Anderson, as the two men leaned over the top of Crane’s car on opposite sides. “And by someone dressed in black.”

  “But nothing to say who it was, or even if it was a man or a woman.”

  “No. Looks like we’ll have to wait a while for more information. If the Padre knows anymore that is.”

  Crane climbed into the car, taking Anderson back to Aldershot Police Station and then driving on to the garrison. Crane’s relief at the Padre’s recovery was tempered with frustration and he was none too happy when he arrived in his barracks.

  “Oh, sir, glad you’re back,” called Kim. “Looks like we’ve had a breakthrough. The computer techies have found something on Solomon’s computer.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Internal Memorandum

  From: Sergeant M. Scraggs

  To: Sergeant Major T. Crane, Special Investigations Branch, Aldershot Garrison

  After a full investigation of Lance Corporal Crooks’ computer (Dell Laptop Model No HD50 Serial No 325TN000554AB144), several documents that may be of interest were partially recovered from the hard drive. These were emails that had been deleted. Unfortunately it was not possible to determine the sender, nor the sender’s IP address. Dots have been inserted where the software was unable to recover the words.

  Email No 1

  ……June…..

  Solomon

  Welcome……………group………..consisting……………fathers………..I know…….faith…….Jesus……show……way…….next……meeting…….at……

  ………name………..Lord………Christ……Z

  Email No 2

  2…..July

  Dear ………..

  Your……..faith……..Christ…….rewarded……time……..near…….baptised..blood.

  Jesus…….with you. Soon……..ascend………..Heaven.

  In the…………..of………Jesus……..Z

  Email No 3

  …….August..

&nb
sp; ………..time draws near let……love…….Christ…..fortify………..steps……Heaven.

  A fountain……….. blood…….the sins…….who come………..Him…….. salvation.

  …………..time…………..16…hrs………..August.

  Drench ……………..blood ………..son ……………….all ………saved…. you……...soldier….Christ……Z

  This represents everything we could find relating to religion or having any religious connotation. All other material appears to refer to normal mundane matters and the usual amount of spam email.

  I apologise for the delay in obtaining this information, due to a backlog of work and relocation to new premises. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any queries or wish to know more about the retrieval system.

  M. Scraggs

  Crane asked Kim to make several copies of the memo for him to first take to Captain Edwards and then DI Anderson. But before contacting his Captain, he sat reading the contents over and over. The words, ‘blood’ ‘rivers’ ‘Heaven’ cycling round in his head without a destination. He decided to take a walk around the playing fields. The sun was shining and only a light breeze occasionally ruffled his hair. As he strode along the touch line of the rugby pitch he remembered his meeting with the Padre a few weeks ago, whilst he was taking his morning constitutional. Contrasting the Padre’s vitality that day, with the broken man now lying in Frimley Park Hospital.

  ***

  Edwards was putting the finishing touches to some report or other and made Crane wait, sitting in front of his desk. Once the papers had been whisked away by an aide, he turned to Crane.

  “So,” he began. “I take it you must have news from the other garrisons.”

  “Not at the moment, sir, although it’s in hand. I wanted to see you about this,” Crane said as he pushed the memo across the desk.

  “What is it?”

  “The report from the computer people. They’ve got some snippets of deleted emails from Lance Corporal Crooks’ computer.”

  Edwards read the memo in silence. Several times.

  “So, it looks like you were right, Crane,” he eventually said.

  “Unfortunately yes, sir. The first email seems to welcome Solomon into the group. If you notice, there is a reference to fathers and what appears to be details of the next meeting. The second one looks like a kind of reassurance, keep the faith and that sort of thing. And the third one...”

  “Yes?”

  Clearing his throat, Crane continued, “The third one seems to be confirmation of the date when Solomon was to carry out the killings.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Exactly, sir. It all seems to be done in the name of Jesus Christ.”

  “And Z? Is that who I think it is?”

  “I believe so, sir, Zechariah.”

  Captain Edwards stared off into the distance for a moment. Finally, he shook his head and turned back to Crane. “So, what’s your next move?”

  “Well, with your permission, sir, I would like to share this with DI Anderson, so he can put more pressure on the Church of Jesus is King. I hope that by showing this to the Church Elder we can persuade him to help us. I also intend to send it to Catterick and Colchester to see if they can find anything similar. As you know, we’ve already had confirmation from Mrs Fisher about a preacher named Zechariah.”

  “Very well,” the Captain agreed. “At least we’ve got some good news about the Padre.”

  To raise their spirits, they discussed the health and positive prognosis of Padre Symonds. As Crane left the Captain’s office, he pulled out his mobile phone to let Anderson know he was on his way. He popped into his office to tell Kim where he was going, instructing her to send the email to the other garrisons and to see if she could have a go at filling in the blank words. Turning to leave, he noticed Billy was not at his desk. He asked Kim where he was, but she seemed vague, mumbling about Billy pursuing something and they could get him on his mobile if he was needed.

  As Crane walked to his car, he tried Billy’s mobile, which went straight to voice mail. Leaving a message asking for a return call, Crane closed the phone and drove to Aldershot Police Station.

  ***

  Anderson was in an ebullient mood. Finding Padre Symonds, he confided, had done him no end of good with ‘them upstairs’, the words accompanied by a nod at the ceiling. Indeed, his whole demeanour was brighter and sharper, including his white shirt. Crane felt sorry for him, as he was about to burst his bubble of happiness. After sliding the piece of paper across Anderson’s desk, Crane waited in silence as the policeman read it.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “My Captain’s thoughts exactly,” grimaced Crane. “So, what shall we do about it?”

  “Do? What can we do?” Anderson waved the piece of paper at Crane. “There’s still nothing here that can help us catch this Z character.”

  “I think we should go and see the Church Elder.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we. I’m not being pushed out of this one again, Derek,” Crane leaned forward and pointed at the memo. “This is major evidence to show Solomon was attending a group headed by a person called Zechariah, who had been a visiting preacher at the Church in Aldershot. What’s more, the tone of the emails is zealous to say the least.”

  “Zealous?” Anderson spoke as though he had never heard the word before.

  “Yes, over the top, fanatical, obsessive, fervent, ardent.”

  “All right, Crane, stop talking like a thesaurus. I get the picture.”

  Crane pressed on, building his case. “So, Elias needs to know how serious this is. I think Solomon was hypnotised, brainwashed if you like, into killing his family and then himself. And what’s more, I bet you so were the others in Catterick and Colchester. And I think Zechariah is here, in Aldershot. For God’s sake, Derek, how many more reasons do you need?” Crane pushed out of his seat and stood by the office door.

  “But Elias said the contact number he had doesn’t work anymore,” Anderson protested.

  “I know that. So now we need to lean on him, get him to make further enquiries of his flock, or whatever he calls them. Someone in that Church knows what’s going on and we’ve got to find them.” Crane gave up on standing and moved to sit resolutely in front of Anderson.

  “I don’t really do leaning, Crane,” replied Derek. “Not on a Church Elder.”

  “No, I know,” said Crane folding his arms and leaning back in his chair, “but I do.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Crane was amazed at the number of people filing into the Church of Jesus is King. Curiosity had got the better of him and as the Church Elder couldn’t see them until after the Sunday service, he’d decided to turn up early. Crane was standing on the opposite side of the street to the Church, lounging in the doorway of the Blockbuster DVD rental store. Looking at his watch he saw it was 10:45 hours, nearly fifteen minutes to go before the start of the service and people were still arriving.

  “Oh, what the hell,” he said, flicking his cigarette away and going to join the queue.

  As the throng inched slowly forwards, he could see that on either side of the church door (or cinema door to be completely factual Crane thought) people were stationed, welcoming each individual.

  “Welcome, welcome…….so lovely to see you again……..Praise the Lord….”

  Crane shook off the platitudes like the soap suds in his shower that morning, and peered into the gloom of the building. He saw what seemed like hundreds of people milling around, searching for seats, greeting friends, to the accompaniment of piped gospel music. Looking up, those in the ornately decorated stalls were leaning over the balcony, excitedly waving to people they recognised below.

  A shrill bell caused Crane to jump. Although it meant nothing to him, it had an effect on the congregation, as everyone sat down, picked up books and song sheets and turned expectantly towards the stage. Realising it was probably a five-minute bell, left over from the
cinema era, he suppressed a grin and slipped into a seat at the end of a row near the back.

  Within a few minutes the lights in the auditorium dimmed and those on the stage brightened. Elias the Church Elder, dressed in a sober dark suit, but no dog collar or robes, strode onto the stage to loud clapping and cheering. Raising his hand for silence, he spoke in a deep basso voice that reminded Crane of James Earl Jones. Not so much Darth Vader, more Vice Admiral James Greer in ‘The Hunt for Red October’.

  “Then David and all the House of Israel played music before the Lord on all kinds of instruments of fir wood, on harps, on stringed instruments, on tambourines, on sistrums and on cymbals.”

  As the opening chords of a catchy tune rung out from an invisible organ, a choir swaggered onto the stage, clapping or beating tambourines and swaying with the music. Their robes were simple and black, with their Sunday best clothes visible underneath. Then the congregation rose as one and begin to lustily sing and clap.

  “Shine, Jesus Shine, fill this land with the father’s glory.”

  As the hymn went on, arms were raised in praise for the Lord, hands opened, palms outwards, reaching towards some unseen force.

  At the conclusion, which was applauded with enthusiasm, Elias welcomed everyone, especially new visitors and requested that everyone ‘pass the peace’. Crane was alarmed to see that this meant turning to your neighbour, hugging and kissing them and murmuring, “Peace be with you.”

  He was enveloped with alacrity in the strong arms of the woman next to him and pulled into her bosom. After mumbling, “Peace be with you,” into her cleavage, he was set free, to be immediately set upon by the person in front and the whole process started again. A man clasped him close, ramming Crane’s nose into his neck. Crane’s nostrils immediately filled with the overpowering smell of a cheap pungent aftershave. After a few minutes of being knocked into one person and then another, to Crane’s relief the experience was over and the service continued.

  By the time the sermon started, Crane was glad of the rest, expecting everyone to sit quietly and listen to the words of wisdom from Elias. But oh no, not in this church it seemed. Elias’ words were frequently punctuated by cries from the congregation. People rose to their feet, swaying, hands aloft, shouting out, “Praise the Lord……..Amen…..Hallelujah!” A few gathered in front of the stage, or in the aisles, to more freely express their emotions. Crane was glad the children had been sent out to what they called ‘junior church’ before the sermon began, as he saw one supplicant writhing on the floor and spouting gibberish. Expecting people to rush to aid the stricken worshiper who was clearly having an epileptic fit, he was stunned to find it only seemed to encourage more of them to join in and soon there were several people on the floor, clearly in need of medical help.