by JESUIT
As soon as contact was made, Sallie’s smile faded. The warmth enveloped her instantly, from head to toe. A tingling sensation went through her body and she had an inescapable desire to grip the man, remove his clothes and let the light emanating from him be revealed. Of course, there was no real light but he shone into Sallie’s eyes as their hands held, neither one releasing their grip.
Take me now, my God. Take me here. Tear my sins from me and scourge my body and my soul. Let your beautiful body enter me! I am yours! Take me! The unsettling thoughts ravaged Sallie’s mind. From where they came, she could not tell. She did not even use such phrases.
Ignatious was fully aware of the effect. He commanded respect and subservience from men, but women were much more accessible: more aware, more perceptive beings altogether. At last he let go and Sallie returned to her seat, her eyes wide, staring unblinkingly at her God.
The group sat, Ignatious choosing an armchair facing his two interviewers. “How may I help you?” he asked, hoping he did not sound too much like the telephone receptionists when they put that insincere question, hoping they are not called upon to help in any significant way.
Graham started to respond as Mrs. Morgan arrived wheeling in a two-tier trolley loaded with a pot of tea, four cups and saucers, the same number of small plates, milk, sugar and a couple of teaspoons, with an array of delightful looking cakes and buns set out on the lower tier. “Help yourselves,” urged Father McGiven, smiling, as his cleaner left the room. “We don’t stand on ceremony here.”
Instinctively, following male acceptance built over many centuries, the men waited for Sallie to pour the drinks. After a brief pause, during which she entertained the idea of showing her indignation, she decided to follow routine and reached for the teapot.
“From all accounts, Brother,” Graham began again. “You have been able to bring a surprising amount of comfort to the stricken souls in their grief, following the tragic deaths of their loved ones.”
“Yes, that is so. My mission here is to do just that and I am pleased to have been fortunate enough to have brought hope to the empty lives of those I have met.”
Sallie was seated three feet from the Jesuit and his vibes were coursing through her as she gazed, entranced, at the God’s holy face. Take me now! Here, in front of these sinners! Rid me of my sinfulness! She was utterly powerless to stop the weird thoughts that were in danger of consuming her. As he stopped speaking to Graham, his eyes swivelled in her direction, a smile playing gently on his lips. It was as if a lance was being thrust into her.
Graham, also, was not entirely immune to the compelling aura of the Jesuit. Even through his hard-nosed experience, he found himself struggling to put his thoughts together, a state of confusion tending to invade. However, he concentrated on the task and continued to put his questions.
“How do you find out about the tragedies, Brother Saviour? You do seem to be around at the right time.” He smiled as his words probed.
“Oh, I keep my nose to the ground. It’s surprising what information one can gather just from local gossip. There is always someone who knows what is going on and eager to spread the news. I also take confessions and talk to my brother priests. Such as the dear Father McGiven, here.” He waved a hand towards the silent priest.
“Ah. I see.” The explanation was quite feasible. “What brings you to this area?”
“My mission. I had to begin somewhere. It could be any part of the country but I chose what I consider to be a charming part of England. I do not intend to stay as I am instructed to travel to different parts of the world with my work. The more people to whom I am able to offer solace, the greater the possibility of bringing them to The Almighty, or to renew their faith in Him. I see my role in life as fulfilling a quest, the ‘treasure’ being the acceptance of the one great God.”
“Do you see yourself as equally able to bring your word to persons of differing faiths; Hindu, Moslem and so on?”
Ignatious was fully in his stride now, speaking on his favourite subject. “Oh, yes. No matter the faith, we all believe in something. I would dearly love to see all the religions of the world joined in one universal Master, although I fear that will never be. Broadly, all religions have the same teachings and aims: love of fellow beings, succour, fairness, compassion, understanding, humility and sacrifice to the Lord.” His eyes now drifting towards the heavens, Ignatious did not want to stop.
Graham, spotting the danger of enduring a never-ending religious sermon, jumped in. “Yes, Brother, a very noble aspiration. I think we should all wish to see that come to be.” Returning to the questioning, he asked: “Do you hear of the deaths prior to arriving in a village, or town, or are you in the place already?”
Ignatious pondered this a moment before replying. “It is difficult to say, really, Detective Inspector, but I think I am usually in another place when I get to hear of the tragedies.”
“Where were you when you heard of the murder of the little girl? Kylie Johnson that would be.”
Again, the Jesuit pondered. “I would say,…” he said thoughtfully, “that I was…let me see…in…er…Aylesbury, I think. Yes. Aylesbury. I was on my way to this area and I parked up there overnight, after spending a little time in the town, talking to anyone who was willing to spare the time. I also read of the death in the local newspaper.”
“And what about the other deaths? Can you recall where you were then?”
Ignatious smiled. “Detective Inspector. You are questioning me as though I were involved!”
Graham looked into the Jesuit’s eyes, resisting the sudden urge to cry out for forgiveness. “Well, Brother Saviour, you are involved aren’t you?”
Puzzlement showed on Ignatious’s face. “In what way do you feel that I am involved?”
“By the fact that you visit the bereaved shortly after the deaths of their family members. You are involved with them almost immediately.”
“But, surely, Detective, you do not suggest that I have anything at all to do with the murders?”
Graham reacted with surprise. “Oh, no. I do not imply that,” he replied. “I merely feel that you might just have picked up on something said, when on your visits. Any little thing that may give us some kind of a clue.”
Ignatious relaxed. “Well, no. I have only made two visits in connection with the killings – no, three in all. I visited the mother of Kylie Johnson and the parents of Debbie Singleton. Then, later, I had a chat with the father of Debbie as he had regressed from the day of the funeral. I felt that I had helped to permanently drive the demons from his mind on the last meeting.”
“When was this, Brother?”
“Yesterday: at this church. Here, in this room in the presence of Father McGiven.” Father McGiven nodded.
“And how is the man now, Brother?”
“Fine. I feel certain that he is completely comforted and in the protection of The Lord.”
Graham continued the questioning. “What I am looking for is any mention of the victims arranging to meet someone - perhaps a friend, relative, or even a stranger. Was there any mention of any such persons?”
“Possibly. As I remember it, Kylie was simply out on a pleasant walk; something she did often, apparently. With Debbie, her mother did say that she had got herself ready to go out as though she were meeting some young man, but she told her mother nothing more than that she was going out. Mrs. Singleton’s intuition as a mother told her that Debbie was preparing for a romantic meeting but that’s all.”
There seemed no point in going further with this. The Jesuit was quite clearly a man in the right place at the right time. There was no suspicion of any wrongdoing attached to him. Graham thought he may visit Mrs. Singleton, though, to see if she was aware of any young men that her daughter had recently been going around with, or any that she had recently met. “Thank you, Brother Saviour,” he said, “for all your help. It was very good of you to meet me and I may say it was also a pleasure on my part.”
“Likewise, Detective Inspector,” said Ignatious, holding out his hand. As Graham took it, he felt the confusion in his mind begin again and it was several seconds before he felt able to speak. “Good luck to you,” he managed, “and I hope your mission succeeds. We need some good deeds in this awful world.”
“I will do my utmost,” he returned before turning to Sallie. “And I am charmed to have met you, my child,” he said. “Whatever your sins, I am sure God will forgive you.” He took her hands in his. “Read your mind carefully; try to make the right decisions. Following your heart is not always the best course.” He let go.
Sallie stared at him, feeling nausea through the erratic thoughts surging back into her mind. Rape me, my God! Take me by force! I deserve it! I am an evil sinner! He knows! He knows what I have been doing! How? How? She remained seated, her mouth open, silent.
Ignatious backed away, a knowing smile on his face. He said his farewells to the three and left. It took several seconds for anyone to speak. Each turned to the other with a feeling that a holy visit had just taken place and none could be certain that the Jesuit had left the building by normal means. He seemed to have spirited himself away. Except that he knew he had been questioning the priest, Graham would have felt that this had all been a dream, or a figment of his imagination. Never had he experienced anything like it.
The trio chatted for the next hour, mostly about the Jesuit, trying to understand the effect he had had on each of them. Sallie kept quiet about the erotic impact he had made on her but next sex session with her lover, she knew, would have an added verve!
Father McGiven drifted into the tales that Ignatious had brought to him about his past experiences: his criminal record, his turn to God, the various missions he had attended with Father Christian, the illnesses, torture and the need to learn medicine. What a varied experience he had had.
Just then, Graham’s mobile rang, causing them all to start in mild shock. It was the urgent voice of Sergeant Flint.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
It was six in the evening and Ignatious had enjoyed a nice mixed salad for his evening meal, finished off with a cup of hot, sweet coffee, the rich aroma pervading the small space of the motor home. He was pleased with the day’s work: sent someone to his Maker, another cleansed sinner, and survived a minor grilling from an experienced policeman. He felt his standing with the Almighty was improving to quite a high level now.
Before travelling on to Pangbourne, his next chosen destination, he decided to take a nap in preparation for the journey. No matter that the dream would return, he needed to rest.
By six-twenty Ignatious was sleeping soundly, a gentle breathing sound coming from the partly opened mouth. He did not snore, his sinuses being in excellent order. The faint smile on his lips remained as the dream returned to him, again starting where it had previously ended.
The journey down the tributary was calm and uneventful, allowing the arrival at the Amazon River to be reasonably quick. Under Father Christian’s guidance, the priests manoeuvred the pleasantly creaking craft to a position some fifteen feet from the banking.
The Sun shone from a cloudless sky burning the already deeply tanned crew into an even darker shade. Mosquitoes and flies of unknown description constantly menaced the small band of missionaries as they eased their way along. They had no particular plan in mind; merely to go where the route took them. A major desire was to come across an unknown tribe, of which the Amazon area was thought to contain several. Indeed, in the latter part of 1999, a tribe believed to have become extinct, the Naua people, had voluntarily made contact with inhabitants of a remote little town, Cruzeiro do Sul. The Brazilian Government’s National Indigenous Peoples Foundation, known as Funai, after sending a surprised and thrilled anthropologist to their village, ratified them as genuine.
The waters were relatively calm today; a marked difference from the group’s last encounter, and progress was peacefully maintained. A full day was spent on the river, the missionaries eating as the mood took them.
At seven in the evening, they came across a wide river mouth, leading from the Amazon and into the density of the jungle. Father Christian instructed the crew to take that course and find a suitable place to rest up for the night.
The tributary soon narrowed until they were cruising down a faster flowing river, now some twenty feet wide. Spotting a wide natural bay to the port side, after journeying for half an hour, they made for it, easing gently to the sloping, soil-covered shore. After securing the craft, they all went ashore to take some exercise and ease the aching legs brought about by the inactivity.
The heat was oppressive, causing clothing to cling uncomfortably and it wasn’t long before the men had removed their shirts and Sister Vasquez had tugged her blouse from the skirt band allowing what little air there was, to circulate around her upper body.
In his sleep, Ignatious’s smile broadened as his brain now admitted to the lecherous feelings he’d had on seeing the young nun with the bottom of her blouse showing glimpses of the firm waist-line as it flapped gently, and the sight of her nipples as they were made visible by the sweat-soaked material clinging tightly. At the time, he had denied himself admittance to this weakness.
The path, such as it was, suddenly came to an end with an impenetrable barrier of thick foliage barring any further progress. The sounds of the jungle seemed to bounce back off this natural wall, echoing and booming into the air. An unbelievable array of wildlife had been seen on the short walk to their present position: many colourful butterflies, birds, howler monkeys demonstrating the source of their name, playful toucans, scarlet macaws and several squirrel monkeys flitting busily through the trees.
Somewhere near, but never seen, came the unnerving sound of boars, always crashing through bushes in an angry manner. Unknown to the group, a jaguar had tailed them for a time, curious as to what was invading his territory.
However, the biggest danger had come to them by a mischievous spider monkey that persisted in breaking off tree branches and hurling them with surprising force at the intruders below. It was a small miracle that no one was injured. The party retraced their steps and returned to the boat where they set up the sleeping arrangements for the night. Having settled the bed positions, they covered each with a fine net as a protection against any of the flying insects that may take a fancy to them, the bites or stings presenting a danger of severe illness.
After a fitful night’s sleep, the missionaries set about their morning ablutions and cooked a small breakfast before setting off again. The swiftness of the river carried the boat along as the sun began to clear the early morning mists and send its warm rays to the life below.
Twenty yards down river, Ignatious observed another inlet that was teeming with some form of life. As he watched, a huge, ugly jaw opened, displaying a fearsome mouth. Then another and yet another appeared. He realised with a shudder that they had set their camp within easy distance of a group of crocodiles!
An hour later and the party were ready to come ashore again and trek through the jungle in search of a tribe. They secured the boat, making it fast so that it would be there when they eventually decided to return to civilisation, and set off, Father Christian taking the lead.
The journey was hard, hot and uncomfortable, necessitating hacking through several miles of untouched vegetation, with their large, flat-bladed knives. They had no idea where they were going, using the position of the sun to ascertain the general direction of their travels.
On the second night, a raging fever hit Ignatious, rendering him totally inactive. He was laid inside a makeshift canopy, fashioned from the surrounding saplings and fern leaves, with a homemade mosquito net fixed around it. Sister Vasquez tended to him night and day at the risk of her own health suffering. Sleep was necessary, especially in the present conditions, as the travelling was exacting, sapping the strength and will from the determined missionaries. It was four days before Ignatious was fit enough to be moved, although he was still very ill and s
uffering a constant temperature. Needing to continue, Christian and Ottomier dragged their companion on a stretcher of canvas and bamboo poles, whilst Vasquez kept a close eye on her patient throughout.
The going was slow, the stretcher having to be constantly put down whilst the men swathed a path forward. All three had sensed the presence of other beings close by but, apart from an occasional rustling of leaves, nothing else was heard and nothingat all was seen.
The undergrowth was exceptionally high at this point, with little light penetrating the gigantic trees, whose upper branches carried plant life that would normally be fertile on the ground. However, the light being so poor, the plants had, over time, found their natural habitat in the branches and this is where they proliferated. The team worked in a state of semi-darkness each day until exhausted.
Another three days passed then, quite suddenly, the interminable undergrowth gave way to a clearing, which provided a narrow stream, seemingly of pure water, gurgling past and curving away. Christian and Ottomier rushed forward with Vasquez close behind. Arriving at the stream, all three threw themselves to it, burying their heads under the water and gulping it in greedily.
Several minutes passed before they left the stream and returned to Ignatious, Vasquez carrying a container of water for him. As he came into view, the missionaries were delighted to see him sitting up and looking around. Ignatious’s eyes looked clear and alert once more. The fever had clearly left.
“Ah! Father Hadleigh! Welcome back to the world!” shouted Christian happily, as he ran to his friend and enveloped him in a crushing bear hug. “Welcome back! We have been most worried about you Gawain.”
When he recovered from the hug, standing on shaky legs, Ignatious accepted the greetings of Ottomier and Vasquez. He still felt weak and on unsure legs but he knew the illness was past.
