by D C Macey
All eyes turned again to Xavier.
Xavier shrugged his shoulders and tutted quietly. ‘I do not have an answer. All I can say is his predecessors must have had a piece of information about the Templar treasures that none of the other task bearers had.’
‘With everything kept so secret, how could they?’ said Francis.
Helen leaned forwards. ‘I remember when you first told me about the Templars’ flight from France. Those men involved in hiding the treasure would have been known to the other knights. Perhaps, one of the task bearers sought out information at that time, for his own purposes. Information he should never have had.’
‘Yes, and perhaps that is how they know so much today …’ The old priest’s voice trailed away as he considered the implications - treachery, from the outset.
‘So, what is it they are really hunting? And let’s face it, these people are better resourced than even Helen and her fat trust fund.’ Francis glanced anxiously around the company. ‘What is it they really want?’
‘I was watching a programme on the telly a while back,’ said Grace, a little tentatively. ‘It was about the Templars in Jerusalem. Just as Francis said, apparently, they were always searching for the Holy Grail.’
‘They may well have been, though I’m not sure how tangible the Grail actually is.’ Sam sensed the clerics gathered around the table bristle slightly, but he continued. ‘On the other hand, we do know the Ark of the Covenant did exist, once. I believe that was much sought after too. If there was a real top-drawer prize among the Templar treasures, perhaps that was it.’
‘Do you really think it could be that?’ said Helen. ‘I thought it was supposed to have disappeared long before the Templars came into being.’
‘Long, long before,’ said Francis.
‘So, maybe that’s a long shot too,’ said Sam. ‘But whether it’s the Ark, the Grail or something we haven’t considered at all, the people we’re up against keep killing to get to it. Let’s not worry about what it is; let’s focus on where it is. And let’s be very careful - you all mean a lot to me.’
Helen leant over to squeeze Sam’s hand. ‘And you are important to all of us, so you take care too.’ She looked around her friends, thought of the deaths and brutality that had gone before, thought about the other meetings they had held around this very table … it seemed like they had suffered a lifetime of conflict, but it had scarcely been half a year. ‘And being careful means no trips to Libya, that’s for sure.’
A murmured round of assent supported her.
‘One line that is open to us is the discovery at the Templar wood. I think I need to go and spend some time looking at it more carefully. For all their secrecy, until now, it seems the Templars were sensible enough to always provide a failsafe, more than one route to their hidden goals. Perhaps we can find something there.’
‘Well, that’s something we can do, and it’s easily within our power. Now, please everyone, get some lunch,’ said Helen.
• • •
It was mid-afternoon; Xavier, Angelo and Francis had gone with Elaine to see how the project to convert St Bernard’s into a community centre was progressing. Grace had gone to meet friends from college, leaving Sam and Helen alone in the manse.
Sitting together at the desk in the study, they looked intently at the two boxes, the opening of which seemed so crucial, in spite of Sam’s scan showing no significant contents.
‘What do you think, Sam? They must open somehow, or perhaps, it’s some sort of blind alley. You know, there’s nothing to find inside, but we keep looking because that’s what we’re meant to do.’
‘Could be, but if it’s a bluff, where are we really meant to look? Never mind still not knowing what we’re ultimately meant to find, I think we have to accept the boxes are the real deal. I know you’re not going to like it, Helen, but I think I need to go to Leptis—’
‘There is no way you are going to Libya, Sam.’
‘It’s the only place left we know has a clue to opening the boxes.’
‘You’ll find another clue. You said yourself, the Templars would leave more than one route to a solution - insurance in case of accidents. Libya’s off the table.’
‘Well, I think …’ His voice trailed off when he saw a figure pass the study window, making for the front door. ‘We’ve got a visitor. It’s DS Price.’
A moment later, the doorbell sounded and Sam stood. ‘I’ll go.’
Helen sat behind the desk, the fingers of her right hand drumming lightly on the desk’s edge. She knew Sam wanted to go to Libya, but she didn’t agree with him. Price’s arrival had prevented a conclusion being reached.
Sam guided the police sergeant into the room, and Helen smiled a welcome while waving towards the seat Sam had just vacated. ‘DS Price, we weren’t expecting to see you. Please take a seat and tell me how we can help? No Inspector Brogan this afternoon?’
Sam moved another chair towards the desk and all sat in silence for a moment as the sergeant rummaged in her shoulder bag. They watched her pull out a couple of pages of printed text and scan them briefly before looking up.
‘DI Brogan’s having to attend court today, and he asked me to drop in on you for a quiet word.’ Her smile was not reassuring. ‘You two have been getting about quite a lot in the past few days. I know DI Brogan seems disinclined to ask too many questions about the shooting incident. Though I’d certainly like to ask you a little more about Morecambe.’
‘Oh?’ said Helen. ‘Why’s that?’
‘If you don’t mind, I’ll be asking the questions. I’ll come back to Morecambe in a bit. First, that wasn’t the only trip you’ve been on recently. Can you tell me what you were doing in Orkney?’
Helen’s eyes flicked towards Sam, who gently cleared his throat. ‘Why would you be interested in that?’ he said.
‘As I said, sir, I’d like to ask the questions, please. Orkney?’
‘I needed to speak urgently with an archaeologist who was working up there. Needed some detail on another piece of academic research I’m doing.’
‘I see, and if it was so urgent, why couldn’t you just phone him?’
Sam gave a dry laugh. ‘Professor Bertram, Miles Bertram, is a bit old-school, I’m afraid. No mobile phone. If you want to speak with him, it’s got to be face-to-face.’
‘So, it was definitely Miles Bertram who you went to visit in Orkney?’
‘I’ve just said so, sergeant.’
‘That’s right, you did. The problem I have is I can’t speak with Professor Bertram to confirm what you’re telling me.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Helen. A familiar tightness was gripping her stomach. She sensed bad news coming.
‘I mean, he’s dead.’
‘What? How? Sergeant, you cannot think for a moment we are involved,’ said Sam.
Price fixed Sam with a deadpan gaze. ‘We know you didn’t kill him, sir. You left the island on the Edinburgh flight at around 16.30 on Wednesday the 8th. Professor Bertram stayed at his bed and breakfast lodgings that night. It was the next day he died. Or at least we think he did.’
‘Think?’ said Helen.
‘He didn’t return to his lodgings the next night and was reported missing. His body was found only yesterday.’
‘Found where? How did he die?’ said Sam.
‘His body was found in the sea, washed up along the coast from where he had been working.’
‘Well, I don’t know why he would be on the cliff edge, but immediately behind where he was working, it’s a fair drop to the water. He knew that, but there are some strong gusts of wind along that stretch of coast. Perhaps, he was just buffeted off,’ said Sam.
‘Perhaps, sir. We don’t know how he died yet. He’d been in the water for a while, and I’m told, in among the rocks at the shoreline, it can be a very violent place.’
Helen felt the tension ease, just a little. Maybe it had been an accident after all.
‘Well, there you are serge
ant, an accident,’ said Sam.
‘I think the police in Orkney were originally tending towards that as a preliminary conclusion, though now we’re not so sure.’
‘Why so?’ said Sam.
‘Coincidence, sir. One unexpected death might be a random accident, but more, with connections, I’m afraid that certainly demands closer scrutiny.’
‘More?’ said Helen.
‘Yes, which takes us neatly back to Morecambe.’
‘If it’s the two men who were chasing us, they must have been caught by the tide and drowned,’ said Helen.
‘Yes, that’s clear enough. Though, it’s still not clear what they were doing on the sands. They were certainly not dressed as environmentalists.’
‘Well then—’
‘However, their deaths are not what I’m interested in at present.’
Helen and Sam exchanged glances.
‘What do you mean, sergeant?’ said Sam. He realised where this was leading and could see Helen did too.
‘I understand you visited a sheltered housing complex in Morecambe on the day the two men died on the beach.’
‘We did. What of it?’ he said.
‘Why were you there?’
‘To visit Professor Bertram’s home. We had arranged to meet his daughter there to review some of his research. All above board, the professor had arranged it in advance. I understand he’d used the telephone at his bed and breakfast accommodation to telephone his daughter and the warden. Check with them.’
‘Well, the warden has confirmed that arrangement. She also confirmed that you were seen to arrive and leave the complex.’
‘So there’s nothing to talk about, is there?’
‘I wish it were so, sir. Only, immediately after you both left, what was described as “a big flashy car” arrived, and some men got out to visit your Professor Bertram’s home. Shortly after that, they left, then the professor’s home went up in flames.’
‘Oh no,’ said Helen. She already knew Patricia Bertram was dead but learning the sequence of events was still disturbing. The tension was back with a vengeance; she knew exactly what was coming.
‘I’m afraid so, the house was gutted by the blaze. Sadly, once the fire brigade extinguished the fire, they found a woman’s body inside - the professor’s daughter, and it seems she didn’t die easy.’
Helen closed her eyes, and it was Sam who responded.
‘You said this happened after we had left. Clearly we were not involved,’ he said.
‘Clearly, you didn’t do it. But clearly, you were not involved? I’m not so sure. Four deaths in quick succession, yes, at opposite ends of the country, but a father and daughter, and you visited both just before they died. And two heavies who’d first tried to gun you down? Now to me, that stretches coincidence beyond reasonable limits.’
The verbal jousting continued a little longer until Price recognised that she would learn nothing. Frustrated, she stood to take her leave. ‘I don’t understand why the inspector wants to tread lightly. This was an informal fact-finding discussion. Believe me, if I have my way, next time, you’ll be down at the station, and there will be nothing informal then.’
Sam stood and guided Price towards the door, delivering any assurance he could with every step. She left as unconvinced as when she had arrived.
Shutting the front door, he turned to find Helen standing close beside him. Her face was worried, and she leant heavily on her walking stick.
‘It’s never going to end, is it?’ she said.
Sam put his arms round her waist, lifting very slightly to take the weight off her wounded leg. ‘We have to get in the driving seat.’
‘How many more people have to die first though?’
‘I don’t know. What I do know is, to survive, we have to end it. Not sit back and wait.’
He felt Helen’s head nod agreement against his shoulder.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We need to take some action.’ Helen leant on Sam’s arm as they made their way back to the study.
‘What do you mean?’ she said.
‘We think opening your boxes will provide the clue to finding whatever else the Templars hid. These people are after it too. We need to solve the puzzle first.’
‘But the photographs that you thought would provide the answers were lost in the sea at Morecambe,’ said Helen as she eased herself down into the chair behind the desk.
‘They were.’
Helen was silent for a long moment. She looked out of the window; snow was again falling from the dark and sullen clouds that had rolled in to fill the sky once more.
‘You need to go the Libya, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do, and I need to phone Bishop Ignatius.’
• • •
‘You are my son; this is our birthright! Get these fools under control. Cassiter is in Malta. Must I come to Edinburgh myself to ensure there are no more blunders? Fix it, fix it now. I need information. If your team kill everyone we want to interrogate, we will never get the answers we want.
‘Find out what is so interesting in that wood. Do not allow anything else to happen to that church girl or Cameron, until we know what they know. Then you can snatch them, and I will have Cassiter show you how we make an opponent suffer - we can both enjoy the spectacle. For now, retrace all your men’s steps; make sure there are no loose ends that can link back to you.’
Shaking with frustration, Parsol hurled the telephone handset across his study. ‘Merde, merde, merde!’ He lapsed into silence, scowling at the handset where it had come to rest behind the study door. Raising a hand, he swept his tousled silver hair back into the carefully groomed style he normally sported. The phone rang, and his face betrayed another flash of irritation as he powered his wheelchair out from behind his desk and made to retrieve it.
‘Parsol speaking,’ he said, his voice restored to its normal tone of controlled authority. He listened as he drove his wheelchair back behind the desk.
‘That’s good to know. Very good. Have you alerted Cassiter yet?’ He reached out his free hand to open the email account on his computer screen. ‘I see your message, good. Leave me to speak with Cassiter.’ He hung up and instantly keyed in another call. It was answered as soon as the ringer sounded.
‘Hello, Cassiter, good news. Cameron is flying back to Malta. Check your email for details of his flight. This is important. I know I don’t need to tell you to be careful, but I think this may be our last chance. Whatever his interest in Malta, we need to know. I … We are all depending on you to find out what he is doing and what he knows. Keep me informed.’
11
Wednesday, January 15th
Looking along the quay, Sam was delighted to see the blue fishing boat was berthed where he had seen it before, back from whatever works the skipper had alluded to during their last meeting. Better still, he could see Captain Blue leaning on the rail, watching the world go by as he puffed on a cigarette.
The skipper watched him approach. When Sam came to a halt at the foot of the gangway, Blue exhaled a long stream of smoke in his direction.
‘You’re back then,’ said Blue.
‘I’m back.’ Sam held the skipper’s gaze. ‘I’m thinking about our charter. Where do we stand on that?’
‘I’ve been waiting for you. It’s all sorted.’
‘Good. You’re happy with the job?’
‘Yep,’ he said and drew again on his cigarette. ‘Charter fee’s all paid and we’re ready to go.’
‘You know where we’re going?’
‘Naturally. Though why you want to go to Leptis Magna I don’t know. It’s a dead place. But hey’—Blue shrugged—‘the money is paid, so you get to choose.’
‘What about local militias and radicals?’
‘No problem. I’ve got friends on that stretch of the coast. It’s arranged; they know to give you a wide berth.’
Sam didn’t bother asking who Blue’s friends were. He guessed Blue would be channelling luxury
consumables south into Libya and ferrying illegal immigrants north on the return journey.
‘When can we go?’
‘Come back here tomorrow, an hour before dawn. We’ll sail with the smaller local fishing boats.’
Sam confirmed that Blue was able to wait off the Libyan coast for him while he was ashore at Leptis Magna then let things rest. There would be time to ask any other questions once they were at sea. This was his only ticket to Leptis Magna, so for now, nothing else mattered. He turned and headed away, scanning the quayside street for a taxi.
Blue continued to lean on the rail and watched Sam go. He saw the man sat at the café table across the street pull out his phone and make a call. Blue smiled. The café man had become conspicuous by his constant presence at the outside tables of the restaurant over the past days. What’s next? he wondered.
• • •
Helen shuffled along the hall from the front door. Beside her walked Davy and Julie. She waved her stick ahead in the direction of the kitchen.
‘Let’s go in there; it’s the warmest room right now.’
Julie offered Helen her arm as Davy moved ahead. ‘Okay,’ said Davy, ‘but let me make the drinks. You just sit down at the table, Helen.’
Grace was already in the kitchen. ‘I’ll get your drinks; you all just sit,’ she said, moving towards the hob.
‘What exactly happened to you?’ said Julie, pulling a chair away from the table for Helen.
‘Oh, you know, it was just one of those things. Something and nothing,’ said Helen, easing herself into the chair.
‘It looks like something to me,’ said Julie.
Helen waved her hand dismissively. ‘It’s nothing, really.’
Davy helped Grace carry coffees to the table, and Grace resumed her seat at the end while Davy and Julie sat opposite Helen.
‘It’s really exciting to think you have an ancient chamber on your land. Did you have any idea it was there?’
‘None whatsoever. Yes, it’s exciting, and Sam and I are grateful you are both prepared to help out.’
‘No problem. Some others in the class have volunteered to help too; we’re going to set up a rota. We all really hate nighthawks,’ he said.
