The Temple Scroll

by D C Macey

  She was suddenly very matter of fact. ‘I told you because you insisted. I warned you it would put you in danger. Again, if it is known that you know, I am certain they will not hesitate to get to you, directly or even via your family, so you must be careful. Most importantly, I told you so Sandi McLellan can have some protection. She’s another innocent being pulled into this circle of hell.’

  ‘I’ll get one of my people on her right away. There’s something else I can do; something you don’t need to be involved in, leave that to me. But Helen, there’s a couple of things I don’t understand. If they are so ruthless, why are you and your little group of friends still standing? And how on earth is this going to be brought to a conclusion? My influence ends soon. Once I’m retired, they will be able to move about unchecked.’

  Helen stood and stretched out an arm, guiding Wallace towards the study door and out into the hall. ‘They seem very happy to take out people on the margins, to contain the spread of the knowledge probably. I think the reason we are still alive is because we don’t know all the answers and nor do they. Like us, they are groping around in the shadows. I am sure they are hoping we find those answers, which we can’t do when dead. But when we find them we will become disposable and dead very quickly.

  ‘As for bringing it to a conclusion, well Sam is the great hope. He’s very clever you know. With a little help from his friends too, of course. I don’t know if we can sort this before you retire, I pray so. Your protective screen offers us a little relief. And as I explained earlier, if we can get the whole story together and blow it wide to the public, there will be nothing left to kill for. That will end it.’

  ‘I hope you’re right. And I hope Sam gets a move on, my clock’s ticking down.’ DCI Wallace paused at the front step. ‘I’ll do what I can for Sandi McLellan, leave it with me.’

  Helen thought she could see just the beginnings of a tear in the policeman’s eye.

  ‘You’re very brave,’ he said. ‘I admire you. All of you. I never thought I’d say it, but much more of this and I’ll be heading back to church myself. And I haven’t been voluntarily since my youngest was christened.’

  ‘So, DCI Wallace, do it, you just might feel better. I’m adding you to my redemption list right now, you and Sam Cameron too. And in the meantime, you take care.’ She leant over and hugged the older man, kissed his cheek.

  Wallace was startled by the gesture but nodded acknowledgement as he stepped back. He paused for a moment, and then delved inside his jacket, pulled out a photograph that had been printed off from New College’s CCTV records. He handed it to Helen. ‘Do you know her?’

  Helen looked at the picture and shook her head. ‘I’ve never seen her before. She’s very pretty, beautiful even. Has she been dragged into this too?’

  ‘She wasn’t dragged into this; this one jumped in, jumped right into the middle. She was cleaning New College while the cleaner lay dead in her store. Just about the time Sandi McLellan’s room was being ransacked. Make of that what you will.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Helen, looking more carefully at the picture. ‘Well, I’ve certainly never seen her; this is a face nobody would forget in a hurry. She’s a stunner.’

  ‘More deadly than the male, though. Keep the picture; let Sam see it. If he recognises her or either of you see her, get in touch with me right away.’

  ‘I will. I’ll show it to the others too. We don’t want her coming around unrecognised.’

  Wallace growled a quiet agreement and turned to leave.

  Helen waved him off. ‘Keep in touch now,’ she called after him, and then he was gone.

  CHAPTER 15 - THURSDAY 22nd AUGUST

  This was one of Sam’s favourite times of the year on campus, a time of calm. Many of his colleagues were away on holiday, attending conferences, researching abroad or simply working from home. The undergraduates were all away for summer and only a few postgrads dotted about developing their own specialist projects or working on paid tasks for the university. This was the time Sam always found useful for thinking and planning. So far this summer none of it had related to his teaching. He knew he would need to spend some time preparing for the students’ return, but not yet. There were more pressing things to consider.

  Last evening he’d worried for a while that Helen’s revelations to DCI Wallace would bring a late night visit and arrest warrants all round. There had been no knock at the door, no police this morning either. If the detective had chosen to dig in a particular direction, he could easily have dragged both Helen and himself into the mess. That he had not done so spoke highly of Helen’s ability to judge a man.

  Sam was glad now that he had bitten his tongue, held in the protests he had wanted to fire at her when she had told him of her conversation with Wallace. Seems she had been right.

  He was browsing through his emails when the phone rang. He answered it at once.

  ‘Sam, Sandi McLellan here.’

  ‘Sandi, nice to hear from you again, how can I help?’

  ‘Well you can start by telling me why there’s a detective hovering round. It’s nothing to do with the murder of our cleaner the other day. He says it’s something to do with some church investigations. Now he’s a fixture down in reception and has told me not to leave the building without him. The only church investigation I know of is this business of yours. What have you got me into?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Sam. It seemed Helen’s revelations to DCI Wallace had produced some immediate results. If it protected Sandi then anything Helen had revealed had been worthwhile. Wallace was clearly a man who could separate right from rules, thank God. ‘Listen, Sandi, I know it will seem a bit intimidating -’

  ‘Not intimidating, Sam. Imposition. An imposition. I want to know what’s going on. What have you dragged me into?’

  ‘Listen, we’re the good guys here. I’m sorry you have become involved, that was never the intention.’

  ‘So what was your intention? For goodness sake! I’m now of interest to the police. Me!’

  ‘Sandi, don’t do anything precipitous. Why don’t we meet for lunch and I’ll tell you what I can.’

  The call ended with Sandi grudgingly accepting the lunch date. Sam took a few moments to think about what and how he would explain the situation. Then he returned to his email. One stood out as unexpected. It was from Davy, the student who had been attacked in his home up in Oban at the start of the summer. Sam wondered what he wanted in the middle of the summer holidays.

  Hi Sam,

  Hope the summer is going better for you and Helen now. Julie and I are doing great. Barty the dog is too! He’s eating sausages again. I’ve found something interesting, re what happened before summer break. Can we meet sometime in the next two days? Julie and I are in Edinburgh for the Festival.

  Davy.

  Sam read it again, thought it through. What had Davy been up to now? The message couldn’t be ignored; they would need to meet. All and any information was welcome but, after the previous round of troubles, he had specifically cautioned Davy and his girlfriend Julie not to dig any further. Surely, he had learnt his lesson by now? This was not a subject to be meddling with. He fired off an acknowledgement and suggested a coffee meeting in his office next afternoon, and then moved on to review the rest of his messages.

  Before he had finished a reply came back from Davy confirming the arrangement. Sam noted the speed of reply. This must be something that was weighing on Davy’s mind. He wondered for a moment what it could be then turned his thoughts back to his lunch meeting with Sandi. He had a lot of grovelling to do.

  • • •

  DCI Wallace looked calmly into the camera lens, expressionless, waiting. It was hard to maintain eye contact with a camera, disconcerting, but he was determined not to flinch. For a very long moment, nothing happened, but finally, in response to his persistent finger pressing on the buzzer, the lift doors in front of him opened - prompted by an unseen instruction from whoever sat at the other end of the camera feed. He let
his finger release the pressure from the buzzer. Smiled briefly at the camera and stepped into the lift. Round one to him.

  A minute later, he stepped out of the lift into the now familiar penthouse office suite. His team had spent days searching it earlier in the summer. This had been the centre of activity; if he wanted to deliver a message this was the place. He looked directly at the sour faced receptionist. She stared back as unwelcoming as he had expected.

  ‘Is he in?’ said Wallace.

  ‘Is who in? And anyway, I understood you weren’t meant to come here without a prior arrangement.’

  ‘You know who I want, the boss, and I’ll go where I choose in my city, thanks.’

  ‘He’s not here.’

  Wallace looked about. ‘It’s very quiet here today, where is everyone?’ He knew from his team’s covert observations that most of the staff they had previously linked with this office were gone.

  ‘It’s none of your business, but as it happens much of the work has transferred abroad. Your heavy-handed and unjustified approach spoilt things here.’

  ‘You haven’t begun to see heavy-handed yet. Now, I asked where he is.’

  ‘My instructions are to direct any police enquiries to our solicitor. I know you have the contact details, but here, this should help you.’ She reached across the reception desk to offer him a business card. ‘Why not phone now? Use the office phone, and tell him you’re here. That will save me a call.’

  Wallace did not bother taking the proffered card; instead, he walked down the hall and opened an office door, stepped inside. It was empty. No papers, no work in progress. He could make out computers on desks, all covered by thin clear plastic dustsheets. This office really was closed down or mothballed at the very least. Just the reception was active, place holding.

  He was aware of sour face beside him, could feel her glare. ‘You have to go now or I’ll call the police,’ she said.

  Laughing at the irony of the situation, he backed out of the office, closing the door behind him. He headed back to the reception and sour face matched him step for step. She opened the lift door for him, and stared unflinching, defiant. The she-wolf guarding her den.

  Wallace didn’t enter the lift. Instead, he delved inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a slim sheaf of photographs. ‘Well, I’d heard things were going a bit quiet here. But I actually wanted to speak with you. You see, I’ve been a bit naughty. Yes, I was told to back off from you and your friends, but you know what? I didn’t. And I’ve found out one or two extra things now that I know will enable me to reopen the investigation - if I’m minded to.

  ‘Your boss was very clever getting the original case closed off while I was away. He must have some very important friends. But I’m back now and, unlike the juniors in my team, I can’t be bullied by any political management. Now, you and your boss know who I’m worried about, I have a protective watch on them all at present, but that shouldn’t be necessary anymore. Tell him, anything happens to any of them and I will be pulling him in and he won’t walk away a second time. Do you understand?’

  ‘You can’t come in here making false allegations and threats. I’m calling the solicitor now. Get out before I have you arrested for harassment.’ She picked up the telephone handset from her desk and started to call. Wallace stretched across and killed the call at the base station.

  ‘I haven’t finished yet. You should listen carefully. Oh, here you might want to look at these.’ He handed her the photographs. She took them and looked at the first in the stack.

  ‘That first one is taken from the security camera inside New College on the evening of the recent murder. It’s the only face we can’t place.’

  ‘So, what’s that to do with us? She’s never been here. I’ve never seen her before.’

  ‘I’ve had my photographer on the case. Yesterday he followed someone to a coffee shop. See the next picture, two people meeting for a friendly coffee. Two girls having a chat. Oh look, one’s passing an envelope to the other. Who can it be? You know, I’m pretty sure it’s our friend from New College, but here’s what’s really interesting, do you recognise who she’s passing the envelope to? I do. A very memorable face don’t you think? It’s you. And yet you’ve just told me you have never seen her. What was in the envelope?’

  ‘You can’t spy on me like this, there must be laws. Anyway, you were told to leave us alone.’

  ‘I know, but it’s like I said before, I’ve been naughty. Now here’s the thing, take a look at the next picture. See if you recognise anyone there.’

  Sour face glanced down at the picture and then looked up, for the first time Wallace thought he saw a flicker of emotion. ‘It’s him, isn’t it? And look who’s walking right beside him. It’s your friend from the coffee shop, my friend from New College, the killer lady. And I have to say, I don’t like the look of those heavies walking behind them. Is it an escort, a little team? See the big man, right at the back? You know him. I do too. We had him in with the rest of your workmates; earlier in the summer, remember? I wonder what’s happening here.’

  ‘Where did you get this?’ demanded sour face. ‘It’s a forgery. You won’t get away with it. I’ve had enough of you.’ She thrust the pictures back into Wallace’s hand, was still defiant but now Wallace detected a note of worry.

  ‘It’s no forgery. It’s from Hereford Cathedral, their security footage. Fortunately for me, their CCTV system is not online, not so lucky for your boss; I know how good your team is with online systems. But you’ve missed this one and it puts your boss next to the lady we want to speak to in connection with the killing at New College. And it links them both to a robbery in the cathedral that took place immediately after this image was recorded. Oh, and it’s only a short step from there to the killing of an old lady. She suffered horribly, poor woman, but you know what’s very interesting? It left her with some what I might call trademark wounds.’

  Wallace forced himself to smile at sour face as he gently placed the photos on the reception desk. He stepped into the lift and spoke before pressing the descend button.

  ‘Tell him. Show him the pictures. The originals are in a safe place, along with the linking information. This is a one-off offer. I’m retiring soon; my priorities have changed. He stays out of Edinburgh now, stays out of Scotland and leaves my people untouched and I’ll let this settle quietly. I’m sure there will be plenty of other officers hunting him elsewhere and eventually they’ll pull together a package without me.’ The lift doors started to close and he thrust out a hand to keep them open.

  ‘Oh, and make sure he understands I have the evidence safe. If anything untoward were to happen to me or mine, the pictures and all the linking evidence would hit a hundred news outlets within a day. You speak with your boss quickly. I want an understanding by tomorrow morning or I’ll be gunning for him, for you and your murderous lady friend.’ He pulled his hand back from the lift doors and they slid shut. Pressing the descend button, he took a deep breath. Round two to him.

  CHAPTER 16 - FRIDAY 23rd AUGUST

  Sam was standing behind the desk in his office, his back to the window. He leaned one elbow against the window frame while regarding the student who sat on the other side of his desk. Davy had come to the campus, as promised, and after the briefest of greetings he had excitedly blurted out his discovery. Sam didn’t know whether to be annoyed at the young man’s dabbling or delighted at his findings.

  ‘Davy, you of all people should know the risks involved. You should have kept well away from this.’

  ‘I know, I know. You and Helen both stressed that at the end of last term. But once those guys had been lifted by the police, I reckoned it would be safe enough. Especially after we heard the guy who attacked me was one of those who were killed.’

  ‘Tell me again about what you unearthed. In fact, my computer’s logged on, show me.’

  With a little shrug, Davy stood and walked round the desk, sat in front of the screen and started searching for a webs
ite.

  ‘Well, you’d better be warned. It seems the police case has unravelled a bit. I’m not sure why, just know you have to continue to be as careful as ever,’ said Sam, while watching how Davy confidently worked the keyboard. He clearly knew exactly what he was searching for.

  ‘I get the reasons for worry. But I’ve followed the instructions Helen gave us before. I haven’t told anyone, except Julie of course. Nothing’s written down or emailed, it’s all up here.’ He quickly tapped the side of his head with the index finger of his right hand, then jabbed it down to prod the return key. ‘And here online, of course.’

  ‘So, tell me how you found it,’ said Sam.

  ‘I’ve been stuck indoors these past few weeks, recovering after the attack. Between my mother and Julie fussing round, I haven’t been getting the chance to go out and about much. So I had a look at the modules coming up for next year, thought I’d see if I could do any prep. Get a head start. I quite liked the look of the digital research course, right up my street.’

  Sam nodded. It had been apparent throughout the last year that Davy was keen on applying technology and using the high tech gadgets - perhaps more than getting his hands dirty in the trenches. But it takes all sorts and Davy was a good student.

  ‘So, I’d read some stuff about all the artwork and historical artefacts that the Nazis had looted during WWII. How some of it had been returned. But for a lot, the original owners couldn’t be traced. It’s sad and interesting at the same time. Fascinating really, who does own all that stuff? Then the really tricky bit, if you wanted to trace something that your family owned, or even another museum once owned - how would you even know where to look?’

  Davy half turned his head to look briefly at Sam then turned back to the screen. ‘There are official websites now, created to display artefacts that are suspected war loot. It’s a lot easier for people to work through some databases than to spend months, years even, going round museums and trying to get into physical archives. Doing that circuit is hard for the individuals who are searching; physically facilitating endless visits is just about impossible for the institutions - hence the websites.’