Lazarus looked above and around him, screening his face with one hand and holding his stomach with the other, like he was ill. There was a helicopter high above, hovering at a point in the sky. The clouds behind it were puffed cotton balls wiped of makeup. Dropping his gaze, he saw people passing open windows on the top floor of buildings. Some leaned over the sill, looking down and waving at those below. Others were waving little banners, draping various flags from the opening. Looking at his watch, and then up at a TV screen where most of the defeated walkers had turned to, dejected faces suggesting it was as close as they were going to get to religious royalty, Lazarus pushed on. The little impetus he helped create, seemed to spur some of those in front to take up the torch again, hopes of finding friends or family they had written off as lost in the thicket finding new life.
As before, Lazarus latched close behind a person who seemed to be making strides. A drunken man who was cursing and drinking from a can. As he approached, the seas seemed to part, worried people finding the space which didn’t really exist. Toes were crushed, calves were kicked, rushed apologies were proffered. There were nervous glances further down line from those yet to receive his presence. Their eyes cast around, trying to find the nearest luminous jacket officer. Lazarus’ head was down, hoodie still protecting him where the roof of umbrellas were punctured. The man in front was singing a song now which brought a quicker step, almost back to walking pace. A great slice of people, perhaps anticipating what was to come, quickly scuttled away and Lazarus took the opportunity to slip around the soaking man, knocking over the can in his hand. The man cursed at him, but Lazarus was too quick footed and arrowed toward the gap of people.
The cries of the drunk mingled with the noise coming from the speakers. Another screen was erected, high up on one of the building faces on his right. Communion was being offered; a team of priests taking up positions around the park to offer to those nearest as the sick, elderly and infirm were the first to receive the bread of life.
Lazarus was fighting through the crowds now, barging a path through. Some of those who had received a dig in the ribs complained, but he was already gone, their curse falling on deaf ears. For the most part, people remained standing, mesmerised, arms wrapped around their loved ones and looking up with adoration at the images beamed from within the park. Children wearing little blue and pink wellington boots entertained themselves with handheld devices and splashing in puddles, oblivious to the adult’s object of fascination but constrained by leashes which were looped around their waists.
Up ahead, he could see the bend in the road. Iron fences divided the crowds, keeping them on the pavement and enforced by yellow jackets who walked up and down the road. A couple of motor bikes were parked in the centre and as Lazarus fought to get closer, feeling the pipe hard on his chest and the plastic bottles squirming, he could see the open road as it curved around and beyond. Officers were dotted along the perimeter keeping order. Some of them were communicating on their walkie-talkie and Lazarus knew that they were beginning to prepare for the cavalcade. He took an unsteady breath which rattled against the metal pipe, but when he let it out is was slow and sure which told him everything he needed to know. He was ready.
FIFTY-THREE
Main roads heaved with honking cars, cursing drivers and screaming kids. Bus and taxi lanes into the city centre were still open, teasing frustrated drivers to leapfrog the queue. Police cars traded places with motorbikes every few hundred metres, although they weren’t seen by all. Some fed up drivers made the daring move, soon to be scythed down by the red and blue lights. Traffic was bumper to bumper and with the rain slapping the windscreen, each little unit and its occupants tried to make the best of a bad situation, configuring radio stations that appeased both husband and wife. Electronic tablets and mobile phones were passed to agitated kids in the back, buying their silence.
Molly had her phone parked on the dashboard on loudspeaker.
“Hello Molly?”
“I’m here.”
“It’s Detective Inspector Linda Bressan here. I’ve told the officers to give you a free passage so you can go ahead.”
“There’ll be no problems passing through? I’ve seen a few-”
“No. None. They have their orders. We’re leaving Lazarus’ house now. Forensics are on their way. We’ll be with you in around fifteen minutes. Hold on for us, OK? Molly?”
“Is it true what they’re saying about Lazarus?” Molly asked, listening intently for the response on the other end.
“Listen. You can imagine we get a lot of cranks and calls ahead of things like this. It’s our job to investigate each one on its own merit. We can’t be starting a mass panic until we know for certain. I’ll have more for you shortly. Just hold tight.”
Molly pulled her car out onto the express lane and clicked through the gears, watching the officers in the car ahead closely. They flashed their lights and the shorter straw stepped out of the passenger side, shielding his face with the torrential downpour and waved her to the side. She parked up just in front of the car and unscrewed the window a few inches.
“Bus and taxi lanes not in operation. License and Registration.”
“I’m with Linda Bressan. She said she called ahead and gave me the all-clear to-”
“Still need to see your license and reg.”
The officer was young, had a bum fluff red beard and leaned an arm against the bonnet of the car, tucking his head into the crook of the elbow. His face was turned toward the traffic and away from the rain which poured from the brim of his visor. He took the plastic sheet with the license insert from Molly and sheltered over. He studied it briefly and handed it back. Snapping open the top pocket of his waterproof, black jacket the officer slid a button across, dipped his chin toward it and said something. Molly heard static come back which the man was somehow able to decipher and nodded before clicking it off. He bent down again and looked inside the car.
“Anyone with you?”
“No. Just me.”
“OK,” he said, “pull past our car in front and we’ll have one of the bikes take you on to Wellesley.”
Before she had a chance to thank him he was gone, a little knock on the bonnet suggesting their business was done and he sprinted past the parked police car and jumped onto the motorbike. Molly pulled her car off the side of the road, disbelieving eyes from the thick root of traffic watching her not only escape punishment but to be escorted by the authorities. The motorcyclist had gloved up and had replaced the visor with a helmet, signalling behind for her to follow. He kicked off the bike stand, punched his foot down and revving the engine shot off, leaving Molly to quickly catch up.
Weather conditions steadily worsened as they picked up. The windscreen wipers swiped a beat which only just managed to clear the path in front, aided by the lack of traffic and the water stroke colours of the motorbike lights. She passed by lanes of traffic, mindful to watch for renegade drivers, giving them a wide birth as she hugged the pavement on the side. People were driven off the street by the bright lights and siren of the officer in front of her, hurrying to the side and away from the big pools of rainwater that couldn’t drain fast enough. Despite urging caution, she was intent to keep pace with the bike in front and on a couple of occasions sent a wave over the walkers.
Visibility steadily worsened but she relied on her sense of hearing, which suggested they were very close to the park. A speaker voice boomed out from somewhere ahead, as the cars finally ended in a curve away from the action. Some of the drivers had become too tired with waiting and stood beside their vehicles despite the torrent, looking up at a huge screen on the side of a hotel. The officer ahead had stalled his bike and was speaking to another man in a luminous jacket. The man swiped out a box from his pocket and spoke into it. When he had finished, Molly saw him enlist another jacket to help with the fence which they pulled to one side, enough for the bike and then her own car to pass.
She raised a hand to the man as she passed i
nto the road ahead and saw him trail the iron gate back across when she entered. The street was devoid of traffic but the footfall was still significant, people were startled by the flashing lights and her honking. They jumped back and cast curious glances into her car as slowly, they made progress through the crowd. After a few minutes, they reached a final checkpoint which they cleared. An officer stepped out of a little outhouse, asking Molly to lower her window again and checked her identification.
“They’ll be here in five minutes or so,” the man said, giving a sweep of the inside of the car with his eyes before returning her I.D. “Park up near the top.”
The block ahead was squared off, tall buildings on each side rising high into the clouds. Police cars were unoccupied, parked to the left and the right of her. The biker had stopped at the entrance and waved for her to go on which she did and found a spot, finding it a snug fit for her car. She turned off the ignition and picked up her phone. She hit the last dialled number again, unsurprised that it rang out. She called Louise who confirmed that Lazarus still hadn’t returned, and she’d heard nothing from him.
To Molly’s left there was a roar of noise and she looked over and saw a line of people on the street. A police line was drawn across on her side, while on the other, the people were held in by a wall of metal fences draped with wet banners, excited people standing proudly over them soaked to the bone. Those whose faces she could see were aimed skyward, pointing at something. Molly looked at her watch. She reached around with a hand and scanning the car floor found the rain jacket. She pulled it on, drawing the zip up tight to her neck and dropped the phone into a side pocket before stepping out. She looked back to the little outhouse and saw that the biker had gone inside with the attendant, taking off the helmet and hanging it on a peg on the wall. The door closed on them and she started running toward the road to her left.
She ducked under the police line, looking both ways and saw the road empty, luminous jackets dotted along the fence at their assigned post. Those in the crowd who hadn’t broken into hysterics gave her a curious look as Molly climbed over the railings and leaned against the fence. She looked up and watched the images on the television screen. The Pope was walking from a red carpet, supported at the flanks by a roof of umbrellas held by vicars and priests. She watched as he turned, the body of clergy with him separating so that the pontiff’s view wasn’t obscured as he waved his hands to the crowd, before being assisted into his Popemobile.
There were shrieks of excitement behind Molly, the fence behind her rattling with the energy of the crowd. On the screen, she watched a panoramic view of the city. The image was rain specked but it was possible to still make out the Hewson River as the video zoomed in closer to where the audience could see the end of the road that they were on. Crowds of people appeared on the line, as flags on poles, colour coordinated groups and recognisable buildings came into focus. The camera fell from the great height, individual faces were spotted and seeing themselves on the big screen, people began jumping up and down. Suddenly the drone camera shot off again, zooming through the street, bending around corners but expertly navigated as it panned down on lines of people on either side.
Molly felt the energy build around her. It seemed to originate from her right and soon she saw far in the distance, an amplification of movement there like a slowly rolling Mexican wave. She looked up to the giant screen as the camera continued to build speed. Voices behind her began cheering and she could feel the fence behind begin to press against her back, with people trying to improve their position. She felt the buzz in her pocket from her phone and was about to look down before a drone shot past overhead. There were cheers around her with people hopping and clapping, waving banners and flags. Molly saw herself on the big screen, a slight time lag and watched as the drone slowed to a stop and hovered, dropping down closer to the ground and doing a 360 degree turn. The noise was overwhelming. Molly looked to her left and watched as the drone turned around a bend, out of sight. She looked back up and saw it move closer to the line near the entrance, as a split screen appeared, showing the car of the pontiff move, the cheers from her left growing louder with the images.
The window of the Pope disappeared, and the drone took centre stage again. As it was about to shoot up into the sky, Molly spotted a face in the line. It was distinctive because the enthusiasm that gripped the lucky few who had managed to nail a place at the front didn’t touch his face, which was hooded in green. Molly saw the logo of the university flash on his chest as the drone lifted and instantly knew. She ripped herself off the fence and started running.
FIFTY-FOUR
Lazarus was vaguely aware of the drone as people on either side stared skyward, pointing and waving. His stare was focussed further up the road watching the escort car pull into view, two motorbikes on either side accompanied by suited men, shaven headed and wearing shades despite the conditions. Officers were bunched around the entrance to the cavalcade which connected the group from the park to the street. His hand was gripped on the fence in front and despite the heave from behind he had managed to carve out a little breathing space. The sleeve of his other arm covered his hand while it drew upward into the hollow and found the switch. He gently slid it down until it rested against his wrist.
The bubble of the Pope’s vehicle rounded the corner, and Lazarus felt an exhilarating rush, matching the others around him. With each advancing step of the group, his heart beat faster, squinting his eyes and watching the robed man gesture to the crowd from his raised box. The noise was deafening and the pressure on him and the gate was enormous with a final last squeeze from those desperate to get close to the pontiff. Their passage was so slow that Lazarus felt himself getting faint from the intense emotion, struggling for breath. Items were being passed from the crowd to the suited men, who approached the pontiff – bears and photographs which he blessed with a wave before starting again.
Lazarus was soaked from the rain but if it had been dry, he was certain the sweat would have competed just as well. The car continued to edge forward, tension incredible as the swell of people fought for a look. Umbrellas were long since broken, viewers voicing their frustration at the vision block by ripping it from despairing hands. They lay on the floor, trampled to an early death with the urgent march of the group. For the first time they didn’t need to look at a screen to see the pontiff’s face. They could see his expression in real time. Lazarus smiled. Tears began to form in his eyes. The sudden beauty of the scene and his involvement in it, gave him a euphoric burst which swelled in his chest. He looked down at the patch of ground ahead where he intended to leap over the fence, closed his eyes and tried to steady his breath.
There was a voice on the left above the din of the crowd. He turned and saw a few heads move with his own, but not seeing anything returned his gaze back to the cavalcade. The suited men had stepped in front of the pontiff’s vehicle and held out hands to signal it to stop. There was a drop in the noise as people looked up to the screen and at each other, noticing a change in the procession without knowing the cause. Suddenly, he saw it in his peripheral vision.
The woman was running up the open street and those in the front lines watched, all wearing baffled faces. Lazarus turned and saw her, scanning the faces as she approached, battling as the wind whipped her from behind. She smoothed back a wet band of hair which had slapped into her face and found the person she wanted and arrowed a path straight for him.
“Lazarus,” she shouted. “They’re coming!”
He was stunned when the woman slowed to a jog and pulled up to his fence. People turned and watched as the woman held out her hand. Lazarus had trouble connecting what was happening, shaking his head, darting glances around him and then up at the cavalcade. He could see some of the officers from the main entrance had started walking towards them, speaking into their walkie-talkies.
He tried to mouth a coherent response but found the blood drain from his face. The faintness returned, doubling as he fought to stay
standing, holding out both hands to the railing to steady himself under a moving ground.
“They’ve been to your apartment. We need to get out of here. They think you’re going to do something.”
One of the motorbikes had received its instructions and broke off from the group. Lazarus watched it. The stationary Popemobile was surrounded by a ring of security men and was slowly retreating. Molly was holding onto the back of his hands which were now trembling. Some of the people beside them had opened up a little space and shifted nervously. Lazarus felt the hidden bomb and their eyes on it all at once. He leapt over the fence as Molly ran from the direction she had come. She reached out a hand and he took it. Security staff who had been slow to react reached out to try and grab them as they fled but they bounded past. Lazarus felt the jumble of contents within the hoodie shake and shudder, the sound of bikes behind growing louder.
“To the left,” she shouted.
The crowd were watching the commotion unfold, an interesting side note which distracted them from their feverish excitement. They watched the man stagger alongside the woman, duck under a police line crossing and look around, rubbing his swollen belly like he needed a bathroom. His face was frantic as the woman motioned him to a car. When the two motorbikes had reached them, the car was already pulling out of its parking space.
Molly pressed on the accelerator and shot down the street. The guard had stepped from his outbox and was letting through a police car on the other side. When it entered and passed them she spotted her grandfather in the passenger seat. The officer stumbled back from the gate, as the car burst through just as he was sliding it back across. Molly looked up at the rear-view mirror and saw the officer on the ground, speaking into his talk box. Further behind, the squad car braked suddenly and reversed back up, motorbikes huddled around the driver window.
Raising Lazarus Page 24