“Please,” said the man. “I mean you no harm.” His accent was Mediterranean, possibly Spanish.
Stella finally relented, loosening her grip and pushing him away, but keeping a defensive stance.
The man turned round to face her. “Thank you,” he said. “I am sorry if I frightened you.”
Stella looked at his face under the orange glow of the street lamp. She recognized him, not only from the church earlier that evening, but also from the coffee shop on Saturday afternoon. “What the fuck do you want?!” she barked.
“We must talk. May we go to your flat? It is very wet out here.”
“And why should I let you into my flat? How can I trust you?”
“I will explain. But please, let us get out of the rain.”
Stella eyed him carefully. He was a sorry sight. “We’ll only get out of the rain if you tell me what this is all about,” she said.
“It is your boyfriend,” he said. “The one they call Stratton. I have reason to believe that he may be alive.”
Chapter 36
Annie was lost in a sea of dark dreams. She swam this way and that, trying to escape the cloying blue mucus that held her. The man waded towards her, scything through the viscous liquid with robotic intent. He came to her swiftly and she screamed, the silence echoing through her ears. A knife appeared in her hand and she set about her assailant with frenzied stabs, piercing his chest and abdomen fiercely and repeatedly. His face, which had been featureless, took on a form that she recognized. He smiled, his rictus growing with every strike, until all she could see was a set of rotting, taunting teeth mocking her feeble attack. She lashed out at the giant dentures with all her fury, her fists landing with a dull, ineffectual thud. Thud, thud, thud…
Her head shot up, her eyes flashed open, and she struggled for breath. After a couple of lungfuls of air she reoriented herself and realized that someone was knocking at the door. She stretched her arms sleepily and looked at the clock. It was just gone 10.30pm. She had been out for a couple of hours. Another knock prompted her to answer.
Kamal strode in and shut the door behind him. His face, as usual, was unreadable. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “I’ve just been sleeping. Bit of a bad dream, that’s all… Anyway, what happened?” she asked. “Did you get through to them?”
Kamal went to the table and poured himself a brandy. “Yes. I got through to them. But I am not happy.”
“Why? What did they say?”
“They want us to meet them. They want to sort things out.”
“That’s good then isn’t it?” said Annie hopefully. “I mean, we might be able to get my family back.”
Kamal sat down on the bed and took a sip of his drink. “Yes, I suppose we might. But it’s not as clean cut as that. They want their money back.”
“What? All five hundred thousand?”
“Yes, all of it. But I’m still not sure if that is going to be enough. I am unhappy with the whole situation. They have got the upper hand.”
“I’m sorry,” said Annie, hanging her head. “Perhaps you should just take your money and run. You could just disappear.”
“And what would you do then?” he said. “They would kill your family and then come for you. No, I must see this through to the end.”
“So what do we do?” she asked.
“We are to meet them tomorrow and exchange the money for your family.”
“But it’s not about the money, is it?”
“No, it isn’t,” said Kamal. “They are luring us into a trap. They have no intention of letting us live.”
“So what’s the point in meeting them?”
“It is our only option. If we do not, your family are as good as dead.”
Chapter 37
For a moment Stella stood open-mouthed, the rain pouring down her face. “Alive!” she shouted eventually. “What the fuck do you mean, he might be alive?!”
“Exactly what I say,” the man said. “Now, please. Let us get out of this weather. I mean you no harm.”
Stella continued to stare incomprehensibly, oblivious to the ongoing deluge. Then she picked up her umbrella and walked quickly for home. The man followed two paces behind.
Once inside, she shook the rainwater from her hair and face. Beside her the man brushed himself down. He was short and light-framed, and with the soaking he had received Stella thought he looked quite pathetic. She felt a twinge of sympathy. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get up into the warm. But I’m warning you – try anything and I’ll break both your arms, do you understand?”
The man nodded.
After hanging their coats up to dry, she led him into the living room, offered him a seat, and went to put the kettle on. “What’s your name?” she asked, when she returned.
“My name is Daniel.”
“I’m Stella. But I guess you know that already.”
He nodded.
“So Daniel, what’s all this about Stratton? And why have you been following me? Is it you who’s been trailing me in that silver Vectra?”
“Yes, it was me,” he said. “But I have been watching over you, making sure that you were safe.”
Stella tried not to laugh. He seemed far too small to be a bodyguard, and the ease with which she had restrained him in the street backed this up. “Making sure I was safe from what exactly?”
“From the Church,” he said.
Stella pulled a puzzled frown. “The Church? What are they going to do? Subject me to a particularly vicious baptismal?”
“It is no laughing matter,” said Daniel. “They are dangerous people. You will do well to take me seriously.”
Stella went to the kitchen and returned with two strong coffees. She handed one to Daniel and sat down on the armchair to his left. “So, what exactly do the Church want from me. And come to think of it, which Church are we talking about.”
Daniel drank some coffee to warm himself. “The Catholic Church,” he said. “And they don’t want anything from you personally. They think that you can lead them to Stratton.”
“Stratton’s dead – end of story. I saw him die. He was shot straight through the heart.”
“I know,” agreed Daniel. “But his body was taken from the mortuary a few days later was it not? And it has not been found.”
“That’s right. But it doesn’t mean he’s alive.”
“No, it does not. But there are reasons to think he might be. Perhaps it would be better if I started at the beginning and told you who I am, and whom I represent.”
“Maybe it would,” she said. She got out her cigarettes and offered one to Daniel, who politely declined.
“My name is Daniel Alonso, and I am a priest from Sevilla,” he started. “I have been sent here by a group called Frater Fides – the Brothers in Faith. We are a very small sect, placed in the Catholic Church to contain it and to make sure that it does not become too powerful.”
Stella snorted derisively. “Well, you’re doing a great job. Not.”
Alonso gave her a puzzled glance.
“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just a joke. It probably doesn’t translate. Carry on.”
“Anyway,” he continued. “The Catholic Church has long been aware of a certain artefact left by Jesus that contains the secret of his power. For nearly two millennia they have searched for it, but to no avail.”
“The box,” said Stella.
“Yes, a box,” said Alonso. “A box carved by the Messiah leaving his legacy to mankind. They do not want anyone to know about it. The Church is based upon Jesus being the Son of God, the embodiment of the Lord in human form. It is based on people worshipping and following. The events of Jesus’ life, and his words, have been twisted to serve a purpose. To create an all-powerful religion. The secrets of the box would undo nearly two thousand years of propaganda.”
“So they want to find the box and destroy it?”
“No, not at all. They want to find the box and
use it. They will create a new Messiah. This second coming will proclaim the Catholic Church as the only true religion on earth. He will be able to heal like Jesus did, and perform miracles like Jesus did. Seeing this, the whole world will convert.”
“Fucking hell!” said Stella, exhaling smoke. “That’s a bit ambitious isn’t it?”
“It is indeed. But in the face of a man with divine powers, who will deny him?”
“About a Billion Muslims. Not to mention the Sikhs, Jews, Buddhists and the rest.”
Alonso shook his head. “They will be won over. Once they experience first hand his ‘divine’ power, they will not be able to deny him.”
Stella stubbed out her cigarette and finished her coffee. “Okay then Daniel, let’s suppose that you’re telling the truth. Where do I fit in? And more importantly, what’s all this rubbish about Stratton being alive?”
“Over the years we have been looking for a sign that the box had been found. We have strong connections throughout the world, as does the Church. It came to our attention just before Christmas last year that at last the wait was over.”
“How the hell did you find out? That was classified information.”
Alonso smiled. “Like I said – we have very strong connections.”
“Okay then, so I assume you think I know where the box is. I hate to disabuse you, but I don’t.”
“We know you don’t Ms Jones. Just let me finish and all will become clear.” He paused to empty his cup and then continued: “We knew that the box had disappeared and that three people were killed in an incident at Stonehenge. We also knew, through our sources, what was being attempted there. As soon as we got wind that your boyfriend’s body had been taken from the mortuary we became suspicious. A week later our suspicions were all but confirmed.”
“Why? What happened?”
“We found a piece in an English newspaper about a mini earthquake at a church. It was extremely localized – so much so that it affected nobody apart from the vicar and his family. This particular church is built on a complex web of power lines, or ley lines as you would say. Five men were seen running away from the building as the vicar went to investigate. We believe that one of these men was Stratton. We believe that whoever took the box from Stonehenge used it to bring Stratton back to life.”
Stella was lost for words. Alonso’s theory was just too fantastical to take seriously. “This is ridiculous,” she said. “They tried bringing someone back to life at Stonehenge, and it didn’t work. It can’t be done. Even Stratton said it was an insane idea.”
“Maybe,” said Alonso. “But maybe not. I have spoken to the vicar in question myself, and one of the men fits Stratton’s description perfectly.” He delved into his trouser pocket. “Here is a sketch of the man he described.”
Stella gave it a cursory glance. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she said. “You could have drawn this from a photo for all I know.”
“Yes I could have. But why would I? I have nothing to gain from telling you all this.”
“Maybe not…I just don’t know,” she said, dragging her hands down her face in exasperation. “I don’t know what’s going on. I’m confused. My head’s all over the shop. What with you and Father Cronin.”
“Ah, yes,” said Alonso. “Father Patrick Cronin. I am guessing that he has been playing the concerned priest? It is him that I am protecting you from. He is a dangerous man. He will do anything to get hold of the box for the Church…Anything.”
Stella sparked up another cigarette. It was becoming all too much for her to assimilate. The idea that Stratton was alive was ludicrous. If he was, then why hadn’t he been in touch? Why would he leave her to mourn? Why would he leave her in such pain?
“I can understand your confusion,” said Alonso. “But what I am saying is true. If we suspect that Stratton is alive, then you can bet that the Catholic Church does too. Cronin has been hovering around trying to find out the extent of your knowledge. He may believe that you are in touch with Stratton. Or he may believe that Stratton will come to you.”
“Well, I’m certainly not in touch with him. And I’m not likely to be – unless you’ve got a Ouija board handy. I wish you’d get it into your head – he’s dead. I wish you and Father fucking Cronin would just leave me alone!” Her eyes welled up in frustration.
“I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you. But I fear you are in great danger from Father Cronin and the Church. They will stop at nothing to get hold of the power. If, as I believe, Stratton is alive, then we must find him quickly and warn him. We must make sure that the secrets remain hidden.”
Stella sat up straight trying to maintain composure. “For the last time – Stratton is not alive.”
“You are denying it, but in your heart you know it to be true. We have to reach him before Cronin does. Can you think of anywhere he might be hiding? Or anyone that he would trust enough to know?”
“I think you should leave Mr Alonso, or Daniel, or whoever you are. And I suggest that you stop following me, or I’ll inform the authorities.”
“I cannot leave, I must protect you.”
“Well, that’s tough shit. I want you out of my flat. Now!”
Alonso stood up. “Very well. I am sorry you feel this way.” From his pocket he produced a business card. “Here is my number, just in case.”
Stella took it and threw it on the sofa. “Now if you wouldn’t mind. Just leave.”
Alonso grabbed his still-wet raincoat from the hook and made to go. “Remember,” he said. “Be careful.”
Stella shut the door behind him and then went to the window to make sure he left the building. Satisfied he was gone she collapsed on the sofa. With her head on the arm she curled up and started to cry.
Chapter 38
Jennings and Appleby sat at the dining table in the Presidential Suite eating breakfast with the Prime Minister and his wife. It was a sumptuous affair, with everything laid out on silver trays in the middle. Jennings was feeling pleased with himself after divesting his colleagues of their cash the previous evening. Taking the overly-cocky Davis’ money had given him the most pleasure, but unfortunately he had left at the crack of dawn with Stone to work out the following day’s route through Manchester, so there was no chance to rib him.
“I hear you had a bit of a win at cards last night Jennings,” said Ayres. “Are you a bit of a player?”
“Not really sir,” he replied modestly. “It was just luck really. If you get the right hand at the right time then you’re bound to win.”
“I suppose so,” said Ayres. “But you’ve still got to be good to extract the money out of someone like Davis. I play a bit of poker myself you know. Perhaps next time I can join you?”
“Of course, sir,” said Jennings, slightly bemused. “Although it’s only a bit of fun. We’re not high rollers.”
He tucked in to his food with relish. Demolishing a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast, before moving on to a couple of pain au chocolat. He felt a renewed fervour for life.
As he sat back with a coffee his mobile rang. The caller ID told him it was Stella. He cancelled and sent it to voicemail. It was the third time she had rung that morning.
“You can have phone calls if you like Jennings,” said Ayres. “I don’t expect you to give up your entire life.”
“Thank you sir, but I’m sure it’s not important.”
“Nevertheless, I don’t want you missing out on your personal life. I’m sure we’ll be safe enough finishing our breakfast with Appleby here, if you want to return the call.”
“Thank you sir,” he said, and went to one of the bedrooms.
Sitting on the edge of the bed he punched in his voicemail number and retrieved his messages. There were two, both from Stella. The first was brief, asking him to get back to her as soon as possible. The second was longer and slightly garbled. Something about Cronin, Stratton and a Spanish priest. He listened again to try and make some sense of it. From what he could make out, Cro
nin had indeed proved to be too good to be true. But the bit about Stratton and the other priest was hurried and confusing.
Putting the phone back in his pocket, he sighed. He knew that he really ought to call her back straight away, but at that moment it seemed like too much of an effort. He felt like he was caught in a never-ending cycle of emotional support. The last three months had been a constant struggle to keep Stella afloat, and his own reserves were wearing thin. Whatever the problem was, he was sure it could wait. His priority was taking care of the Prime Minister.
“Everything okay?” asked Ayres as Jennings returned.
“Yes, thank you sir. It’s just my mother wanting to keep me abreast of family gossip and suchlike.”
Ayres laughed. “I know what you mean,” he said. “All mothers are the same aren’t they? Mine still phones me up to check that I’m eating properly. It doesn’t make any difference to her that I’m trying to run a country.”
Jennings sat back down and refilled his cup with coffee. He felt guilty for ignoring Stella’s call. It wasn’t her fault he was in turmoil. She hadn’t led him on in any way. She thought of him as a good friend and treated him as such. Anything else was in his head.
Chapter 39
Stella hung up the phone and sighed. She checked her watch: 9.30am. It was unlike Jennings to be sleeping this late. She went to the kitchen, put the kettle on and made some toast. Her mind was a mess.
All night she had lain on the sofa with only the television for company. Occasionally she had drifted off, but these fits of sleep were sporadic and brief. She had spent most of the time gazing aimlessly and thinking about Stratton. Could he really be alive? It just wasn’t possible. She had thought and smoked so much that her head felt like it would implode.
After forcing a couple of mouthfuls of toast she pushed the rest away and took a sip of coffee. She was so exhausted that it was almost physically impossible to keep anything down. Mistakenly she lit up a cigarette and started to gag. To keep herself from throwing up she opened the front window and inhaled some fresh air. She breathed slowly and deeply, and her retching eventually subsided.
Fear of the Fathers: The Reiki Man Trilogy Page 15