‘Pete Cross, great to meet you, and you must be Erasmus Jones. Well, I've heard all about you, I don't know too many men who have court orders restraining them from approaching a member of the church!’ He laughed and slapped Erasmus on the shoulder.
‘It was a misunderstanding,’ said Erasmus.
‘Sure, sure, these things often are. Now do you guys want some drinks?’
They both declined. Erasmus was struck by Bovind's accent. It veered between old-fashioned Liverpudlian and a Texan drawl like a bumper car being driven by a drunk.
‘Please take a seat. I gotta tell you I was curious when Dan told my assistant that you guys wanted to see me and why. In my line of work death threats aren't that unusual. There are always some folks who want you to stop doing the Lord's work and, heck, there is a lot of jealousy about when you start bringing in the dollars. But when I heard you wanted to speak to me about the Everlong, well, I gotta say I was curious. So, what do you guys have for me?’
Erasmus took out the photograph that he had found in the school and put it on the table in front of Bovind.
‘Do you remember this picture?’ he asked.
Bovind picked up the picture. For a brief moment his smiling lips dipped momentarily and Erasmus thought he saw something else, something almost fearful in his expression. But the look was gone as soon as it appeared and Bovind was back to his default facial expression: smiling widely.
‘I sure do. It was the day that we got that darn boat out to sea for the first time. Father Michael had us working on that boat for months – ’
Erasmus interrupted him. ‘All the boys in that photograph are now missing or dead except for you. Ford fell to his death two days ago, Petersen was killed last night, Wareing drowned last week, Francis is missing and Tomas died twenty-five years ago. So that leaves you and Father Michael.’
Bovind leaned back in his chair. ‘So, you guys think that someone is murdering us? Who would want to do that and why?’
‘Well, it could be Stephen, it would explain his disappearance. But it could be Father Michael, someone we haven't thought of, or – ’ he paused ‘ – or it could be you?’ said Erasmus.
Bovind was silent for a moment and then he began to laugh and for good measure gently slapped his own knee. ‘You gotta be kidding me. Father Michael is one of the most religious, morally upstanding people I have ever had the privilege to know. He looked after us back then and now he's an inspiration to all his flock of whom I, you must know this already, am one. I just don't see it, it's nonsense, Erasmus!’
Erasmus sighed but continued. ‘I know this is going to be difficult but we think the deaths and the disappearance in such a short space of time must be linked.’
‘And why do you think its Father Michael? I know you have personal issues with him, heck he had to get a court order restraining you from being within one hundred yards of him. It sure ain't him so why not me? Maybe I'm your killer and you should be protecting Father Michael?’
Suddenly Bovind's smile dropped and he stared directly at Erasmus.
‘Because there is evidence that shows me that Father Michael was being blackmailed by Stephen Francis, I am fairly sure, but maybe some or all of the others?’
‘Blackmailed?’
‘Father Michael paid £50,000 to a loan shark who Francis owed money to, two weeks before his disappearance. Would he do that for any of his parishioners? I was asking him about that at the church. That's why he had the court order taken out against me.’
‘So you think that Stephen was blackmailing him and Father Michael had him killed?’
‘It happens, and I think that once he got started he decided to finish the job and make sure it couldn't happen again.’
‘Take out all the trash,’ muttered Bovind.
‘I wondered, and this is a little sensitive, well, I wondered if they were was ever any inappropriate conduct by Father Michael back then. He was a Catholic priest and it's not entirely unknown?’
Bovind shook his head. ‘No, absolutely not. There was nothing like that at all. People tend to think the worst of the clergy sometimes but Father Michael was never like that, not at all. He loved us all but not in any inappropriate way.’
‘But the money?’
Bovind's head snapped around and a completely new look appeared on his face. His eyes narrowed but unnervingly no frown lines appeared, his skin remained glacially smooth.
‘The money is a bit difficult to explain but here is the thing, Mr Jones, the world is too cynical, too quick to judge those who would stand up for morality and decency. You saw that with the child sex scandals in the Catholic Church. Yes, there were a few bad apples but the liberal left media lapped it up, they loved every second because they hate absolutes and God's word is absolute, don't you agree?’
The look of anger passed as quickly as it had appeared and the calm, rational Bovind reappeared.
‘What I mean to say is that there is nothing, just nothing bad about Father Michael and he is the last person on earth I would think would try and harm me or the other children. You know about Tomas?’
Erasmus nodded.
‘The Bosnian boy, he was murdered?’
Bovind examined the picture again. ‘What you don't know is that he disappeared the day this picture was taken.’
‘Is it possible that Father Michael had anything to do with his murder?’ asked Erasmus.
A look of anger flashed across Bovind's face. ‘Tomas was killed by Frank Burns, he confessed to the murder! Why would you think Father Michael had anything to do with it?’
Bovind stood up and walked to the window. He moved with a jerkiness that made Erasmus think that his youthful looks belied an inner sickness.
‘This project, my project here in Liverpool was inspired by Father Michael's example. He taught me a valuable lesson: love means nothing if you are not prepared to sacrifice anything and everything for it. Father Michael saved souls at any price and so will I, in this city.’
Bovind turned around. In the winter sunlight that shone on his face his skin seemed almost transparent, stretched so tightly as it was across his face.
‘Father Michael is not a killer,’ he was almost whispering now. ‘It was Father Michael who saved Tomas’ life, it was Father Michael who found him starving by the side of a road after his family were massacred by the Mujahideen, it was Father Michael who, as Tomas hovered between life and death in hospital, visited the boy every day for a month until he was well again and after that he arranged for him to come to the UK and processed his asylum claim. It was Father Michael who placed him with foster parents here, if he could have taken him as his own son he would have done, but Father Michel was wedded to the Church. You see the point I am making is that Father Michael loved that boy Tomas like he was his own son. But the day Tomas went missing, although it was Father Michael who reported that Tomas was gone, he was hauled off by the local police as their first suspect because that is the level of hatred, prejudice and, let's call it what it is, evil, that exists in our society against religion, Mr Jones. And now here you are again repeating the same old prejudice and lies against Father Michael.’
Bovind slowly hit his fist into his hand.
‘I can only repeat I think that your life is in danger and I am trying to help you,’ said Erasmus.
Bovind laughed. ‘My life is in danger? It's my soul you should be worried about and I can assure you that my soul is in the very best of hands, that of the Lord Jesus. I won't ask if you are a believer as I can see as clear as day that you are not one of the saved.’
Erasmus exchanged a look with Pete. It was a look that said it was time to go.
‘Mr Bovind I came here to do what I had to do and if you don't want to take my warning then that's up to you but I think we had better be going.’
Erasmus began to stand up.
Bovind leaned forward and clasped his hands together as though in prayer.
‘No, Mr Jones, please sit down. I want to talk to you
about something. Alone if I may?’
‘What about?’ asked Erasmus.
‘It's a private matter, I can only discuss it only with you.’
Erasmus and Pete exchanged looks again and Erasmus nodded.
‘It's OK. Wait outside. I'll be out in a minute.’
‘If you're sure, Erasmus. Shout if he tries to convert you.’
Matthew held open the door to the room and followed Pete through it, leaving Erasmus and Bovind alone.
Bovind smiled at Erasmus. ‘So, you used to be a Catholic, yes?’
‘Yes, very much lapsed though. How do you know?’
Bovind laughed. ‘Well, apart from the fact that I have had one of my assistants look into your background a little I can smell Catholic guilt a mile off. It's one of the benefits of the Third Wave: no guilt, just joy in the teachings of Christ.’
‘I have nothing to be guilty about,’ said Erasmus. He caught himself looking away from Bovind even as he said this.
‘Do you have faith now?’ asked Bovind.
‘I believe in my family, my friends. I would like to believe in something higher but I guess you could say I'm an agnostic.’
‘There is no such thing. You have faith or you do not.’
Bovind stretched out his arms, palms upwards.
This was getting too close to a sermon for Erasmus’ liking. ‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’
Bovind studied Erasmus for a second before replying. ‘Religious talk makes you uncomfortable? It shouldn't do, the fact that you used to be religious fills me with hope for your soul and more importantly means I can begin to trust you.’
‘I told you. I'm not religious,’
‘Maybe you are more so than you think. Did you not pray to God when you were in Afghanistan?’
At that moment Erasmus knew for certain that Bovind had arranged for the pigs head to be placed in his apartment. He fought an urge to leap across the table and grab Bovind.
‘Everything OK, Mr Jones?’
Erasmus took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Sure.’
Bovind opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a letter, he threw it across the desk to Erasmus. ‘Take a look,’ said Bovind.
Erasmus recognised immediately the corporate letterhead of his own law firm and the signature of the Bean. It was a letter of instruction.
‘As of yesterday I am one of – well heck, there is no need for false modesty – I am the biggest client of your law firm. You still work for them, don't you?’
‘Yes, I'm suspended but yes I still work for them.’
‘And therefore anything I tell you will be covered by attorney/client privilege?’
‘Yes, I guess it would, I'm an agent acting on their instructions, but it's solicitor/client privilege in England.’
‘Of course, having one foot in either camp sometimes it gets a bit confusing but the principle is the same, anything I tell you must remain confidential between us?’
‘That's right,’
Bovind looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘I appreciate that you and your friend Pete have become involved in this, these matters, and have come to the conclusion that somebody is trying to harm me or even that I am involved. I can see why you may have thought this and to some extent you are right but you have got the parties wrong. Do you know why I came back to Liverpool?’
‘Only what I read in the newspapers,’ replied Erasmus.
‘I left Liverpool when I was sixteen. We were poor and my mother was terrified that what happened to Tomas and the other boys murdered by Burns would happen to me. She had an aunt who lived in Houston and she just left everything – friends, family and career – to give me a better life. She sacrificed everything she loved for me. She died two years later, alone but content.’
‘So she never saw you make your fortune. I'm sorry.’
‘Of course she saw me. She sees me every day. She is here, right now, in this room.’ Bovind waved his arms airily.
Erasmus couldn't help himself and looked around. Bovind didn't seem to notice, his gaze seemed fixed somewhere in the middle distance.
‘Indeed, I was blessed by the good Lord with luck and more importantly opportunity. I studied computer science and fooled about with algorithms as a hobby. I was fascinated by the beautiful symmetry of them, everything always balanced, perfect order. I think numbers are truly God's language but I digress. Yes, I love America for the possibilities it gave to me and one of those algorithms happened to end up as Lightspeed. Is it on your computer?’
Erasmus shook his head. ‘I still use carrier pigeons.’
‘If you own a PC less than five years old you have a 67% chance of having a Lightspeed search engine installed on it.’
Bovind seemed to be waiting for a ‘wow’ from Erasmus.
‘So, you're very rich then?’ said Erasmus.
‘Very, and do you know what, it's not true, money does make you happy but only if you use that money to do the Lord's work and that's why I am here. I discovered God in this city and I've watched from afar as the Catholic Church turned in on itself, faith become marginalised and the forces of secularism pushed out as shameful any thoughts of morality, goodness and the gospels. And I knew, I knew in my eternal soul, that my mission here on earth was to return and like Jesus to Jerusalem, bring the message of His truth to the people of this city and this blighted country.’
‘And you are going to do this how?
‘My foundation. The Jesuits said, “Give me the child and I will give you the man,” and that is our mission here. Of course, the forces of secularism are strong so we have to approach the subject obliquely.’
‘Intelligent Design, creationism by another name.’
‘I hear the mocking tone in your voice, the voice of the philistines. I am a believer but I'm also a scientist. I believe that God created the world and that there is irreducible complexity in the natural world that just cannot be explained by the fact that because a feature assisted the survival of the genes a species developed it. I don't accept that fish stranded in receding waters on a hot broiling beach over time developed lungs instead of dying. It's never been observed by these evolutionary theorists and never will be. One day I believe that evolutionary science will be as discredited as the terra-centric view of the solar system.’ He brought his palms together, fingers pointing upwards, as though he had triumphed in putting forward an unassailable case.
‘A view that the Catholic Church persisted in promulgating much to the annoyance and reduced life expectancy of Galileo, amongst others,’ said Erasmus.
‘Erasmus, if I may call you Erasmus, don't be such a sanctimonious prig. Men are intolerant and murderous. We are in different times now. All the information in the world is out there for everyone to pluck from the ether. Schools are merely an adjunct to the internet, a way of sorting information, directing minds towards pattern recognition, seeing the world hidden amongst that information and I intend to bring to schools the same ordering, priority and pattern recognition that is utilised by my search engine technology. Liverpool, my home, represents the perfect opportunity to start. A city that needs, is crying out for my help and is willing and bold enough to take a step into a new way of thinking. A more open methodology to let children see the truth and be given the opportunity to choose salvation from the mass of options and information that they are surrounded, nay smothered, with from birth to the grave.’
Erasmus wanted to stay quiet, but he couldn't. His inability to bear bullshit in silence hadn't served him well in the Army, and it didn't serve him well here.
‘I have a daughter who is in the school system in the city and while I appreciate the fact that she is able to go to school now the teachers have been paid and have returned to work I can't say I like the idea of her not being taught the theory of evolution. It seems a retrograde step and even if you don't accept the proof there is no proof whatsoever for Intelligent Design, it's just a wish list!’
‘Atheists are cattle, and you will
be treated and judged like cattle!’
Bovind's lips seemed to under different control from his anger; they stayed smiling, even as he shouted at Erasmus.
‘And this cattle has come to warn you about a threat to your life,’ Erasmus remarked.
This seemed to calm Bovind a little.
‘You are correct that I have been threatened but you are wrong about Father Michael. The fact is, Mr Jones, ever since my return to the city it is I who have been the victim of blackmail.’
‘By whom?’
Bovind closed his eyes and sighed. When he reopened them there were tears blooming in each eye.
‘That's an interesting question with a very sad answer. One of the things about success is the stark relief it puts on other people's lack of success. Before I proceed I want your guarantee that this is covered by solicitor client privilege, yes?’
Erasmus considered for a second. If he agreed he would not be able to use the information he was about to receive. On the other hand, that didn't mean he couldn't tell Pete who could then use it. There was always a loophole.
‘Yes.’
Bovind ran his manicured fingers through his blond hair and moistened his lips ever so slightly.
‘It was Stephen Francis. The missing husband of your client, Mr Jones, but before I carry on I want to assure you that I know nothing of his disappearance.’
‘The £50,000 paid to Purple Ahmhed. You got Father Michael to make the payment?’
Bovind hesitated for a moment. ‘Yes. I thought it would be the end of the matter.’
‘Have you told the police about this?’
‘I would have told them straightway but as you are aware my Foundation's work is at a delicate stage, my money purchased the opportunity but the battle has only just been joined and the enemies of the Third Wave are legion. I could not and cannot afford the publicity that necessarily accompanies a blackmail attempt.’
‘What was Stephen threatening to do?’
‘I need to tell you a bit about Tomas before you will understand,’ said Bovind.
The Silent Pool Page 21