The Silent Pool

by Phil Kurthausen

  At the end of the street there was a line of policemen in riot gear cordoning off any access to the rest of the street. Beyond them Erasmus could see the wooden stage maybe three hundred yards away where the Mayor would be giving his keynote speech.

  There was a smaller stage erected before the line of police. It was nothing more than a few crates upon which an elderly man stood shouting into a microphone. This was the secularists’ platform, supposed Erasmus. Promises of an afterlife always attracted more funding. The bigger the promise the more people wanted to get in on it. Ponzi schemes for the faithful.

  Erasmus made his way to the front of the crowd and arrived just as the head of the Third Wavers march arrived on the other side of the police line and began streaming towards the larger stage. Either side of the police line the demonstrators surged forward to shout abuse at each other and Erasmus could not help but marvel at the sight of so many ordinary people enraged and eager for violence on either side of the divide. It didn't seem to matter what you believed in, people were united in hatred of each other.

  Erasmus was pushed forward by the crowd and had to duck to narrowly avoid being hit by a rather over enthusiastic young constable swinging his baton in front of him to keep the secularists back. He dodged the swinging baton and it hit the man with the green jumper who had given him a leaflet moments earlier. Leaflets went flying like confetti as the man collapsed to the ground.

  From the other side of the police lines there were similar scenes as the police struggled to keep both sides apart. The Third Wavers were making monkey noises at the unbelievers, mocking their belief that man was descended from apes.

  Erasmus squeezed back against the crowd and took a place at the side of the ramshackle stage. He fingered the trigger device in his pocket. He looked around. He could see no sign of the Pastor or his men but he knew that they were watching. He tried to push any despairing thoughts out of his mind. If he let them take hold he knew panic wouldn't be far behind. He wasn't a believer but Erasmus couldn't help think that he needed a miracle.

  Somebody squeezed his arm.

  He turned around and came face to a demonstrator whose face was covered by a hoodie, carrying a skateboard. It took a second for Erasmus to realise it was Heather.

  ‘Raz! How are things with you? Isn't this just the shit?’

  The noise of the crowd was deafening and Erasmus had to stoop down to speak to her. ‘Listen, this is urgent. I can't explain but I, my family are in danger and I need your help. Will you help me?’

  Heather grinned. ‘I owe you big time. What do you need me to do?’

  ‘You need to go and get Pete Cross, he will be in the Grapes. You know the Grapes?’

  ‘Sure, it's only two minutes away down the hill on my board.’

  ‘It's a matter of life and death, go and get him and bring him to me right away. Tell him to wear a hoodie like yours so his face is covered.’

  Erasmus’ life depended on Pete's habits. If he had chosen to go to another pub on a Saturday, or more unlikely, but possible, had decided to engage in some other Saturday activity, then Erasmus would have to detonate the bomb. A choice between innocent people he didn't know and his innocent family was no choice.

  ‘You got it, Raz!’

  Heather dropped her skateboard and took off.

  CHAPTER 56

  Pete was enjoying what he considered to be the king, the ultimate, in drinks. It was the magic third pint of the early afternoon. The third pint heralded what Pete had read the Greeks called entheos, that almost magical feeling of well-being, creativity and looseness. He looked at the golden creamy-headed drink and felt content. Entheos here I come, he thought.

  A day spent in the Grapes was a day well spent in his humble opinion and today was no different. There was sweet soul music from the stereo in the corner and Cains on draft. What else could he possibly want? Definitely not on the list was a young scally bursting into the pub shouting, ‘Is there a Pete Cross in here?’

  He downed his pint and stood up. ‘Who's asking?’

  The young girl grabbed him by the arm. ‘I'm Heather. Erasmus needs you. It's a matter of life and death. You need to come with me right away and, oh, and you need to wear a hoodie.’

  Dave the barman had been watching proceedings. Without hesitation he pulled off his beer stained green hooded top and handed it to Pete. ‘Der you go, la.’

  ‘A fucking hoodie. Can today get any worse?’ said Pete.

  ***

  Eramus was getting desperate. At the rear of the police lines he noticed an argument breaking out between two policemen. He assumed that the order had come down to abandon their positions and someone was questioning it.

  Chain of command was very rarely successfully challenged. Erasmus reckoned he had maybe two or three minutes top before the junior officer was browbeaten and threatened, before the lines broke and he had to move forward.

  From the crowd a large man in a scruffy green hooded jacket approached him. His hood was firmly pulled up over his head and it wasn't until he was right on top of him that Erasmus recognised Pete.

  ‘Manchester and now hoodies. You owe me big time.’

  Erasmus looked away from Pete, back towards the police lines.

  ‘I can't look as though I'm talking to you, I'm being watched. They've got Abby and Miranda and if I don't detonate this suicide vest and kill the Mayor they are going to kill them.’

  ‘A fucking suicide bomb? What the fuck is going on, Raz?’

  ‘Publicity for the Third Wave as martyrs or bombers, it doesn't matter. Bovind wants a religious war, he wants the Third Wave to be at the top of every news agenda and I know too much, I had evidence that Frank Burns didn't kill Tomas that it was Bovind. You have to help me.’

  ‘ I didn't rat you out, you know that, don't you?’

  ‘I know and I'm sorry. I didn't realise just how far Bovind could reach. I'm sorry.’

  ‘OK. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘This police cordon is about to disappear and I've got to blow up the Mayor. We've got one chance. You need to find the Bovind's men, they're watching me, they will be somewhere high up. If I don't get a signal from you I will have to detonate or they will kill Abby and Miranda.’

  In front of them the police line was dispersing. The protestors around him started to cheer and whoop in delight, a man on a loudspeaker appealed for calm. The crowd ignored him and bled into Hope Street towards the Third Wave rally.

  ‘I have to go, they are watching.’

  ‘Leave it with me, Raz. I will find them.’

  Erasmus gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head.

  He was swept along a few feet behind the front row and was able to watch the reactions of the rival demonstrators when they came together. The demonstrators had been happy to scream and abuse each other but now they were face to face there was a pause, a moment when they saw the absurdity of what they were doing, and their civil pretensions kicked in. They hesitated at crossing the line. That is how it played out for a few moments at least. Men and women around him were trading insults with increasing passion, the monkey noises were deafening. And then someone threw a punch and everything went crazy.

  A fist landed in Erasmus’ side but he was cushioned by the vest. He knew that impact shouldn't set the chemical charge off but his heart jumped nevertheless. He dodged away from the immediate brawl and tried to make his way through the crowd. A man with a beard grabbed him by the shoulders.

  ‘Do you believe the Lord saves?’ the man shouted spittle flying into his face.

  ‘Most definitely,’ said Erasmus.

  ‘Hallelujah!’ said the man and he let him go.

  A young man heard this exchange and hit Erasmus in the nose. It wasn't a hard punch but it drew blood. Erasmus couldn't get involved in a brawl so grabbed hold of the man with his left hand and pulled him close to him.

  ‘Leave now or I will break your arm in three places,’ he whispered in the young man's ear.

 
There must have been something in his face or his tone. The man shrank away from him and nodded meekly.

  Erasmus let him go. He scurried off into the crowd.

  As Erasmus watched him go the crowd parted for a second and there, hundred yards away, he saw a man staring at him. His blood ran cold as he recognised the face of his torturer, the man who had killed him, but for the first time he had hope that he might make it out of here alive, that someone, however malevolent their intentions towards others, was watching over him. Erasmus nodded at the man and there was an almost imperceptible return nod of the head. Then the crowd closed and he was gone.

  There was a surge in the crowd away from the stage and Erasmus felt his feet leave the floor. He pushed hard against the movement and managed to propel himself in the right direction. A gap appeared in the crowd and Erasmus staggered into it. The majority of the Third Wavers were standing back, appalled at the violence engulfing them. An elderly woman took Erasmus’ hand and pulled him away from the riot.

  ‘It's always the same, a few young hotheads causing all this bother. Are you OK, love? There is a tea stand near the stage. Let's get you there and get a cup of the good stuff down you. I'm Emily, by the way.’

  Erasmus nodded. He realised his nose was bleeding. ‘I'm Erasmus Jones,’ he heard himself say.

  The woman led him to the tea stand. A younger woman with two young girls who looked like her daughters was serving tea. She gave Erasmus a huge, generous smile.

  ‘You look you've been in the wars. You need tea with plenty of sugar.’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ he mumbled.

  Something was happening on the stage, a young guy in a red T-shirt was adjusting the microphone. Behind the stage Erasmus saw a black car pull up and then the Mayor stepped out.

  His fingers caressed the top of the pen inside his pocket. The Mayor was less than fifty metres away now. If he detonated he would almost certainly take him out.

  CHAPTER 57

  ‘Here you go, darling, get that inside you, you'll feel a lot better,’ the young woman handed him a cup of tea.

  ‘You can hold my arm while we listen to the speeches, if you would like?’ said Emily.

  Erasmus smiled weakly at her but took her arm nevertheless. He scanned the buildings again, looking at each window: nothing. Even if he saw the Pastor or his men, what then? He had no way to communicate with Pete. His only hope was that Pete would find the Pastor in time.

  The young man in the red T-shirt stepped up to the microphone. Erasmus could see he was crying.

  ‘Ladies and Gentleman, I have news, news of a terrible sin! Silence please!’

  Some of the Third Wavers disengaged but most of the brawls continued unabated.

  The young man was shouting into the mike. ‘I have just learned that a man dear to us all has passed over to the other side. Father Michael was murdered last night!’

  Pandemonium broke out. There was wailing and for the first time in his life Erasmus genuinely thought he heard the gnashing of teeth. Cries of ‘murderers’ and ‘they must be punished!’ went up from the crowd.

  ‘That's right, he was murdered by the Godless! Killed in his own church! Killed by a secularist, Erasmus Jones, a murderer known to have persecuted Father Michael before his death. An atheist killer!’

  What had been a series of brawls became a riot. Those Third Wavers who had not been involved in the violence turned and attacked.

  Emily had turned pale and was starring at Erasmus. ‘Is it, is it you?’

  Erasmus shook his head. ‘It's not like that – ’

  The brawl swept towards and engulfed Erasmus and Emily. A man with a goatee beard swung a punch at the young woman who had served him tea. Erasmus pushed her out of the way of the punch and then felled the man with a head butt. Behind him Emily was pushed to the ground and disappeared. The two little girls were crying and Erasmus realised if they didn't move they were going to get crushed.

  ‘Come on!’

  Erasmus picked up the girls, one in each arm. He realised that things were spiralling rapidly out of control.

  ‘Follow me!’ he shouted to their mother.

  He reached the side of the stage where a nervous looking policeman stood guard by a gap in the railings.

  Erasmus put the girls down and pulled out the pass that the Pastor had given him. He showed it to the policeman who beckoned them through the gap leading to the rear of the stage.

  Erasmus turned to the young woman. ‘Listen, don't ask me why but you've got to get your daughters out of here right now. Take this pass, get behind the stage and then get as far away as possible. Do you understand?’

  She nodded.

  Erasmus plunged back into the crowd to try and find Emily.

  Behind him the Mayor took to the stage. There was a roar and Erasmus risked a look around. The red shirts were bringing children onto the stage and Erasmus recognised with Tom, from Father Michael's church. He was wearing the same Nirvana T-shirt as he had when they met.

  The Mayor was appealing for calm and being ignored. Then a cheer went up and again the violence waned.

  Erasmus looked up at the stage. Professor Cannon had joined the Mayor on stage and he took hold of the Mayor's hand and lifted it above their heads. This wasn't in Bovind's script.

  A quiet descended on the crowd. They hadn't been expecting that.

  Professor Cannon began to speak.

  CHAPTER 58

  Pete had watched Erasmus move with the crowd towards the stage and then stood there for a moment wondering how to proceed. He gave a contemptuous snort. For a second he had been thinking like a civilian, wondering who would sort this out. He knew the answer: him and he better get cracking.

  It was obvious that he had probably had one shot at finding the Pastor. If he chose a building and got it wrong there would be no time to pick another.

  Pete looked at the street, there were many buildings lining the street from where the Pastor would have a line of sight on the crowd. If he had to pick one which would it be?

  He looked up and the answer was obvious.

  ***

  In the midst of the riot Erasmus spotted Emily. She was sitting on the floor next to an injured protestor. She was stroking his head.

  ‘Are you OK, Emily?’ asked Erasmus

  ‘I'm fine but this man needs medical attention.’ She was cradling a young man, maybe only twenty-one or twenty-two. His eye was swollen and bruised.

  Erasmus knelt down and checked the guy's pulse. It was strong and the man's healthy eye focused on Erasmus, following his movement. A black eye and a sore head was Erasmus’ quick battlefield diagnosis.

  ‘He'll be fine. Listen, Emily, you have to get out of here.’

  She shook her head. ‘I'm staying. Don't kill anyone else, please. You don't seem the type.’

  She was wrong.

  On stage Professor Cannon had got hold of the microphone. He began to speak in clipped tone. ‘We want you to stop the violence, right now. It brings nothing to the debate. It's just not on. This is about ideas and we can be rational about this or at least some of us can be.’

  There were boos.

  The Mayor took the microphone from Professor Cannon.

  ‘This city should be united in its opposition to any form of totalitarian oppression whether it is religious or secular! This city has a proud history of independence of thought in all matters both spiritual and secular. I am a friend of the faithful, I want to assure the Third Wavers here today and members of all faiths that I am one hundred percent behind their freedom to worship and I will be unwavering in that regard. However, this does not mean that those who have faith have a monopoly on the education of this city's children. Independence of thought and inquiry are the building blocks of education. What choices an educated child makes after that, whether to choose the path of faith or not, is up to that child, but only after they have had the best education we can provide for them!’

  Hesitant murmurs of approval passed throu
gh the unsure crowd.

  ‘I want to speak with you and I want to assure you that what I have to say is on behalf of myself and Professor Cannon,’ said the Mayor.

  Professor Cannon grabbed the microphone back. ‘What he means to say is that you ignorant, religious bigots won't be teaching anyone fairy tales as science any more!’

  There was disbelief from the Third Wavers, boos and hissing followed. Bovind wouldn't like this at all. Erasmus had assumed the Mayor was nothing more than Bovind's mouthpiece but here he was coming over all rational and reasonable.

  Somebody gripped Erasmus’ elbow.

  He thought it was Emily but when he turned around he came face to face with PC Cooper's mean little face.

  ‘Hi Jones, bet you didn't think you'd see me again so soon?’

  Erasmus pulled Cooper's hand from his elbow. ‘You just can't stop touching me can you, Cooper. You know you could just tell your fellow officers, they wouldn't mind, it's the twenty-first century after all.’

  Cooper smirked ‘You won't be making jokes in a minute when you're in a million pieces. The Pastor is watching you and he wants you to walk to the stage and detonate now.’

  Erasmus’ heart sank. How could he have hoped Pete would find and disable the Pastor and his men?

  The Mayor was speaking again.

  ‘This city has been at war with itself. False choices have been given and I take responsibility for some of those choices. I have not been the mayor I wanted to be.’

  ‘I'm going to walk back that way – ’ Cooper indicated with a nod of his head ‘ – and then in sixty seconds you will arm the bomb, walk towards the stage and detonate. If you don't, your family die.’

  ‘I have failed you, I have failed your children, I have brought religion into science lessons, banned moral choices for all on the basis of others religious beliefs and all for the sake of money,’ continued the Mayor.

  Cooper put his hand to his ear and Erasmus realised with dismay that he must have a receiver there.