The Devil's Landscape

by Ken McClure

  ‘Why would you do that?’ Shock had reduced Dorothy’s voice to a whisper.

  ‘To give you time to contact your friend the bishop and ask him about Liam Crossan, you want to know who he is and what he is . . . and if he stalls, you want to know exactly why he discussed the substance of your confession with him.’

  Dorothy seemed stunned, but after long consideration, she nodded and said quietly, ‘Very well.’

  * * * *

  ‘You did what?’ John Macmillan exclaimed when Steven told him what he’d done. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses? This is a matter for the American police not Sci-Med. It’s their job to trace this Crossan character and find out what’s been going on and bring him to justice if that’s warranted.’

  Steven waited until Macmillan’s anger had subsided a little before saying, ‘I don’t think the American police will be able to do anything at all.’

  ‘I’m waiting,’ said Macmillan.

  ‘They’ll have absolutely nothing to go on in the way of solid evidence.’

  ‘They’ll see what you saw in the photographs when you point it out to them.’

  ‘And they may well agree there’s a strong possibility the pair were drugged, but they won’t be able to prove it. It’s too late. Again, Crossan was with them in the restaurant but there’s no evidence he drugged them. He left the restaurant with them but there’s no evidence he went back to the lab with them and there’s no evidence anyone started the fire deliberately.’

  Macmillan looked as if he was facing up to an unpleasant truth as did Jean Roberts who had remained silent throughout.

  ‘We think we know what happened. We’re even pretty sure, but we’ll never be able to prove it and neither will anyone else,’ said Steven.

  ‘The police will find this Crossan character,’ said Macmillan.

  ‘And maybe even question him as a murder suspect, which he’ll deny, calling it outrageous and demanding to know what possible motive he could have had: he’s a priest, not a killer.’

  ‘And that will be the end of it,’ said Jean, ‘It does sound ridiculous when you look at it all that way.’

  ‘Whereas . . . it’s the motive that we are really interested in,’ said Steven. ‘We think Crossan killed the two Americans to prevent their findings being made public and he didn’t do that as some unbalanced lone wolf. He was known to Bishop Charles Stanley and sent to ‘counsel’ Dorothy Lindstrom, but really to dissuade her from continuing her line of research. This morning, after talking to Dorothy, I thought her friendship with the bishop might make her more successful in uncovering Crossan’s background connections than the police might be . . . That’s why I took the decision I did.’

  Jean gave Steven an encouraging glance while Macmillan contemplated a portion of humble pie. Eventually, he said, I’m sorry I jumped down your throat, Steven, I should have known better after all these years.’

  ‘Nothing to be sorry for, John, you’ve always had the best interests of Sci-Med at heart.

  ‘So have you.’

  ‘God, I think I’m going to cry,’ said Jean, making light of the whole thing. Coffee anyone?’

  TWENTY-THREE

  Dorothy Lindstrom cleared her throat nervously as she waited for her transatlantic call to connect.

  ‘Bishop Stanley’s secretary.’

  ‘Hello, this is Professor Dorothy Lindstrom calling from London, England, I’d like to speak to Charles please.’

  ‘One moment please professor, I’ll see if he’s free.’

  ‘Dorothy? What a wonderful surprise,’ came the familiar booming voice, ‘I was just thinking about you the other day, how are you?’

  Dorothy had to swallow again before replying, ‘I’m well, thank you Charles, I have a question for you.’ She had to hold the receiver away from her ear as booming laughter threatened her hearing before Stanley said, ‘I hope I can answer it if it merits a transatlantic call.’

  ‘It concerns Father Liam Crossan.’

  No laughter this time. ‘What about him?’ came the flat question.

  ‘Who is he and what is he?’

  ‘I thought he might be able to help you come to terms with the loss of your young people, Dorothy. It was clear you were taking it very badly – and understandably so, it was tragic. Father Crossan is a skilled counsellor, trained in helping people through difficult times in their lives.’

  ‘He wanted to put a stop to my research, Charles,’ said Dorothy, biting her lip afterwards.

  ‘I’m sorry you see it that way, Dorothy, maybe you took it the wrong way, he probably thought it would do you good to get away from everything for a bit, re-charge your batteries, that sort of thing.’

  ‘No,’ said Dorothy decisively. ‘He wanted an end to my research, full stop. You say he is a skilled counsellor, attached to what, where? Where exactly does he fit into the Church, Charles?’

  ‘Why are you asking all these things, Dorothy?’

  ‘Because I want to know the answers.’ Dorothy put staccato on her words: her nerves had disappeared. She wasn’t going to be fobbed off.

  ‘All right . . . I admit I haven’t been completely honest with you . . .’

  The pause became so long that Dorothy started to think the connection had been lost.

  ‘It can be no surprise to you to hear that I am unashamedly conservative in my views. There are a number of us within the Church who feel that way. We stand for the old values and spurn the fashion for making constant concessions to the latest pressure group to emerge from the woodwork. Father Crossan belongs to a group of fellow sympathisers who go under the Latin name, Fidei Defensores. They regard themselves as defenders of the faith, the true faith. It is their sworn duty to protect the Church from outside threats wherever and whenever they might occur.’

  ‘And they saw me and my group as a threat?’

  ‘A possible challenge.’

  ‘After you told them about what my research group was working on.’

  ‘And why you were deeply upset. They knew you were a practising Catholic and hoped they might be able to persuade you to . . . change tack.’

  ‘I’m also a practising scientist, I seek truth wherever it takes me.’

  ‘I’m truly sorry you’re upset, Dorothy, I understand you have to be true to yourself and your principles. I can only apologise for the slight deception on my part . . .’

  Slight deception? . . . He doesn’t know, the man doesn’t know, he doesn’t know Paul and Carrie were murdered, He doesn’t understand what he did. He betrayed me and my confession and he calls it a slight deception.

  She didn’t know what to think or what to say so she said nothing and ended the call. She sat staring at the receiver as she was slowly surrounded by the ashes of a former friendship and maybe the ruins of a crumbling faith.

  When she had recovered some composure, Dorothy called Steven and gave him the information he’d asked for. She did it as briefly as possible and without further comment before telling her staff she wasn’t feeling well and going home.

  Steven passed on the information to Jean who, to his surprise, appeared to recognise the name Fidei Defensores.

  ‘You know . . . this begins to make sense,’ she murmured. ‘I haven’t been able to trace Father Crossan on any clerical list: I was beginning to think he must be going under a false name, or even someone pretending to be a priest, but now I understand why he’s not on any official list. Fidei Defensores is not recognised by the Roman Catholic Church. They’re reputed to be a pretty right-wing lot and not averse to bending the rules to achieve their aims.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘To protect the reputation of what they see as the true church at all costs and stop its erosion as they see it. You won’t find abortion, contraception and gay marriage on their to-do list.’

  ‘They do the dirty work and the church pretends to know nothing at all about them?’

  ‘Allegedly,’ said Jean.

  ‘And now they may have added murder
to their repertoire,’ said Steven, ‘I’m impressed, how come you know about them?’

  ‘I’m asking myself the same question,’ said Jean. ‘I must have come across them recently when I was looking for something else.’

  ‘If anyone can cross-reference her thoughts, you can,’ said Steven. ‘It’ll come to you.’

  ‘As will arthritis and old age,’ said John Macmillan, emerging from his office. ‘What news?’

  Steven told him about Dorothy Lindstrom’s phone call. ‘She must have contacted the bishop as soon as I left her. She was obviously upset to think he had betrayed her confidence, but didn’t think he was directly involved in anything Crossan planned to do.’

  ‘I trust Professor Lindstrom didn’t mention anything about your suspicions surrounding the fire deaths to the bishop?’

  Steven said not. ‘I asked her not to. She said she was pretty sure he believed that Crossan was just going to reason with her and try to persuade her to change the direction of her research.’

  ‘Poor woman,’ said Macmillan. ‘She’s had a lot to cope with recently.

  ‘I’ve got it,’ Jean exclaimed, ‘I’ve remembered where I came across the name. It was when I was looking for information on the lawyers representing the people who are funding Professor Lindstrom’s research group. I discovered the firm was retained for the defence of a number of priests charged with the sexual abuse of a large number of children back in the seventies and eighties. No one was convicted.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Macmillan.

  ‘The trial collapsed. Officially, the defence based its case on so much time having passed – thirty years or more. Memories could be unreliable and there were serious inconsistencies in the stories of the witnesses. Unofficially, the prosecution noticed that many of the inconsistencies had appeared rather suddenly as had a certain financial improvement in the circumstances of a number of the would-be leading witnesses for the prosecution.’

  ‘They’d been got at.’

  ‘Nothing was proved along these lines but there was suspicion surrounding the involvement of a certain group of priests, ostensibly there to provide comfort and support, which I remember was called . . . Fidei Defensores.’

  ‘Well done, Jean,’ said Steven.

  ‘Absolutely, Macmillan agreed. ‘Although I’m not sure if I should thank you for just opening a great big can of worms.’

  ‘Really?’ Jean asked.

  ‘We have the link,’ said Steven. ‘Fidei Defensores were involved in blocking the Lindstrom group’s research in the US and now we know the same legal firm that fronted their defence of the paedophile priests are fronting the funding of Dorothy Lindstrom’s research here in the UK and monitoring it, presumably with a view to blocking it when the time seems right. John was quite correct, the people coming up with the money are not scientists.’

  ‘But a small group of extremists couldn’t possibly afford to do that,’ said Jean.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Macmillan. ‘That’s where the can of worms comes in. Their church may have disowned them publicly . . . but.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Jean.

  ‘They’re not averse to putting a few bucks their way,’ said Steven.

  ‘More than a few in this case,’ said Macmillan.

  ‘You know, I just can’t understand what all the fuss is about,’ said Tally when Steven told her what had been going on. ‘Even if science provides incontrovertible evidence that there is no such thing as the soul, the self or the individual and we’re all really just the result of a bunch of chemicals reactions . . . society won’t collapse. Most people will choose not to believe it.’

  ‘How can they if the naked truth is put before their eyes?’

  ‘The way they do at the moment!’ Tally insisted. ‘People will continue to believe what they want to believe; that’s always been the case. The Pope isn’t going to appear on the balcony in St Peters Square to announce to the masses it’s all been a terrible mistake, is he? BBC Radio two isn’t going to be broadcast from minarets instead of the morning call to prayer.’

  ‘You have a point,’ Steven conceded, ‘but it’s not the response of individuals I’m concerned about. ‘Religion will continue to have its adherents as it always has. Darwin’s theory of evolution will continue to have a tough time in certain parts of the USA. Space and time can warp all it wants to but mom will still be up in heaven looking down.’

  ‘So, what is it you’re so worried about?’

  ‘It’s not the public’s view of religion I’m worried about, it’s the massive organisation behind it. All these people, all that infrastructure, all that money, power and influence, they won’t like it at all . . . It will be seen as a threat to their very existence and they will react accordingly.’

  ‘As you and your colleagues have just found out,’ said Tally with a slight shiver, but it’s not as if the men in robes have large armies to call on.’

  ‘Think again, Tally, these people influence millions of others. For many, they are infallible, their word is law. Their followers will do as they are told.’

  ‘A scary thought.’

  ‘Scary is the word.’

  Tally hesitated before changing the subject and asking, ‘Have you been to see Lucy Barrowman?’

  Steven shook his head.

  ‘Don’t you think you should?’

  ‘I’ve thought about it . . . and decided against. Steven grimaced in discomfort before continuing, ‘However much I care about what has happened to her – and I do care – there is nothing I can do to help in any practical sense. I could take flowers and say how sorry I am, ask if there’s anything I can do, make all the right noises, but the truth is I was part of her whole nightmare, I was instrumental in starting the whole damn thing off. My continual turning up would remind her of that and stop it fading. I don’t want to interfere with the healing process. As for the latest attack, I find it beyond belief that anyone could be so unlucky and wouldn’t begin to know what to say.

  ‘You really have thought about this, haven’t you,’ said Tally.

  ‘Do you have anything to say about it?’

  ‘I love you.’

  TWENTY-FOUR

  ‘Only in the UK,’ stormed John Macmillan.

  Jean Roberts smiled sympathetically, ‘Is Something wrong, Sir John?’ she asked. ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘The bugger’s on holiday.’

  ‘Which particular “bugger” are we talking about, sir, asked Jean, tongue in cheek.

  Macmillan was overcome by embarrassment. ‘Sorry, Jean, the fellow who is supposed to be at the end of the PO box number trail is on holiday. Apparently, he has a bolt hole in Scotland. He uttered the words with distaste. ‘The stress of working for the bl… the Post Office seems to require a bolt hole and no one knows where it is.’

  ‘Who is working on it?

  ‘The police, MI5, Special Branch, you name it. They’re combing the country.’

  Jean had an image of horizontal lines of policemen carrying out a fingertip search of the Scottish Highlands and had to turn away.

  ‘It’s not funny, Jean,’ said Macmillan who had noticed anyway. ‘Have you seen Steven this morning?’

  ‘I think he was planning to see Neil Tyler, he’s been working on the identity of the Lindstrom funders too.’

  ‘The Home Secretary would like to see both of us this afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll make sure he knows.’

  Steven and Tyler had arranged to meet in Green Park at Tyler’s request, but only if the weather permitted and it did. It wasn’t overly warm but the sky was clear with only a slight breeze bringing a chill to the air.

  ‘This was one of my wife’s favourite places,’ said Tyler ‘She always said she felt she was at the beating heart of England.’

  ‘It is nice,’ Steven agreed, ‘and next to all the levers of power.’

  ‘Everything that keeps the country running like a well-oiled seagull,’ said Tyler.

  Steven was glad of the j
oke. He had feared that things might get a bit maudlin.

  ‘Any luck?’ he asked.

  ‘I figured my best chance of getting to the providers of Dorothy Lindstrom’s funding was through my legal eagle employers, Scarman and co. It turned out that I wasn’t the only one taking an interest in them, which was a bit of luck as it turned out. I recognised one of the investigators as a forensic accountant I met a few years ago when we were both on the trail of terrorist funding flowing into the Middle East.’

  ‘I’m hoping you’re not going to tell me that Islamic terrorists are funding Dorothy Lindstrom,’ said Steven.

  ‘Far from it,’ Tyler replied. ‘Marco was looking for money haemorrhaging from the Vatican.’

  Steven looked at him as if he couldn’t believe his ears but desperately wanted to. ‘I think this is where I shout bingo and jump up in the air,’ he said.

  ‘Glad that makes someone happy,’ said Tyler, waiting for an explanation.

  ‘No, go on,’ said Steven.

  ‘Apparently there’s a bit of a rift going on in the Vatican at the moment. A number of cardinals are being less than respectful to his holiness because they don’t like the way the church is moving. They would prefer to see a return to a more traditional approach as opposed to what they see as leftist-leaning anathema.’

  ‘Ah, the poor are all very well, but let’s keep them in their place.’

  ‘Quite. Money has been going walkabout and the fear is that it’s being used to fund the ambitions of the rebel cardinals.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ said Steven. ‘He told Tyler all about Father Liam Crossan and Fidei Defensores.

  ‘Maybe I’ll join you in a jump up and down,’ said Tyler.

  They exchanged a high five.

  ‘First time I’ve done one of these,’ said Steven.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Well, I think we can agree, Vatican money is funding Dorothy Lindstrom’s research,’ said Steven. ‘officially or unofficially and, in our case, we know why.’