The Silent Pool (12 page)

He opened the door without knocking.

Anthony was sitting behind his desk and didn't seem surprised to see him.

‘What the hell is going on?’

Anthony gave the Mayor a look that he didn't care for one little bit.

‘Take a seat and tell me what's on your mind.’

Mayor Lynch didn't sit down. ‘I've just been doorstepped by a baby reporter from the
Echo
, our friends, you said, and given the third degree about “our so-called plans” for the city. I want to know if you know anything about planning permission refusals for a private health clinic that offers abortions and the removal of evolution from science lessons. What have you got us into here, Anthony?’

Anthony remained calm.

‘You're not seeing the bigger picture here. For both of us this is the start of something big. You are the Mayor who saved Liverpool, and you could run for the leadership of the party on the back of this success! So what if an abortion clinic doesn't get built, who cares apart from some women in cardigans with bad breath. And as for science lessons you knew that was part of the deal.’

‘Not to drop the theory of evolution! What next? Will we be teaching our kids that the earth is only six-thousand years old?’

Anthony laughed. ‘Have you seen the latest OFSTED test results for the city's schools? Most of the little bastards don't even know the earth is round.’

The Mayor shook his head. ‘Look Anthony, we may have saved the city from bankruptcy but what's going to happen when we announce this? Abortion clinics banned, evolution taught as an alternative to Intelligent Design? People will think we've turned the city into Texas.’

Anthony waved a hand in the air. ‘The big picture is that 75% of the population believe in some form of deity, and the Third Wave and Islam are more powerful and influential in the majority of British people's lives than any political party. Look, the first national leader to realise that and seize the spiritual high ground is going to reap the electoral rewards. Look at the US. The stand, the spiritual stand you can take in Liverpool, with the resources that Bovind has to offer, are going to make you that man. And Mr Mayor, I want to be there beside you.’

‘We are selling ourselves out here,’ whined the Mayor.

‘Look at it this way. We have no choice, and once we have that power, real power, then maybe we can ditch these religious cranks and actually do something, do the things we both dreamt about.’

The Mayor wasn't sure what Anthony was referring to. As far as he was aware Anthony didn't actually have any real political views. He always assumed that Anthony saw politics as a career rather than a vocation. In fact, when he talked politics with Anthony, a glazed look came over his eyes that only disappeared when they started talking tactics.

But he knew Anthony had a point, and he knew there were compromises to be made. He could see the possibilities, not for himself, of course, but if there was an opportunity here to be seized, a wave to be ridden, then he would be an absolute fool not to take it. Everyone in the city knew the story of the man who didn't sign up the Beatles. Mayor Lynch didn't want people to talk about him in the same vein.

‘Look, the beauty is that the two main faiths believe, if you take a holistic view, in roughly the same things. Socially conservative but they like certain freedoms when that pertains to their right to practise and promulgate their faith. We need to concentrate on that. Freedom of conscience will be our way forward. It's a win-win situation, until we can ditch them. They are a necessary evil, nothing more.’

The Mayor considered for a moment.

‘It would mean we had a power base I suppose. The religious are voters too, of course.’

Anthony picked up an iPad from the desk and pressed the screen. ‘Have you seen your polling numbers? A month ago, 15% favourable; this morning, 64%. That is unassailable. Think of that on a national scale. This is only the beginning.’

The Mayor drummed his fingers on the desk. At forty-nine he had maybe one last chance to do something nationally. If fate, hell, why not think it, God, or whomever – not that the Mayor believed in God but his philosophy was that surely there was something out there – dropped this in his lap then maybe Anthony was onto something.

‘Maybe you're right. It's a matter of positioning thought. I want the focus on economics and budgets, and this evolution and abortion stuff, I want that swept under the carpet. Normal planning process, scientific theories are just that, theories, that sort of stuff. I don't want this becoming the focus of my administration.’

Anthony shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

‘What is it?’ said the Mayor.

‘Well, Bovind has sort of different ideas on that. It's a tactical thing. He wants maximum publicity on the city and his foundation is releasing a press release this morning. They have probably already given it to their press contacts.’

‘Well, do you have it? Let me read it!’ demanded the Mayor.

‘I don't have it. One of Bovind's PR team called me this morning. I got the feeling we were last on a longlist. She was very excitable, said the eyes of the world would be on us.’

‘Who exactly is running this city? Us or them?’

Anthony remained silent. ‘On a tactical note there was a murder in the city last night. It might push the announcement from the front pages.’

‘Who died?’ asked the Mayor.

‘Just some lawyer. Pushed from his office, council waste operatives found him this morning splattered on the pavement.’

‘Pity it's a lawyer, no one will care. Now if it had been a celebrity we could have stood a chance of taking this Bovind Foundation crap off the front page. Get him on the phone now!’

Anthony made the call. The direct line number Bovind had given him rang out. Anthony tried the Bovind Foundation office and was passed from department to department eventually reaching Julia, Mr Bovind's administration assistant. She explained that Mr Bovind was visiting a sick relative and couldn't be reached today.

Anthony was left with a promise that she would pass his message to Mr Bovind when he became available.

‘I want to see that press release before it goes and then I want it stopped,’ said the Mayor.

‘I think that boat has sailed Mr Mayor,’ said Anthony.

The Mayor felt a twitch around his temples that signalled the start of a migraine. He rubbed his forehead in exasperation.

‘There was something else as well. The reporter, she mentioned a Stephen Francis, asked me if I knew anything about his disappearance and Kirk. Does that name mean anything to you?’

Anthony shook his head. ‘Not at all, but if this reporter was from the
Echo
what is she doing giving you a hard time, anyway? I'm going to ring Ralph at the
Echo
, get her transferred to reporting on supermarket openings and lost cats.’

‘Good idea,’ said the Mayor.

The Mayor stormed out of Anthony's office.

Once he was sure that the Mayor was gone and wouldn't be coming back, Anthony took out his BlackBerry®. It had been vibrating silently in the inside pocket of his suit throughout his conversation with the Mayor.

Anthony hit speed dial.

The response was instant.

‘What is it?’

‘Stephen Francis. Someone knows.’

‘We need to meet.’

The line went dead.

CHAPTER 14

It had been a long time since Erasmus had been to church and a lot had changed. To begin with, he didn't have to wait until Sunday to go. Post-crash, unemployment was at all time high but this was just expanding the church's customer base. Desperate, unhappy people were grist to the church's mill, in Erasmus’ opinion.

Erasmus drove past the church. The building seemed incongruous with the rest of the architecture on Smithdown Road. Its steel and glass was at odds with the red brick terraced shops either side of it. It looked too new, too cared for, in this part of town.

Erasmus could see someone he presumed to be Father Michael welcoming people attending that day's service. A large digital sign above the entrance to the church was showing colour images from the Bible – the parting of the Red Sea, Jesus on the Mount – and then modern images of plague, death and destruction with quotes from Revelations. Erasmus didn't know a lot about the Third Wave but what he did know was that they had built their phenomenal success on the back of selling the Second Coming, which they preached was imminent and that only Third Wavers would be ‘raptured’ out of dodge before the downside of the Second Coming, Armageddon.

Erasmus could see the appeal. What a fortunate time to be born, just in time for the big one. It gave people a sense of importance, particularly in times when their personal circumstances might evidence the contrary.

There was a crowd of maybe two or three hundred gathered outside the church. Marshalling the crowds were young men and women, shiny faced, smiling and fit. Each of them was wearing a bright red T-Shirt with a large white fish emblazoned upon it.

The very sight of such wholesome activity caused Erasmus to reach for the packet of cigarettes in his glove compartment. An image of Abby popped into his head. With a snarl, he reached for the pack of chewing gum on the dashboard instead.

An orderly queue of vehicles was lined up to park in a freshly laid asphalt car park opposite the church. Erasmus didn't join the queue but instead drove to its head where an eager young man wearing a red shirt was directing traffic into the entrance one at a time.

Erasmus wound down his window. The red shirt, about nineteen, had red cheeks matching his T-shirt and a smile so white and dazzling Erasmus thought he must be an American. He wore a nametag that informed Erasmus he was called Todd.

‘How can I help you sir?’ asked eager red shirt.

Bingo
, thought Erasmus. Todd had an American accent and a wholesome, helpful attitude with absolutely no guile about him at all.

‘I've got a delivery for the church, personal for Father Michael. It's sort of heavy, anywhere I can park nearer the church?’ said Erasmus.

Todd considered for a second.

‘Sorry, sir, you will have to park here.’ Todd pointed to the car park in front of the church. The queue of cars stretched back ten deep and the car park was bumper to bumper. Not the place for a speedy exit if needed.

Erasmus watched as a black Mercedes turned in front of him into a service road next to the Church.

‘What about up there?’

Erasmus nodded in the direction that the Mercedes had gone.

Todd flashed his teeth again.

‘Sorry, sir. Those are reserved spaces for the minister and the cripples and the sick.’

He flashed a mouthful full of ivory at Erasmus.

‘Well, my wife is always telling me I am an emotional cripple so I guess that counts. Keep up the good work, kid.’

Somewhere in the queue behind someone's impatience told and a car horn sounded.

‘But sir, it's for the cripples and the…’

Erasmus swung his car across the road and into the access road. The track took him on a winding route through the neighboring houses, initially away from the church, before swinging back again and depositing him right at the back of the church where there was a small parking lot filled with expensive German cars and a school bus. Erasmus spotted a solitary parking space next to a mint green Porsche and parked his car.

He got out of his car and walked towards an open door at the rear of the church. At the same time a red shirted girl jumped out of the school bus. Spotting Erasmus she displayed the same idiot grin that Todd had affected. Erasmus flashed her a grin right back.

‘Hi there. Are you with the specials?’ she asked.

Erasmus had no idea what she was talking about. For a moment he wondered if she was referring to the Ska group. Surely not?

‘Yes. Absolutely. Are we through here?’ Erasmus pointed towards the door.

‘Sure are. Straight through there. There's a seat at the end of the line. You're so lucky, working with the specials.’

‘Every day is a blessing,’ he replied.

She guided Erasmus through a vestibule lined with velvet curtains that she pushed aside revealing a church packed with eager parishioners. At the front of the pews were six or seven disabled kids in wheelchairs.

Erasmus realised that the kids were the ‘specials’ she was referring to.

She gave him a Hollywood smile and then walked off to join a gaggle of red shirts sitting on one of the front pews. Erasmus couldn't see Todd anywhere, which was probably a good thing.

The inside of the church was huge, there was even a TV gantry that hung from the ceiling. Erasmus could see at least two television cameras. Impressive and expensive stuff. The Third Wave was renowned for its slick communication and media productions. It was part of its success, embracing modern technology in propagating its ancient message.

If he had to guess, Erasmus would have said there were maybe five or six hundred people in there and the excitement was palpable. Erasmus made a decision to enjoy the show before doing any work. He had always enjoyed the pantomime and ritual that formed part of his own Catholic upbringing.

An empty child's chair stood at the end of the line of kids in wheelchairs. He gingerly made his way to it and sat down. It was a squeeze and he had to shift from side to side to actually get his backside in the chair. He settled back as far was as possible and waited for the show.

There was a kid next to him, about thirteen or fourteen years old, his legs were in steel braces and resting on the lip that stuck out the front of his wheelchair. He was wearing a Nirvana T-shirt.

‘Hey. Great band,’ said Erasmus.

The kid studied Erasmus for a second. ‘Yeah. What do you know about them, old man?’

‘I saw them at the Reading Festival in 1992, they were amazing.’

The kid's expression switched from bored to mildly interested in a nanosecond.

‘I'm glad he died though, who wants to be that old?’

‘Kurt Cobain was only twenty-seven when he died.’

‘Like I said, an old man.’

Erasmus felt a twinge of nostalgia for the days when he thought twenty-seven was old.