The Silent Pool (27 page)

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.

CHAPTER 33

‘Tomas was a refugee from the Balkan wars. He was from a small, sleepy village in the woods near Pristina and unfortunately for the inhabitants of that village it was near an imaginary line that marked the border of the states of Bosnia and Serbia. Half the village were ethnic Christian Serbians the other Muslim Bosnians. They had lived together peacefully enough during Tito's time but some politician declares independence for a Bosnian state and people start dying.’

Bovind sucked in air through his teeth. Erasmus wondered whether he had a breathing problem such was the emphasis on the breath in.

‘The Muslims brought the war to the region, they declared an independent Bosnian state and marked out the borders of that state whether you were Croat or Serb. The first ethnic cleansing, that's right, it was the Muslims!’ Bovind spat out the word ‘Muslim’ like it burnt his tongue to do so.

‘But Tomas’ village managed to hold things together. Neighbours remained neighbours and at a town meeting it was agreed that politics should remain outside the town's borders. Life went on as normal for a little while. Tomas was an orthodox Christian, a single child and adored by his mother and Father. They worshipped every Sunday at the small church on the outskirts of town. There was a larger orthodox church in the town centre and a mosque too. To get to the church they had to pass by the mosque. There had never been a problem in their village between the Christians and the Muslims but this Sunday, six months after war was declared, there was a problem as they passed the mosque.’

Bovind had started to rub his temples as though the story was causing him great personal pain. It looked as phony as his skin, thought Erasmus.

‘The war and front lines had ebbed and flowed but always missed Tomas’ village. But they found it eventually. There was a mosque, three hundred years old, and as Tomas, his mother and father made their way down towards their church they noticed that there were men they didn't recognise standing outside that mosque. They were Mujahideen.

‘There had never been much religion in their village, no real belief, it was the lazy, easy-going cultural religion that people wear like a fashionable suit. But the newcomers changed that, they had real belief, as hard and as real as diamonds.’

‘You sound as though you admire them?’ said Erasmus.

Bovind looked thoughtful. ‘I do. They had faith that gave them the will and power to do anything that was necessary however distasteful that seemed to our moral norms. Of course, they were animals, unbelievers, but their certainty, their certainty was everything, and they were steadfast in the face of their duty.’

‘What did they do?’ asked Erasmus.

‘What did they do? You know what they did. One of the women carrying a small child had a bad cold and as the group passed the mosque she had a violent coughing fit and in the midst of her fit she made the mistake of bringing up some phlegm in front of the mosque and for this individual sin the group was punished as one.’

‘How?’ said Erasmus.

‘The Mujahideen fired on them: men, women and children. As the bullets started to rip flesh and bone Tomas discovered he had the same survival instinct, the same hardness of character, as the bearded men. He buried himself among the dead and dying – his family, his friends – and he hid in the midst of those corpses until it went dark. There were forty-two in the group and only Tomas survived.’