The Silent Pool (28 page)

‘Christ,’ said Erasmus.

‘When it was dark and the men had fallen into a marijuana-induced haze, he ran. He hid for days in the forests and eventually he emerged when a UN convoy passed through. He was starving by this point and close to death. Luckily for him the convoy carried Father Michael who was delivering aid for Catholic Action. When the convoy stopped it was he who gathered the boy up into his arms and took him back to Pristina for medical help.

‘Tomas had no one and Father Michael did what was right. It took him months of dealing with bureaucracy and those who would stop God's will, but he brought Tomas back from Bosnia and placed him with a local family, the Millers in Wavertree. They were a good Catholic couple that hadn't been able to have any children of their own. Tomas was like a gift from God to them.

‘But Tomas had seen and suffered so much in Bosnia, and he carried that round with him like shrapnel lodged in his heart. He began to run with the wrong kind and, as you know, Liverpool has always had a surfeit of those. It was the usual stuff: drugs, drink, a bit of criminal damage.

‘The Millers were good people but they couldn't cope. What's the threat of being grounded going to have on a fourteen-year-old boy who has seen his parents murdered in cold blood?’

‘What paved the road to Hell, eh?’ said Eramsus.

‘Always the secular are cynical about those who would do God's works.’ Bovind looked angry again but he continued. ‘Everyone knew Tomas’ story and this saved him from the magistrates court on many occasions. But after the junior school was broken into and vandalised by Tomas the police had had enough and he received a community sentence.

‘In desperation Mr Miller asked Father Michael to help. As you know, Father Michael ran a boy's club, Faith in the Community. Father Michael was of that old breed that believed moral values and spirit were strengthened by hard work, exercise, fresh air and community involvement. Something that the secularists and liberal elites sneer at but which is one of the building blocks of a healthy society.’

The thought occurred to Erasmus that this was rather similar to Hitler's view of youth but he kept the thought to himself. It was clear that debate and a counterview weren't qualities admired by Bovind.

‘Father Michael had given Tomas some space upon his arrival in England. He wanted Tomas to have as normal a life as possible and not feel like an orphan or a church charity case. They had grown close in Bosnia. The day Father Michael found Tomas by the side of the road was the day Tomas’ life was saved and despite what the boy had been through he recognised his saviour. So now, in the front room of the Miller's Victorian terrace in Wavertree he listened to what Father Michael said to him about second chances and building a life his parents would have been proud of and he agreed to come and join us at Faith in the Community.

‘My first memory of Tomas is him walking through the door of St Marys with his head down and then looking up at us with those almost kohl coloured eyes, defiant and yet vulnerable.’

At the mention of kohl Erasmus felt a jolt as adrenaline flooded his system. He must have jumped or reacted in some way because Bovind was looking at him with an amused expression.

‘Are you OK for me to continue?’

Erasmus nodded.

‘Tomas stood there lost and alone and it was Stephen who walked up to him, handed him a plane and took him over to the boat that we had been working on for six months.’

‘The
Everlong
?’ said Erasmus.

‘Yes, the
Everlong
. One of Father Michael's parishioners donated it to the club and Father Michael thought it would be a good project for us. It was a twenty-two foot day yacht, a fifties wooden built sloop. Father Michael had driven us out to Crosby where it was laid up on bricks outside a crumbling block of flats where the parishioner lived. I thought it looked like it was, a rotten piece of junk and the others agreed with me. Apart, that is, for Stephen. He loved the
Everlong
at first sight and pleaded with Father Michael to let us take the boat back to the clubhouse and restore it to its former glories. Father Michael agreed, he thought it would be a project that would bring us together and for a while he was right. We worked on the boat every weekend until one by one we began to get bored. And then Tomas arrived and he, like Stephen, fell in love with the boat. I can still see them both working every spare moment on that little boat, putting on layer after layer of varnish, scrounging brass fittings in scrap yards and using whatever money they had to buy paint and materials. The rest of us joined in but it was their project, their passion.’

‘But what's this got to do with Stephen blackmailing you?’

‘The
Everlong
was the cause of the row that led to Tomas disappearing. You see, while Tomas and Stephen worked on the boat the rest of us were doing our Faith in the Community work. We were passionate about that work. The first bite of religious fever, Mr Jones, has a mighty strong venom.’

For Erasmus the equivalent bug had been strong cider in the park and girls.

‘I am not proud of this but the others, including me, began to resent them a little bit for not joining in with other activities. Always it was the
Everlong
with them and I think Father Michael also thought that the boat was distracting from the religious and community purpose behind the group. He asked me to bring them back into the fold of the group.’

‘And how did you do that?’

Bovind bowed his head. ‘I live with this sin every day. It is my cross to bear and bear it I shall. You keep this confidential, yes?’

‘Of course.’

‘It was a Saturday and Stephen and Tomas were due to launch the
Everlong
, her maiden voyage after her rebirth, if you like, on the Sunday. Stephen and Tomas had been planning this for a long time, and Father Michael, and with the benefit of hindsight I so wish this had not been the case but there it is, Father Michael wanted to assert the primacy of the Sabbath. A noble sentiment but you know what young boys are like; they kick out at any form of authority.’

‘What happened?’

‘By now we had moved the
Everlong
to the dunes on Formby Beach and placed it next to a saltwater pool that filled and drained depending on the tides. It was ready to launch. I asked Marcus and Malcolm to come with me and tell Stephen and Tomas that the launch would have to be postponed because Father Michael wanted us to accompany him on pastoral work after Sunday Mass.

‘We found them outside, working on the boat as was usual, and unfortunately they didn't take the news very well.’ Bovind's lowered his head as though ashamed to look directly at Erasmus. ‘Tomas just stood back and watched as me and Stephen argued. I think Stephen should have known better, he had benefitted from the club more than most. He was bullied at school and the club gave him a sanctuary away from the bullies and you think he would have been grateful for that but he wasn't.’ He lifted his head defiantly and spat out his words. ‘Like a spoilt child he shouted and screamed and at one point he even tried to assault me. The others held him back and that's when the incident took place.’

‘The incident?’

‘A simple enough thing. While the others held Stephen back I accidently knocked over a brazier they were using to melt tar. It fell onto a pot of varnish next to the boat and there was a small fire. It hardly caused any damage but it caused Tomas to become enraged.’

‘The boat?’

‘Yes, he went crazy and attacked me. I thought he was going to kill me. I managed to fight him off, I picked up a piece of wood and before I knew what had happened I had hit Tomas around the head. I caught his nose and there was blood everywhere. The others were screaming and Tomas just ran.’

‘And?’

‘We were all in shock. We had had rows before, of course, but never anything like this. All that blood frightened us. And it just came out of nothing. We searched for Tomas but he was gone, he had run into the woods but there was no trace of his trail. We looked all night but couldn't find him. He had vanished, just disappeared into the night, he had escaped from the Mujahideen, what chance did we stand of finding him?’

‘And you never did find him, did you?’

Bovind looked defeated, the tears came now, running quickly down his smooth, marble-like cheeks. ‘Burns found him out there in the woods. It was my fault.’

‘What did you, did Father Michael, tell the police?’

‘Father Michael agreed that we should tell them everything, everything except for the more physical aspects of my row with Tomas.’

‘Why would he leave that out?’ asked Erasmus.

‘I went to a strict Catholic school on a scholarship. The police could have arrested me for assault, GBH perhaps, and it wasn't really relevant to finding Tomas, which was our main concern. Father Michael wanted to protect me and I am in his gratitude for ever for that.’

‘A cover-up.’

‘A favour that didn't cause any harm. How would it have helped for them to know?’

‘It might have given them an insight into Tomas’ mind, helped the search?’

‘Tomas was dead within two hours of running off. Burns confessed that he met Tomas deep in the Formby woods and that after torturing him for hours killed him before tossing his body in the sea.’

‘Maybe the blow you gave him was the cause of death?’ said Erasmus.

Bovind slammed his fist on the desk. ‘No! Burns is clear in his confession. He removed Tomas’ eyes before plunging a kitchen knife into Tomas’ chest. That's what killed him!’

Erasmus watched as a small bead of sweat rolled from under Bovind's floppy fringe and appeared on his forehead.

‘I was not the cause of it!’ Bovind placed his right hand over his heart. ‘As the Lord is my witness.’

Erasmus studied Bovind. His instincts told him that Bovind was telling the truth, he certainly didn't blame himself for Tomas’ death but there was something else too, something he couldn't put his finger on.

‘At law school we used to debate the topic of causation. The example given was of a poisoner giving his victim a lethal dose of poison that is slow acting, symptomless but absolutely fatal twenty-four hours after the victim has eaten the poison. The victim goes about their day and has no symptoms but twenty-three hours after the poison has been administered the victim is hit by a car in a supermarket car park and dies instantly. Is the poisoner a murderer?’

Bovind considered this for a second. ‘No, absolutely not. In your example it's the car accident that kills the victim. That's clear surely?’

‘You're right actually. It's called “
novus actus interveniens
” and it means an intervening act can be used as a defence to a murder charge. Unfortunately, in the example given the individual would likely to be convicted of attempted murder.’

‘I barely scratched Tomas, Mr Jones, and there is certainly no evidence that I caused his death. But you will understand how things could be twisted, manipulated by the media and my enemies to make this silly schoolboy scuffle look like something more sinister. That is what Stephen was trying to do.’

‘And now Stephen has disappeared?’

‘Mr Jones, I had nothing to do with Stephen's disappearance. I am rich, extremely rich, and the amount he requested means nothing. I was happy to give him the money. I am telling you this because I know that you have been investigating these matters for his wife. I have nothing to hide but my foolishness in paying off a blackmailer.’

Kirk Bovind reached into his desk drawer again and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He tossed it to Erasmus.

Erasmus read the letters in turn. Each carried the same message in a small Ariel font. The message was a simple one.

Dear Kevin

The Everlong. It's time for the World to know
.

I need £50,000 or the press get the story
.

Email me at [email protected] for further instructions
.

‘I quickly tracked down the owner of the email address, of course, and found it was Stephen. I received instructions to pay a loan shark, Ahmed, £50,000. I paid it, it was a nuisance payment only, and as far as I was concerned that was the end of the matter. Then the murders started.’

Bovind was waving his hands wildly. ‘I think somebody is trying to frame me! Somebody is trying to ruin my project and I will not stand for my mission to be defeated by satanic forces!’

‘Why did you pay him if you think you did nothing wrong?’

‘Simple economics. £50,000 is nothing to me. I would have paid out more in PR and lawyers fees dealing with his allegations and, as you know, Erasmus, mud sticks.’

‘Did you send those men to Jenna and Petersen's house to extract information from him?’

Bovind shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘Yes, I did. They are private investigators and I understand they went too far. You must believe me when I tell you that I only instructed them to investigate after I became aware of Ford's murder and Stephen's disappearance. That's when I realised.’

‘Realised what?’ asked Erasmus.

‘That I was being set up for their murders!’

Erasmus swallowed and then he leaned back in the chair. There was silence between them for a second.

‘I need to find out who is framing me for these murders. Can you help me?’

‘Do you have any idea who would want to do that?’ asked Erasmus.

‘Those who would not see the kingdom of God established on earth!’

Erasmus remained silent.

‘You know, we are not so different you and I,’ declared Bovind. ‘I read your file. I know what you did in Afghanistan. I admire it. You were treated badly by those who don't have the will, the force of personality to take action in the fight against evil. They left you to die in that rotting pig's carcass. I understand you. Erasmus, I understand what you had to do, the will you had to show, to survive. Those people – ’ he waved his arms indicating the rest of the world ‘ – don't understand that to triumph, good has to do very bad things. You, Erasmus, you, understood this.’

To Erasmus it seemed like the floor of the room had dropped away. A vertiginous sense of falling overwhelmed him. Bovind knew.