State Sponsored Terror Read online

  ‘Well, yes,’ said Adam.

  ‘Amazing,’ said Eve.

  ‘Thought you’d like to know, that’s all. Ta-ta.’

  Adam and Eve shared a puzzled look, and moved away.

  Ahead of them, an old man and two elderly ladies were standing, resting, leaning on the back of the pews.

  ‘Now then, young lady,’ said the old man, smiling at Eve, ‘what can we do for you today?’

  Eve stepped forward and said, ‘That chap has just been telling us why the town is called Christchurch.’

  ‘Who Dicky? He does that all the time. It’s the only thing he knows. You will have to forgive him, he’s getting a little doodle alley.’

  ‘Is it true?’

  ‘Course it is, you don’t think we’d tell falsehoods in the house of God, do you?’

  ‘No, suppose not. We are looking for the Vicar. Glynn Emberton?’

  ‘Are you, now?’ he said, glancing over her shoulder at Adam. Surely these two young pups weren’t planning marriage, not at their tender age, but in these strange modern times, anything seemed to go.

  ‘Yes,’ Eve said, looking at Adam, and then back at the man again. ‘If he’s about.’

  ‘You’re in luck,’ he said. ‘He’s over there. The tall fellow. You can’t miss him.’

  They watched the old man’s eye’s swivel and focus on the skinny giant on the far side of the church. He had his back turned to them, and was talking in hushed tones to a pregnant woman, their body language suggesting they had almost finished.

  Glynn Emberton was not an archetypal Church of England vicar. He stood six foot eight inches tall and was beanpole thin. On the top of his head sat a shock of straight steel grey hair, parted in the centre. It was so long it reached the small of his back. Most days he tied it in a ponytail, though occasionally he would fluff it out in all its glory, frightening the children on Halloween. Glynn Emberton never needed a mask.

  His face was haggard and lined and would often boast several days grey growth. His posture was one of perpetual stoop through peering down at the normal folks in the foothills. Most days, he would stroll about the Priory dressed in a red checked shirt, tight faded blue jeans, and big Doc Martin boots. He would regularly be mistaken for the window cleaner, or an American hippy tourist.

  ‘Come on,’ said Eve to Adam, and then, ‘thanks a lot,’ with a smile to the helpful old man.

  By the time they reached the vicar the pregnant woman had gone.

  ‘Vicar?’ she said.

  Glynn turned about and smiled down.

  ‘You must be Eve Cornelius,’ he said, through his gravelly voice.

  ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘It’s in the eyes. You have borrowed your mother’s eyes.’

  ‘Hope not,’ giggled Eve.

  ‘And who is this fine young man?’

  ‘His name is Adam.’

  ‘Ah yes, how appropriate, Adam,’ and he took Adam’s hand and shook it warmly. ‘Come with me, I need to talk to you, to you both.’ He switched to a louder voice. ‘Come to apply to join the choir have you? Excellent timing, we are a bit short at the moment.’

  Adam and Eve exchanged a puzzled look and followed him down the church, heading toward the altar. They didn’t get that far, for he turned right into a short corridor, then a left, and another right into a small square office.

  ‘Come in,’ he said, hurriedly, ‘take at seat,’ and he quietly closed the door, and turned the old lock. ‘We mustn’t be too long.’

  ‘Mum said you could arrange for us to move abroad,’ said Eve.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand. ‘Problem in that direction, I’m afraid. Lost our boat last week south of Jersey. The damn Navy blew it clean out of the water. Boat gone, crew gone, not nice, not nice at all, and the Navy should have known better,’ and the lines on his face suddenly appeared as deep as the Mariana trench. ‘We are trying to make alternative arrangements,’ he muttered, ‘but I have no idea how long that is going to take. The boat’s not the real problem; it’s finding suitable crew. It’s dangerous work, you see. Very dangerous. Not everyone’s cup of tea.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Eve, not knowing what to say next.

  ‘We need to get away,’ said Adam. ‘Matter of some urgency.’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ said Emberton, ‘I know that, but I have any number of people in the pipeline waiting for normal service to be resumed. I can’t help you in that direction, not right now. But you are right, you should get away from here, and soon, and you must take the papers with you.’

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about that,’ said Eve.

  ‘We have a new senior clergyman arriving next week. Overall supremo if you will. My spies tell me he is a confirmed government sympathiser, and we won’t get any change from him. They have already searched the Priory and archives once, albeit a cursory one. It is simply too dangerous to keep these things here any longer. They must be moved before that man takes his position.’

  ‘Why are they so important?’ said Adam, echoing Eve’s thinking.

  Emberton frowned.

  ‘It is difficult to put into words. They are more symbolic than anything else.’

  ‘That is the word my mum used,’ said Eve. ‘Symbolic.’

  ‘They came from Norway originally. It goes back to World War II. Tinbergen spoke out in favour of the oppressed population. He inspired people. His writings gave people hope. Of course, the authorities banned him and his papers, and tried to burn them too. Locked him away in a psychiatric institution. But those papers, they are still doing the same thing today, giving hope to oppressed people, providing inspiration that one day we will regain our democratic rights, our freedom, our heritage, hope that we’ll eventually overturn this evil, murdering government. And because of it, the hope those papers gives us, the security forces are damned mad to recover them, and that is grounds enough to make sure they don’t. It is no longer safe to keep them here. You must take them away. You must disappear, and be quick about it.’

  ‘But where shall we go?’ said Eve.

  Emberton shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘It is better I don’t know. In fact the less I know, the safer you will be. I can let you have some money, not a lot, but something.’

  ‘What do you think? said Eve, glancing at Adam.

  ‘Let’s go for it,’ he said. ‘If the vicar can give us some cash, we can clear out today. It’s what we said we’d do anyway.’

  Eve nodded, and glanced back at the vicar.

  Emberton smiled benignly.

  ‘Agreed then?’ he said, placing his hand, palm down, on the table.

  ‘Yes,’ said Adam, covering Emberton’s hand with his.

  ‘Cool,’ said Eve, placing her hand on Adam’s.

  ‘I wish you all the luck in the world,’ said Emberton, covering Eve’s hand with his rough paw.

  Eve and Emberton glanced at Adam.

  He paused a second and said: ‘Count me in,’ placing his hand on the pile, grinning at Eve.

  ‘Last one,’ she said, covering Adam’s hand. ‘I have a good feeling about this.’

  ‘You are remarkable young people,’ said Emberton. ‘A credit to your generation, a credit to the country. The thing is, we are becoming too few in number. You should lie low for a while, but when the time comes, you must speak out.’

  ‘How will we know when that is?’ said Eve.

  ‘You will know, my child. You will know. It might be years away, it might, heaven forbid, be when you are old and grey, like me, but the time will surely come, and when it does, you will recognise it, and you will speak. No doubt there are many people you are destined to meet, as if by chance, good people with whom you will share your thoughts and feelings and knowledge. These are the people you must convince of the cause. Keep your eyes open and your wits about you, and they will show themselves, perhaps when you least expect it.’

  ‘All right,’ said Eve, ‘if you think.’

  �
�I do; now God bless you both. On the count of three, remove the hands. One.... two.... three!’

  Six hands flew away in sequence, as they grinned at one another. It was a like a child’s game from Christmas parties from long ago, yet they knew well enough it was no game.

  ‘Let’s get you sorted,’ said Emberton, and he went to an oak bookshelf and removed part of the second shelf of books. Behind the books was another row. He took four of them away, and reached inside and pulled out another. It was a weighty bible, a leather bound edition from the early 1950’s. He placed it on the desk and they stared down at it.

  ‘If anyone wants to know, this is your old family bible, a copy you inherited from your grandparents. The Tinbergen Papers are hidden within.’

  A bit old hat, thought Adam, hollowing out the centre of a large book to hide something. Eve must have thought the same, for she flipped the book open. The pages were intact. She opened the book deeper down, closer to the back cover. The pages were still all intact, no sign of foreign papers anywhere.

  ‘Where are they?’ she asked.

  Emberton smiled. He took the book in both hands. At the top and bottom of the spine were small leather flaps. He peeled them back and peeked inside, and showed it to Adam and Eve. They could see fifteen or twenty sheets of repeatedly folded and grubby paper.

  ‘Is that it?’ said Adam.

  The gentle giant nodded. ‘The originals,’ he said, ‘priceless.’

  ‘Hard to think this is what all the fuss is about,’ said Eve.

  ‘Hard to think my mother was killed for those damn things,’ said Adam.

  ‘They are most important,’ reiterated Emberton. ‘Never forget it.’

  ‘We are hardly likely to do that,’ said Adam.

  ‘The bible won’t protect you against a determined inspection, but they might get you past the casual searcher. When you arrive at your destination you should find somewhere safe to store it. Take no chances. Guard the papers with your life.’

  A bit melodramatic, thought Eve.

  ‘No pressure then,’ said Adam.

  ‘How will we know where to hide them?’ said Eve.

  ‘You will know. God will guide you, put your trust in God,’ said Emberton. ‘He will not abandon you. And next, the money.’

  Glynn watched Eve empty her bag, and slip the bible deep within, before covering it with all her things. He nodded his approval.

  ‘There’s two hundred pounds,’ he said. ‘It is not so much, but the best I can get together. We are trying to help so many.’

  ‘That’s great,’ said Adam, snaffling the money, and stuffing it into the back of his jeans. He couldn’t remember when he last had so much spare cash.

  The door handle banged. Someone was trying to get in.

  Emberton raised his hand, demanding silence, as they stared at the locked entrance.

  ‘Who is it?’ called Emberton.

  ‘It’s Mrs Davies, Vicar.’

  She was one of the older women they had seen in the church earlier.

  ‘What is it, Dorothy?’

  ‘There’s someone here to see you, Vicar.’

  ‘I’ll be right with you.’

  They sat motionless, and listened and waited as Mrs Davies hobbled away down the stone corridor.

  ‘Do you think she heard anything?’ said Adam.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Emberton. ‘She’s old, and her hearing’s not great.’

  ‘We’d better be going,’ said Eve, standing

  ‘Yes,’ said Emberton, clasping her around the shoulders, and kissing her on the top of her head. ‘I wish you all the luck in the world. I wish too, that I were coming with you. I shall pray for you every night, that God watches over you, that no harm comes to you, or to the treasures you carry. I am confident that all will be well.’

  He clasped Adam on the shoulder and shook him playfully, before shaking his hand. ‘You look after her, now.’

  ‘I intend to.’

  Emberton went to the door and listened. Silence, and then the main organ began playing a shuddering Bach piece.

  ‘It might be better if we are not seen together again. I shall wait here. You make your own way out.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ said Eve, ‘and thanks for everything.’

  ‘God speed,’ said Emberton, and with one last hopeful glance, the kids were gone.

  Forty-Five

  At five past nine in the morning Liz Mariner joined the party in interview room B. She found Jemima Cornelius already LIDA’d up to the armpits. ‘Commander Mariner has entered the room,’ said the recently promoted Inspector Hewitt, as Liz sat down. Hewitt had leapt into dead man’s shoes; the dead man being his former boss. Not many people had liked Smeggan; it was true, but Hewitt was different. Yes, he knew he could be eccentric and a difficult swine, but for all that, he had looked after Hewitt, mentored him, and now he was determined to track down and bring to book his boss’s murderer.

  He remembered that day in the cottage in Brockenhurst, and everything that had happened since. The boy had been incredibly lucky, but his good fortune was running out. Hewitt knew that, it was simply a matter of time.

  ‘We meet at last,’ said Liz, smiling at Jemima.

  ‘Commander Mariner,’ said Jemima, ‘you should be ashamed of yourself.’

  Water off a duck’s back to Liz. She was happy with her life choices and if she ever stumbled on the same fork in the track, she knew she would choose the same way.

  ‘Ready to go?’ Liz said to Hewitt.

  The man nodded.

  Liz asked, ‘Did you know that your daughter Josephine is on the run?’

  Nothing from LIDA.

  Jemima’s eyes widened.

  ‘I did not! Where is she?’

  Liz grinned.

  ‘If we knew that, we wouldn’t be searching for her.’

  ‘She sold herself to the devil, that girl.’

  ‘She’s wanted on serious charges.’

  ‘Charges? What charges? Don’t make me laugh.’

  ‘She bit off a lorry driver’s nose.’

  Jemima stifled a laugh. Even Liz thought it mildly amusing.

  ‘He must have deserved it, for her to do that.’

  ‘No matter,’ said Liz, ‘that’s not why we are here today.’

  ‘I’ll bet.’

  ‘Your husband has confessed to a string of serious offences.’

  LIDA looked nervous, wavering. Hewitt paid closer attention.

  ‘My husband is a kind and decent man. If he has confessed to anything, it can only be because he was pressurised into doing so.’

  ‘I sat up late last night,’ said Liz, leaning back in her chair.

  ‘Bully for you.’

  ‘Combing through your web of lies.’

  Jemima sneered.

  ‘I was reading the late Inspector Smeggan’s files. It seems for some reason he withheld certain vital information from the rest of us. It came to me around half past two.’

  Hewitt leant closer to LIDA.

  ‘What did?’ said Jemima, ‘your new lover? Seeing as how you trussed up the previous one, good and proper.’

  It was Liz’s turn to appear unconcerned, and she was soon talking again. ‘Martin Reamse fingered your husband, didn’t he? But more than that, he knew what your involvement was in all this. Pity Smeggan didn’t see fit to divulge that gem of information to the rest of us. I wonder why he didn’t.’ Liz paused and glared across the table.

  Jemima bit her tongue, and looked away.

  ‘Close, were you?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  ‘No bother, I suspect you didn’t go voluntarily.’

  ‘I really don’t know what you are talking about.’

  ‘Oh, I think you do. I couldn’t quite put my finger on where all this organisation of yours took place.’

  ‘Don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I think you do. I know now, you see. Flash of inspiration. It was the Rambling Club, wasn’t it?’<
br />
  LIDA erupted.

  Hewitt nudged Liz.

  She rolled her eyes and returned to Jemima. ‘Well?’

  ‘I am a member of the Rambling Club. So what?’

  ‘It wasn’t just a rambling club though, was it?’

  ‘What do you think it was?’

  ‘That is what we are asking you, Mrs Cornelius.’

  ‘Don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I think you do. I was looking through the list of members. Highfaluting bunch, weren’t they?’

  ‘Can’t say as I noticed.’

  ‘Oh I think you did. A former Judge, a former newspaper editor before his scandal rag was shut down. A senior accountant in the city, a former conservative MP, a trade union leader, and then there was that Lady Selina Fortune.’

  ‘Selina was a particularly keen rambler. What are you getting at?’

  Liz turned to the inspector and said, ‘Did you know Hewitt, that Lady Selina Fortune ran her own company in London up until quite recently, and that her speciality was introducing Organisation and Methods into any business.... or group.’

  ‘I did not, ma’am.’

  ‘So what?’ said Jemima.

  ‘Selina was organising your little club, wasn’t she? Your little gang of conspirators. Giving you the benefit of her great expertise for free. That’s the fact of it.’

  ‘She was a keen rambler, I told you. She liked to keep herself fit.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Liz, ‘until she rambled off to the United States.’

  ‘That must have really pissed you off,’ blurted Jemima, instinctively realising how much that hurt her inquisitors. She felt like sucking her finger and drawing a figure one in the air.