Confession at Maddleskirk Abbey (17 page)

‘Yes, I am, because he is a truly nasty piece of work, the worst of the worst. I know he did it, you know he did it. That’s what drives us on.’

‘So where is John now?’ asked Nick. ‘You seem to know. Who was the woman who tricked him into going off to hospital?’

‘Let’s go back a little further, Nick.’ Napier spoke quietly and calmly. ‘When John was doing his time in prison, he discovered how drugs were being smuggled into the jail and distributed to inmates. The prison staff, from the governor downwards, had always done their best to prevent deliveries but had failed. They
couldn’t find out how the stuff was getting past their security systems. John found out through his knowledge of the building trade. At the time he was working on a huge new development within the prison grounds, part of a new extension. It involved brickwork. Quite by chance, he discovered drugs were being smuggled into the prison inside imitation bricks that were hidden among genuine deliveries. John was working on the project and found such a brick. At first, he didn’t understand what it was – he thought it might be a bomb so he alerted the governor.’

‘I’d say that was a good move.’

‘It was but it alienated some of the other inmates. It was tantamount to being an informer. But John was looking after himself –he had no wish to be accused of importing whatever was inside the bricks. John was – is – an honest man, and the prison authorities knew that. Because of his actions, a dealer outside the prison was set up in a sting operation and caught. The outcome was that for a while drugs were not delivered, the dealer got a two-year sentence and lots of inmates suffered withdrawal symptoms. Even though John had acted nobly by our standards, in prison he had to be kept in solitary confinement for his own safety. Some very vicious and ruthless prisoners were out to get him whilst outside the prison walls, that dealer – Goddard – is still seeking John, not only to get his revenge for that but also to prevent John from speaking further. Quite simply, John knows too much, and Goddard wants him silenced.’

‘So John is being cared for?’ asked Will.

‘He is,’ said Napier. ‘I know where he is but must keep quiet a little longer. Goddard has recently come very close to finding John. His presence here as a monk has until now been an effective disguise. Now, it seems, his whereabouts have become known. Hence our complicated protection.’

‘I can understand your manoeuvre in Scarborough but he is a genuine monk, isn’t he?’ asked Nick.

‘He is,’ agreed Father Will.

‘This doesn’t make sense, does it?’ cried Nick. ‘John would
have been far safer left in prison even if he was in solitary the whole time!’

‘John has never condoned drugs and he nurses an especial dislike of dealers who make big money out of the grief and misery of their customers. Whilst still in prison, John was approached to see if he would help in another sting operation to help to identify and catch not merely the outside dealer he’d encountered through the prison, but a network of others, including Goddard. A big, big job in other words. Even so, he could not appear to have been granted favours for his release, so it still required him to admit his guilt for those murders. Once he had done that, he would be released on licence on condition he helped to trap a large gang of dealers. John still had a bargaining point – he agreed to do that in return for his case being reopened. Examination of the court records and the prosecution files did cast doubt on his conviction, and consequently the Home Office gave its consent. The case for his innocence has not been heard yet in court but it can be reopened and will be helped by his private papers. You know what they contain. However, in the meantime, he is the bait in a rather sophisticated trap.’

‘Does he know that?’ asked Nick.

‘He knows some of this and he is playing a good part. Remember we are dealing with vicious criminals who’ll kill without remorse. All the risks were made known to John but he still agreed to go ahead albeit pretending he knows nothing. He was made aware of that hospital ruse, by the way, and agreed to go along with it. He’s acting his part very well. Undercover agents are in Scarborough, keeping an eye on things, watching local drug dealers especially.’

‘A brave man, in other words?’

‘Very. But as he said when he agreed, he has nothing to lose, has he? He does not want a life forever being pointed out as the man who killed two little girls – he’s innocent and wants to be free of that stigma.’

‘And this will help?’

‘Yes, a lot. If John leads us to the high command of drugs dealing in this region, his mission will be half-complete. The second half will enable him to pursue the appeal against his conviction with all the professional help that he’ll require.’

‘I can’t see how that will work,’ puzzled Father Will.

‘We believe the drugs tsar in these parts is none other than Michael Goddard, who has moved from Manchester under an alias. We are still trying to get our hands on him, although we do know a good deal about him and his activities. However, we still lack the evidence that is necessary to convict him of either drug dealing or the murder of those girls. After half a lifetime of useless and unsuccessful attempts at making money, he managed to turn himself into a very successful businessman and drugs dealer, even if it is unlawful. He is making mountains of money and we believe his overseas shipments, in and out of the country, are centred on one of those small bays near Scarborough. In the past, they were used for smuggling liquor, now it’s drugs.’

‘I thought the intelligence was that he was living near York and had established a thriving business there?’ puzzled Nick. ‘Something to do with manufacturing strong waterproof cases for mobile phones and so on.’

‘We’ve established a strong presence in York to make him believe we are concentrating on that area, but we’re not. It’s all part of our decoy operation, in conjunction with other agencies. We will gain something positive by flushing out lots of minor villains.’

‘Will it work?’

‘We can never be a hundred per cent sure but we’ve got to give it a go. Word of our activities in York will reach him wherever he is, we’ll make sure of that, but in truth we have good reason to believe the centre of his operations is Scarborough.’

‘Because of its coastal situation?’ asked Nick.

‘Yes, it’s a busy port with lots of tiny deserted coves along the coastline, all with easy illegal access to the continent. Anything
big can come through Hull or Teesside, neither being far away. Our real concentration, even as we speak, is the coast, even if we are pretending otherwise.’

‘So Father John is in Scarborough?’ Nick wanted to clarify that situation.

‘He is. We put him there, Nick. He’s in a safe house in the care of a SOO – Special Operations Officer – and an assistant. She’s not a police officer but our intention is to trap Goddard by throwing him completely off the scent as we bait a trap for him.’

‘He’ll be used to that sort of thing, won’t he?’ asked Father Will. ‘Won’t he suspect anything that’s out of the ordinary?’

‘Up to a point, yes,’ admitted Napier. ‘But we and our partner agencies are up to scratch. Now you can see why we don’t want press interest. If the press publicized our big operation in York, Goddard would be suspicious … he’d think it was a ploy to catch him off guard. We’ve got to convince him that that operation is low key so far as press interest is concerned, then he might believe it is genuine.’

‘It all sounds very complicated,’ admitted Father Will.

‘It will all unravel itself eventually, but we’ve an extra ace in our hands. We still have Father John’s box of notes to dangle in front of Goddard when the time is right – metaphorically speaking, of course. If he thinks someone has got a file of information that could prove he committed those child murders, he’ll want to destroy it, as well as the man who created it. The man who can give evidence against him. Remember, this man is ruthless, highly dangerous and highly innovative. But we’re going to nail him.’

‘So did he kill Inspector Radcliffe, that undercover policeman?’ asked Nick.

‘Almost certainly. We’re not going to interrogate him about that, not yet, but very soon we will be looking for a realistic holding charge to keep him in custody so we can question him – about drugs as well as the murder. Our thinking is that Radcliffe was getting very close to the truth and had to be eliminated by
Goddard. I think the woman seen by Greengrass with Radcliffe near the holy well was Mrs Goddard. There was a crude attempt to implicate Father John in that death by leaving the murder weapon in the confessional – by chance at that time, it was occupied by you, Father Will.’

‘Oh dear … how devious. … I could have been arrested …’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘but that was a woman. …’

Memories of that occasion flashed before him as he spoke but in those fleeting moments Will wondered if that woman’s confession had been genuine? If it was false, it might not be governed by the seal. Perhaps he could reveal what had been said? He’d have to check before he opened his mouth.

‘Do you agree, Father Will?’ asked Nick.

‘Agree with what? Sorry, both of you, my mind got distracted …’

‘That the woman who attended your confession might not have been genuine in what she was doing, and she might have been the wife of Michael Goddard?’

‘I can’t say, I didn’t see her – she was no more than a silhouette against the mesh inside.’

‘Did you get the feeling she was not a Catholic?’ asked Nick.

‘That could be possible. I felt she was not accustomed to going to confession She seemed rusty and not at all comfortable in there. She might not have been genuine.’

‘Maybe she’d seen scenes of someone making their confession in a television play or something,’ contemplated Napier.

‘But why would she do that?’ asked Nick. ‘Why leave the murder weapon there?’

‘Firstly, as a means of exerting pressure on Father John,’ said Napier. ‘Making him appear to be involved in the death of Detective Inspector Radcliffe – you can be sure she would make sure the stiletto was discovered, perhaps by a cleaner. It would have implicated the man she thought was taking those confessions who was also a convicted murderer – and a danger to her husband and to her. From this, it’s obvious the Goddards have
discovered the whereabouts of John, and his new name, even if they don’t know exactly which of the monks is him.’

‘We all look like penguins in our habits!’ laughed Will.

‘It was clear that Mrs Goddard did not know John in his new guise. That was clearly displayed at the confessional. Father Will, you have probably helped to prevent a murder. Well, now you’re in possession of more information than most others so what do you see as our next task?’

‘Surely it’s to find Goddard?’ suggested Nick.

‘No,’ said Napier. ‘It’s to draw him gently into our net without him realizing, and then catch him red-handed with drugs in his possession or evidence strong enough to get him convicted. But capturing him is more important than finding any drugs. Following that, we can inform him that we have reason to believe he killed his own stepdaughters. He’ll be kept in custody as we gather the evidence.’

‘You sound very sure about all this, Mr Napier?’ Nick put to him.

‘We’re coming to the climax of a lot of work. Sadly we didn’t anticipate Inspector Radcliffe’s death, but it does show what’s at stake. We’re keeping that in the background at this stage – we’re going to build a massive case or cases against him before he’s arrested. I should add that we do know where he lives, and we know the name of his new business in this area. We’ve done a lot of background work on this case. In short, gentlemen, that man is finally going to pay for his sins.’

‘He’s not the sort to readily confess,’ suggested Nick. ‘To sins or crimes!’

‘And not to me or to you, Father Will, he’s not a Catholic. We checked that when our undercover agents discovered his unhealthy interest in Maddleskirk Abbey. Because he will never confess to anything, we need the strongest evidence to convict him. Now I must get back to my office – the teams will think I’ve deserted them and it must be nearly tea-time. I could murder a cuppa.’

‘W
HAT ARE YOUR
plans now?’ asked Napier as they walked back to the abbey.

‘There doesn’t seem to be much to involve us any more,’ admitted Nick. ‘We’re very much on the fringes of all this. We mustn’t and shouldn’t get involved in your complex plans, Mr Napier. We could make a mess of things. It seems our efforts in and around the abbey, not forgetting the villages hereabouts, are now complete – we’ve done all we can. We’ve exhausted local enquiries without finding much that’s useful to your investigation.’

‘You and your monkstables, especially Father Will, have been very useful to my teams, Nick, as I’m sure you understand. It’s all part of the diversion plan. Your efforts meant my officers were able to concentrate elsewhere but there’s still something that can be done by the monkstables,’ suggested Napier.

‘Such as?’

‘A high-profile search for Father John on the moors.’

‘But you know where he is.’

‘We do, but no one else does. Everyone else is worried about him and expecting some kind of positive and highly visible action to find him. We’ve not resorted to a big public search so it’s time we did. I suggest you recruit help from the police dog section, the Moorland Search and Rescue Service, members of
the public and even a helicopter. There are enough woodlands, forests and lakes around here to keep a search team busy for hours if not days! If there are any fees or costs, my murder investigation budget will cover them. That would be a wonderful way of diverting public interest – and Goddard’s interest – from what is actually happening, and the public will expect something of that kind. Who knows what or who we might flush out!’

‘Something nasty?’

‘It’s rather like going beating on a grouse shoot! You never know what’s going to blast out of the heather!’

Nick wondered whether Napier had been inspired by the sight of that monk striding around the grounds in his habit but felt he should agree.

‘I must admit I thought things were rather low key.’

‘Not any more, Nick. All we need to get this show moving is a reported sighting of a monk in an isolated location. That would give
us
grounds for a search.’

‘And it would attract media interest,’ pointed out Nick. ‘I thought you didn’t want that?’

‘We do now! It will have its uses because it will divert interest from what we are actually doing. Word of our activities will soon filter down to the media,’ said Napier. ‘I can live with a staged media event. A big search for a missing monk will guarantee that. The public and news reporters will think we’re chasing a murderer, which guarantees wide coverage.’

‘We’ve already exhausted enquiries around the abbey campus and the villages in the first search for Father John …’

‘That was yesterday, Nick. Now, how will this work? Suppose I arranged for an anonymous phone call ostensibly from a hiker who’s out on the moors with someone else’s wife which is why he refused to give his name? However, he’s heard about the missing Father John due to our local searches and enquiries and has rung to report the sighting of a monk wandering about as if lost on, say, moors near Whinstone Ridge? That’s not too far from here. Let’s say he was dressed in his hooded habit … but
with no rucksack or walking gear. An elderly confused monk in danger of exposure along with all that that brings. We can express our concern because these autumn nights can be very cold – so this is a life-saving exercise.’

‘Isn’t that a bit devious?’ frowned Father Will. ‘Concocting a story like that?’

‘I’ve known many a serious crime be solved through the initial stimulus of an anonymous phone call or an anonymous letter,’ said Napier.

‘I thought most were ignored?’ suggested Nick.

‘As a rule they are but in this case it’s all for the greater good. It’s all part of our plan to divert the target’s attention from Scarborough and the coast and it means we can call off the hunt any time we wish. There’s no need to let it get out of hand or become too expensive. How about a highly visible but reasonably short search?’

‘I’ll go along with that,’ promised Nick.

‘We might even get a sighting! If that happened, it could lead to our target joining the search – remember, he’s as anxious as we are to find Father John.’

‘I don’t think my conscience will permit me to go along with those plans,’ Father Will added with a rueful smile, ‘but if a search does develop because of reports that Father John’s been genuinely sighted, then I’ll be pleased to help.’

‘Imagine the public interest if we get a fine body of monkstables in their police uniforms helping to search the moors and forests for one of their fellows who is missing,’ mused Napier. ‘An elderly monk in distress who might have wandered off whilst suffering from dementia. There’d be huge public sympathy with volunteers offering to join the search. And bags of publicity.’

‘Do we name the missing monk?’ asked Nick.

‘In this case we do,’ confirmed Napier. ‘We’ll be quite clear that we
believe
it to be Father John Attwood who’s been missing since Saturday. There’s no need to be more specific. Once we’ve
planted the first seeds of his unexplained absence, it’s quite feasible he might have gone for a walk and got lost.’

‘But his last sighting was near the entrance to Scarborough Beach Hospital,’ Nick pointed out. ‘We can positively place him there after leaving the abbey around five on Saturday evening – the hospital denies he was admitted.’

‘All fodder for our media friends!’ laughed Napier.

‘There are places near Whinstone Ridge where we could search for him,’ Father Will explained. ‘I know it well. Just below the summit there’s an old disused chapel but it does have walls and a roof but no doors or windows, just gaps. Hikers and ramblers often use it for shelter, and sometimes it’s full of sheep sheltering from the weather. It’s called St Aiden’s Chapel, pilgrims used to trek up there. The name of Aidensfield is from the same source and I do know that some of our monks go up there when they want to escape hoards of visitors at the abbey.’

‘It sounds perfect,’ said Napier. ‘That will become our operational base. Good, that’s settled. Return to the Postgate Room and I will set things in motion. Go there ostensibly for a cup of tea and a biscuit, and I’ll contact you once I’ve got things moving. You’ll then have to alert Friar Tuck and his merry men who will join the search. I’ll have the inspector in charge of this division drafted in to lead the search – he’ll think it’s genuine and I’ll instruct him to bring in some of his own officers and equipment and he will also seek help from the Moorland Search and Rescue, the RAF Search and Rescue and anyone else he can think of. All such organizations will alert the press. And whilst you’re involved in those diversionary tactics, we shall be extending our web, hopefully to catch a very big and very nasty fly!’

In his lonely room with no view, Father John occupied himself by delving into local history books as the woman called Sue busied herself downstairs, sometimes chatting to a colleague whom he never saw.

As someone holding him prisoner, she was very considerate, he felt, visiting every hour or so to offer cups of tea, small meals and other things to keep him occupied. He had a pack of cards to play patience and there were board games by which he could challenge himself such as Scrabble. All the things you’d find in a holiday flat. He was also pleased his room had
en suite
facilities, and that he could lock his bedroom door.

In some ways he felt very much a wimp being held captive by a woman even if she was armed and had a companion at hand. But John was not the sort of man who would attack a woman or attempt to overcome her by force – such actions could be misconstrued. To reinforce her own security and safety, she kept all doors locked with no keys visible, including the solitary outer door – all had mortise locks which meant he could not unlock them without the keys. Also, he noted his windows were double glazed against the North Sea’s fury and firmly locked. There seemed to be no telephone cables in the flat – Sue had a mobile she often used. When things were quiet he could hear her on her phone downstairs although he could not decipher her words. She received a lot of calls but very infrequently made any; he guessed it was her controller monitoring the situation. On the occasions she did enter his room, he would attempt to find out how long he would remain and what was expected of him. Despite volunteering to help, he had not been told much about all this! He knew a little of what was going on, but not everything.

‘You can keep asking me questions, Father John, but I cannot give you answers. I do not know what is going to happen or how long you will be there. But you are comfortable, there is food and shelter, and you have a bed. Please try to be patient. Consider me your guardian, not your captor. I am keeping you safe.’

‘I can do that, I don’t really want to know what’s going on. It’s a bit like living in the monastery. And it reminds me of my prison cell, not knowing what lies ahead.’

‘Then settle down and enjoy as much of it as you can while you can. Please don’t try to stage an escape, Father John, it wouldn’t be wise. I am always armed but if it’s any consolation, I think our realistic play-acting could soon be over.’

Alone with his thoughts and now thinking wistfully about his pleasant room at the monastery, he wondered what his colleagues would be doing. He’d told Father Will he was coming to Scarborough Beach Hospital but as he had not booked in and not returned to the abbey, would there now be a search? By the monkstables? If so, where would they be looking – and would they search his room hoping for clues as to his whereabouts? If so, who would conduct the search? They’d need the abbot’s consent to enter his room, but not if the police had a search warrant! When receiving that call about his urgent visit to hospital, he’d not had time to write it in his diary, so no one would know about it. Except Father Will, of course. So what had Will done, apart from hear confessions? Had anyone checked at Scarborough Beach Hospital? And if they had searched his room for clues, would they have found his box of papers?

Father John had been told very little about this operation, other than not to mention the truth to anyone. He hoped he could maintain the pretence. Father Will knew about that box but could Will be trusted? Who could you trust these days? He thought of his time in prison when no one, absolutely no one, could be trusted and that business with the drugs had made him hated by the inmates – and some warders! Those papers held his innermost thoughts about his conviction and might be his key to a successful appeal. Were they safe now he was not using his room?

If they got into the hands of the Goddards and their Mafialike family, they would destroy them – that was a certainty. Was it possible to break into the monastery to steal those papers? Did Goddard know he had compiled such a file? But how
could
he know?

And, of course, it was the Goddards who were the drugs
tsars, using ways of secretly distributing heroin, cocaine and cannabis resin into most of the British prisons and other detention centres, and to a range of other outlets. They were using the building trade as their cover – hiding the stuff in hollowed-out bricks and timbers. Via the proverbial grapevine, he’d heard the Goddards, Michael and Geraldine, were now multi-millionaires through their drug dealing and were operating from a base near Scarborough under another guise and another name. But he did not know those names or identities.

As he sat alone, brooding about his past, he wondered how Michael could have summoned the necessary mental state to kill those innocent children, whatever the reason. Was he under the influence of drugs at the time? What was his personal state of health, mental or otherwise, or his wealth, at the time of the murders? Father John knew that Michael Goddard had not been successful in his younger days; life had been a struggle both financially and emotionally. There were times when Father John, then known as John Jacobson and retired from the building trade, had lent him money, not expecting it to be repaid. He knew the Goddards had considered him their trusted friend – now he had paid the penalty.

His thoughts turned more and more towards the Goddards; now they were ‘highly successful’ and wealthy drug dealers, did they see him as a threat? And the woman who was holding him in this flat – she had a look of Mrs Geraldine Goddard.

She would have aged since those days, of course, but she’d gone out that fateful evening … with her sister. To celebrate
their
birthdays. So were they twins? Like the little girls? Did twins run in her family? But if she
was
related to the Goddards, could he trust her? Had he, in fact, fallen into a trap?

Father John sat on the edge of his bed staring out of the viewless window onto a solid brick wall. Bricks, he thought. Did they contain heroin? Cocaine? Cannabis? Not those actual bricks but others just like them. It gradually seemed more and more likely that he might be the victim of a highly elaborate hoax. Or some
kind of secret operation! So who could he trust?

Then there was a light knock on his door, a key was placed in the lock and it opened. Sue was there with a tray bearing a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits and brought them in with a smile. She placed the mug and plate of biscuits on his dressing table as she said, ‘Deep in thought, were you? Or perhaps asleep? I had to knock twice.’

‘Deep in thought,’ he answered.

‘Can I ask what you were thinking?’

‘I was wondering if you are the sister of Geraldine Goddard. Jenny is her name? Her twin, in fact? Is that you?’

‘Whatever gave you that idea, Father John?’ She quickly left the room with no further comment.

By chance, Prior Tuck was in the Postgate Room when the phone rang. It was Detective Chief Superintendent Napier. ‘Can you get all the monkstables together, please, Friar Tuck? In quarter of an hour? I need to talk to them. And include Nick Rhea.’

‘Yes, no problem. Can I ask why?’

‘I’ve a big job for them, a search area to check out.’