Steps to Heaven: A Sgt Major Crane Novel (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Internal Memorandum

From:
Sergeant M. Scraggs

To:
Sergeant Major T. Crane, Special Investigations Branch, Aldershot Garrison

After
a full investigation of Lance Corporal Crooks’ computer (Dell Laptop Model No HD50 Serial No 325TN000554AB144), several documents that may be of interest were partially recovered from the hard drive. These were emails that had been deleted. Unfortunately it was not possible to determine the sender, nor the sender’s IP address. Dots have been inserted where the software was unable to recover the words.

Email
No 1

……June…..

Solomon

Welcome……………group………..consisting……………fathers………..I
know…….faith…….Jesus……show……way…….next……meeting…….at……

………name………..Lord………Christ……Z

Email
No 2

2…..July

Dear ………..

Your……..faith……..Christ…….rewarded……time……..near…….baptised..blood.

Jesus…….with you. Soon……..ascend………..heaven.

In
the…………..of………Jesus……..Z

Email No 3

…….August..

………..time draws near let……love…….Christ…..fortify………..steps……heaven.

A
fountain……….. blood…….the sins…….who come………..Him…….. salvation.

…………..time…………..16…hrs………..August.

Drench
……………..blood ………..son ……………….all ………saved…. you……...soldier….Christ……Z

This represents everything we could find relating to religion or having any religious connotation. All other material appears to refer to normal mundane matters and the usual amount of spam email.

I
apologise for the delay in obtaining this information, due to a backlog of work and relocation to new premises. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any queries or wish to know more about the retrieval system.

M.
Scraggs

Crane asked Kim to make several copies of the Memo, for him to first take to Captain Edwards and then DI Anderson. But before contacting his Captain, he sat reading the contents over and over. The words, “blood” “rivers” “heaven” cycling round in his head without a destination. He decided to take a walk around the playing fields. The sun was shining and only a light breeze occasionally ruffled his hair. As he strode along the touch line of the rugby pitch he remembered his meeting with the Padre a few weeks ago, whilst he was taking his morning constitutional. Contrasting the Padre’s vitality that day, with the broken man now lying in Frimley Park Hospital.

***

Edwards was putting the finishing touches to some report or other and made Crane wait, sitting in front of his desk. Once the papers had been whisked away by an aide, he turned to Crane.

“So,”
he began. “I take it you must have news from the other garrisons.”

“Not
at the moment, sir, although it’s in hand. I wanted to see you about this,” Crane said as he pushed the memo across the desk.

“What
is it?”

“The
report from the computer people. They’ve got some snippets of deleted emails from Lance Corporal Crooks’ computer.”

Edwards
read the memo in silence. Several times.

“So,
it looks like you were right, Crane,” he eventually said.

“Unfortunately,
yes, sir. The first email seems to welcome Solomon into the group. If you notice there is a reference to fathers and what appear to be details of the next meeting. The second one looks like a kind of reassurance, keep the faith and that sort of thing. And the third one...”

“Yes?”

Clearing his throat, Crane continued, “The third one seemed to be confirmation of the date when Solomon was to carry out the killings.”

“Jesus
Christ.”

“Exactly,
sir. It all seems to be done in the name of Jesus Christ.”

“And
Z? Is that who I think it is?”

“I
believe so, sir, Zechariah.”

Captain
Edwards stared off into the distance for a moment. Finally he shook his head and turned back to Crane. “So, what’s your next move?”

“Well,
with your permission, sir, I would like to share this with DI Anderson, so he can put more pressure on the Church of Jesus is King. I hope that by showing this to the Church Elder we can persuade him to help us. I also intend to send it to Catterick and Colchester to see if they can find anything similar. As you know, we’ve already had confirmation from Mrs Fisher about a preacher named Zechariah.”

“Very
well,” the Captain agreed. “At least we’ve got some good news about the Padre.”

To
raise their spirits, they discussed the health and positive prognosis of Padre Symonds. As Crane left the Captain’s office, he pulled out his mobile phone to let Anderson know he was on his way. He popped into his office to tell Kim where he was going, instructed her to send the email to the other garrisons and see if she can have a go at filling in the blank words. Turning to leave, he noticed Billy was not at his desk. He asked Kim where he was, but she seemed vague, mumbling about Billy pursuing something and they could get him on his mobile if he was needed.

As
Crane walked to his car, he tried Billy’s mobile, which went straight to voice mail. Leaving a message asking for a return call, Crane closed the phone and drove to Aldershot Police Station.

***

Anderson was in an ebullient mood. Finding Padre Symonds, he confided, had done him no end of good with ‘them upstairs’, the words accompanied by a nod at the ceiling. Indeed his whole demeanour was brighter and sharper, including his white shirt. Crane felt sorry for him, as he was about to burst his bubble of happiness. After sliding the piece of paper across Anderson’s desk, Crane waited in silence as the policeman read it.

“Jesus
Christ.”

“My
Captain’s thoughts exactly,” grimaced Crane. “So, what shall we do about it?”

“Do?
What can we do?” Anderson waved the piece of paper at Crane. “There’s still nothing here that can help us catch this Z character.”

“I
think we should go and see the Church Elder.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. I’m not being pushed out of this one again, Derek,” Crane leaned forward and pointed at the memo. “This is major evidence to show Solomon was attending a group headed by a person called Zechariah, who had been a visiting preacher at the Church in Aldershot. What’s more, the tone of the emails is zealous to say the least.”

“Zealous?”
Anderson spoke as though he had never heard the word before.

“Yes,
over the top, fanatical, obsessive, fervent, ardent,”

“All
right, Crane, stop talking like a thesaurus. I get the picture.”

Crane
pressed on, building his case. “So, Elias needs to know how serious this is. I think Solomon was hypnotised, brainwashed, if you like, into killing his family and then himself. And what’s more, I bet you so were the others in Catterick and Colchester. And I think Zechariah is here, in Aldershot. For God’s sake, Derek, how many more reasons do you need?” Crane pushed out of his seat and stood by the office door.

“But
Elias said the contact number he had doesn’t work anymore,” Anderson protested.

“I
know that. So now we need to lean on him, get him to make further enquiries of his flock, or whatever he calls them. Someone in that Church knows what’s going on and we’ve got to find them.” Crane gave up on standing and moved to sit resolutely in front of Anderson.

“I
don’t really do leaning, Crane,” replied Derek. “Not on a Church Elder.”

“No,
I know,” said Crane folding his arms and leaning back in his chair, “but I do.”

Chapter
Thirty

Crane was amazed at the number of people filing into the Church of Jesus is King. Curiosity had got the better of him and as the Church Elder couldn’t see them until after the Sunday service, he decided to turn up early. Crane was standing on the opposite side of the street to the Church, lounging in the doorway of the Blockbuster DVD rental store. Looking at his watch he saw it was 10:45 hours, nearly fifteen minutes to go before the start of the service and people were still arriving.

“Oh,
what the hell,” he said, flicking his cigarette away and going to join the queue.

As
the throng inched slowly forwards, he could see that on either side of the church door (or cinema door to be completely factual Crane thought) people were stationed, welcoming each individual.

“Welcome,
welcome…….so lovely to see you again……..Praise the Lord….”

Crane
shook off the platitudes like the soap suds in his shower that morning, and peered into the gloom of the building. He saw what seemed like hundreds of people milling around, searching for seats, greeting friends, to the accompaniment of piped gospel music. Looking up, those in the ornately decorated stalls were leaning over the balcony, excitedly waving to people they recognised below.

A
shrill bell caused Crane to jump. Although it meant nothing to him, it had an effect on the congregation, as everyone sat down, picked up books and song sheets and turned expectantly towards the stage. Realising it was probably a five minute bell, left over from the cinema era, he suppressed a grin and slipped into a seat at the end of a row near the back.

Within
a few minutes the lights in the auditorium dimmed and those on the stage brightened. Elias the Church Elder, dressed in a sober dark suit, but no dog collar or robes, strode onto the stage to loud clapping and cheering. Raising his hand for silence, he spoke in a deep basso voice that reminded Crane of James Earl Jones. Not so much Darth Vader, more Vice Admiral James Greer in ‘The Hunt for Red October.’

“Then
David and all the House of Israel played music before the Lord on all kinds of instruments of fir wood, on harps, on stringed instruments, on tambourines, on sistrums and on cymbals.”

As
the opening chords of a catchy tune rung out from an invisible organ, a choir swaggered onto the stage, clapping or beating tambourines and swaying with the music. Their robes were simple and black, with their Sunday best clothes visible underneath. Then the congregation rose as one and begin to lustily sing and clap.

“Shine,
Jesus Shine, fill this land with the father’s glory.”

As
the hymn went on, arms were raised in praise for the Lord, hands opened, palms outwards, reaching towards some unseen force.

At
the conclusion, which was applauded with enthusiasm, Elias welcomed everyone, especially new visitors and requested that everyone ‘pass the peace’. Crane was alarmed to see this meant turning to your neighbour, hugging and kissing them and murmuring, “Peace be with you.”

He
was enveloped with alacrity in the strong arms of the woman next to him and pulled into her bosom. After mumbling “peace be with you,” into her cleavage, he was set free, to be immediately set upon by the person in front and the whole process started again. A man clasped him close, ramming Crane’s nose into his neck. Crane’s nostrils immediately filled with the overpowering smell of a cheap pungent aftershave. After a few minutes of being knocked into one person and then another, to Crane’s relief the experience was over and the service continued.

By
the time the sermon started, Crane was glad of the rest, expecting everyone to sit quietly and listen to the words of wisdom from Elias. But oh no, not in this church it seemed. Elias’ words were frequently punctuated by cries from the congregation. People rose to their feet, swaying, hands aloft, shouting out, “Praise the Lord……..Amen…..Hallelujah!” A few gathered in front of the stage, or in the aisles, to more freely express their emotions. Crane was glad the children had been sent out to what they called ‘junior church’ before the sermon began, as he saw one supplicant writhing on the floor and spouting gibberish. Expecting people to rush to aid the stricken worshiper who was clearly having an epileptic fit, he was stunned to find it only seemed to encourage more of them to join in and soon there were several people on the floor, clearly in need of medical help.

Turning
to the woman whose cleavage he had been intimate with earlier, he whispered, “Are they okay?” pointing towards the stage. “Isn’t anyone going to help them?”

“They
are overcome by the Holy Spirit,” she explained. “They have been saved by the love of Jesus Christ our Lord and the Holy Spirit now lives in them.”

Crane
noticed his companion was glassy eyed, a sheen of moisture on her upper lip.

“Feel
it,” she urged. “Let yourself go, let Jesus Christ save you too.”

And
then Crane was saved. Not by Jesus Christ, but by the organ which struck up another rousing tune, causing his neighbour to pick up her song sheet and join in the chorus.

At
the end of the service Crane managed to extract himself from a large number of the congregation who wanted to talk to him, find out all about him and persuade him to attend the church again. Or maybe sign up for Bible classes, prayer circles and family groups. Crane escaped from the cinema into the bright sunlight. Stopping and putting his hand up to shield his eyes, he spotted Derek Anderson across the street and walked over to join him.

“Hello,
Crane, are you alright? Don’t tell me you’ve been converted?” he grinned.

“Bloody
hell, what an experience that was,” exclaimed Crane lighting a cigarette and drawing on it as if it was the last one he would ever smoke. “Bunch of evangelical crackpots, if you ask me. The Padre was wrong when he said it was a bit over the top. It was a lot over the top. Thank God that’s over.” Looking at his watch he cried, “Jesus, I’ve been in there nearly two hours, no wonder I’m exhausted.”

The
two men stood for a while, watching the worshipers leave the building. At one point Crane caught a glimpse of the back of a man with blond hair and a broad muscular back which seemed familiar, holding the hand of a small boy. As the High Street returned to its normal ghostly Sunday afternoon state, it was time to go and see Elias.

They
caught him as he was closing the main doors. After the introductions they retired to a large office just inside the building to the left of the doors. As well as the Elder’s desk, phone and usual office paraphernalia, there was room for a large circular table with at least 12 chairs around it. The carpet was red, yet old and faded, obviously the same vintage as the carpet in the main auditorium.

After
inviting Crane and Anderson to sit, Elias rounded his desk to sit in a large, yet worn leather chair. Placing his clasped hands on the desk, he smiled benignly and expressed his pleasure that the Padre had been found and would make a full recovery.

Crane,
however, was not much interested in pleasantries and wanted to get straight to the point. “When did you last see Padre Symonds, sir?”

“Oh,
let me see, sometime last week, I think.”

“Could
you try to be more specific?”

“Umm,”
Elias said as if considering his reply, “Oh yes, at our Bible class last Tuesday. He joined us as part of an Army Liaison Scheme. Do you know about that, Sergeant Major? It’s a wonderful concept I think.”

“Yes,
yes, I know all about that,” said Crane, becoming impatient and not about to tell the Elder that it was his idea in the first place. Anderson laid a warning hand on his arm, which Crane ignored. “He was making enquiries about the visiting preacher, Zechariah, I believe.”

“Was
he?” asked Elias.

“You
know damn well he was.”

“It
appears more evidence has come to light about Zechariah, sir,” Anderson quickly interrupted, handing over a copy of the memo.

After
a few minutes silence, during which Crane stewed, Anderson asked, “Now do you see the seriousness of the situation, sir?”

“Well,
I’m not sure what this had to do with my church,” was the studied reply. “After all Zechariah was not a member here. I’ve checked the records.” Elias sat back looking very pleased with himself.

Through
gritted teeth Crane explained, “Zechariah seems to have or had a group in this and other churches that presumably only included fathers and their sons. Surely you must know about this, have a list of participants. Something. Anything.”

“No,
I’m sorry I have no knowledge of a group such as that.”

“How
was that possible?” demanded Crane. “Don’t you know what’s going on in your own bloody church?” Crane was agitated and got up from his seat. “We’re talking about murder, suicide, abduction and brainwashing here. How can you sit there and act like you don’t know anything or, what’s worse, don’t care!”

“Sit
down, Crane,” Anderson said. But Crane’s words had affected the Church Elder, who handed the memo back to Anderson with a trembling hand, a sheen of sweat appearing on his already glossy black skin.

Clearing
his throat, Elias explained, “We are a loving, open and encompassing family here, Sergeant Major. I don’t think that anyone we’re connected with would do that sort of thing. In fact your suggestion that we would is completely abhorrent to me.”

Anderson
replied for Crane. “I understand, sir, but it appears that someone very dangerous is behind these murders and at the moment all the evidence is pointing towards your visiting preacher, Zechariah.”

But
Crane wasn’t finished yet. “Don’t you think that perhaps you’ve gone too far with being ‘encompassing’ sir?” Crane puts his fingers in the air as quote marks. “It looked like you’ve ‘encompassed’ a killer in your naivety.”

Elias
once again cleared his throat, a habit which was really beginning to annoy Crane.

“Perhaps,
sir,” interjected Anderson, “you could give us a list of your members who have sons. We could speak to them and see if any of them have been in contact with Zechariah since his official visit here.”

Elias
looked appalled at the thought. “But that’s confidential information,” he spluttered. “I couldn’t do that. The ramifications would ripple through the church. No one would ever trust me again.”

Closing
his eyes in frustration and taking a deep breath, Crane replied, “Don’t you think, sir, that no one will trust you ever again if you are responsible for another murder suicide, because you refused to co-operate?”