The Sacred Sword

Chapter Twenty-Nine

‘I can’t believe what I just saw you do to that guy,’ Jude said sullenly as Ben returned to the Mazda.

‘I told you not to look,’ Ben replied.

Jude was too shocked to reply. He breathed heavily for a few moments, then suddenly took out his phone and started punching in a number.

‘What are you doing?’

‘What do you think I’m doing? I’m calling the police.’

Ben stepped up and grabbed the phone from him. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Hey. Give me that back.’

Ben tossed the phone into the bog where the Range Rover had now completely vanished. It hit the mud with a splash and sank almost instantly.

‘That was my Nokia!’

‘You never answer it anyway,’ Ben said.

‘This isn’t happening,’ Jude groaned, sitting on a grassy mound and rubbing his face. ‘It’s all a nightmare.’ He glowered up at Ben. ‘Just who the fuck are you?’

‘You keep asking me that. I told you. I was at college with your parents. I was on the same course your dad did.’

‘Theology? You?’

Ben nodded.

‘What kind of theologian guns people down in cold blood and drowns them in bogs?’

‘One who’s spent too many years doing stuff you don’t want to know about,’ Ben said.

Jude grunted. ‘Oh, right. So now you’re going to tell me you were in the SAS or something.’

Ben said nothing. He examined the car. There wasn’t a single window intact and much of the bodywork was riddled with holes. It mightn’t have looked out of place in war-torn Kabul or Tripoli, but driving it on the public roads of Britain was asking for more trouble that Ben didn’t need.

He took the shotgun and his bag out of the car. His heart sank when he saw the bullet holes in the green canvas, thinking of Simeon’s laptop inside. His fears were confirmed when he examined the machine and found that the bullets had punched right through it. He had a feeling that Toshiba’s service warranty didn’t extend to their products being strafed with 9mm full metal jacket rounds. The casing fell apart in his hands, twisted wires and bits of shattered circuit board falling out into the dirt. The hard drive was history, and so were Ben’s chances of ever getting into Simeon’s research files.

‘Shit,’ he said. There wasn’t much point in putting the thing back in his bag. He tossed its remains into the Mazda, then climbed in behind the wheel, fired up the engine and slammed it into gear. The car lurched forward.

‘Hey!’ Jude shouted as Ben drove the car straight into the middle of the bog, where the Range Rover had now completely sunk. As the mud began to pull greedily at the Mazda’s wheels, Ben clambered out, jumped up on the roof and ran down the length of the car to make the leap back onto solid ground.

It didn’t take long for the bog to engulf the car, along with Simeon’s laptop.

‘Mum loved that car,’ Jude said reprovingly, as if Ben had wrecked and sunk it out of sheer badness.

‘This place will be crawling with police come morning,’ Ben told him, folding the shotgun stock and stuffing it into his bag. ‘I don’t think you want them finding her car in the middle of it, do you?’ He slung the bag over his shoulder and started walking away across the moor. The dog followed at his heels. Jude hung back for a few moments, then muttered, ‘Oh, bollocks,’ and reluctantly followed too.

There weren’t too many roads cutting across the wilderness of Bodmin Moor, and it was a long trudge through the cold and dark before Ben and Jude came across another and began walking along it. There wasn’t a car or a light in sight. Ben led the way, with Scruffy trotting along happily at his side. Jude lagged behind, silent and brooding.

Ben didn’t blame him.

It was after 1 a.m. by the time they came to the isolated cottage. The place was all in darkness, but somebody was obviously home, judging by the two vehicles parked outside, a year-old Nissan Outlaw off-roader sitting next to a badly rusted-out Vauxhall Astra. The red light of an alarm system flashed in the window of the Nissan. The Vauxhall had none. Ben tried the door, and found it open.

‘Don’t tell me you’re going to steal it,’ Jude whispered at his shoulder.

‘I’m not stealing it,’ Ben answered. ‘I’m buying it.’ He reached for his wallet, took out five twenties and tucked them under one of the Nissan’s windscreen wipers. A hundred pounds was probably more than the Astra was worth.

‘That makes it right?’ Jude said, frowning.

Ben climbed into the car, felt behind the plastic fascia under the steering wheel and started tugging at wires. In moments, the engine spluttered into life. It didn’t sound completely terminal. ‘That’ll do,’ he said.

Lights came on in the cottage. An upstairs window flew open and a man’s voice let out a yell.

‘Shit!’ Jude clambered quickly into the passenger seat. ‘Scruffy, come on!’ The dog finished urinating on the tyre of the Nissan Outlaw and bounced up into Jude’s lap. Ben hit the gas and they sped away down the road in a cloud of blue smoke.

When Jude was assured that the owner of the Nissan wasn’t in hot pursuit, he turned to Ben. ‘So now we’re off to France in this stolen rustbucket? I suppose I don’t have much choice except to come with you, do I?’

‘No, you don’t,’ Ben said, driving fast through the darkness. He was already figuring out his next move. ‘But we need to make a stop-off first.’

‘You owe me an explanation. A very long explanation.’

‘I know.’

‘What’s this all about? What was my dad involved in? I mean, was he some kind of crook or something? It sounds crazy, just saying it.’

‘Your father was a good man,’ Ben said. ‘The best. None of this was his fault. But there was something he was working on that got him into a lot of trouble. Not just him, but the people who were working on it with him.’

‘I don’t understand. How could someone like him get into this situation?’

‘Did he ever mention anything to you about a sword?’

Jude looked baffled. ‘No? What sword?’

‘This was a particular one. A sacred sword.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Right now,’ Ben said, ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

Jude shook his head. ‘I’d definitely have remembered if he’d mentioned something like that. He never said anything to me. Did Mum know about it too?’

‘She knew very little,’ Ben said. ‘Only what she told me, that he was writing a book about it. There were at least three people involved in the research project. Did you know about his trips to America and Israel?’

‘I knew he went there. That’s about it.’

‘So he never talked about his reasons for going? People he travelled with, or people he might have met up with there?’

‘We never talk… I mean we never talked about anything to do with his work, or religion, or any of that stuff,’ Jude said. ‘We always ended up arguing about it, and Mum would get upset…’ His voice trailed off. He wasn’t far from tears.

Ben gave him a moment, then asked, ‘How about somebody called Lalique? Fabrice Lalique? Did your dad ever mention that name?’

Jude sniffed. ‘No. Who is he?’

‘He was a Catholic priest in Millau in the south of France,’ Ben said. ‘He and your dad went to Israel together in connection with this sacred sword business.’

‘Well, if we’re going to France, why don’t we ask this Lalique guy what’s going on?’

‘Because he’s dead, Jude. He fell off a bridge. Or was pushed.’

Jude swallowed hard. ‘So these other people who were involved in this thing with Dad. Are they… are they all dead?’

‘They weren’t yesterday, when one of them phoned the house. An American called Wes.’

‘You talked to him? What did he say?’

‘He wasn’t very forthcoming,’ Ben said. ‘He sounded scared. I think they’re after him too.’

‘And now they’re after us,’ Jude said. ‘But I don’t know anything about this! I’ve never even heard of this sacred sword thing before.’

Ben looked at him. ‘First, they don’t know that. Second, you’re a witness now. Believe me, Jude. I know these kinds of people. If they find you, they’ll torture you until they’re satisfied that you know nothing, and then they’ll kill you.’

Jude swallowed again, harder. ‘But why? What the hell is so important about some crummy old sword?’

‘That’s what I’m going to try my best to find out, starting with a visit to Saint-Christophe, the village near Millau where this Lalique lived.’

‘While I sit tight at your place in Normandy, is that it?’

Ben shook his head. ‘I’ve changed my mind about that. These people must know who I am by now. It’d be easy for them to find you at Le Val. All they’d have to do is look up my business website.’

‘So where are you taking me?’

‘Paris,’ Ben said.

‘You have a place in Paris as well?’

‘Just an apartment where you can hole up for a while.’

‘What are you, a millionaire or something?’

‘Hardly that,’ Ben said. But Victor Jeunet, the place’s former owner, had been one many times over. Some years earlier, his wealth had made him the target of kidnappers who’d snatched his child for ransom. When the money had been duly paid, a small finger had arrived in the post with a demand for five times more. Soon afterwards, Ben had become involved in his capacity as a ‘crisis response consultant’. The child had come home with nine fingers, but safe. The kidnappers hadn’t fared so well. The overjoyed Jeunet had given Ben the apartment as a gift, and for a time it had become his safehouse in Paris while taking on kidnap and ransom jobs across Europe and beyond. It had never been registered in his name. Nobody would be able to find Jude there.

‘Paris sounds good,’ Jude said, nodding. ‘Great. Cool.’

Ben heard the phoney tone in Jude’s voice and knew he had a problem. It wasn’t the security of the safehouse. It was a question of whether he could trust this young hothead to stay put for five minutes while he tried to get to the bottom of this. Somehow, he didn’t think so.