“Do you see yourself as equally able to bring your word to persons of differing faiths; Hindu, Moslem and so on?”
Ignatious was fully in his stride now, speaking on his favourite subject. “Oh, yes. No matter the faith, we all believe in something. I would dearly love to see all the religions of the world joined in one universal Master, although I fear that will never be. Broadly, all religions have the same teachings and aims: love of fellow beings, succour, fairness, compassion, understanding, humility and sacrifice to the Lord.” His eyes now drifting towards the heavens, Ignatious did not want to stop.
Graham, spotting the danger of enduring a never-ending religious sermon, jumped in. “Yes, Brother, a very noble aspiration. I think we should all wish to see that come to be.” Returning to the questioning, he asked: “Do you hear of the deaths prior to arriving in a village, or town, or are you in the place already?”
Ignatious pondered this a moment before replying. “It is difficult to say, really, Detective Inspector, but I think I am usually in another place when I get to hear of the tragedies.”
“Where were you when you heard of the murder of the little girl? Kylie Johnson that would be.”
Again, the Jesuit pondered. “I would say,…” he said thoughtfully, “that I was…let me see…in…er…Aylesbury, I think. Yes. Aylesbury. I was on my way to this area and I parked up there overnight, after spending a little time in the town, talking to anyone who was willing to spare the time. I also read of the death in the local newspaper.”
“And what about the other deaths? Can you recall where you were then?”
Ignatious smiled. “Detective Inspector. You are questioning me as though I were involved!”
Graham looked into the Jesuit’s eyes, resisting the sudden urge to cry out for forgiveness. “Well, Brother Saviour, you are involved aren’t you?”
Puzzlement showed on Ignatious’s face. “In what way do you feel that I am involved?”
“By the fact that you visit the bereaved shortly after the deaths of their family members. You are involved with them almost immediately.”
“But, surely, Detective, you do not suggest that I have anything at all to do with the murders?”
Graham reacted with surprise. “Oh, no. I do not imply that,” he replied. “I merely feel that you might just have picked up on something said, when on your visits. Any little thing that may give us some kind of a clue.”
Ignatious relaxed. “Well, no. I have only made two visits in connection with the killings — no, three in all. I visited the mother of Kylie Johnson and the parents of Debbie Singleton. Then, later, I had a chat with the father of Debbie as he had regressed from the day of the funeral. I felt that I had helped to permanently drive the demons from his mind on the last meeting.”
“When was this, Brother?”
“Yesterday: at this church. Here, in this room in the presence of Father McGiven.” Father McGiven nodded.
“And how is the man now, Brother?”
“Fine. I feel certain that he is completely comforted and in the protection of The Lord.”
Graham continued the questioning. “What I am looking for is any mention of the victims arranging to meet someone — perhaps a friend, relative, or even a stranger. Was there any mention of any such persons?”
“Possibly. As I remember it, Kylie was simply out on a pleasant walk; something she did often, apparently. With Debbie, her mother did say that she had got herself ready to go out as though she were meeting some young man, but she told her mother nothing more than that she was going out. Mrs. Singleton’s intuition as a mother told her that Debbie was preparing for a romantic meeting but that’s all.”
There seemed no point in going further with this. The Jesuit was quite clearly a man in the right place at the right time. There was no suspicion of any wrongdoing attached to him. Graham thought he may visit Mrs. Singleton, though, to see if she was aware of any young men that her daughter had recently been going around with, or any that she had recently met. “Thank you, Brother Saviour,” he said, “for all your help. It was very good of you to meet me and I may say it was also a pleasure on my part.”
“Likewise, Detective Inspector,” said Ignatious, holding out his hand. As Graham took it, he felt the confusion in his mind begin again and it was several seconds before he felt able to speak. “Good luck to you,” he managed, “and I hope your mission succeeds. We need some good deeds in this awful world.”
“I will do my utmost,” he returned before turning to Sallie. “And I am charmed to have met you, my child,” he said. “Whatever your sins, I am sure God will forgive you.” He took her hands in his. “Read your mind carefully; try to make the right decisions. Following your heart is not always the best course.” He let go.
Sallie stared at him, feeling nausea through the erratic thoughts surging back into her mind. Rape me, my God! Take me by force! I deserve it! I am an evil sinner! He knows! He knows what I have been doing! How? How? She remained seated, her mouth open, silent.
Ignatious backed away, a knowing smile on his face. He said his farewells to the three and left. It took several seconds for anyone to speak. Each turned to the other with a feeling that a holy visit had just taken place and none could be certain that the Jesuit had left the building by normal means. He seemed to have spirited himself away. Except that he knew he had been questioning the priest, Graham would have felt that this had all been a dream, or a figment of his imagination. Never had he experienced anything like it.
The trio chatted for the next hour, mostly about the Jesuit, trying to understand the effect he had had on each of them. Sallie kept quiet about the erotic impact he had made on her but next sex session with her lover, she knew, would have an added verve!
Father McGiven drifted into the tales that Ignatious had brought to him about his past experiences: his criminal record, his turn to God, the various missions he had attended with Father Christian, the illnesses, torture and the need to learn medicine. What a varied experience he had had.
Just then, Graham’s mobile rang, causing them all to start in mild shock. It was the urgent voice of Sergeant Flint.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was six in the evening and Ignatious had enjoyed a nice mixed salad for his evening meal, finished off with a cup of hot, sweet coffee, the rich aroma pervading the small space of the motor home. He was pleased with the day’s work: sent someone to his Maker, another cleansed sinner, and survived a minor grilling from an experienced policeman. He felt his standing with the Almighty was improving to quite a high level now.
Before travelling on to Pangbourne, his next chosen destination, he decided to take a nap in preparation for the journey. No matter that the dream would return, he needed to rest.
By six-twenty Ignatious was sleeping soundly, a gentle breathing sound coming from the partly opened mouth. He did not snore, his sinuses being in excellent order. The faint smile on his lips remained as the dream returned to him, again starting where it had previously ended.
The journey down the tributary was calm and uneventful, allowing the arrival at the Amazon River to be reasonably quick. Under Father Christian’s guidance, the priests manoeuvred the pleasantly creaking craft to a position some fifteen feet from the banking.
The Sun shone from a cloudless sky burning the already deeply tanned crew into an even darker shade. Mosquitoes and flies of unknown description constantly menaced the small band of missionaries as they eased their way along. They had no particular plan in mind; merely to go where the route took them. A major desire was to come across an unknown tribe, of which the Amazon area was thought to contain several. Indeed, in the latter part of 1999, a tribe believed to have become extinct, the Naua people, had voluntarily made contact with inhabitants of a remote little town, Cruzeiro do Sul. The Brazilian Government’s National Indigenous Peoples Foundation, known as Funai, after sending a surprised and thrilled anthropologist to their village, ratified them as genuine.