Perhaps a little prayer was appropriate.
He was putting the syringe into the crook of the patient’s elbow when there was a loud knock at the door. “I’m busy,” he called out.
“Doctor, I’m sorry to disturb you, but Room 2 is having a fit. It looks serious. Could you come straight away?” Nurse Patel sounded desperate.
He quickly concealed the syringe under his coat. “I’ll be right along.”
“I’m so sorry, Doctor.”
“All right! All right!” He turned to his patient. “Drink it up, and I’ll be back in a moment.” He put the syringe in his front pocket, unlocked the door, carefully opened it just as much as was necessary, and locked it again after he went out.
Randall Richardson swore.
It had not taken long to deal with the man in Room 2. Within five minutes he had returned and unlocked his patient’s door.
The bed was unoccupied and the window open. The glass stood untouched on the table. He leapt to the window. Outside on the grass were two skid marks where a car had been driven off at speed.
He swore again and relocked the door.
He needed to keep calm. He emptied and cleaned the glass, drained and washed his syringe and cleaned up the sleeping pills off the floor. But, unusually, he did not notify the staff of the disappearance. Instead he sat alone in Tane’s empty room doing something which he had not done for some time – making desperate requests for God’s help.
“Doctor, there’s a call on your phone.” He went out, locked the door and went to his study.
“Randall, I’m ringing you because you are his warden, and I don’t know who else I can turn to. I’m so concerned about Harry. In all the years of our marriage, he’s never been like this. It’s almost as if he’s another person. He is so secretive. Tonight he just rushed out to the service and didn’t say anything or even look at me. He’s got something on his mind and he won’t tell me what it is.”
“It’s Evensong with healing tonight, isn’t it?”
“Yes, we sometimes discuss some of the people who will be there.”
“When did you first notice this?”
“He had an interview yesterday afternoon and he was with some people for hours. He wouldn’t even come to dinner.”
“Do you know who the people were that he saw?”
“As I came in from the garden just before five, I heard Harry’s voice raised. One of the other voices sounded familiar, and I thought it belonged to a man who was here last Sunday. He was a university lecturer, a very strange young man if I may say so.”
“Yes, I think I met the man myself at the service last Sunday.”
“Have you noticed anything yourself about Harry?”
He paused. “Strangely enough, I have.”
“Do you think you could have a word with him, man to man, I mean?”
“Of course, Lavinia,” he said, trying to conceal his excitement in the most soothing church warden-like tone that he could assume.
He could not wait for the conversation to end.
Returning to the patient’s room, he overturned the bed, the table and the chairs. Then he went back to his office, closed the door and made some calls.
The third phone call he made was 111.
CHAPTER 30
It was not often that the police were called out to a church service.
Detective Sergeant Matthew Piriaka of the CIB together with an eight-man squad of the uniformed staff had been called out at 18:45 hours on Sunday 23rd January to collect a mental patient and his kidnapper or kidnappers who were believed to be sheltering in St. Peter’s Church, Epsom. The 111 call had come from the Glenfern Private Psychiatric Hospital. The report from the incident car had given the details. The doctor in charge had stated that the patient had been violently abducted and that he could be dangerous without his drugs. He had also given the name of one of the suspected kidnappers and the name of the church as a possible destination. The situation report from the church confirmed that the kidnappers and patient were in that location.
Matthew, who had been appointed Incident Controller, observed a thin, balding, bespectacled man in a long, white robe standing at the door of the church and shaking people’s hands as they entered.
Uncertain of the protocol, he approached and took off his cap. “Sergeant Piriaka, C.I.B. May I have a word with you?”
“Certainly Sergeant. I’m the vicar of this parish; my name is Harry Mountjoy.”
“I have reason to believe that inside the church there may be a mental patient who is alleged to have been forcibly abducted from a local hospital. The patient is said to be violent. Under Section 317 of the Crimes Act we are entitled to enter a property when we have reasonable grounds to believe that people are in danger.”
“Sergeant, you must do your duty. But as the service is just beginning and there are elderly people in the congregation, any police intrusion or questioning would cause distress. We have no reason to anticipate trouble as all the members of the congregation have come willingly to attend divine service. If there is a problem, may we talk about it quietly afterwards?”
There was a conflict between the story of a violent abduction and the account given by the vicar. He had also been warned by his superior about the legal limits of Section 317 in the case of churches used as sanctuaries. He needed more information about the background of the abduction and decided to keep a surveillance role in the meantime.
He would need to talk to the doctor himself later.
He knew the deranged man and his kidnapper couldn’t go far, so he asked the uniformed men to set a squad at both front and side exits. At the same time he watched and listened for any sound of disturbance within the church which would give him reason to intervene to protect lives and property. He checked with his situation report about the description of the wanted people and confirmed that the uniformed staff had the same description:
The suspected kidnapper: Dr David Corbishley: Caucasian, thirtyish, male, blonde, tall, slight build. Patient: name not given, Maori, thirtyish, short, dark, curly-haired.
The report said that Dr Corbishley was an Auckland University senior lecturer in the Department of Geology. He was on the police record as wanted for enquiries about a break-in in the eastern Bay of Plenty on the evening of Thursday 20th January. “Not on departmental business,” the University had stated. His car had gone over the cliff on the Opotiki-Te Araroa Road early on Friday 21st January and the Opotiki police had reported him missing.
As to the patient, new information had just come through about his identity. The name was Dr Tane Ngata, former lecturer at the same Geology Department and a former colleague of the kidnapper. The report said he had been in psychiatric care since a total mental breakdown three years before.
The report from the Opotiki police and the owner of the property where the break-in had taken place indicated that Corbishley believed Ngata had made an important mineral discovery in the Raukumara Ranges and that the break-in was to obtain further information about this.
He wondered whether this might have been the motivation for the kidnapping.
But what was the point of taking him to a church service?
There had been mention of more than one kidnapper. He checked with an elderly, white-haired woman who had been part of a group standing outside and was about to go in when the organ started to play.
“A tall, fair young man. Yes, he came to church last Sunday. Such a polite man. He must have liked our service. Tonight he’s brought two friends. It’s so good to see the young people. We don’t see many of them at this church.”