From Murder To A Cathedral Read online

  Every conceivable subject which might affect the welfare of the Church and the health of Christianity had been discussed. Here were taken the first steps toward reunion with those churches which had broken away centuries before. Here successive Archbishops of Canterbury, their London home at the Palace, made historic pronouncements on ecumenical affairs, on marriage, divorce, on ritual, creed and dogma. No change of any significance had ever occurred until it had been discussed and deliberated upon in this place.

  Not once in the history of the Palace, however, had an issue been discussed involving Scotland Yard, and actual crime.

  There was an air almost of unreality among the five men who gathered there on the afternoon when Lemaitre had been boasting of his skill in forgery. The Archbishop of Canterbury was not in residence but had delegated his powers to another Bishop, whose forbidding air was tempered by the homeliness of steel-framed bifocal spectacles worn well down on the bridge of his nose. Howcroft, Dean of St. Ludd’s and the group’s liaison officer with the police, was at his right hand. The Dean of the Abbey was next to him, a gentle-looking ascetic with a mind known to be as decisive as a trap. There was also a representative from the Free Church Council, William Steel, a well-known broadcaster and writer who looked not unlike a popular actor of the times. The fifth man was the Roman Catholic, Jonathan Northwick, the Administrator for the Cardinal, tall and patriarchal-looking. These five were gathered about an oval table in a book-lined room overlooking a lawn so vividly green and velvet smooth that it seemed more like baize than grass.

  “Gentlemen,” said the Bishop, “we all feel that the urgency of the situation is so great that we should take emergency measures - distressing though the situation is. As we have met so often to discuss ways and means in which we can work more closely together, I thought it advisable to meet, briefly, before we are joined by others seldom in our councils. Seldom indeed.”

  He paused, looking over his lenses at everyone present.

  “I have, at the request of the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, invited the Chief Rabbi or his chosen representative, and also the Commander of the Criminal Investigation Department, whom some of you may know.”

  “Gideon,” remarked Northwick. “A very sound man.”

  “I’ve met him,” said Steel, briskly.

  “Do we - ah - seriously fear that synagogues might also be affected?” asked the Bishop.

  “The police think so,” said Howcroft, as if that clinched the matter. “The only essential preliminary, as far as I can see, is that we should all be aware of the possibility of a worsening situation and the very real probability that the number of churches affected might increase quite alarmingly.” He peered at the Dean of the Abbey, and paused.

  “Are there any grounds for such theories?” the Dean wanted to know. “I am not being an obstructionist, you understand, but neither do I feel the need to be an alarmist.”

  “Do we know what Gideon will expect us to do?” asked Steel.

  “Expect?” Northwick’s eyebrows raised in surprise rather than disapproval.

  The Bishop looked interrogatively at Dean Howcroft.

  “I’m quite satisfied that Commander Gideon takes the matter very seriously and has it in proper perspective,” the Dean declared. “I think we shall be well advised to be guided by him.”

  Before anyone could comment, there was a tap at the door. Dean Howcroft stood up and moved toward it as it opened. A very broad, thick-set man, Daniel Cohen, the Secretary of the London United Synagogues, came in. Gideon, much the same build but a head taller, followed. Howcroft led them to the table, and the Bishop introduced them amid a general shuffling of chairs and murmuring.

  Gideon found himself next to Dean Howcroft.

  “Now that we are all here,” said the Bishop, “I’m sure I voice the sentiments of everyone present when I say how grateful we are to the police for their swift and ready cooperation.”

  There was more murmuring.

  “Commander,” went on the Bishop, “I wonder if you would care to make a statement on the situation as you see it at this moment.”

  Gideon, seldom in the slightest degree self-conscious, was a little embarrassed. He had never before been in Lambeth Palace, and there was something a little awesome - not about the building itself, but about its history and its traditions. He had a confusion of ideas, partly that this was rather like a prayer meeting, partly that he was very out of place. Even the other layman present habitually moved in a more rarefied religious atmosphere. Gideon was acutely conscious of his lack of knowledge of ecclesiastical modes and affairs. In a way he was glad that he was called on so quickly; he did not have time to worry.

  “The situation as I see it now,” he echoed, a little hoarsely. He coughed. “That needn’t take much time, sir. I will say at once that the position appears to me to be of the utmost gravity. The incidents last night really alarmed us at the Yard. If I had my way, every church of every denomination would be placed under police guard until the problem is solved - but we haven’t enough men to do it even in the Metropolitan area. So - we need your help.”

  “Ah,” said the Abbey Dean.

  “In what way?” demanded Northwick.

  “Each church must have a watchman every hour of the day and night,” said Gideon. “Something like the fireguards and the wardens during the war. You had then a team of over two hundred at St. Ludd’s, and the Abbey had as many. You wouldn’t, of course, need that number now, but every door needs watching. The churches and cathedrals will have to be kept under close surveillance during services to make sure no one stays behind. It has to be done quickly and thoroughly. I can make sure that there is at least one policeman on call all the time, and at the bigger churches I’ll have a regular patrol. Flying Squad and patrol cars will be available at all hours. It will mean stretching our forces to their limit, and if we get a rash of other crimes we’ll be in trouble, but this case has priority. We’ll do our share - but our effort may well be wasted if you can’t help substantially.”

  When he stopped speaking, the silence seemed to come from a group of men utterly appalled.

  “Can it be so bad?” asked the Abbey Dean, obviously shocked but prepared to minimize the shock of others.

  “I think so, sir.”

  “You mean you think that if we institute this guard, these - ah - vandals will exert themselves to circumvent it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It is quite easy to get round guards,” Cohen said, almost dejectedly. “One man, one tiny object, little bigger than a matchstick - and a whole church can be destroyed, sacred objects ruined, the very sanctity of our beliefs violated. It can be done. The problem is constantly with us, and our congregations already form patrols. The Board of Directors of British Jews has the problem continually under review.” He gave a grim smile. “Ask any Hindu what can happen to his gods, and any Muslim what can happen to the Koran.”

  “So you are accustomed to these attacks,” Northwick said uncomfortably. “I hadn’t realized it was so bad in the synagogues.”

  “Few people do, except the police,” said Cohen.

  “The point is, can you all do what I ask?” Gideon said authoritatively.

  “Not immediately, I fear,” answered the Bishop. “It certainly cannot be done tonight. A start might be made, but no more. By tomorrow night we could have a greater number of churches protected.”

  Gideon looked at Northwick. “And you, sir?”

  “The same applies, although perhaps on a slightly quicker scale. The Catholic Police Guild—”

  “You won’t get much help from them, sir,” Gideon interspersed bluntly. “All the members will be on overtime or standing by for extra duty.”

  Northwick said, “Oh, of course. All the same, we can call on the St. Vincent de Paul Brothers, or the Legion of Mary. Yes, you can rely on us.”

  “I’m very glad. And you, Mr. Steel?”

  “The big churches, yes,” answered the Freechurchman pro
mptly. “The smaller ones - membership and workers are so pathetically small, but - yes, we can make a start.” He rubbed his chin. “The mechanics of the situation are difficult in themselves. How can we get messages—” He broke off, forcing a laugh, and went on. “I am sorry. This has put me off my stroke. I will arrange for an Action Committee to start telephoning our clergy at once. That is—” he glanced sharply round at the others—”if we all agree that it is necessary.”

  Northwick said, “It seems we have no choice.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is inevitable,” said the Abbey Dean reluctantly.

  “The wording of our message - I wonder if we are underrating the difficulties,” Dean Howcroft murmured, the lines of his face falling into folds of age and barely tolerated resignation.

  Gideon, deeply relieved, opened a small briefcase and took out some typewritten pages. He passed these round from hand to hand so that everyone had a copy, and there were several left over.

  “We had this memorandum prepared today, gentlemen. If you care to approve or amend it, we can have sufficient copies printed for one or two to go to every church secretary - or leader, or vicar, or priest,” he added hurriedly, conscious of the sensitivity of dogmatic toes. “Anyone who has authority to act, that is. And we can distribute them to our divisional stations and substations and have them delivered from there. Each Division knows the person to consult about each local church.”

  The Bishop said with rare warmth, “We are indeed indebted to you.”

  Gideon felt almost triumphant as the silence settled after the murmur of assent, and all fell to reading the memorandum he had prepared early that afternoon:

  TO ALL CHURCH, CHAPEL AND SYNAGOGUE OFFICIALS

  URGENT NOTICE

  Wilful damage to churches and church property is being carried out by a number of persons with obvious malice. The Metropolitan Police have reason to believe that every place of worship in the London area may be in danger.

  Small but highly dangerous charges of high explosive can easily be left in pews, fonts, carvings, candlesticks or holders, and elsewhere. They can be left behind by individuals under the guise of worshipers or tourists. For the safety of your church we strongly recommend that you institute an exhaustive search as soon as possible. The local police will assist you in this but the manpower necessary must be mainly from church members and officials.

  It is also strongly recommended that all doors are locked at dusk until this period of emergency is over. A night watch, on the lines of fire-watching during the Second World War, is also strongly recommended. Police officers will always be near at hand and police reinforcements will be readily available.

  It is impossible to stress the importance of these precautions too strongly. Eleven churches have now suffered serious damage.

  Signed:

  The Dean of St. Paul’s - For the City of London

  The Dean of the Abbey - For the City of Westminster

  Jonathan Northwick - For the Cardinal Bishop of Westminster

  The Dean of St. Ludd’s - For Anglican Churches in Greater London

  John Steel - For the Free Church Council

  Daniel Cohen - For the London United Synagogue

  Within two hours of Gideon’s return to the Yard the notices were speeding on their way.

  At the same time, church members and church workers were homeward bound from shops and offices, factories and warehouses, from the countless little businesses which made up commercial London. Office managers and typists, sales girls and models, directors and janitors, doorkeepers and salesmen - all of these and many others, on reaching home, were called out by their church and asked to serve.

  Almost without exception, they agreed; men and women, shocked and angry, ready to defend that which was of paramount importance to their way of life.

  As darkness fell, half of the churches of London were fully protected.

  That night, not a single church was attacked.

  16: A PROBLEM IN FRAUD

  Lemaitre, looking much fresher after a full and undisturbed night’s sleep, breezed into Gideon’s office with a perfunctory tap and spoke even before Gideon looked up. It was a perfect morning. The blue of the sky was clear and vivid and the shimmering of the sun’s reflection on the river touched the windows of the office and played, like a shadow dancing, on the glass of a photograph of the cricket team of the Metropolitan Police taken twenty years before.

  “Good morning, George! We’ve stopped the baskets.”

  Gideon went on writing, merely grunting, “What’s that?”

  “I said we’d stopped the baskets.” Lemaitre, conscious of an implied rebuff, hovered in front of the desk. He was so smooth-shaven that his skin was shining, his hair so pomaded that it looked like the painted head of a Dutch doll.

  Gideon, studying the latest reports on the photo-nudes murder case and glum because Sally Dalby had not been found, felt a flash of exasperation which was not far from annoyance at Lemaitre’s facile optimism, but he checked the expression of it as he looked up.

  “Or they stopped themselves.”

  “Doesn’t make much difference, so long as they’ve stopped,” said Lemaitre, and then went on earnestly, “I didn’t mean we’d finished altogether, George, even I’m not such a silly beggar as to think that. I mean we stopped ‘em for last night, and that’s given us a breathing space.” He paused, obviously hoping that his words carried conviction.

  Gideon thought suddenly that for all these years he might have been taking Lemaitre’s over-optimism too seriously. The thought died away in the realization that in fact Lemaitre was at last trying to correct this deeply implanted habit.

  “Yes, and we can use the breathing space,” Gideon said. “What we need to know is how many churches are properly guarded.”

  “I’ve got a system,” Lemaitre declared.

  Gideon suppressed a snort of amusement; it was too frivolous for the occasion.

  “I can’t get out to all the Divisions,” Lemaitre continued importantly. “I’d need to cut myself in pieces to see the lot. But they can come here. So if you’ll call all the Divisional Supers in for two-thirty, say, I could brief ‘em. They can check how the churches are being protected, what kind of response the memo’s had, and they can tell me - us I mean - of any weak spots. We can then get to work on the bloody Bishops.”

  Gideon found himself laughing. “Call the Divisional Superintendents in if you want to,” he said, glancing at his watch. “It’s only nine-fifteen. No reason why they shouldn’t be here by half-past eleven. Send out a teletype request, sign it for me. Use the main lecture room. Let ‘em know what it’s about so that they will bring all the information we need.”

  Lemaitre’s eyes were glowing. “Right away, George!” He strode out, let the door slam, opened it again and said, “Sorry!” breezily, and went out with hardly a sound.

  Gideon sat thinking for a few moments. Lemaitre’s very heart was in this job; he saw it as a way to justify himself completely in his own eyes because he had been passed over for Hobbs. His enthusiasm and his eagerness were infectious, but if he should fail he would find it a bitter and, in its way, a killing blow.

  Was he, Gideon, exaggerating?

  He pushed the thought aside and rang for the Chief Inspector who was standing in for Lemaitre.

  “Who’s waiting to see me?”

  “Mr. Rollo, sir, Mr. Golightly, and Mr. Simmons.”

  “I’ll see Mr. Simmons first, then the others together.”

  “Right, sir!”

  “Is Mr. Hobbs in?”

  “No, sir. There was a message. I didn’t take it myself, but I heard about it. His wife’s very ill, sir.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Gideon nodded, and added, “Ask Mr. Simmons to come in five minutes.” He picked up the outside telephone. “Get my wife for me, please.” He rang off, and almost immediately the internal telephone rang, and he picked up the receiver. “Gideon.”

  “Commander,” said Scott-Marie, abruptly, �
��I have the Governor of the Bank of England in my office.”

  Gideon thought quickly, “Should I know what this is about?” He could recall nothing.

  The Commissioner went on. “He has some reason for anxiety about gold losses - very serious gold losses - in shipments between here and South Africa and Australia, as well as international shipments between several countries.”

  This was absolutely new to Gideon and the thought of it made everything else fade from his mind - even the attacks on the churches. Such losses must be on a big scale if the Governor of the Bank of England was at the Yard in person.

  “How long has he known about this?” Gideon asked.

  “A day or two. It has to be kept quiet for the time being, but there will have to be a conference of senior police officers and senior customs officers of the countries concerned. I would like you and the Commander of the Special Branch to attend the conference, which will be held in Paris on Tuesday and Wednesday next. I know you are deeply involved in current affairs, but this is unavoidable.”

  Gideon said, “I can see that, sir.”

  “Officially the conference will be on drugs,” the Commissioner went on. “In fact the only subject will be the gold bullion problem. Will you arrange to go and see the Governor sometime today or tomorrow and discuss it with him?”

  “Certainly,” promised Gideon. “Do you say he’s with you now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would this afternoon be convenient for him?”

  There was a murmur in the background before Scott-Marie spoke again.