Читать книгу Legacy - Jeff Edwards - Страница 14

Orangegrove proved to be a middle-class housing development less than ten years old. It had all the markings of a Briscoe Corporation development project. Built on a long disused military airfield, it comprised the usual shopping centre surrounded by a suburb of medium priced housing and was located relatively close to public transport

‘I wonder if she got a staff discount when she bought the property,’ mused Bree.

‘She certainly seems to have been a loyal employee. Supporting the company with her hard earned money.’

They turned into Chisholm Street and parked outside number 145.

A compact Japanese sedan was parked in the drive, while the scattering of toys in the front yard indicated the presence of a child of preschool years.

The door was answered by a harried looking female about thirty years of age wearing a rumpled track suit. A small boy with a runny nose peeped from behind her legs.

Bree asked: ‘Are you Hannah Post?’

‘No I’m not.’

‘Do you know Hannah Post?’

‘No I don’t. I think she and her husband own the house. We rent it from Blacks Real Estate in the shopping centre.’

‘So you don’t know where we could find Hannah Post.’

‘Not a clue. We just pay the rent to the real estate.’

‘Thank you.’

Sam and Bree split up and called to the adjoining houses. Their efforts were equally fruitless.

Hannah Post and her husband Simon had been very religious, very upright citizens. No one had been able to form a close friendship with them. They attended a church in a nearby suburb called the Church of the Risen Christ. Neighbours knew this because of the many religious tracts placed in their letter boxes by Hannah and her husband.

The Orangegrove Village Shopping Centre was built to the usual formula – a supermarket at either end with arcades of lesser shops between. Blacks Real Estate was one of the shops whose entrance faced directly on to the surrounding car park.

Sam and Bree showed their identification to the receptionist and asked to see the person in charge of lettings. The girl rang through immediately.

A male appeared, curious as to what Inland Security would want with their agency. ‘I’m the owner, George Black. Can I help you?’ He led them down a hall to a small office.

Bree explained that they urgently needed to contact the owners of 145 Chisholm Street and requested their current address.

‘I’ll bring up the file. I think that’s a funny one.’

He tapped away at his computer and opened the Posts’ file.

‘Yes. I thought so. We’ve never had any contact with the actual owners.’

‘So how was the rental arranged?’ asked Bree.

‘We have a copy of a letter from Simon and Hannah Post giving the Church of the Risen Christ the power to act on their behalf.’

‘So Simon and Hannah Post have joined a religious sect and handed over all their possessions to the church.’

‘Oh no,’ laughed Black. ‘It’s nothing like that. The Church of the Risen Christ is a very well known and respected church. It’s certainly no sect. The church has arranged for the rental money to be paid directly into the Posts’ private bank account. Most of the money is used as their mortgage payments and the rest goes into their savings account.’

‘So nothing goes directly to the church.’

‘No. Nothing. The only way the church would get anything would be from their savings account and there’s not a lot going in there after the mortgage is paid.’

‘So, where do you send your statements?’ asked Sam.

‘All statements are sent directly to the church.’

‘Not to the Posts?’

‘No, directly to the church.’

The Church of the Risen Christ was a far bigger establishment than either of the agents imagined.

Modern society’s disillusionment with the established churches had meant that more and more people had opted to distance themselves from them, but the lingering need for a direction to their faith had resulted in them moving towards newer, alternative churches that seemed to speak in the modern idiom.

Over the past ten years the Church of the Risen Christ had grown from a few people meeting in private houses to occupying a factory unit and then to the present site where, because of the number of people attending each Sunday, they were forced to conduct four separate services. They used a different minister for each. Plans were under way to build a still larger church on their current site.

Sam and Bree found the church offices in a modern, two-storey brick building beside the main chapel.

A receptionist took their details and Bree explained they were hoping to locate Hannah Post. The girl consulted her computer and rang a number, explaining to the person on the other end what Sam and Bree were calling about.

She hung up and said to Bree: ‘Pastor David Goodall will be right with you.’

Pastor Goodall proved to be a smooth-faced and jolly, thirty-five-year-old. He conducted them to his office and saw them seated before taking his place behind his desk. Once again, Sam and Bree began by showing their identification.

Surprised, Goodall said: ‘Well! What can I do for you?’

Sam answered: ‘As I explained to the receptionist, we’re trying to locate the current address for one of your parishioners, Hannah Post.’

‘Ah yes. Hannah and Simon.’

‘So you know them?’

‘Of course. Wonderful people. True Christians. They’ve been members of our congregation from very early days. They met through the church and were married here. Simon has only recently finished his internship at the local hospital. He was in casualty.’

‘Wonderful. Then you’ll be able to tell us where to find them?’

‘Why do you need to contact them?’

‘We believe Hannah Post may be able to answer some questions for us.’

‘Is she in trouble?’

‘No. Not that we’re aware of. Why do you ask?’ said Bree, becoming suspicious.

‘It’s just that you’re from Inland Security.’

‘Would you feel more comfortable if it were the police that were asking?’

‘No.’

Bree was keenly alert to the pastor’s manner.

‘There’s something that you’re not telling us, isn’t there pastor?’

‘It’s just the manner in which Hannah and Simon came to us.’

‘Please continue pastor. This may be important.’

‘Simon rang our church and said that Hannah had experienced a moral dilemma. It was upsetting her to such an extent that she had become physically sick.’

‘Pastor Lincoln, from our church, called on the couple and found Hannah in an extremely upset state. She could barely talk and refused to eat. When he tried to get her to tell him what the problem was, she couldn’t speak. She tried, but couldn’t form the words to explain the problem. It was that bad. After a great deal of time and coaxing, Pastor Lincoln was able to ascertain that it was something to do with her job. It was so soul destroying that she had walked out and refused to return to the company.’

‘But she didn’t say what had happened,’ said Bree.

‘She tried numerous times, but couldn’t. Each time she would begin weeping uncontrollably and become physically sick.’

‘What did the church do?’

‘We have a retreat in the country. The two of them went down there for a week. Hannah picked up, became calmer, and appeared to be doing well. They returned to their house and it started all over again, just as bad as before.’

‘What did you do then?’ asked Sam.

‘We brought Simon and Hannah in here and tried to decide what to do. It seemed the only solution was for them to go away for a time, to let Hannah get over her problem. It was truly provident that Simon had just finished his residency as there were several openings available for him in our overseas missions. They discussed the options and decided to travel to the most remote posting we had.’

‘Where was that?’ asked Bree letting her excitement show. Finally they were getting somewhere.

‘If you come this way, I’ll show you.’

He led them down the hall to a door marked Missions. Entering, they saw numerous occupied desks. ‘The people here liaise with our missions, providing them with the logistical support they require.’

He moved to an extremely large map of Africa that occupied one wall. On it there were numerous coloured pins, each indicating the site of a church mission.

Pointing to Rwanda, his finger landed on the capital, Kigali. He traced down to the southwest until he came to the town of Butare. ‘Simon and Hannah are in a village outside Butare. It’s the village of Chief Rongal, about two hours drive south of the town.’

‘Can we phone them?’ asked Bree hopefully.

‘There are no phones,’ said Pastor Goodall.

‘We receive mail from them about every two weeks or so.’ Pastor Goodall looked around the room. ‘Who is looking after Simon and Hannah Post?’

A girl at one of the desks looked up: ‘I’ve got their file here, pastor.’

‘When was the last time you heard from them?’ he asked.

‘We received a letter two days ago. Dr Post is asking for more medical supplies as usual and an especially large number of condoms. He’s trying to get the men to use them to cut down on the spread of AIDS in the village.’

Their host turned to Sam and Bree.

‘You see the unique sort of problems our people face.’

He asked the girl: ‘Did Dr Post mention his wife’s condition?’

‘He said she is a lot happier. She’s helping the new mothers in the natal ward.’

‘Wonderful. It seems we did the right thing to send them out there. Not that it helps your problem, I’m afraid,’ he said apologetically to Bree.

‘Well if you give us her address, we’ll write her a nice letter.’

‘I’d be glad to,’ offered Pastor Goodall.

Bree and Sam sat opposite each other over lunch in the local mall and compared notes.

Bree sipped her drink: ‘Well that was a morning well spent. Even if it did end up disastrously.’

‘We know something happened. We don’t know what, but it did happen at the time when the Briscoe Corporation and Toby Brown were about to face off against each other in court.’

‘And it was something big. Soon after Briscoe lost the case it settled a large amount of money on Toby Brown. Groom, a successful manager, was ousted from his position of managing director, and Potter was put in his place. Potter, a man who had no real experience in managing anything.’

‘So who gained out of all that happened?’

‘Brown, with his case and compensation, and Potter, with his rise to power.’

‘Could there be a link between the two?’

‘It’s certainly well worth a closer look.’

As they were making their way back to the car, Sam took Bree’s arm and led her into a nearby travel agency.

A young booking clerk was busy at a computer when they took the vacant seats before her. Sam introduced himself and said: ‘I want to go to Butare in Rwanda. How do I get there, and how soon can I leave?’

The girl’s mouth fell open: ‘What? Where?’

Slowly, Sam repeated himself: ‘I want to go to Butare in Rwanda.’

‘Just one moment,’ she said, as she typed quickly at her computer. ‘It does exist,’ she said.

‘Well that’s a relief,’ said Bree. ‘How do we get there?’

The girl clicked away at her keyboard. ‘Bugger,’ she said and deleted what she had already done and started again. She sat back from the keyboard and studied the screen, made a few adjustments and finally turned the screen towards them.

‘There’s a twice-weekly direct flight to Nairobi in Kenya, or a daily flight to Johannesburg in South Africa, with connecting flights back up to Nairobi. From Nairobi there are flights to Kigali, but you can’t book as they aren’t scheduled on a long term basis. You have to turn up in Nairobi and hope there will be one in the next couple of days. From Kigali there are buses to Butare, if you want to go with the locals, or you could hire a car, definitely a four-wheel drive, and drive yourself to Butare. As to how long it would take you to get there, it depends on how much you are prepared to spend. You can cut out a lot of the time by chartering your own aircraft from Nairobi to Kigali, or you may be able to fly direct to Butare, assuming they have a landing strip, which they probably do. Then you’d have to hire a car in Butare to take you where you want to go. Do you want me to do a costing for you?’

‘Not at present. We may yet be able to solve the problem with a stamp and envelope,’ said Bree.

Disappointed, the girl watched them leave. After all the efforts she had just put in, they hadn’t even taken a brochure.

Returning to their shop, Bree and Sam brought John Thorpe up to date on their latest findings and suspicions.

‘So you believe this Hannah Post may have some vital information regarding the videos,’ he said.

‘Something went on in that office. Something that affected Hannah Post badly. It doesn’t appear to be anything of a sexual nature because Potter didn’t even know she had left. Then things suddenly happened that normally wouldn’t have if events had been allowed to run their natural course. It could be the videos, or else something just as powerful, but there was interference there somewhere.’

‘I tend to agree with you. I don’t have trouble with coincidences in small matters, but in important things, I like to know the real cause. I can get one of our agents on the ground in Africa to go to Butare if you wish.’

‘We’d prefer to keep this as close to our chest as possible. I’d like it if we could interview Post ourselves. After all, it’ll be her reactions that we’ll be relying on, and we know more background information than we could possibly pass on to another agent. We think we know what buttons to push, to get her to react.’

‘Yes. You’re right. It’ll be better if you talk to her yourselves. Let me know what happens as soon as you find out.’

‘We’ll make sure we have a satellite phone with us, and let you know straight away.’

Before they could make any further plans to travel to Rwanda, Bree received a phone call from Toby Brown to let them know the logo was complete and that he was arranging for it to be delivered the next day.

Bree was all for putting him off until they returned, but Sam wanted to question Brown to see if there was any link between him and Potter.

‘Hannah Post isn’t going anywhere at present. Besides, it will take us a couple of days to put together a suitable itinerary for Rwanda. I’d like to get in and out of there as soon as possible, and that’ll take some prior planning.’

‘Ok. You talk to Brown and I’ll get to work spending the government’s money.’