Читать книгу The Silent Pool - Phil Kurthausen - Страница 15

CHAPTER 6

Across the city, on the steps of the town hall, Mayor Lynch stubbed out his cigarette and then popped a mint into his mouth. He had promised his wife Daphne that he would give up once in office, but, like many of his election promises, it was proving harder to deliver than promise.

The Mayor hesitated before opening the service door that led back into the council offices. He didn't want to have to make the decision that was waiting for him inside. He looked up into the cold blue skies as though hoping for inspiration. None was forthcoming.

‘Sod it,’ he said to nobody.

He opened the door and stepped back into the building. When he reached the antechamber outside his office he noticed that his door stood ajar. Andrea, his PA, was standing outside looking flustered.

‘I told them you weren't in but Anthony was with them and said it was fine. I told him that they should wait out here but you know Anthony. I'm sorry Mayor Lynch.’

He gave her wrist a sympathetic squeeze. ‘Don't worry, you did the right thing. I told Anthony to take them straight in.’

He had told him no such thing and he felt a wave of angry blood break across his cheeks. He pushed the door to his office open and was initially relieved to see that no one was sitting behind his desk. He had expected Anthony to be sitting there with his feet up.

The Mayor recognised the sound of Anthony's polite cough and turned to face him. By the window were four armchairs. He recognised the occupants of two of them. The third was a man he had never seen before.

The Mayor put on his game face and smiled at his guests. ‘Mr Bovind and Mr?’

The third man didn't speak or indeed move a muscle to register the Mayor's presence. He was wearing a black suit over a tough wiry frame and the way he sat in the armchair reminded the Mayor of a cat: relaxed but poised, ready to strike. The man's head was bowed, his hands resting in his lap. He looked asleep, or at prayer. The Mayor noticed a roughly inked tattoo of an angel on the man's right hand.

Anthony stood up. He could always rely on Anthony's manners.

‘Yes, you know Kirk, of course.’

The Mayor extended his hand to the software billionaire who ignored it but instead stood up and embraced him like a long lost brother.

Kirk Bovind was one of the world's richest men and certainly the richest man that had ever come from Liverpool since the days of the slavers but he looked like a catalogue model from the seventies. He had a slim build, was tall, had a Californian golden tan, dark brown hair and the shiniest, whitest teeth and eyes that the Mayor had ever seen. Kirk was dressed in a pastel green polo shirt and chinos with bare brown feet wrapped in expensive Italian leather loafers and he didn't look a day over thirty although the Mayor knew that he was at least forty-five.

The Mayor had Googled Bovind a couple of times but Bovind's lawyers and computer experts were ruthless in the removal of any personal information from the web. Information on his company Intracom was widely available but little was known about its founder, CEO and main shareholder. The Intracom PR department had only released a few scant details: Bovind was born in Allerton, Liverpool, to a single mother and educated by the brothers at St Edward's until the age of sixteen when he left for America having gained a scholarship to study Computer Science at MIT. Ten years later he founded Intracom, providing cheap software solutions to schools and winning contract after contract from state governments before launching the product that made Intracom a global business, its family friendly search engine, Lightspeed. The rest was counting dollars.

Kirk let the Mayor free from his embrace.

‘You look tired, Mayor,’ said Kirk.

The Mayor tried to laugh it off.

‘What can I say, the pressures of the job.’

‘I've heard all about it from Anthony and I'm here to help you.’

Kirk flashed his brilliant teeth at the Mayor and then sat back down in his armchair, looking at the stranger sitting in the other armchair and then at Anthony.

Anthony stared back at the Mayor but didn't say a word and for an absurd moment Mayor Lynch thought that they would stay stuck in this silence as no one wanted to introduce the man to the Mayor and the man seemed in no hurry to speak or even acknowledge the presence of the Mayor.

Bovind obliged.

‘And I don't think you've met my spiritual adviser, Pastor Thomas Canch?’

Thomas Canch didn't offer his hand but rather nodded his head ever so slightly in the Mayor's direction. The Mayor got his first proper look at the man. Taut pale skin covered the man's bald head and face. His eyes were sharp flints of grey and shadowed in the recesses of deep sockets. The Mayor nodded back and was relieved that he could turn his eyes away from the Pastor back towards Bovind.

Anthony sat down. ‘We've been discussing Kirk's kind offer,’ he said by way of explanation to the Mayor.

Mayor Lynch noticed the ‘we've’ and wondered what Bovind had promised Anthony. ‘You know my difficulties with this proposal,’ said Mayor Lynch.

Bovind smiled again. ‘I do and I respect that position but I believe that you are going to want to change your mind Mr Mayor. Your city's situation is common knowledge. Only I can save you and our city.’

The Mayor felt a twist in his stomach. He knew he would have to accept the offer but even now he wanted to refuse and run from the building but he knew that he couldn't do that. What stopped him, he wondered? Ambition, pride, or most likely just the lack of will to extract himself from this difficult situation. And there was something else too. He realised with a start that he was frightened of these men, Bovind and the Pastor. There was something unspoken between them, something he would never understand, and it was something dark and strong. The Mayor started to shake his head.

Bovind leaned forward in his chair and placed his hands, palm upwards, on his knees.

‘Let's cut to the chase: Liverpool is bankrupt. Anthony has shared the figures with me. It's grim reading. If you were one of my companies I would be shutting you down today, hell yesterday! Essential services – the hospitals, waste management – are just about coping but the money will run out in, let's see, three weeks’ time unless you get some more central funding.’

‘We are hopeful that will happen.’

Bovind chuckled. ‘I can tell you right now that it will not happen.’

‘The Minister hasn't given any indication one way or the other. We're very hopeful that we can get the additional funds, we meet the hardship criteria.’

‘I'm afraid, Mayor Lynch, you don't have the bigger picture. The Government has been speculating with the family silver, issuing bonds that frankly just aren't what they used to be. I have it on good authority that the credit agencies will shortly be downgrading UK's credit rating again and the value of those bonds will plummet.’ Bovind placed a hand on Mayor Lynch's knee. ‘The Minster, you may or may not know, is a fellow Third Waver and he knows there is nothing left in the cupboard. You are on your own, or rather would be, if it were not for me.’

Anthony mirrored Bovind's movement and leaned forward. He reminded the Mayor of an eager schoolboy. ‘Mr Bovind– Kirk has outlined a very, very generous proposal. His Foundation will provide funding and sponsorship of the city's school system equivalent to the salary costs of all teaching staff for the year.’

Bovind licked his lips and then opened his mouth revealing the whitest of teeth. They looked out of place in a middle-aged face.

‘Let's call it what it is, £50 million for this fiscal year and an option to review annually thereafter.’ Bovind's accent slipped between a Californian drawl and hints of Scouse. It made the Mayor feel a little sick listening to its rolling vowels and pitched endings. ‘Do you realise what I am offering you, Mayor? I am offering you the white charger for you to jump on and save this city with.’

The Mayor had heard the offer before but never directly from Bovind.

‘But the price? Your foundation wants the science curriculum to incorporate Intelligent Design as scientific theory in and the expansion of Religious Education in the overall curriculum. You want us to place Lightspeed in every school yet you know it censors results. You know we can't do it, the teachers’ unions wouldn't stand for it for one thing.’

‘Have you spoken to Ted Coyne recently?’ asked Bovind.

Ted Coyne was the leader of the local branch of the National Union of Teachers, a staunch socialist and the driving force behind the current strikes by teachers across the city. The one thing he hated more than the council and the Mayor was big businesses like Intracom.

‘He's an atheist and probably a communist, he would never agree to the change in curriculum you want.’

‘We will speak to him. Try to enlighten him. Richard, can I call you Richard?’

Bovind didn't wait for an answer.

‘Richard, all we want to do is give the children of this city a choice. What's wrong with that? Intelligent Design is scientific theory supported by many top scientists and it deserves a place alongside other theories. Lightspeed is a great tool and yes it does censor pornography and other filth. What's wrong with that?’

‘Filth like the theory of evolution, you mean?’ said the Mayor.

‘It ranks search results. It does not censor them,’ whispered Bovind. Then he leaned forward further and, to the Mayor's alarm, placed his hands on top of his.

‘We do good, Richard. We know what is best for children's young, vulnerable minds. There is nothing wrong with protecting the innocent.’

‘But if you search for “evolution” and the theory ranks on the tenth page it may as well not exist.’

Bovind's smile, which had disappeared for a moment, crawled back up his face.

‘Look, Richard, all we are saying is give kids the facts, let them hear the competing theories, don't place one above another and, you know, Richard, your electorate want this. Do you know that religious belief is growing across all demographics? Sure there may be different ways to God but one thing is certain, everybody wants to believe in something. All we're saying is give the kids of this city a chance to learn about alternative viewpoints. We'll even supply the teaching materials. It's a no-brainer.’

The Mayor's headache returned. He mentally rehearsed the familiar argument.

‘And supposing that everything you say is right that the central funds are not forthcoming, that the unions agree, when would this all happen?’ asked the Mayor.

Bovind grinned. ‘Immediately. Half your schools are shut now because of strikes. I will arrange for the Foundation to provide full training and materials to all science teachers and the funds will start to flow. You will have a school system that works and funds freed to clear the streets of rubbish. It will be a great deal for the city and for the Bovind Foundation. Faith can be like a tsunami. This world senses it needs salvation. You can ride that wave, Richard, or try and hold it back.’

Anthony was squirming in his chair like an eager child wanting a parent's attention.

‘After Liverpool, Mr Bovind plans to role this programme out across the country. People will be demanding it once they see the success in Liverpool. It will give us the Christian vote and it'll give us a national platform. No one has done this yet. We could have the Christian votes all to ourselves!’

Yes, the Mayor could see that if the plan were a success then he would be the man who saved the city from bankruptcy and revitalised its school system. Most people did believe in something, didn't they? Really, in the end, what was the harm of teaching an alternative version of the origins of life? Maybe it was even true. No, he couldn't believe that. As a life long rationalist he could no more believe in a divine creator than Father Christmas but who was he to judge, after all?

‘Anthony, I want you to ring the minister for local Government and get an update on those funds and then I want Ted Coyne on the phone, see what his members think of this. I'm making no promises though.’

‘I'm on it right now,’ said Anthony, taking out his ever-present BlackBerry® and clamping it under his jaw as he walked out of the room to make the calls.

The Mayor turned back to Bovind.

‘Tell me. There's something I don't understand though. You will be spending millions and will get next to nothing in return save maybe a street named after you. What's it in it for you?’

Bovind's smile disappeared. He let go of the Mayor's hands. For a moment he was silent and then he began to speak softly. ‘I grew up in this city. For better or worse it made me and then I left. I prayed to leave this city and God answered my prayers and more. He made me richer than Croseus but it was for a purpose. I want to save souls, Richard, and one thing life has taught me is that you need to save souls before they become fully formed and corrupted. A child's soul is the purest form of God's love but it turns black quickly and I intend to capture as many as possible so that when the Rapture comes the streets of this city are empty of God's children.’

Mad as a box of frogs, thought the Mayor.

From the chair next to the Mayor's came a low, rumbling noise. It took the Mayor a second to reconcile the fact that it was a man's voice, the Pastor's.

‘“He who hath no soul I will blot out his name from the book of life.”’

The Pastor was looking at him. His pale grey eyes held the Mayor's gaze until he was forced to look away.

‘Revelations,’ said the Pastor.

The Mayor was lost for words.

Anthony was talking in low tones in the corner of the room.

‘You save the city, I save the souls,’ said Bovind. ‘A deal made in Heaven!’

Anthony finished his call.

‘Well?’ said the Mayor.

‘Ted Coyne said the union is on board, his exact words were, “If you pay his members you can teach the kids that the Flintstones is a fucking documentary.”’

Bovind's hand was extended.

‘Do we have a deal, Richard?’

Reluctantly the Mayor extended his hand.