“Ah, Emma. A name I have always been taken with.” Emma’s face beamed.
“How old are you, my child?”
“I’m thirteen. I shall be fourteen in August.” She shifted her position constantly, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
“Do you believe in God, Emma? Do you follow His teachings?” the gentle voice continued.
Emma forced her dry mouth to speak. “Yes. Yes, I do,” she croaked.
“But do you sin, even so?” asked Ignatious.
The embarrassed girl blushed, remembering the thoughts that had just now been invading her — and still were! “Er, er, yes, well…I suppose so,” she murmured.
“Do not be embarrassed, my child, we all sin. God is all forgiving. There is nothing you can have done of which He doesn’t already know about, and nothing you have done can be all that bad, now, can it?”
Never had Emma felt so comfortable, even though a little self-conscious, in talking to an adult. She was ready to bare her soul to this man. She spoke again. “No. I haven’t done anything really bad. I’ve kissed some boys and I’ve had some rude thoughts.”
At that moment, Emma’s friends were passing the motor home in search of her, having realised that she was no longer with them. They pedalled on unaware of how close by she was.
“What religion do you follow?”
“I am Church of England — I go to church every Sunday,” she hastened to add.
“Do you have any problems, Emma? With parents, teachers, friends; anything you feel you are unable to speak about?”
The young girl pondered. She didn’t want to speak of her unexpected thoughts. “I sometimes wonder what it’s like doing ‘it’ with boys,” she blurted, surprising herself.
The expression on the priest’s face remained calm, unaltered. “Quite natural for someone of you age,” he said. “It does not mean that you are about to indulge in a sexual encounter.” Emma blushed again, unaccustomed to an adult speaking to her so frankly. “Nor does it mean that you want to. Merely adolescent curiosity.”
“But I wanted
Ignatious knew full well the thoughts she would be having; he was planting them there, perhaps not directly but entering her mind and clearing it of all obstacles. His presence affected females in that way and, through his past experiences, he was fully aware of the phenomena. Like the female pathologist, Sallie; he knew that she would have had sex with him, without compunction, had the opportunity arrived.
“Again, Emma. These thoughts are quite normal. I am an older man, mature and experienced in life. I probably appear attractive to you. However, it would be wrong of me to take advantage of the situation and, rightly in my view, it would also be illegal.”
He stood without releasing his gentle grip on the girl’s hands and led her from the table to the rear of the vehicle, which was the bedroom. It was surprisingly large, as, from the outside, it would not seem possible for such space to be available.
Once through the opening, Ignatious let go of Emma’s hands and watched her walk to the bed where she lay on her back. She needed no prompting; she was under the Jesuit’s spell.
“I will relieve you of your troubled thoughts, Emma,” he said in his quiet, warming tone. “You will travel to a place of peace and happiness. You will see the Lord thy God. You will have no need for this world and its archaic and primitive desires. You will be in complete bliss.”
All the time he was talking softly, preparing a slim, reed hypodermic. The poison was to be one he’d discovered back in the Amazon — a completely unknown one, very powerful and, used in the right way, creating a truly miraculous cure for malaria and such diseases. The other use of it brought quick and spectacular death.
He leaned over the girl, stroking her arms. She murmured softly and smiled, her eyes closed. She was happy and comforted. Emma had had all the usual childish injections to combat the various viruses that were waiting to pounce on the young and Ignatious easily found a suitable scar high on Emma’s left arm.
She felt nothing as the reed slid into the circular immunisation scar, the surge of fluid providing a pleasant sensation. She smiled and grunted contentedly again as the poison rushed through her bloodstream.
Ignatious stood back to observe, anticipating the action to follow. Emma’s body began to shudder; her limbs started to jerk and fly outwards and then back again, the pattern repeating itself many times. She began to spasm, giving the appearance of a teenager on the dance floor, although Emma was still on her back, on the bed.
Suddenly, the twitching girl’s eyes flew open and she shot upright, staring around unseeing. With a spectacular movement, Emma’s body arched backwards, her bottom leaving the bed and, for several seconds, she stayed in that position, the only part of her touching the bed being her heels. Falling back, she began to choke, her face turning a bright red, then blue. Her muscles started to paralyse, from the feet, up the legs, through the body and onto her face. With eyes still wide open, she presented a horrifying figure, loud grunts escaping the restricted throat. At that point, Emma died, her movements quickly subsiding, the paralysis remaining.
The tinkling of bicycle bells reached into the room as Emma’s friends passed by on the way back home, their search having proved fruitless.
Ignatious knelt at the bedside of the deceased girl and prayed: “Oh, Holy Father, please accept the soul of this sweet young being. She will come to you clean and pure, ready to do your divine bidding. I have made her happy and prepared for you in your infinite goodness. I leave her in your sweet, loving hands. Amen.”
He rose, looked at the body, now relaxed and seeming at complete peace, and left, going outside to survey the immediate vicinity and check that no one was around. Peering over the nearby hawthorn bushes, he saw that they surrounded a clear field of unharvested wheat, waving mesmerisingly in the soft breeze.
Returning to the bedroom he picked up Emma’s lifeless body and carried it effortlessly to the outside. He walked with her through a nearby opening in the bushes and placed her down, a couple of yards into the wheat.
Here, he produced the small bunch of ‘Colibri’ feathers and laid them just under her left thigh, leaving about an inch protruding. The sun caught the feathers in its light, activating the iridescent features and creating a beautiful picture. Ignatious stared at the inanimate objects, thrilling to the display as the colours flicked and changed like a small rainbow, the hundreds of small sub-feathers combining magically.
“Speed safely on your journey, sweet Emma,” he said with his head bowed reverently, hands clasped. He remained for a few moments then returned to the vehicle. Reaching into a canvas holdall, he produced a set of tools: screwdriver, wrench, rubber-headed hammer and a flat piece of steel.
Satisfied with his selection, Ignatious went again outside and retrieved the damaged bicycle. This he stood on its seat, balanced by the handlebars, and began to remove the twisted wheel. After twenty minutes of work, with skilful use of the rubber-headed hammer, using the steel bar as a solid base, the wheel was in a near-perfect condition once more.
It took only a matter of minutes to reconnect the wheel and properly align it. Once done, Ignatious set the bicycle upright and placed it against the hedgerow, roughly in line with the spot at which Emma’s body lay. He returned to the vehicle, replaced the tools, cleaned himself up and drove away, contentment settling through his body. He had done another good job; provided the Lord with a further pretty subject.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
As soon as Graham entered his office unit, Clive Miller intercepted him and told him that the Chief wanted to see them both immediately. Graham went to his office to put down his briefcase and then went along with Clive to the CS’s office. “Any idea what he wants?” asked Graham.
“Not exactly — he didn’t say — but I expect it to be about this spate of killings. I don’t suppose you’re any nearer after your visit to Penn?”
