Red Bicycle 21-22

21.

 

 

There were many formalities to take care of, procedures to follow. Reversing a sentence of death took both time and a myriad of paperwork.

 

While certain documents were being processed the chief prison officer asked Alexander if he would follow him into one of the high security meeting rooms. The detective was sitting at a table. As before he was wearing his long grey mac. He took out two sheets of paper from a plastic file and set them down in front of him.

 

‘What are these ?’ said Alexander.

 

‘A confession’ said the detective ‘made by the chief of police. We suspect that it was written yesterday evening.’

 

The detective pushed the papers across the table. Alexander picked them up. They were photocopies of a handwritten statement. The writing looked hesitant; in certain places, a bit wayward, as if written by a nervous child.

 

‘I should warn you’ said the detective. ‘Some of the content, especially regarding your sister, may prove difficult for you to read.’

 

Alexander began to scan the document. The chief of police’s statement began with an apology, first to his wife and children, then to the city’s police force, a force which the chief had served with distinction for twenty years. He said that only now, after a great deal of anxious reflection, was he able to reveal the truth of the crimes that had blighted the city. Alexander’s trial and sentence had finally convinced him that it was time for someone to speak out.

 

The death of Katya, and the deaths of many other children who’d disappeared over the years, had been covered up by his predecessor, the former chief of police, who was long since dead. The cover up was instigated by powerful associates of the businessman, Benjamin Molloch. These associates included politicians, churchmen, high ranking officials in the judicial system and other members of the city’s ruling establishment. Molloch, the chief of police wrote, preyed on vulnerable children for many years. In Katya’s case, she fell into his clutches on a visit to the garden centre to buy flowers for her mother. After Molloch had lured her into his office and subjected her to things that no child should ever experience, she managed to escape his clutches and flee on her bicycle. Incensed, Molloch went after her in his car. But she was not stupid; she hid herself in a nearby field as he drove up and down the narrow, country road in search of her. Thinking that he had disappeared, Katya emerged from behind the field’s gate, only for Molloch’s car to suddenly turn off the road and drive her down. How many children Molloch had abducted and killed wasn’t clear. But the chief had now reached a point where he could no longer live with the terrible weight of such lies. Molloch, he wrote, had been fashioned from the darkest strain of evil. And evil, if it is left to flourish, will eventually infect us all. He hoped that his confession would lift the bitter cloud that hung over the city he loved and had served. Finally, he asked that God might judge him kindly, before bidding his life and family farewell.

 

Alexander set down the two sheets of photocopied paper. The detective said: ‘The chief was found hanged late last night, in woodland close to his home.’

 

Alexander tried to comprehend the implications of what he’d read. ‘What made Molloch kill Katya ?’ he said.

 

The detective shifted uneasily in his chair. ‘Katya’s body was never found’ he said.

 

Alexander shook his head. ‘That’s not true. I remember my father was taken to the city mortuary to identify her.’

 

The detective said: ‘Sometimes, if a loved one is struggling emotionally, an item of clothing may be considered a legitimate source of identification. Perhaps, in your sister’s case, the bike was enough. We are also led to believe that a mortuary assistant, in the pay of Molloch, willingly altered records.’

 

‘So, if it wasn’t my sister’s remains, who did we bury ?’ said Alexander.

 

The detective shrugged. ‘We don’t know. In the coming weeks and months we’ll find out. I don’t want to speculate, Alexander. I can only suggest that you return to your family and wait and see what we uncover. A lot of things are going to change in the city.’

 

Alexander said: ‘I’m glad I killed him. I’m glad I made Molloch pay for his evil.’

 

The detective said: ‘There’s something else you should know. Evidence was found that, on the night in question, Molloch had been in the garden centre’s nursery building – shreds of his clothing, his shoes, a watch. But no remains were uncovered. There was no  trace of a human body in that burned out building.’

 

Alexander could barely believe his ears. ‘That’s impossible’ he said. ‘I saw him with my own eyes. He was spraying the plants. I knocked the spray gun out of his hand. What are you suggesting ? That he somehow got away ? That he survived the explosion ? It’s impossible!’

 

The detective placed the chief of police’s statement in its file. ‘Our forensics team is working overtime, Alexander. We’ll discover what happened to him. I promise.’

 

 

 

22.

 

 

Over the coming months many prominent individuals in the city were exposed. Some of those detained admitted to facilitating Molloch’s crimes. Others marked themselves guilty because they had been too frightened to talk. Graves were exhumed, the contents found to be piles of brick. Slowly, an index of Molloch’s victims was drawn up. For the most part they were orphans, immigrants, vagabonds, disabled – the invisible children who nobody noticed or cared about, who were easily abused, discarded, and forgotten.

 

Alexander and Natalya watched the rolling news updates as the enquiry gathered pace. People’s anger swelled as Molloch’s barbarism was exposed. Politicians were attacked or pelted with rotten fruit for doing nothing to keep the vulnerable safe. The city’s bishop quietly stood down and retired to the peace of the countryside. Marches were held demanding change. In homes, offices, and in woodland Molloch’s disciples inflicted summary justice upon themselves, each day revealing new levels of incompetence, cruelty and indifference. ‘What have we become’ people said. ‘What have we become.’

 

In amongst the turmoil, there was one small ray of hope. Near the end of the enquiry, Alexander and Natalya discovered they would become parents again. They told Lukas and waited nervously to hear his reaction. ‘Will I have a brother or a sister ?’ he said. Alexander answered: ‘A sister. Will that be ok, Lukas ?’ Lukas said yes, that would be ok.’

 

Shortly before Natalya’s due date Alexander received a copy of the official report into Molloch’s crimes – a thick book which ran to over two hundred pages. He left the parcel unopened. Natalya said: ‘Aren’t you going to read it ?’ Alexander shook his head. ‘I know what Molloch did with those children’ he said. ‘I don’t need an official report to tell me.’

 

He found solace in the cellar, preparing Katya’s bike for Lukas’s sister.  He re-painted it white and fitted pink rubber grips to the handlebars. Finally, he attached a new rack, so that his daughter would be able to carry her books to school. But however much he tried he found that he was unable to look with great joy towards the future. Molloch hadn’t been found. And now that the official report had been published, the people’s anger had been quelled. Life was returning to normal. The memory of the elderly man’s crimes was beginning to fade.

 

As Alexander sat alone in the cellar contemplating these things, a man alighted from a train in a city far away – a well-groomed elderly man with a neatly trimmed moustache. He wore pale trousers and brown moccasin shoes; a silk cravat was tied neatly around his neck.

 

The man was searching for premises in which he could open a garden centre and grow blooms, shrubs, and plants that would be exceptional in their size, scent and colour. He knew he could achieve this by using a special feed - red in colour and which would be applied each day. It was based on an ancient mix, and only he knew how to prepare it. He smiled at the thought and offered a blessing to his mentor - the fallen one, the great horned beast, who resided in the Lake of Fire. His mentor had conferred the gift of immortality upon him, and, in return, he did his mentor’s bidding. It was easy to delude humankind, make it complicit in his dealings. He had learned long ago that to be smartly groomed and well to do was the best way to gain favour. Deceit was the elderly man’s game; murder and misery his sport. The devil, as they say, was always in the detail.

 

 

-End-