Cuthbert's Way (DCI Ryan Mysteries, #17)(73)

And it would explain the level of private income needed to fund thugs for hire. There was a busy trade in forged masterpieces, and a King’s ransom to be made, if you knew the right people.

If any of that turned out to be true, the fact Lareuse wound up brutally murdered in his prison cell only went to prove that there was little honour amongst thieves.

“Where is he based?” Morrison asked.

“The medical records give an address in Shincliffe,” Yates replied. “We could organise a raid within the hour.”

“We were just discussing that possibility,” Ryan said, keeping half an eye on Emma, who played happily with her jungle gym mat, which he’d spread on the floor nearby. “Mac, you were about to give us your thoughts.”

MacKenzie ran through their options in her mind, trying valiantly not to think of what could be happening to her friend, with every passing minute they delayed.

“Chatterley says he wants Cuthbert’s remains in exchange for Anna,” she began. “Let’s think about his motivations, for a moment, before we make any hasty decisions. Let’s say this man really believes he recovered from two brain tumours thanks to a miracle, and the cult of St. Cuthbert. The fact of this happening twice, whilst he was praying to Cuthbert, reinforced his beliefs and played into his own false narrative.”

“I can see that happening,” Phillips said. “Only too easily.”

“Let’s also say his tumour returned but, this time, it doesn’t go away, and he doesn’t need a scan to tell him things are looking bad,” MacKenzie said, imagining the disappointment. “He’s getting the same old headaches, the same strange visual auras and all kinds of other side effects; maybe it’s affecting his eyesight and therefore his ability to work, and above all else, it’s affecting his thought patterns, making him unpredictable.”

“So, Chatterley tells himself he needs to gather Cuthbert’s relics close, because it’s the only way to ensure he gets the full force of the healing powers—that’s why he stole the pectoral cross, but it still isn’t enough to stop the cancer spreading,” Ryan said, following the logic.

“I think he truly, deeply believes in Cuthbert’s powers to heal,” MacKenzie said, after considering the trajectory of Chatterley’s actions and behaviour. “When he thought a miracle had cured him, perhaps he had a genuine desire to share the news and help others, which is why he went around bashing his Bible and recruiting followers—like Winter. Later, when he realises that he’s unwell again, and all that praying at Cuthbert’s shrine wasn’t working any more, he started to do some research further afield, and his motivations turned selfish. He’s got a ticking time bomb, and a very real sense of desperation and urgency to gather up all the relics he possibly can, to save himself. The only problem is, he needs help. He has some contacts, but he needs more. That’s where the power of indoctrination comes in. Just look at Charles Manson, and what he was able to achieve.”

“Power corrupts,” Yates agreed, and thought of Bishop Hatfield and his enormous golden throne.

“Indeed, it does,” MacKenzie said. “Then, there’s the problem of Cuthbert’s remains. Durham Cathedral are adamant his remains are buried in the Shrine, yet we know his coffin was opened numerous times over the centuries and the bones of other well-known people wound up being chucked inside. Researchers tested them and found a mixed bag, shall we say.”

“Chatterley wouldn’t be happy about that, would he?” Phillips remarked.

MacKenzie shook her head.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “I think he’d feel cheated.”

“He became very irate on the phone, when I suggested Cuthbert’s remains were in the shrine at the cathedral,” Ryan put in, from where he was seated beside his daughter, who played happily with a squidgy teething toy in the shape of a giraffe.

“He obviously believes the real remains are buried elsewhere,” Morrison chimed in, and they all jumped slightly, having forgotten she was still on the line until her disembodied voice rang out into the kitchen. “Why would he think that?”

Ryan remembered the notes Anna had prepared about Cuthbert and tried to recall something she’d jotted down about a ‘Code’.

“On the telephone earlier, Chatterley mentioned there being some kind of ‘code’. He thought the message we found in the gospel book and the one we found on top of the Bishop’s Throne are all a part of it,” he said. “Before she was—before Anna was taken, she left me a dossier of notes she’d found about St. Cuthbert, alongside some of the myths and legends that have sprung up around him, over the centuries. I seem to remember there being one about ‘Cuthbert’s Code’.”

“Here we are,” Phillips said, a moment later, having done a quick internet search. “Says here, St. Cuthbert’s Code protects the secret of Cuthbert’s true burial site, and the secret is only known to a band of three—or twelve—monks at any one time, depending on who you believe. When one monk dies, the secret is passed to another, and the Code carries on through time. Legend has it, around the time of the Reformation, when Henry VIII was dissolving all the monasteries, Cuthbert’s remains were swapped with those of a recently deceased monk, and that Cuthbert’s body was taken somewhere else, for safekeeping.”