The Temple (12 page)

“Of course we will,” Director
Lee said from behind her hand. “Just leave everything to us. But I
see you’re tired. I suggest you go to your room now and Jeremiah
will get your things from the car.”

Jeremiah handed Sycko the keys.
Sycko hesitated for a moment, not sure whether carrying the old
man’s bags or pushing his wheelchair was the harder job to do, but
then decided that it was the wrong moment to argue with Jeremiah
and in any case it might not make much difference.

Half an hour later Mr. Drummond
lay in his new bed. It was a large and comfortable bed with some
chairs next to it and a bedside table for a few of his possessions.
From the window he had a view of the tranquil countryside below and
the pleasant green of the country with the blue of the sky made a
very nice change from the dull grey of the city. He was sure he had
made the right decision and was very grateful to Jeremiah for his
help.

Jeremiah and Sycko said goodbye
and soon after poor old Mr. Drummond fell asleep.

Later that day Drummond had
dinner in his room and after dinner he took the last of the
painkillers he had from the public hospital. In the drawer of his
bedside table was a copy of The Holy Dryvel. He read for a while
and prayed fervently for help and health from the Lord. Then he put
the book away, switched off the light and turned on his side with a
smile, confident that the first night in a Dryvellist Hospital was
the beginning of a new chapter in his life.

Some hours later the effect of
the drugs was beginning to wear off. He rang for the nurse on
duty.

“Yes, Mr. Drummond. What can I
do for you?”

“I’m in pain,” he said. “My
painkillers are finished. I need some more.”

She smiled patiently. “Oh, but
this is a Dryvellist Hospital, Mr. Drummond. You don’t need
painkillers here.”

She pulled up a chair and sat
down beside him. “I’m here to pray with you. Fold your hands and
speak with me.”

Not sure whether he had heard
correctly he followed her instructions. They prayed for more than
an hour during which time the pain steadily became worse until
Drummond’s hands were shaking and his face was bathed in sweat.
Finding no relief from the prayers he couldn’t take the pain any
longer and cried out.

“Oh my God, please give me some
painkillers. This isn’t working. Just help me, please.”

The nurse sighed. “You must pray
harder, Mr. Drummond, and God will hear you. Show how strong your
faith is!”

She resumed her prayers and
Drummond made another effort. After a few minutes the excruciating
pain won. His hands clutched the sheets and he yelled at the top of
his voice. The nurse took some earplugs out of a pocket and put
them in her ears. Then she went on praying and singing healing
psalms as if nothing had happened.

Several hours later Drummond was
at the end of his tether. Utterly exhausted from hours of incessant
screaming and agony he finally lost consciousness. During the brief
respite the nurse left his room. Her shift was finished and it was
up to the day nurse to wipe his brow and pray for him.

The cancer was eating away at
his inside and soon, all too soon, the intense pain reawakened his
mind. He cried out. The day nurse came and smiled at him.

“Good morrow, Mr. Drummond. How
are you today? I hope you had a pleasant night in the arms of the
Lord who now cares for you. If there’s anything you need…?”

He looked at her aghast. “I need
painkillers,” he shouted in horror.

“Devil’s things,” she said
disapprovingly. “Let us pray to the Lord for His mercy.”

She folded her hands but before
she could start the prayer Drummond yelled at her. “Get me an
ambulance! I need to get out of here.” He tried to sit up but the
nurse pushed him back down into his bed.

“Now, now, Mr. Drummond. That
won’t do. Show the strength of your faith and pray to the Lord.
Only He can help you. No pain, no gain. You know the old saying,
don’t you?”

Unable to say anything Drummond
resumed his yelling. The nurse simply put plugs into her ears.

After almost a week of agony,
screaming and trying to get out of the hospital Mr. Drummond’s body
was worn to a ravelling and gave up the ghost. Not once did Master
Jeremiah come to see how his ‘old friend’ was doing. He didn’t need
to. He only had to wait for the inevitable result. And thus, after
just a week of waiting the Holy Temple inherited all of Mr.
Drummond’s estate leaving nothing to his family and heirs.

Another Patient

Men regard it as their right

to return evil for evil

and if they cannot,

feel they have lost their
liberty.

Aristotle, Nicomachean
ethics

Marmaduke Montmorency Drummond,
who preferred to be called Cato, was the only child of the late Mr.
Drummond who had so painfully passed away from hell, where to no
one could say, the only thing that was sure was that it had to be a
better place. Mr. Drummond the younger, let’s just call him Cato,
was away on a trip when his father was so deceitfully lured into
the Dryvellist Hospital. Brought back by an urgent summons on the
radio from his country’s diplomatic service Cato rushed home
expecting his father to be there. But instead of finding the nurse
and housekeeper to greet him he found the house locked up. This was
an unheard of occurrence and as he had never once needed a key
before in his life he found himself locked out of the house.
Desperate for news he called the public hospital, the nursing
service and several others until he discovered his father had died
in the Dryvellist Hospital. By that time evening was fast
approaching. He called a taxi and drove out to the hospital where
he was only admitted after a lengthy argument at the door. A rather
peevish attendant took Cato to Director Lee’s office.

“Good evening,” she said with a
blank expression on her face.

“Well, good evening,” he replied
feeling somewhat exasperated. “My name’s Drummond. I’m here about
my father. I was told that…”

“Yes, yes, your late father came
here for treatment but unfortunately we weren’t able to save his
life. You may rest assured that we did all we could and that he met
his end in dignity. A pity you weren’t here. He was entirely
peaceful towards the end,” she lied smoothly. “His remains have
been cremated, as was his wish. The urn will be at the office
downstairs. If there’s anything else I can do for you…?”

“Well, I don’t know,” he said
crestfallen. “I suppose all that’s left for me is to go home. Are
my father’s things here? I mean what you call personal effects. I’m
afraid I haven’t got a key to the house and I thought my father
might have taken one along here.”

“You mean the keys to your
father’s house?” She said sternly.

“Yes, our family estate.”

“I see, you don’t know yet. I’m
afraid that’s quite out of the question, Mr. Drummond. You see,
your late father left his entire estate to the Holy Temple in
return for our medical help and treatment.”

“He what?” Cato said
incredulously.

“It’s all in good order, Mr.
Drummond, rest assured. Our lawyers are processing the papers as we
speak. I’m not sure what will be done with the property though I
imagine it will be auctioned so if wish to bid for it I’m
sure…”

“Bid for my own house!” he
shouted in outrage.

“I suggest you contact our
lawyers or even Master Jeremiah of the holy temple directly and
discuss any problems with them. The matter is out of my hands, so
if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a very busy day.”

Shaking with rage and hurt Cato
took a taxi back into town where a friend took him in.

The next day Cato went to the
temple to confront Jeremiah. As Jeremiah seldom ventured forth from
his luxurious home before noon these days Cato only found Sycko to
talk to. Cato entered the hall where Sycko was reclining beside the
weeping Diana with a packet of fags and a bottle of something
strong as he did every morning. Cato walked up to him and said “I’m
looking for Master Jeremiah.”

“Behold the weeping Diana,”
Sycko said. “It’s a true miracle. Many people come here to worship
and…”

“I’ll give you a very different
sort of miracle if you don’t take me to Jeremiah right now,” he
said threateningly.

“That’s not possible, I’m
afraid.”

“And why not?”

“Because he’s not here.”

“Really. Well, you tell your
Master Jeremiah that my name’s Drummond and that I won’t let him
have my house.”

He stormed out of the temple and
decided to get a locksmith and simply force himself into his family
house. It didn’t take long to find a locksmith and they drove to
the house together. But when they got there Cato saw a smartly
dressed young man and two police officers at the front door.

“What are you doing here?” Cato
said aggressively. “Get off my land!”

“Now then, Mr. Drummond, let’s
not have any trouble. I’m a lawyer representing the interests of
the Holy Temple. I understand that this is a difficult time for
you, but you must understand that this is not your property. It
belongs to the Holy Temple.”

“We’ll see about that!” Cato
shouted and tried to push the smarmy lawyer aside. The two officers
intervened.

“Mr. Drummond, we’ve already had
a complaint that you used threatening language to the director of
the Dryvellist Hospital and if you persist in your stance here we
shall have to arrest you.”

“This is my family’s house! How
dare you…”

“I’m sorry, but we’ve got our
orders. I suggest you take legal counsel, Mr. Drummond.”

Cato looked from one to the
other and understood that he wasn’t getting anywhere. He swallowed
his pride and decided that he needed help if he wanted any chance
of success. He had clearly underestimated Director Lee and
Jeremiah. Bitter but not beaten he turned round and walked off with
the locksmith.

A lawyer friend helped Cato
challenge the Temple’s claim to his family estate, but after a both
costly and bitter legal battle the court found in favour of the
Temple. One thing Cato did gain from the court case was a certain
amount of publicity and as luck would have it one of the nurses
sitting with the old Mr. Drummond during his interminable hours of
agony had for some time been having doubts about what was going on
in the Dryvellist hospital. She decided to contact Cato and talk
with him and so she went to the small flat in town that he rented.
Her heart pounding she rang the doorbell. The door opened after a
few moments. She recognized Cato immediately from the photo in the
newspaper. Coming face to face with him she suddenly felt very shy
and didn’t know what to say so she just stood there looking at him
somewhat sheepishly. She felt her face reddening.

“Well then, what can I do for
you?” Cato said. “Your visit does have a purpose, I presume?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I just don’t
quite know what to say, I mean I don’t know where to start.”

“How about the beginning?”

“Yes, of course, it’s just, well
I’m afraid you’ll be angry with me and…”

“Look, just tell me what it is,
all right? I won’t bite you I promise. So please, the
beginning.”

She took a deep breath. “You
see, I’m a nurse at the hospital where your father died and I was
with him as well.”

“I see,” he said carefully. “I
think you’d better come in then.”

He led the way to the living
room where they sat down. She told him the truth about the horrible
way his father had died.

Bitter tears ran down his face.
“You know what that Director Lee told me? She said he died in
dignity and peace. That lying bitch! If I ever get to lay my hands
on her then let god have mercy on her for I will not!” He clenched
his fists and banged the reading table in fury. “God damn it,” he
cursed. “And a curse on that sodding Jeremiah too.” He jumped up
agitated. “So they defraud my father, they murder him with pain,
they cheat me and lie to me and to the police and there they’re
sitting smug and gloating how they made a fortune out of a poor old
man. There may be no justice in this world, but by God, I will have
my vengeance!” he shouted.

All the while the nurse was
looking at him terrified. “Don’t hurt me please,” she
whispered.

“Hmm, what? Hurt you? Of course
not. I’m not angry with you. In fact I’m very grateful that you
came to me. It took courage to do so. But what to do, oh what to
do?”

He let himself fall into an
armchair and thought about everything. “That temple,” he said after
a minute. “With what they’re doing there must be other people who
had trouble with them. I think I recall a case a while ago where
someone had a public fight with them. I don’t really follow the
news much. Do you remember the case?”

She nodded. “It was a man called
Judas. Actually he had two quarrels with Master Jeremiah, the first
one over the weeping Diana in the temple and the second one over
the murder of Brother James.”

“That silly weeping statue I’ve
already seen, but murder? I didn’t know that. Can you help me find
this Judas? I want to speak to him.”

With some effort they managed to
find Judas in the online telephone directory. Cato called and
arranged a meeting the same day.

He looked at the nurse. “Do you
want to come along?” he said. “You don’t have to, you know.”

“Do you want me to come?” she
asked timidly.

“Yes, actually I would like
that,” he said. “But there we’re talking and I don’t even know your
name yet.”

“I’m Joan,” she said.

He looked at her for the first
time. She was a pretty young woman, in her early twenties he
guessed, with blonde hair, pale blue eyes and an altogether
pleasing countenance. She stood about a foot shorter than himself
and she was slim though not skinny. He didn’t like the anorexic
look that many women aspired to after being fed a steady diet of
overly thin models in various magazines.