Legacy - Jeff Edwards

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no,’ laughed Black. ‘It’s nothing like that. The Church of the Risen Christ is a very well known and respected church. It’s certainly no sect. The church has arranged for the rental money to be paid directly into the Posts’ private bank account. Most of the money is used as their mortgage payments and the rest goes into their savings account.’

      ‘So nothing goes directly to the church.’

      ‘No. Nothing. The only way the church would get anything would be from their savings account and there’s not a lot going in there after the mortgage is paid.’

      ‘So, where do you send your statements?’ asked Sam.

      ‘All statements are sent directly to the church.’

      ‘Not to the Posts?’

      ‘No, directly to the church.’

      The Church of the Risen Christ was a far bigger establishment than either of the agents imagined.

      Modern society’s disillusionment with the established churches had meant that more and more people had opted to distance themselves from them, but the lingering need for a direction to their faith had resulted in them moving towards newer, alternative churches that seemed to speak in the modern idiom.

      Over the past ten years the Church of the Risen Christ had grown from a few people meeting in private houses to occupying a factory unit and then to the present site where, because of the number of people attending each Sunday, they were forced to conduct four separate services. They used a different minister for each. Plans were under way to build a still larger church on their current site.

      Sam and Bree found the church offices in a modern, two-storey brick building beside the main chapel.

      A receptionist took their details and Bree explained they were hoping to locate Hannah Post. The girl consulted her computer and rang a number, explaining to the person on the other end what Sam and Bree were calling about.

      She hung up and said to Bree: ‘Pastor David Goodall will be right with you.’

      Pastor Goodall proved to be a smooth-faced and jolly, thirty-five-year-old. He conducted them to his office and saw them seated before taking his place behind his desk. Once again, Sam and Bree began by showing their identification.

      Surprised, Goodall said: ‘Well! What can I do for you?’

      Sam answered: ‘As I explained to the receptionist, we’re trying to locate the current address for one of your parishioners, Hannah Post.’

      ‘Ah yes. Hannah and Simon.’

      ‘So you know them?’

      ‘Of course. Wonderful people. True Christians. They’ve been members of our congregation from very early days. They met through the church and were married here. Simon has only recently finished his internship at the local hospital. He was in casualty.’

      ‘Wonderful. Then you’ll be able to tell us where to find them?’

      ‘Why do you need to contact them?’

      ‘We believe Hannah Post may be able to answer some questions for us.’

      ‘Is she in trouble?’

      ‘No. Not that we’re aware of. Why do you ask?’ said Bree, becoming suspicious.

      ‘It’s just that you’re from Inland Security.’

      ‘Would you feel more comfortable if it were the police that were asking?’

      ‘No.’

      Bree was keenly alert to the pastor’s manner.

      ‘There’s something that you’re not telling us, isn’t there pastor?’

      ‘It’s just the manner in which Hannah and Simon came to us.’

      ‘Please continue pastor. This may be important.’

      ‘Simon rang our church and said that Hannah had experienced a moral dilemma. It was upsetting her to such an extent that she had become physically sick.’

      ‘Pastor Lincoln, from our church, called on the couple and found Hannah in an extremely upset state. She could barely talk and refused to eat. When he tried to get her to tell him what the problem was, she couldn’t speak. She tried, but couldn’t form the words to explain the problem. It was that bad. After a great deal of time and coaxing, Pastor Lincoln was able to ascertain that it was something to do with her job. It was so soul destroying that she had walked out and refused to return to the company.’

      ‘But she didn’t say what had happened,’ said Bree.

      ‘She tried numerous times, but couldn’t. Each time she would begin weeping uncontrollably and become physically sick.’

      ‘What did the church do?’

      ‘We have a retreat in the country. The two of them went down there for a week. Hannah picked up, became calmer, and appeared to be doing well. They returned to their house and it started all over again, just as bad as before.’

      ‘What did you do then?’ asked Sam.

      ‘We brought Simon and Hannah in here and tried to decide what to do. It seemed the only solution was for them to go away for a time, to let Hannah get over her problem. It was truly provident that Simon had just finished his residency as there were several openings available for him in our overseas missions. They discussed the options and decided to travel to the most remote posting we had.’

      ‘Where was that?’ asked Bree letting her excitement show. Finally they were getting somewhere.

      ‘If you come this way, I’ll show you.’

      He led them down the hall to a door marked Missions. Entering, they saw numerous occupied desks. ‘The people here liaise with our missions, providing them with the logistical support they require.’

      He moved to an extremely large map of Africa that occupied one wall. On it there were numerous coloured pins, each indicating the site of a church mission.

      Pointing to Rwanda, his finger landed on the capital, Kigali. He traced down to the southwest until he came to the town of Butare. ‘Simon and Hannah are in a village outside Butare. It’s the village of Chief Rongal, about two hours drive south of the town.’

      ‘Can we phone them?’ asked Bree hopefully.

      ‘There are no phones,’ said Pastor Goodall.

      ‘We receive mail from them about every two weeks or so.’ Pastor Goodall looked around the room. ‘Who is looking after Simon and Hannah Post?’

      A girl at one of the desks looked up: ‘I’ve got their file here, pastor.’

      ‘When was the last time you heard from them?’ he asked.

      ‘We received a letter two days ago. Dr Post is asking for more medical supplies as usual and an especially large number of condoms. He’s trying to get the men to use them to cut down on the spread of AIDS in the village.’

      Their host turned to Sam and Bree.

      ‘You see the unique sort of problems our people face.’

      He asked the girl: ‘Did Dr Post mention his wife’s condition?’

      ‘He said she is a lot happier. She’s helping the new mothers in the natal ward.’

      ‘Wonderful. It seems we did the right thing to send them out there. Not that it helps your problem, I’m afraid,’ he said apologetically to Bree.

      ‘Well if you give us her address, we’ll write her a nice letter.’

      ‘I’d be glad to,’ offered

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