by Jane Adams
Beneath it, the words ‘Man is like an angel falling.’
Chapter Twenty
The old chapter house was set in about an acre of land. It had been abandoned since the explosion, though apparently the Eyes of God still held the deeds. Pulling up on the grass verge at the side of the road, Ray wondered just how much an acre of building land this close to Charnwood Forest would be worth these days.
The road was narrow, a B road running through woodland and close to a golf course, membership of which still had all the exclusivity of a gentleman’s club. Ray recalled interviewing the neighbours at the time. The closest house was fifty yards down the road, but it had been occupied by a pair of widowed sisters with little better to do all day than watch the comings and goings at what was then called the Markham house.
The sisters had liked the inhabitants of the Markham house. In fact they had been frequent visitors, calling in for tea at least once in the week, and they reported that they had always been made welcome, even when their visits had been unexpected. A dozen people had lived there, but there had been no children resident. Those who had died must have arrived the day of the explosion and Ray knew that at least two of the regular inhabitants had been away at the time, even though their names had initially been released by the cult as being among the dead.
The gate was rusted but still solid, though what looked to be the growth of eleven years had all but covered the fence and threatened to jam the hinges closed. It was just as well, he thought, that they had arrived in February, when only the hardiest of evergreens and the odd snowdrop were making their presence felt. In the height of summer the land would be like a jungle as nature reclaimed its own.
It was the first time that Katie’s parents had seen the place. They watched as Katie poked around in the undergrowth, trying to make out the ground plan. She had found a long stick in the hedge and prodded along what was left of the walls.
‘This place must have been enormous,’ Lisa Fellows commented.
‘It was,’ Ray confirmed. ‘Though I never saw it in the flesh as it were. Only photographs of it after it had gone. The old ladies who used to live over there’ — he pointed to the house down the lane — ‘they’d been here all their lives and knew the original owners, the Markhams. They had photographs of the place from the time it was built right up to the time it was blown to kingdom come. I heard they both died a year or two afterwards. The shock couldn’t have done them much good. They were both as old as Methuselah.’
‘What happened to the photographs?’ Guy Fellows asked.
‘I don’t know. We had some copied for the official report, but I expect the rest went to the sisters’ next of kin.’ He frowned trying to recall their names. ‘Albert,’ he said. ‘The Albert sisters.’
Katie was calling to them and they went over to where she was standing, at the rear of where the house had been.
‘Was the kitchen here?’
Ray thought about it. ‘I’d guess it must have been. There was a basement, wine cellar or something. I remember the steps down to it were still intact. Steps and a bit of wall.’ He borrowed Katie’s stick and poked around beneath elder bushes which had invaded what had once been a scullery. The Belfast sink lay half embedded in the floor. ‘Somewhere about here,’ he said. ‘Though it’s difficult to picture it after all this time. Pity we couldn’t have dug up a ground plan from somewhere.’
‘Where was Katie found?’ Guy Fellows asked.
Ray frowned. ‘If the back scullery was here and the kitchen through there . . . Look, there’s the odd quarry tile sticking out of the ground.’ He shook his head. ‘Somewhere over there.’
‘Over here?’ Lisa crossed to where he was pointing.
‘I’m not sure. A little to your left . . .’
Katie rolled her eyes at them, wandering back towards the front of the house and leaving them to their reconstruction. Her father had joined in by now, pacing the area with a professional air, trying to estimate the size of the kitchen and the scullery beyond. She wandered back through ghostly living rooms, finding the tiles from what had been the hall. Fragments of stained glass from the blue and yellow window that had decorated the front door.
And then the sound that came out of nowhere, shattering the peace, and Katie began to run, not away from the angry cracking roar but towards it.
Ray and Katie’s parents watched in horror as the red and chrome machine pulled up beside the gate and she climbed on board. The rider handed her an open-faced helmet and she pulled it on. With that the bike took off, carried on a wave of sound.
Chapter Twenty-one
Ray and the Fellowses ran to the gate, but the bike had already vanished around the bend in the road. The car was parked fifty yards away, at the only place where the grassy verge was wide enough to keep it off the narrow road. They headed for it at once.
Once in the car Ray handed the mobile phone to Guy and told him to call Beckett. He drove as fast as he dared down the lane, and bends that should have been treated with respect he took at sixty, feeling the wheels slip on the muddy road. He couldn’t believe that he had been so stupid — an illogical thought, since he could not have known that this would happen. Had the biker followed them here? He was sure he would have seen him or, in the quiet of the countryside, at least have heard him way off in the distance. And yet the sheltered garden with its tall trees and muffling undergrowth had probably blocked far more sound than he had realized and the bike had approached fast, skidding to a halt at the gate. Even when they had heard the sound of its clipped pipes it had given them little warning.
There was no sign of it now.
Guy was shouting into the phone’s mouthpiece at Beckett. In the back, Lisa was crying softly. When they reached the crossroads two miles from the house, Ray stopped the car and got out, taking the phone with him. He stood in the centre of the crossroads, turning slowly, seeing nothing in any direction.
‘What the hell happened?’ Beckett demanded.
‘Guy’s just told you. The bike pulled up, Katie got on and they rode away. It was the same bike that followed me.’
‘You’re certain?’
‘Like I told you. It’s unmistakable. Question is, who the fuck is he?’
‘Get back to the hotel,’ Beckett ordered. ‘We’ve managed to keep the girl out of the media so far, I’d like to keep it that way.’
Ray agreed. ‘The reg number I gave you. Any joy?’
‘Phoney,’ Beckett said. ‘I’m sorry, Ray, we seem to have drawn another blank.’
* * *
At Sommers House they were talking to the Prophet. Most of the community had crowded into the media room, which housed their video-conferencing equipment. Martyn Shaw was horrified at what was happening.
‘Marriott said that you had been concerned about the murder of a boy in Mallingham,’ he said. ‘He gave me no indication that there was a connection to Lee or the other murders.’
‘We’ve been advised to keep inside and wait until it’s over,’ Bryn told him. ‘It’s good advice, but it’s very hard. Every time we turn on the television there’s something about us on the news. Pictures of the house, library footage of Harrison Lee’s trial. It isn’t good for any of us and it’s especially hard on the children.’
‘It must be. Bryn, you said you spoke to one of the original investigators. Was he helpful?’
‘He’s trying to be. His name’s Ray Flowers and he’s now retired, but they’ve got him in as an adviser. He’s done his best to be sympathetic, but there isn’t much he can do. And look at it from his point of view — we could all be as guilty as Lee.’
‘He wanted to talk to you,’ Mitch put in hastily.
‘The Prophet doesn’t want to be bothered by him,’ Bryn told her sharply. ‘Martyn, we can handle it. We’re just glad you’re there and out of it all.’
‘But I’m not, Bryn. You are all a part of my community. My congregation. What affects you affects me. Mitch, I’m quite willing to talk to the pol
iceman if he thinks it would help. I’ve nothing to hide.’
Mitch nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said. But beside her she was aware that Bryn’s body was tense and she could feel his anger.
Martyn Shaw was speaking to them again. ‘Could you come here, all of you, until it blows over? There’s room at the guesthouse. It might be a bit cramped, but I’m sure we could manage. If you don’t have funds we could arrange for them to be wired to your account. I don’t like the thought of you facing this alone.’
Bryn shook his head. ‘We’ve discussed this,’ he said. ‘If we can find a quiet way of getting the families with children away then we’re going to do that. This is our home and the rest of us will stay. We won’t be driven out.’
* * *
Beckett, Ray and Katie’s parents had returned to the hotel. Guy Fellows was furious. With him mostly, Ray figured, seeing as he was closest to hand. Beckett was doing his best to calm the situation. Lisa Fellows was still crying, though her tears had slowed now and Ray could see that anger was about to take their place. She was a mother who had twice lost her child.
Guy Fellows wanted to go public, to launch an appeal on the next news bulletin. Go to the papers, the radio, anything that might help. Beckett was having none of it. He was of the opinion that Katie must have known the motorcyclist and tended to think that the whole thing had been set up. The biker had known exactly where she was going to be.
‘Did she make any calls from the hotel? Have any kind of contact? Did she have a boyfriend that you maybe didn’t approve of?’
Lisa Fellows shook her head. ‘Katie didn’t make any calls. There was no boyfriend. There was nothing like that.’
‘We’ll have the hotel phone records checked just in case,’ Beckett told them. ‘It’s possible that you didn’t know. That she called from her own room or even from the lobby.’
‘Are you calling my wife a liar?’ Guy shouted.
‘Not your wife. No.’
It took a moment for Guy to realize what Beckett had said. ‘You think Katie . . .’
Beckett sighed. ‘Look at it calmly for a moment, Mr Fellows. How many kidnappers use a motorbike, carry a spare helmet and just stop for their victim to get on?’
Guy was stunned into silence.
‘She wouldn’t do that to us,’ Lisa said. ‘Not knowing what we’ve just been through. There’s more to it than that. I just know.’
Beckett got up, ready to leave, and Ray did the same. ‘I’ll be sending Emma Thorn to take your statements,’ Beckett said, ‘and she’ll give you her contact number so you can reach her any time. Right now, I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.’
They walked off together, leaving the Fellowses to comfort one another. Ray paused in the hotel lobby.
‘I think it’s the boy she talked about. The one who saved her life last time.’
‘Proof or hunch?’
Ray shrugged. ‘It just makes a kind of sense. I think you’re right that she either knows or knew him. What I’m not so sure of is that she’s safe.’
‘He saved her life last time. Why should he hurt her now? That’s assuming you’re right.’
Ray shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m just wondering what he saved her for.’
Chapter Twenty-two
‘I’ve had our new secretary write herself a contract,’ George told Ray when he returned to the office. ‘I think she’ll work out very well.’
Ray slumped down in one of the chairs and closed his eyes. ‘Nice to know something is,’ he said.
‘Tell me.’
Ray filled George in on the events of his day and on Beckett’s views of the situation. George in turn told him about Mitch.
Ray was profoundly depressed. The post-mortems on the first two victims suggested they had died within twelve to fifteen hours of their abduction. Time was almost up for the third boy, Simon Ellis.
‘They never found where Lee took the boys, did they?’
Ray shook his head. ‘And he never told. To be honest, George, it wasn’t good policework that implicated Lee, it was an anonymous tip-off. It must have come from inside the organization, but no one ever confessed. Lee was brought in, his place was searched and some of the kids’ clothes were found there. What clinched it was a blood stain about the size of a two-pence piece on one of his shirts. We questioned him and he confessed within hours. I remember, though, it was as if he always intended to confess, just wanted to get the timing right. He kept glancing at his watch, as if he had a nervous tic of some sort, and telling us “all in good time” in that prissy, cultured voice of his.
‘Then he confessed. I wasn’t there for that. It was about an hour and a half after the chapter house blew up and by that time I was on the scene.’
‘Lee knew what they had planned then?’
‘Either that or Lee planned it all along with Morgan. I never did buy the mass-suicide bit, though, and Katie’s description of being given something to drink that made her sleepy makes me buy it even less.’
‘They might still have been willing. Those in the Heaven’s Gate cult took part in assisted suicides. They drugged themselves first and someone finished it by asphyxiating them. The drug might just have been to make it easier.’
Ray shook his head. ‘I don’t buy it,’ he repeated. ‘I talked to a lot of the surviving members afterwards and none of them could believe it either. Suicide just didn’t seem their style. I even met Martyn Shaw.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
Ray nodded. ‘It was before Morgan’s papers were released and he was declared the new Prophet. I liked him. I liked all of them. They weren’t obsessed and they weren’t controlling, like Mitch’s lot out at Sommers House . . . You know what I’m saying?’
George nodded. ‘I’ve been trying to explain that to Patrick,’ he said. ‘But it isn’t easy. Why would Morgan and Lee want to murder their own followers? You believe that Katie’s right and Morgan didn’t die?’
‘Yes, I do. I also think that if we knew exactly who did die that night, we’d be a hell of a lot closer to understanding the rest, but there weren’t ever accurate lists of membership back then. People would join and then drift off, and of course many of them neglected to come forward when we appealed. Embarrassed, I suppose. Martyn Shaw seems to have made the whole thing far more exclusive, but back then it was something of a spiritual free-for-all.’
‘So,’ George asked, ‘what next?’
‘We’ve got a business to run. I keep having to remind myself that Beckett’s the investigating officer and I’m just a civilian.’
‘I can hold the fort here and you are working. My dearly beloved ex-boss is following your every move, you can be sure of that, so keep a note of your expenses.’
‘Oh, well, the retainer will be useful.’
‘They pay well. That’s one thing to be thankful for.’
‘Your friend, Patrick, you still going to bill him?’
‘Of course. He’d expect no less. Ray, if Morgan didn’t die, do you think he’s our murderer?’
Ray shrugged. ‘It had crossed my mind,’ he said.
Chapter Twenty-three
Katie and the motorcyclist had hidden in the trees at the side of the road and watched Ray and her parents drive by in the car. They had seen Ray get out at the crossroads and look all about him, then talk into the mobile phone. Finally they had watched him as he drove away. Katie could see Lisa crying in the back seat.
She had wanted to run to her, to tell her that it was all OK and that she shouldn’t worry, but she was torn between anxiety about her parents and the bond she felt for this familiar stranger. Although he was weird, Katie decided. Really weird. The most solid thing about him seemed to be his bike leathers and helmet. The creature inside seemed far more difficult to define.
They had stood there in the woods until the biker was certain that Ray had gone away and Katie had complained that she was cold. Then he had ridden off with her again, towards town and then
through the back streets of Mallingham and into a run-down lockup garage. Inside was a second set of doors, though you’d have to have been looking for them, concealed as they were beneath the filthy floor. He opened them and Katie saw a ramp leading down. Absurdly, she was reminded of the Bat Cave or something equally surreal.
The ramp led to a basement. When the biker flicked on the light, what Katie saw put everything else out of her mind.
* * *
Ray was preoccupied all evening, despite Sarah’s attempts to distract him. The weather had turned filthy again after what had been a bright and frosty day. Now the rain was falling as though it never wanted to stop.
‘What’s nagging at you?’ Sarah wanted to know.
‘You mean apart from three dead boys and a missing girl?’
‘You don’t know the third one’s dead, Ray.’
The look he gave her was full of despair.
‘Is it always like this?’
‘What do you think?’ He spoke more sharply than she deserved and he apologized.
‘That’s all right, I can take it, but I asked you a question. What’s nagging at you?’
‘I don’t know. A feeling, maybe, like when you can’t remember if you locked the doors or turned off the gas. I’ll talk to Beckett tomorrow, ask if I can go through Lee’s statements.’
‘I’m sure they’re already doing that.’
‘Maybe, but I was there. I have memories that can be jogged. Beckett and his team don’t.’
* * *
The walls of the basement were decorated like the original temple of the Eyes of God. He was explaining the symbols to her, the stories the pictures told. His voice was soft and far away, and Katie was finding it hard to focus. Once she fell asleep, but she woke to find the thread of his conversation unbroken, as though she had been listening all the time.
‘Long ago,’ he said, ‘the angels came to Earth. They mated with the daughters of men and heroes were born onto the Earth. They lived for hundreds of years and kept their bodies healthy and strong. The golden age of the gods, before the second flood and the destruction of the world. They knew that it was coming and most left, taking their stories and their songs with them back beyond the sky. But some remained. They loved the Earth and did not want to see it die, so they made an ark. Not like the ark of Noah, more like the ark of Utnapishtim in Sumeria, and they collected the seed of all the plants that grew and all the creatures of the Earth that crawled and flew and filled the oceans and the rivers, and they kept the seed safe until the flood had gone and the Earth could be re-formed.
