by Roger Hurn
Carly lowered her gaze. ‘Thank you.’
Zander gave a little chuckle, ‘But I guess you don’t need me to tell you that. You must hear it every day of your life.’
Carly gave a slight shrug. ‘Not really.’ Then she looked at him from under her long lashes. ‘Well, I do from guys who are hitting on me.’
Zander smiled. ‘Do you think I’m hitting on you, Carly?’
She shrugged again.
‘Well, I’m not.’
Carly pouted. ‘If you say so.’
Zander sighed. ‘Look, the Church of the Dark Light is all about empowering you to do what it is you want to do. It stops you being a victim and a pawn in the games other people play. You are beautiful, Carly, but I can see that it’s a curse for you. It makes you doubt yourself. It makes you someone others want to use for their own pleasure – not yours.’ He paused and gazed intently at her and stroked her hands. ‘I’m right aren’t I?’
She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t snatch her hands away either. Zander carried on with his spiel. Even over the tinny speaker in my phone his voice sounded warm and sincere. He reminded me of that guy on TV who claims to be a mentalist and I wondered if he was trying to hypnotise Carly. Good luck with that one, pal, I thought.
‘Yes, you are special, Carly, very special indeed. But when you look inside yourself all you see is darkness and doubt. It’s like you’re looking into the abyss. I know. I’ve done the same.’ Now he was squeezing her hands and his eyes were locked onto hers. If she’d have had a personal space invasion alarm it would have been going off big time. As it was she didn’t and chummy was coming to an emotional climax. ‘But this is good. The darkness inside you is who you are - so don’t fear it, embrace it and it will set you free!’
Well, Carly gave a sharp little intake of breath and looked at Zander as if he’d just given her a winning lottery ticket so he continued with this babble for what seemed like an eternity. This wasn’t all bad though because Carly managed to coax out of him the info that the Church of the Dark Light had its HQ down in an old Tudor manor house called Camden Hall near Hortonhurst Caves in Kent. According to Zander this was where Azrael Bodach and his acolytes hung out along with the “Chosen Ones”. Apparently, Zander was an acolyte and, surprise surprise, Carly was almost certainly grade “A” Chosen One material. She acted really flattered when Zander vouchsafed this pearl of wisdom and I could almost see the boy salivating from where I was sitting half a dozen tables away.
However, Carly isn’t daft. She suddenly stood up and told Zander that it was all too much. That she had to go and get some head space to think through everything he’d told her. Naturally, our Zander was a bit shaken by this as he obviously thought he was on the fast track into her knickers, but Carly promised him she’d see him again soon. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. Then she turned and hurried away. As she breezed past us she winked.
Tyrone made as if to go after her, but I stopped him. I wanted to see what Sunny Jim did next. He pulled out a phone and had a brief, but animated, conversation with someone. Then he put some money on the table and left. As he walked by Tyrone and me, I saw that his face was flushed and, judging by the bulge in his linen pants, he had a hard on. Carly had certainly made one hell of an impression on him, but then she’s that kind of a girl.
We parted company with Tyrone at the tube station. I offered him twenty quid for his trouble but he wouldn’t take it. He said he’d been looking out for Carly ever since they were in primary school and he didn’t need paying for it now.
‘If anyone tries to mess with her, they got me to deal with,’ he growled.
He was probably talking about Zander and the Church of the Dark Light, but I got the distinct impression he was including me in that warning.
I looked serious and nodded. ‘Don’t worry pal, I’m watching her back.’
He gave me a long, hard, unfriendly stare. ‘Yeah, I noticed.’
He kissed Carly and she hugged him. When she let him go he turned back to me, made a gun shape with his fingers, and mimed shooting me. He didn’t do it with a smile. Then he loped off to catch his train. Carly beamed at his retreating back.
‘He’s such a sweetheart,’ she said affectionately.
It was probably because I’m a real detective and Carly isn’t that I knew she was wrong. Tyrone may have been many things, but a sweetheart definitely wasn’t one of them.
Chapter Five
Carly was on a high and seemed really chuffed when I told her she’d done a brilliant job with pulling the wool over Zander’s eyes.
‘You had him eating out of your hand,’ I said. ‘He thought he was recruiting you, but you turned the tables on him. I reckon the next time you see him, you can pump him for all the goss’ on what’s going on down at Camden Hall and what the state of play is with young Angie.’
Carly suddenly frowned. ‘But I wasn’t pulling the wool over his eyes. He was opening mine.’ I stared at her open mouthed like a dead cod on a fishmonger’s slab. ‘You just don’t get it do you Ryan? I really, really want to join the Church.’
I was dumbstruck. ‘Are you winding me up?’
Carly burst out laughing. ‘Of course I’m winding you up, you prat. God, you are such a dummy sometimes.’ But her eyes were sparkling and she was giggling as she said it so I didn’t take offence. I’m an understanding employer.
We went back to the office and planned our next move – which was to take a spin in my car down to Kent to give Camden Hall the once over.
It was set back on a wooded hillside where the suburban gentility of Hortonhurst gives way to an area of fields and small woods, only approachable by an unmade road. There was a train station nearby and the road was pretty congested with cars parked there by commuters desperate to avoid the staggeringly expensive cost of using the station car park. We weren’t complaining. They helped us to blend right in. Still, there’s only a limited amount you can learn from looking at a red brick wall through a car windscreen, so we decided to go and have a closer look.
There was a footpath leading up into the woods that surrounded the manor. We took it and Carly linked arms with me. If I thought she was being romantic I was wrong.
‘Don’t get excited,’ she muttered. ‘Only this way we look like a couple trying to find a place to get it on in the open air.’
For a second an image of me getting it on in the open air with Carly seared across my mind’s eye. It nearly made me go blind, so I banished it and wrenched my mind back to the job in hand.
We came to a secluded spot where the trees grew right up against the wall. I couldn’t resist it. I made my way over to one with low hanging branches and started to haul myself up.
‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ Carly’s voice was edgy and shrill.
I sighed. ‘Waiting for a number 7 bus to come along!’ Sometimes she could be so thick. ‘Actually Carly if you can’t see a bloke scrambling up a bloody great tree and not know what he’s doing then I don’t hold out much hope for your chances of making it as a detective.’
She folded her arms. ‘Oh brilliant! Listen Tarzan, don’t come crying to me if you fall and break your bloody leg ‘cos I’m not carrying you to the car.’
I didn’t bother to dignify that with an answer. By now I’d managed to clamber up to a branch that was overhanging the top of the wall. Carly decided that, as I was obviously not going to come crashing back down to Earth, she’d better make the best of the situation.
‘OK, so what can you see?’
The truth was I couldn’t see anything worth seeing. ‘A whole lot more trees. This part of the grounds is pretty overgrown and wild, but I can just about catch a glimpse of the main house.’
‘And that helps us how?’
I had to admit it didn’t. But I’m not the kind of guy who gives up at the first setback. ‘I’m going to nip over the wall and have a bit of a sneak about. There’s plenty of cover so nobody’s going to see me.’
Carly did not think this was a good idea and said so in no uncertain terms.
‘Listen up, Carly. I know what I’m doing, OK? I’ve been specially trained to do this stuff. So you stay here and pretend you’re a bird watcher or something and leave the detective work to me.’
I dropped down from the top of the wall and into the grounds of the manor before she could reply. I always like it when I have the last word in a debate with Carly. But it helps if your last words don’t turn out to be famous last ones.
I was crouching behind a tree and peering out across a lawn where a group of six staggeringly pretty young men and women were sitting around in a semicircle listening intently while a bloke I recognised as Azrael Bodach spoke to them. He had his Milk Tray man outfit on and seemed to be in full flow. I couldn’t see Angie amongst his audience and I couldn’t quite catch what he was saying, but I did hear the posh voice right next to my ear when it murmured, ‘Can I help you with anything?’
Chapter Six
I straightened up slowly and smiled at the two guys who were standing there. Actually, I was totally pissed off with myself for not hearing these boy scouts creep up on me. But, on the plus side, I was glad that Carly wasn’t there to see me get my comeuppance.
I winked at them like I was pleased they’d discovered me hiding in the bushes. ‘As it happens you can. I was embracing the darkness inside me, but I just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. Then the darkness told me that if I wanted to embrace it properly, I should toddle over to see you fellas and you’d show me how it’s done. So here I am.’
I was being a smartarse because I figured the two blokes in front of me would be as much use as two farts in a sieve if it came to a punch up. And, because if you’ve been caught with your trousers down by someone, never act in the way they expect. It throws them and gives you back the advantage. Well, that’s the theory anyway. I just hoped it was going to work in practise.
‘You’re trespassing on Church property.’ The bloke who said this was a smooth skinned guy of about my age. But he radiated privilege.
‘Well that’s not a problem is it?’ I said. ‘I thought Church goers were supposed to forgive people their trespasses.’
The two guys exchanged glances. Then the smooth talker snarled, ‘Who the fuck are you?’
His mate nodded. ‘And what the fuck do you want?’
I threw my hands up in mock outrage. ‘Whoa, hold up, lads. There’s no need for bad language. All I want to do is have a civilised chat with your Mr Azrael Bodach.’
‘Then you’ve come to the right place.’
I don’t know what it was with those Dark Lighter blokes, but they did love sneaking up behind you. I turned round and came face-to-face with the Arch Mage himself. I thrust out my hand to him and said, ‘Hi, I’m Ryan Kyd and I’ve been dying to meet you ever since I saw your video on YouTube.’
Azrael took my hand in both of his. It was the kind of gesture favoured by politicians and vicars when they want you to think that they care about you. In my experience, the opposite is usually the case.
‘Well, Mr Kyd, why don’t we go inside to my study and then you can tell me what it is you’d like to chat to me about.’
He let go of my hand and we strolled across the lawn to the manor house. His followers lowered their eyes as we went by, but my shoulder blades twitched from the heat of their gaze burning into my back after we passed them.
We entered the house through the front door and not the tradesman’s entrance. I think I was meant to be impressed with the fixtures and fittings. I was. They were either genuine antiques or first rate reproductions. There was obviously money to be made in the cult business. But then didn’t dear old Ron Hubbard say if you want to get rich start a religion? And, from what I saw looking around the Church of the Dark Light’s HQ, he wasn’t wrong.
I ended up in Azrael’s study. He sat behind a solid mahogany desk that could have been designed by Chippendale himself. I made myself at home in a luxuriously upholstered chair while the two guys flanked him like they were his praetorian guard. Azrael introduced them as Crispian Hunt and William Fitzwilliam. They gave me stiff little nods. I beamed back at them. Then Azrael steepled his hands and asked how he could help me.
I pulled a photo of Angie out of my pocket and handed it over to him. ‘I’m a private investigator and I’ve been hired to find this girl. My client has reason to believe that she has joined the Church of the Dark Light.’
Azrael studied the photo carefully. ‘She’s a lovely looking girl,’ he murmured.
I smiled. ‘She is indeed and apparently a lovely person as well so is she here?’
Azrael slowly shook his head. ‘I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed Mr Kyd. To the best of my knowledge this young woman has never been a member of our Church.’
He made as if to hand me back the photo, but I made no move to take it.
‘Look again, Azrael. Are you sure one of your lads hasn’t recruited her and stashed her away in his bedroom because he doesn’t want to share?’
Azrael smiled mockingly. ‘Oh I’m sure. That isn’t how we behave.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Really? I thought after you’ve embraced the darkness you get to do exactly what you want?’
Azrael laughed. ‘I think you’re confusing us with the Hell Fire Club, Mr Kyd.’
I looked at him blankly.
‘Oh surely you must remember it from your history lessons at school?’ A condescending smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. ‘That’s if you had history lessons at your particular school and it wasn’t all multi-cultural media studies.’
‘We did,’ I said ignoring the slur on state education, ‘but I tended to sleep through them.’
The three degrees all exchanged knowing little glances. I was their social inferior and every time I opened my mouth I confirmed them in their superiority. That was good. I wanted them to underestimate me.
Azrael cleared his throat and continued. ‘The members of the Hell Fire Club were active in the 18th century and their motto was Fais ce que tu voudras.
I pulled a face. ‘Sorry, you’ve lost me there. I’m afraid my Latin’s not quite up to speed.’
Crispian and William sniggered and Azrael pounced. ‘It’s French not Latin and means ‘Do as thou wilt’.
Actually, I knew it was French not Latin, but I wanted Azrael to think he was dealing with a dummy. He was an arrogant shit and arrogant shits make mistakes when they get overconfident. But, before I could lead him on any further, the door opened and Zander walked in.
‘Ah my dear Zander,’ drawled Azrael. ‘Mr Kyd here is searching for this young woman. I know you spend much time on missionary work for the Church. Have you, perchance, encountered her?’
Zander looked at me and then took the photo of Angie. He barely glanced at it. ‘No, I can’t say I have.’
He handed the photo back and then he stared hard at me. ‘But I’ve got a feeling I’ve seen you somewhere before.’
My stomach knotted. Tyrone and I had been sitting a few tables away from him when he met Carly in Regent’s Park. I would have bet folding money that he’d been so taken with her that he wouldn’t have noticed a herd of charging elephants if they’d escaped from the zoo and trampled all the other patrons of the Honest Sausage to death. But maybe I was wrong and she wasn’t so fascinating after all.
‘Yeah, well I was the centre fold for Private Investigator magazine this month,’ I said. ‘Maybe you’re a fan.’
Zander didn’t answer, but Azrael sneered, ‘Read a lot of Raymond Chandler, do you, Mr Kyd?’
I switched my attention back to him. ‘Well, he’s the master, but I’m guessing you’re more of an Aleister Crowley man.’
Azrael shrugged. ‘He was a man of influence, but he fell short in the end.’
I frowned. ‘Really? I thought he was the wickedest man in the world.’
‘Men who cause the death of millions are wicked, Mr Kyd. Crowley was merely a poseur.’
Then you and he would have got along just fine, I thought but didn’t say. ‘So what exactly is your game?’
Azrael sighed deeply. ‘My game, as you call it, is to liberate young men and women from the demons that haunt their minds so they can be empowered to be true to themselves.’
‘That’s very noble of you, but I can’t help noticing that all the young people here look like they’re auditioning for the lead roles in a remake of The Picture of Dorian Grey.’
Azrael looked at me quizzically. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning they’re all gorgeous. Do you only recruit beautiful people?’
‘Beautiful people are often the ones most in need of the help the Church can bring to their tormented lives.’
He was as slick as snot on a glass doorknob and just as unpleasant. ‘So, I’d be safe in assuming the Church wouldn’t be interested in clutching me to its bosom then?’
Crispian, William and Zander snorted with derision, but Azrael said, ‘let’s just say that, unfortunately, you are not part of our target demographic, Mr Kyd.’
Then I decided to push my luck and asked if I could have a look around the house just to reassure myself that Angie wasn’t there. To my surprise Azrael agreed but, by the way he smirked, I knew I’d find nothing. I was right. The house was full of beautiful things, but Angie wasn’t one of them. However, he did insist on taking one of my business cards just in case Angie did turn up. He read the legend printed on it.
Ryan Kyd (Ex Diplomatic Protection Group)
Security and Investigation Consultant
I will find the truth for you.
Then he smiled enigmatically and said, ‘Ah, we all wish to find the truth, Mr Kyd. But I fear you are looking in the wrong place.’
And with that I was given a polite version of the bum’s rush. Crispian and William escorted me down to the imposing gates and back out into the unmade road.
‘Fuck off, oik,’ said Crispian.
‘And don’t fucking come back,’ sneered William.
I couldn’t help but notice that embracing their inner darkness hadn’t really done much for their manners. I advised them to ask for their money back. Crispian flipped me the finger and William gave me a v-sign. They were obviously equal opportunity insulters.
