The Devil Inside

by Heather Atkinson

  “Then I’ll have to accept that. I just need to know that he’s okay and in his right mind.”

  “That I can do.”

  She produced a piece of paper and placed it on his desk. “This is Elaine’s phone number, the woman who escaped the cult. She’s so nervous she refused to meet with me in person but she’s happy to speak to you, she can give you information I can’t.”

  “I’ll talk to her. Do you have a recent photograph of your son?”

  She produced one and placed that beside the piece of paper with Elaine’s phone number. “This is my Steven. It was taken just a couple of weeks before he vanished into the church, so it’s the most recent I have.”

  Brodie studied the image of the handsome man in his mid twenties. He was smiling but the smile failed to reach his eyes. His skin was pale and he had dark shadows around his eyes.

  “He didn’t used to look like that,” said Susan. “He used to be healthy, athletic. He loved running and basketball. When he got in with the church he stopped going to his athletics club. He said sports was a sign of vanity frowned upon in the church. He didn’t sleep much at all, barely four hours a night. The church teaches that you shouldn’t sleep more than four hours a night and be up before the sun each day to pray and take penance.”

  “Penance?”

  “Steven wouldn’t tell me what that was but I’m certain he’s hurting himself. He threw out all his clothes, he used to be into his designer gear, I was always telling him it was obscene the amount of cash he spent on clothes when there were people living rough on the streets. When he gave it all away I knew something was seriously wrong. He filled his wardrobe with black trousers and shirts, all the exact same style, given to him by the church. Colour’s considered to be an extravagance and a distraction.” She looked down at her hands, tearing the tissue she held into tiny pieces. “The police can’t do anything because he’s twenty four, old enough to choose his own path but I know something’s wrong. A mother always knows.”

  “Don’t worry,” he gently said. “I’ll look into it and I promise I won’t stop until I know Steven’s safe.”

  “Thank you Mr Brodie,” she replied. “The police were right when they said you were the person to talk to. How much are your fees?”

  He considered the fact that she was a nurse and lowered his rate a little.

  “That’s fine,” she replied. “My husband’s a chartered account, so we can easily afford it.”

  Inwardly Brodie swore. “And what does your husband think about this?”

  “He says Steven’s an adult and he has the right to decide his own future. He’s not Steven’s dad though. He died seventeen years ago in a car accident. My second husband, Mick, has had several clashes with Steven in the past, starting when he was a teenager but only because they’re so similar and equally stubborn. Mick’s been such a great support through this nightmare.”

  “Does Steven have any siblings?”

  “Yes, a half sister, Sarah. She’s as devastated as I am, she and Steven are close. She’s only sixteen and she’s really missing her big brother. She tried talking to him when we saw him at Glasgow Fort Shopping Centre. When she asked him to come home he asked her if she was going to join the church. She said no so he turned his back on her, literally. The poor thing burst into tears right there, in public. I’ve heard Malachi’s good at brainwashing people and this proves it. Elaine can tell you all about him.”

  “I’ll speak to her before approaching Steven.”

  “That might be difficult. He lives in the compound, which is better protected than Buckingham Palace.”

  “I’ll manage doll, don’t worry.” He placed a pad and pen before her. “If you could leave your contact details I’ll keep you updated about my investigation.”

  “Thank you so much Mr Brodie,” she said, stuffing the tissue into her pocket. “It’s a relief that someone’s finally doing something about this. I can’t believe this behaviour is legal.”

  “I’ll get to the bottom of it,” he said, getting to his feet when she did. “Have no fear.”

  He opened the door for her. She patted his arm in gratitude and with a sad smile left his office, Brodie thoughtfully watching her go. Once the door had closed behind her he strode into the main office and called out, “Right you lot, listen up. We’ve got a new case and I want you all working on it. It’s to do with Higher Light, or The Church of the Divine and Blessed Light as it used to be known.”

  “Is that those creepy people all in black who you call bats?” called out Ross.

  “Aye, the same.”

  “They were outside Club Nebula a couple of nights ago,” said Christian. “Telling everyone who went inside they were shameful sinners who were going to hell but they could redeem themselves by joining the church and repenting. When everyone ignored them they started banging on about roasting in hellfire, real old testament stuff. No one took them seriously. The bouncers didn’t bother to move them on because they were so entertaining. When one bird flashed her arse at them they got angry. They pushed over some bloke waiting to go inside, so the bouncers chased them off. I think if the bouncers hadn’t been there they could have got really nasty.”

  “Interesting,” said Brodie. “Anyone else had any experience of them?”

  “A friend of my maw’s has started going to the church,” said Ross. “My maw says she’s gone all funny. She used to love the bingo and a tipple but she’s given both of them up, as well as all her friends. All she wants to do is go to the church and hang about with other members. She’s also got really rude. She told my maw the devil was in her because she said the f word and that was only because she stubbed her toe and couldn’t stop herself.”

  “What’s this friend of your maw’s called?” said Brodie.

  “Mags. My maw’s known her for years and she’s always been such a good laugh. Now she’s all serious and miserable. Those bloody bats really got their hooks into her. She’s given most of her life’s savings to the church too.”

  “Do you think she’d talk to me about the church?”

  “Maybe. You can’t shut her up about the place.”

  “Could you arrange for her to come here?”

  “I can get my maw to ask her.”

  “Nice one son,” he said, making Ross smile.

  “I’ve not met any of them personally,” said Elliott. “But Morgan was out with Noah in the park and two of them came up to her, a man and a woman. They wouldn’t leave her alone, they kept banging on about Noah’s future, saying he was an innocent and his soul had to be saved and the only way to do that was to bring him into the church. She told them to get lost and carried on walking but they wouldn’t leave her alone. A couple of maintenance men working on the bandstand had to see them off for her because they started freaking her out.”

  “Fucking loons,” said Brodie.

  “Fancy doing that to a mother out walking her baby,” scowled Cass, furious on Morgan’s behalf.

  “They have weans in the church,” said Ross. “Parents give them to it.”

  “They give their own weans to those batty bats?” said an appalled Brodie.

  “Aye. Mags told my maw. They’re then raised in the church.”

  “So they’re indoctrinated,” said Cass.

  “Yep.”

  “But the church hasn’t been around that long,” said Christian. “Has it?”

  “It started twelve years ago,” said Brodie. “But it was only when Malachi took over six years ago that it became so popular.”

  “You’ve already done some research on them Bossman?”

  “Aye, a bit but that poor wee woman who just left has lost her son to them.” He pinned the photo Susan had given him to the board on the wall they used for their current cases, shoving aside a photo of an unpleasant individual with a crooked nose and piggy eyes. “This is Steven Silvers, twenty four years old. He’s got sucked into Higher Light, AKA the bat cave. His maw says he lives in the church itself, which is no or
dinary church. The front of it looks like any other church but it backs onto the living quarters, which are like a fort with tight security. Now why does a church full of higher light need armed guards?”

  “Because they’re up to dodgy shite,” replied Cass.

  Elliott smiled. Ever since she’d started living with Brodie, she’d sounded a lot like him.

  “Precisely hen,” he said with a soppy smile her way. “And it’s all that dodgy bastard Malachi’s fault. He’s up to shenanigans and we need to find out what. They only started taking in weans when he started running the place. In fact no one had even heard of the church until he took over. It was created by some wee fud called Edward Carr. He seemed harmless enough and when he died the church had a hundred and twenty three regular members. Now they have almost seven hundred.”

  “Seven hundred?” spluttered Christian.

  “Aye. That’s a lot of bats in the country. So far they’re confined to Scotland, their numbers concentrated in Glasgow, Stirling, Edinburgh and Dundee but it’s only gonnae keep growing. Normally I wouldn’t give a shite but if they’re brainwashing people, especially wee weans, then the bats need their wings clipped.”

  “Like it Bossman,” snorted Ross. “That’s some pure good tough guy patter.” His grin fell at Brodie’s hard look.

  “Anyway,” continued Brodie. “Our objective is to find Steven Silvers.”

  “How do you want to handle it?” said Cass.

  “First of all, we need to find out exactly what we’re dealing with. Cass, I want you on that thing,” he said, pointing at her computer. “Go into everything about Higher Light - financial records, their so-called charity work but I especially want the lot on their dodgy leader Malachi. Don’t give me that look hen,” he added when she frowned. “You are by far and away the best on a computer and you know it.”

  “Fine,” she sighed.

  He looked to the three men. “And I want one of you to go into the church and do a reccy, get a feel for the place. Nothing more. From the digging I’ve already done I know anyone is welcome into the actual church bit, just not the compound behind it. You can make out you’re lost and needing some guidance.”

  “Like we’re looking for the shops and can’t find them?” said Ross.

  Brodie rolled his eyes. “No’ like that. I mean lost in life, not knowing which direction to take, that sort of thing.”

  “But you just said we weren’t to be lost. You’re no’ making sense Bossman. ”

  “Just for that it’s no gonnae be you,” he said, exasperated. “Does everyone else understand what I mean?”

  Elliott, Christian and Cass all nodded.

  “Thank Christ for that. I don’t want to plan the rest of our operation until I know who’s going into the bat cave.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Elliott.

  “Nice one pal. Christian, Ross, that puts you two on tracking down this bastard,” said Brodie, prodding the photo of the man with the crooked nose. “It shouldn’t take you long, he’s a thick sod. When you do find him hand him over to the Macauley brothers to do with him as they please. Hopefully it’ll be something hideous and painful after what he did to their wee sister.”

  “On it Boss,” said Christian.

  “When that’s done come back here,” added Brodie when Christian and Ross got to their feet. “I want all hands on deck. I get the feeling we’re gonnae need it taking on the bats. In the meantime, I’ll talk to an ex-cult member. Mrs Silvers gave me her phone number.”

  Just as Ross and Christian were leaving, DI Pete McLaren walked in carrying a box of doughnuts so carefully it looked like he was delivering an unexploded bomb. The bizarre sandy quiff he insisted on sporting appeared to be rigid with the tension.

  “Just on your way out lads?” he said to them.

  “Aye,” replied Christian.

  “Oh well, you’re gonnae miss out on the ultra special gourmet doughnuts I’ve brought,” he grinned.

  “Why are they ultra special?” said a wide-eyed Ross.

  He lifted the lid, Christian and Ross peering inside at the treasure.

  “Wow,” breathed the latter.

  “Brioche doughnuts made with French butter filled with bay leaf custard and honeycomb. There’s also chocolate and peanut butter and salted caramel doughnuts filled with apple custard, all sprinkled with the very best…hey,” he exclaimed when they snatched one each out of the box.

  “Cheers,” grinned Christian before they rushed out.

  Pete gaped at the gaps they’d left in the box, his quiff wilting slightly. “They nicked the best ones.”

  “What’s with the fancy pants doughnuts pal?” said Brodie. “You celebrating?”

  “No. I was just passing the shop and I thought bloody hell, they look special. So I bought some.”

  “You shouldn’t have brought them here if you didn’t want anyone snaffling them.”

  “I did intend to share them but I didn’t think that pair would snatch them away like they did.”

  Brodie grinned at his friend’s downcast look. “So it would seem. Even your hair looks sad about it.”

  Elliott sniggered, hastily looking down at the paperwork on his desk when Pete glared at him.

  “Are you lot wantin’ one?” retorted Pete. “Because you’re going the wrong bloody way about getting one.”

  “Aye, gie’ one here,” said Brodie.

  Pete slapped his hand away when he tried to take one. “You’re no’ snatching too. These aren’t jam doughnuts from the local bakery, they deserve more respect. Now, tell me which one you want and I’ll hand it to you.”

  “I don’t want you touching my doughnut. That’s no’ hygienic.”

  “Then you don’t get one. Don’t worry, I washed my hands after I last took a piss.”

  Brodie was torn between that queasy image and his need to have one of the doughnuts. The doughnuts won. “Gie’ us that big squidgy bastard there.”

  “I take it you mean the Belgian chocolate and peanut butter gourmet doughnut sprinkled with cinnamon sugar?” sniffed Pete.

  “Aye that one. Gie’ it here.”

  Pete handed it over, watching with dismay as Brodie wolfed it down.

  When he’d finished, Brodie grinned. “Bloody hell, that was heaven.”

  “If you’d eaten it more slowly you’d have been able to savour your little piece of heaven,” frowned Pete. He turned to Cass with the box, smiling with approval as she delicately bit into hers, taking her time.

  “So what are you lot on with today?” Pete asked as Elliott selected his doughnut.

  “We’ve got a new case,” said Brodie. “Investigating the bats.”

  “Bats?” he frowned.

  “Higher Light,” translated Cass.

  “Oh, those wallopers. I heard a woman came to the station asking us to look for her son. She thinks they kidnapped him.”

  “Aye, she did and we took on the case,” replied Brodie.

  “How are you playing it?”

  “Cass is gonnae do some digging on the computer, I’m talking to some woman who escaped the cult and Elliott’s having a nosy about the church. What’s your lot’s opinion about them?”

  “That something’s no’ right but we can’t get any evidence that anything’s wrong. Plus their leader, that dodgy bastard Malachi, has friends in high places and the cash to pay expensive lawyers.”

  Brodie’s hackles rose. He hated people like that. “What do you know about the church?”

  “Not much. They started off in Edinburgh then worked their way around the country, opening more churches. Before Malachi took over they hardly had any followers. Then he came along and people started flocking. He’s an expert in psychological techniques, it’s said he targets the vulnerable and lonely and gets into their heads.”

  “Sounds like a freak.”

  “You’re no’ wrong there pal. When they opened up a church here I thought they’d be laughed out of the toon but they actually managed to gain follo
wers, a lot of them.”

  “Steven Silver’s mum said they use brain-washing techniques.”

  “I wouldnae be surprised. Despite our suspicions our hands are tied. Being a recognised religion they’re protected by the law.”

  “Well they’re no’ protected from me,” said Brodie darkly.

  “I want to help,” said Pete before biting into his bay leaf custard and honeycomb doughnut. “This lot are up to dodgy shite and I don’t like it but I’ll have to work on the down-low, the Chief Constable would wet his knickers if he found out.”

  “Thanks pal, that would be great. Whatever you can find out will help. We need to know what we’re walking into.”

  “Will do.”

  “Right, I need to call the woman who escaped the bats. Let me know when you find anything out,” he said as he strode for the door, his phone already to his ear, pausing to kiss Cass’s cheek.

  He hesitated by Pete and snatched another doughnut from the box before running out the door.

  “Oy you bastard,” Pete bellowed after him. He looked to Cass. “You do know you’re living with an overgrown wean?”

  “Life’s never dull though,” she smiled.

  “I’ll bet.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Brodie had a hell of a job convincing Elaine Mickleson to meet him in person. She even went as far as to tell him that he couldn’t trace her whereabouts through her phone number as she had a device that scrambled any trace. Eventually his blunt way of speaking convinced her he was being honest and she shared her address with him.

  He pulled up outside her pretty bungalow in Shawlands, situated in Glasgow’s southside. Unlike the neighbouring houses the garden was overgrown and the curtains were drawn, even though it was a bright, sunny day.

  Brodie rang the doorbell, the opening to The Four Seasons reverberating through the house.

  “Who is it?” called a voice through the door when the chimes eventually died down.

  “The name’s Brodie MacBride,” he called back. “We spoke on the phone.”

  The letterbox flipped open and a pair of suspicious blue eyes peered out at him. “ID please.”