The Revelation Room (The Ben Whittle Investigation Series Book 1)

by Mark Tilbury

  Maddie hooked her thumbs in the side of her dungarees. ‘I had a job in a bakery. Up at four every morning. Too knackered to think most of the time. I jacked it in after Christmas and me and Ben just hit the road.’

  ‘Where’s all your stuff?’

  Maddie frowned. ‘Stuff?’

  ‘Clothes? Belongings? Sausages and beans to cook on the old campfire?’

  Maddie took a deep breath. ‘Our backpacks got stolen in Newbury. Cleaned us out, more or less. We’ve been sleeping rough.’

  ‘That’s tough.’

  ‘You can’t trust anyone these days. If I could get my hands on them….’

  Marcus looked concerned. ‘What are you going to do?’

  Maddie made a face to suggest food poisoning. ‘Go home. Back to living with mummy and daddy. To be honest, I’d rather drink ditch water.’

  ‘You don’t get on with your folks, then?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Let me guess: middle class. Dinner parties. Designer furniture.’

  Maddie laughed. ‘That’s pretty accurate. You don’t know them, do you?’

  Marcus looked pleased. ‘I don’t need to. There are thousands of them all across the country. I suppose they think you’re wasting your life, wasting your education and wasting their precious time trying to induct you into their hall of shame.’

  ‘Wow. You must have second sight.’

  Marcus grinned. ‘Nah. I just see things clearly.’

  ‘To tell you the truth, they want me to be a teacher.’

  ‘A teacher? Those propagandists of the capitalist state.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

  Marcus strummed an A-minor chord a few times. He then accompanied it with a reasonable rendition of John Lennon’s Working Class Hero. At the end of the song, Maddie clapped. A little too enthusiastically for Ben’s liking.

  ‘That was really good,’ Maddie said.

  Marcus thanked her. ‘The best songs always tell the truth. The similarities between Lennon and Jesus Christ are startling. Both were outspoken and controversial. Both were driven by a need to heal people. Both wanted peace. And both were murdered in their prime.’

  Ben thought the comparison was utterly ridiculous. ‘Lennon was a bit before my time.’

  Marcus looked at him as if he’d just threatened violence. ‘Jesus was a bit before my time, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn from his teachings.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting we can’t learn—’

  Marcus flapped a hand as if swatting a fly. He looked at Maddie. ‘So what do your parents do? When they’re not entertaining guests with caviar and lobster, that is.’

  ‘My dad’s a headmaster at a private school. My mum works for a charity.’

  Marcus rolled his eyes. ‘I bet she goes to Africa once every couple of years to really feel their pain and suffering.’

  ‘She does do some work with Oxfam.’

  Marcus turned to Ben. ‘What about you, Ben? What are you running away from?’

  ‘I’m not running away from anything. I just don’t get on with my old man.’

  Marcus grinned. ‘Bit of a control freak?’

  Ben noticed both of his front teeth were chipped and yellowed. It put a welcome dent in the guy’s good looks. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘And what does he do to justify his existence?’

  Ben rummaged in his imagination for an answer. ‘He works in a bank.’

  Marcus snorted. ‘Don’t get me started on bankers. They’re nothing short of legalised criminals.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Ben lied, mentally apologising to his uncle John for dragging him into a web of lies.

  Marcus launched into a scathing attack on everything from bankers’ bonuses to the IMF. ‘Still, I suppose he’s all right to tap for a few quid?’

  Ben shrugged. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘What bank does he work for?’

  Another apology to Uncle John. ‘Barclays.’

  Maddie jumped in and rescued Ben. ‘Do you know if there’s anywhere we can stay?’

  Marcus didn’t.

  ‘We’re not fussy, are we, Ben?’

  ‘No,’ Ben lied.

  Marcus tuned his guitar again. Conversation over.

  ‘What do you do when you’re not busking, Marcus?’ Maddie asked.

  Marcus looked up. ‘I give my life to the Lord.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  Marcus clenched his plectrum between those two rotting teeth. ‘Seriously.’

  Maddie grinned. ‘You don’t look like a vicar.’

  ‘You don’t have to belong to a corrupt organisation like the church to give yourself to the Lord.’

  Maddie tapped her chest. ‘It’s what’s on the inside that counts, right?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Follow your heart.’

  Marcus put down his guitar and took a pouch of tobacco from his crumpled jacket pocket. He rolled a cigarette. ‘I’m not promising anything, because it’s not up to me, but I belong to a religious group. We’re called The Sons and Daughters of Salvation. I could ask if they need an extra pair of hands.’

  ‘Wow,’ Maddie said, ‘that’s a grand title.’

  ‘We give our lives to the Lord. That doesn’t mean to say we spend all our time down on our knees worshipping the sun. Quite the opposite. We oppose convention.’

  ‘Do you have any particular faith?’

  Marcus shook his head. ‘We believe in the truth. I can’t explain what we do in a few simple sentences. It’s a lifestyle based around doing God’s will. Do you believe in God, Maddie?’

  Maddie nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Marcus looked at Ben. ‘What about you?’

  Ben nodded. He was afraid to open his mouth in case the truth came leaping out and scuppered their plan.

  Marcus turned to Maddie. ‘Would you be willing to put your trust in the Lord?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Like I said, it’s not up to me. I’ll have a word with the boss. If you meet me back here tomorrow at three, I’ll let you know what he says.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Maddie said. ‘We don’t want to put you to any trouble.’

  ‘It’s no trouble at all.’

  As they walked away from Marcus, Maddie reached out and grabbed Ben’s hand. ‘That went better than I thought it would.’

  Ben didn’t answer. He couldn’t help thinking he’d just looked into a vast black hole and glimpsed the spectre of his own death.

  Chapter seven

  By the time Ben and Maddie arrived at the Pentecostal church, Anne had returned home. Pastor Tom was sweeping the hall, jacket unbuttoned, trilby hat jammed on his head. ‘How’d it go?’

  ‘Good,’ Maddie said.

  Ben asked how his mother was.

  Tom leaned the broom up against a chair. He looked out of the window for a while before answering. ‘She’s bearing up, son. It did her good to come by and help. Took her mind off things for a while. So what happened in Oxford?’

  Maddie recounted the day’s events, including the cover story she’d given Marcus relating to her background. ‘So we’re going back tomorrow to see what his boss has to say.’

  ‘You’re both going back tomorrow?’ Tom said. ‘I thought you was taking care of Ben’s mother?’

  ‘Ben can’t do this on his own.’

  Pastor Tom turned to Ben. ‘Is that right, son?’

  ‘I don’t know which way is up anymore, Tom.’

  ‘You could ask Rhonda to help out with Ben’s mum?’ Maddie said.

  Tom didn’t look convinced. ‘Rhonda’s already helping out here. What am I supposed to do, split the poor woman in two?’

  Maddie laughed. ‘Jesus fed the five thousand with a loaf of bread.’

  ‘Five loaves and two fish,’ Tom corrected. ‘And just in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not Jesus.’

  ‘Anne would love Rhonda.’

  ‘I’m not sure, Madeline. It’s a big ask.’
<
br />   ‘Rhonda won’t mind. She’s so sweet on you she puts on weight just looking at you.’

  ‘You’ve got too much of an imagination, young lady. Anyway, I need all the help I can get. If I lose both you and Rhonda, how am I supposed to get the church hall painted out? And I wanted to sort out the garden. I can’t do it all on my own.’

  ‘Can’t you get some of the kids from youth club involved?’

  ‘I want the hall painted, not destroyed.’

  ‘They’d enjoy it. Kids can go a long way on fizzy drinks and biscuits.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Rhonda and Anne could both come along and help out with the church services.’

  Tom turned to Ben. ‘What about you, son? Is this what you want?’

  ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble, Tom.’

  ‘It’s just a matter of delegating the work,’ Maddie interrupted.

  Tom smiled at his daughter. ‘Perhaps you’d be good enough to go to the kitchen and pour us all a nice glass of lemonade. There’s a fresh bottle in the fridge.’

  Maddie pouted. ‘So you can both talk about me?’

  ‘No. So we can all have a nice cold drink. I’m parched.’

  Maddie flounced off to the kitchen. When she was out of sight, Tom shook his head. ‘She’s got a lot of her mother’s stubbornness in her. Sometimes that’s a good thing, but sometimes it can be a hindrance. All I’m asking is that you both take a step back and try and see the wood for the trees.’

  ‘I don’t want her to come with me if it’s going to cause trouble, Tom.’

  Tom took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed his forehead. ‘Madeline gets a bee in her bonnet, and next thing you know, she’s got a working hive.’

  Ben smiled.

  Pastor Tom didn’t. ‘Trouble is, son, those bees can sometimes sting.’

  ‘Like I said, I don’t want her—’

  Tom held up a hand. ‘I’ve always let her have free rein to make her own decisions. Even when she was little. Children need room to grow. They need to make their own mistakes because ultimately they will be stronger for it. But there’s a whole world of difference between allowing a child to grow and allowing a child to walk in front of a ten-tonne truck. Do you see what I mean, son?’

  Ben did. He’d spent most of his life trying to avoid ten-tonne trucks.

  ‘If she ends up going with you, all I ask is that you take care of her as best you can. That girl is the most precious thing in the world to me.’

  Ben looked at the floor. His best had never been good enough. Not for his father. Not for Whittle Investigations. Not for his playground tormentors. Stutter-buck hadn’t even been able to put a proper sentence together without getting all tangled up. So how was he supposed to take care of Maddie?

  Ben spat out the words lodged in his throat. ‘I can’t do this, Tom.’

  ‘Don’t put yourself down, son. I can still remember that kid who jumped out of the conker tree.’

  ‘Fell,’ Ben corrected.

  ‘Do you remember him? The kid with the nasty stammer?’

  Ben nodded. How could he ever forget the day that Stutter-buck took flight after spending the best part of two hours trapped in that conker tree?

  ‘What was it you said that day?’

  Ben tugged his earlobe. ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘You said that you wished you were dead. Do you remember saying that?’

  Ben nodded. He remembered only too well the humiliation. The searing pain in his right knee. Pastor Tom bending over him.

  ‘You said that you couldn’t see any point in carrying on? But there’s always a point, son. Even when we don’t see the point of the point, if you catch my drift?’

  Ben wanted to reach out and hug Pastor Tom. Hug him close. Father to son. Something he’d never been able to do with his own father. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘But I watched that kid grow.’

  ‘Like a beanstalk,’ Ben joked.

  Tom didn’t laugh. ‘I watched him lose that stammer. I watched him battle against all the odds, bit by bit, word by word. Do you remember how we talked about climbing a mountain that summer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How I said that it’s important not to look up. You remember why it’s important not to look up?’

  ‘Because it always looks a lot higher than it is.’

  ‘Too right, it does. Same thing as if you look down from the top. It looks a mighty long way to fall. Do you remember how I said you need to find footholds to help you up the mountain?’

  Ben nodded. He remembered almost every minute of that summer eight years ago. Pastor Tom had called the weather schizophrenic. One minute it was pouring with rain, the next, scorching sunshine. Tom had told Ben how the weather always played havoc with his joints, but it hadn’t stopped him teaching Ben how to work Old Joe’s mechanism with his misshapen hands gripping the levers.

  ‘You climbed that mountain, son. You stood on the summit and you planted your flag right in God’s face.’

  Ben didn’t think he’d reached a summit. He worked in an office at home and made Airfix models in his spare time. His social life consisted solely of youth club. Two stars for being a good boy, a big fat zero for enterprise.

  ‘You deserve a medal for what you’ve achieved.’

  ‘I bet you say that to all the kids,’ Ben said, in his best Old Joe voice.

  Pastor Tom’s eyes sparkled deep blue beneath the shadow of his trilby. ‘I know you’re sweet on Madeline, son. That’s why I know you’ll do your best to look out for her.’

  A blush crept up Ben’s neck. ‘Maddie’s a good friend.’

  Tom smiled. ‘When I was in Rwanda, I met the most wonderful people you could ever wish to meet. They had nothing. They were decimated by war, poverty and disease. But do you know the one thing they all had in abundance?’

  ‘Each other?’

  ‘Apart from that?’

  Ben shook his head.

  ‘They had hope, son. And hope is the rope that will get you up the mountain.’

  ‘Do you reckon they ever got up the mountain?’

  Tom took a deep breath. ‘I hope so, son. I hope so with all my heart.’

  Maddie returned with two glasses of lemonade and handed one to each man. ‘We’ve made real headway today.’

  Tom drained half his drink in one draught. ‘And now you need to stand back and take stock. It’s one thing agreeing to join a cult, quite another getting mixed up in one. They’re dangerous.’

  Maddie put her hands on her hips. ‘We won’t get very far without getting mixed up with them.’

  Pastor Tom removed his hat. ‘This isn’t a game, Madeline.’

  ‘Neither was Rwanda. But it didn’t stop you and Mum staying out there, did it?’

  ‘That’s differ—’

  ‘What was it you always told me? Face evil. Confront it. Never turn a blind eye. Wasn’t that what you said?’

  Tom squinted at his daughter. ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Who was it told me it’s wrong to turn a blind eye and just walk away?’ Maddie persisted.

  Tom put his glass down on a chair. His lips flat lined. The warmth vanished from his eyes. ‘I said those things, Madeline, because they’re true.’

  ‘So what’s the problem with me wanting to help Ben, then?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing at all. I just don’t want you rushing headlong into something you can’t control. You need to have a proper plan of action.’

  ‘I know that. I’m not stupid.’

  ‘You’re not immune to getting hurt.’

  ‘I survived the attack on the village in Rwanda.’

  ‘God can’t always be there to look out for you, Madeline.’

  Maddie looked at Ben. ‘You’ll look after me, won’t you?’

  Ben held up a hand. ‘Please don’t fight.’

  Maddie’s eyes flashed in the sunlight. ‘We’re not fighting. We’re discussing.’

  ‘I don’t want
you to come,’ Ben lied.

  Maddie looked at him as if he’d just suggested she jump off a cliff. ‘Tough. I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.’

  ‘Then I won’t go.’

  Maddie gawked at him. ‘So you’re going to give up just like that? Just because—’

  Ben stamped his foot and then felt instantly childish. ‘I don’t want to cause trouble. I’ve had enough trouble with my own family. This isn’t your problem. It’s mine.’

  Pastor Tom turned to Ben. ‘It’s all right, son. If Madeline wants to go, then she goes with my blessing. I’ve told you that. All I ask is that we sit down together and work out a proper plan.’

  Maddie nodded. ‘Okay, that sounds good.’

  Ben wasn’t so sure. How did you plan for the unknown? They didn’t have the first idea about the cult. Were they armed? Were they brainwashed? ‘And what if it all goes wrong?’

  Maddie grinned. ‘I’ve got a black belt in Taekwondo.’

  ‘That won’t be much use against a gun.’

  ‘Then we’ll just have to outsmart them. I could twist Marcus around my little finger if I wanted to.’

  Ben wished it was that simple. ‘It’ll take more than that, judging by the state of my old man.’

  Maddie tilted her chin up. ‘I know this cult isn’t a few hippies sitting around a campfire smoking a peace pipe. I’m well aware that it might be dangerous. I just want to help you, Ben.’

  Ben opened his mouth to protest, but arguing with Maddie was like arguing with the wind about which way it was blowing.

  ‘Come on. Let’s go to the kitchen and thrash out a plan of action,’ Tom said.

  Maddie agreed. ‘I’m up for that.’

  Tom poured fresh lemonade for the three of them. They sat huddled around the small kitchen table like conspirators plotting the downfall of a mighty adversary. Tom plonked his glass down and wiped his mouth. ‘Does this cult have a name, son?’

  ‘The Sons and Daughters of Salvation. That’s what Emily Hunt called them in the letter to her mother.’

  Tom whistled. ‘That’s quite a mouthful.’ He pulled out his iPhone and googled the name. He scrolled through the search results. ‘Zilch. Are you sure that’s the right name?’

  ‘I didn’t expect them to be famous,’ Maddie said.

  Tom put his phone back in his jacket pocket. ‘So what have you told this Marcus guy?’