[Ben Whittle Investigations 01.0] The Revelation Room

by Mark Tilbury

  ‘Scotch on the rocks.’

  Ben wagged a finger at the bag. ‘Not you, Hobo.’

  ‘I’m as dry as a desert.’

  Ben pretended to ignore him. ‘I wouldn’t mind a glass of orange, thanks.’

  Maddie fetched his drink from the kitchenette. ‘Busy at work?’

  Her hand brushed against his as she handed him the plastic beaker. It felt like velvet. ‘A bit. Dad’s working on a case at the moment.’

  ‘What’s the case? Or is it sworn to secrecy?’

  ‘It’s just a missing girl. She’s joined a cult. Dad’s tracked them down to a farm out in the sticks somewhere. He’s got the place under surveillance. He’s trying to get photos of the girl to take back to her parents. Just to confirm she’s there.’

  ‘Sounds dangerous.’

  ‘He’ll be all right.’

  ‘Those cults creep me out. I remember reading about that one in America. Waco. They all died in a fire when the FBI stormed it. Killed themselves. Seventy-odd men, women and children. Terrible.’

  ‘That’s America for you. This lot probably worship the moon and drink chicken blood.’

  ‘I’ll ask my dad to pray for them.’

  Ben wondered if Maddie could also get Pastor Tom to ask God to grant his father the virtue of patience while he was about it. ‘Thanks.’

  Maddie looked at her watch. ‘Better get cracking; it’s nearly eight.’

  Ben drained his drink. ‘Wish me luck.’

  ‘Good luck. I’ll come and watch the table tennis tournament as soon as I’ve finished doing the rolls.’

  Ben was about to walk back to the hall when his mobile rang. He fished it out of his jeans. His father’s watch-phone number. He pressed to accept the call. ‘Dad?’

  A breathless rasping noise gurgled through the earpiece.

  ‘Dad?’

  The rasping noise turned into a whine and then a deep growl.

  ‘Dad? Is that you?’

  A long drawn out wheeze. ‘I…’

  ‘What’s wrong? Where are you?’

  ‘I’m…’

  ‘Have you had an accident?’

  ‘Dying…’

  Ben’s stomach lurched. Goosebumps hatched all over his body. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘No… time… they’re… coming…’

  Ben looked behind him. ‘Who’s coming?’

  His father gasped. It sounded as if he was trying to suck in breath through gravel.

  ‘I’ll call the police. Where are you?’

  His father coughed and wheezed. ‘No… cops…’

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘No… cops… he’ll… kill… me….’

  ‘Where are you?’

  The phone went dead. Ben shook it as if trying to revive his father’s voice. He pressed it back to his ear. ‘Dad? Can you hear me?’

  Maddie put a hand on Ben’s arm. ‘What is it?’

  Ben gawked at the phone. He tried to gather his thoughts, but it was like trying to gather feathers on a windy hilltop. ‘It’s my dad.’

  ‘What’s wrong? Has he had an accident?’

  Ben struggled for words. ‘Oh, Jesus, Maddie, he sounded in a bad way. Like he couldn’t breathe.’

  ‘Ring him back.’

  Ben tried. ‘No answer.’ He tossed his phone on the table and paced around the room. ‘What am I supposed to do now?’

  ‘Call the police.’

  ‘He told me not to. He was adamant about that.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s had an accident. He might be concussed,’ Maddie tried.

  Ben shook his head. ‘But he would’ve just told me to call an ambulance.’

  ‘Do you think it’s got anything to do with this cult?’

  Ben remembered Maddie’s earlier reference to Waco and shuddered. ‘God knows. But he rang me on his watch-phone. That means he’s either broken his other phone or someone’s taken it off him.’

  ‘Try him again.’

  Ben did. Again, no answer. The watch-phone didn’t have a messaging facility. It was a straight dial-in and dial-out device. He tossed his phone back on the table and slumped in a chair. ‘Shit.’

  Maddie reached down and put her hand on Ben’s. Normally, this action would have written a love letter and posted it straight to Ben’s heart. Instead, he flinched, stood up, and started pacing around the room again.

  ‘Try to calm down, Ben. Do you know where this farm is?’

  Ben shook his head. ‘I don’t have a clue. He never tells me anything. He goes off for days on end sometimes. One time he got beat up and had to go to casualty. He never said a word about who did it or why. It’s just the way he is.’

  Pastor Tom appeared in the doorway, his red and black checked shirt patched with sweat. ‘When you’re ready, big guy? They’re all raring to go.’

  Maddie walked over to her father. ‘Ben can’t help tonight.’

  Tom looked at Ben, eyebrows raised. ‘What’s wrong, son?’

  Maddie answered for him. ‘Ben’s got a problem at home.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘You’ll have to do the table tennis tournament on your own.’

  Pastor Tom frowned. ‘Don’t worry about the tournament. I’ll get Andy to see to that. I’ll be right back.’

  3

  Ben told Pastor Tom about the phone call and the case that his father was working on.

  For once, those clear blue eyes looked troubled. ‘Maybe you should just call the police, anyway.’

  Maddie tightened her ponytail. ‘You heard what Ben said; his father told him not to.’

  Tom didn’t look convinced. ‘But they’re professionals. They’ll have the proper experience to deal with this.’

  Ben shook his head. ‘I can’t risk that.’

  ‘Perhaps your dad’s not thinking straight,’ Tom said. ‘He might be disorientated. Wandering around dazed somewhere.’

  ‘I reckon the cult’s got him,’ Ben said.

  Tom took off his hat, pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and mopped his brow. ‘Has this cult got a name?’

  Waco popped into Ben’s mind. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘And you have no idea where it might be?’

  Ben shook his head. ‘It’ll probably be in Oxfordshire somewhere. He doesn’t like to rack up too many miles.’

  Tom put his hat back on. ‘That’s a start.’

  ‘That narrows it down to the whole county,’ Maddie said. ‘Should be simple.’

  ‘I’m not saying it is simple,’ Tom said. ‘But when there’s a mountain to climb, you have no choice but to start at the foot of it.’

  Ben didn’t feel equipped to climb Salisbury Hill, let alone a mountain. ‘And what am I supposed to do if by some miracle I find this cult? Abseil down the roof and burst through the window like the SAS?’

  ‘You’d be surprised what you can do when the Lord challenges you.’

  ‘My mother will go into meltdown.’

  ‘Let’s just try to deal with one thing at a time,’ Tom said. ‘Do you have an address for the folks that hired your dad?’

  ‘It’ll be written in the appointments book. But they won’t know where the cult is, will they? That’s why they hired us.’

  ‘They must have given your dad some information to work with.’

  The air was hot and heavy. Now he knew how Old Joe felt being zipped up in his ‘body bag’. Why did this have to happen? Youth club was supposed to be the highlight of his week. He’d spent the last few nights practising new jokes with Old Joe. Now the joke was on him. He couldn’t get over how weak and scared his father had sounded. How could he be reduced to such a quivering wreck? His father, the chin-up, back-straight ex-policeman who’d set up Whittle Investigations after taking early retirement from the force.

  ‘Ben?’ Maddie prompted.

  ‘I can’t think straight. My head’s all over the place.’

  Tom fiddled with the rim of his hat. ‘It’s your choice, son. You either call the police, or you can
try to work something out yourself.’

  Ben groaned. ‘I can barely manage my hair, let alone a rescue mission.’

  ‘You’re stronger than you think, son.’

  ‘And what am I supposed to tell my mother?’

  Tom formed a steeple with his fingers. ‘Explain to her as best you can what has happened.’

  ‘Have you met my mother? She frets over what to cook for dinner.’

  ‘So reassure her.’

  Ben laughed. ‘If I tell her I’m going to rescue my father from a cult, she’ll ring the undertakers to arrange both of our funerals.’

  Tom touched Ben’s hand. ‘I shall pray for your mother in her hour of need.’

  Ben didn’t believe in God; not as a single entity sitting up in Heaven listening to prayers and dishing out salvation. But he thanked Pastor Tom, anyway. Whatever the rights and wrongs of religion, Tom’s intentions were good. As for his mother, she might need tying to a chair and shooting with a horse tranquilliser dart. ‘You don’t know my mother.’

  ‘The Lord does, son. The Lord knows your mother better than she knows herself. Would you like me to come home with you?’

  Ben took a deep breath. He needed to get his head straight. ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’

  ‘It’s no trouble.’

  ‘She’s going to fall to bits, Tom.’

  ‘Then it’s your job to put her back together again. People have an amazing capacity to cope. Incredible resilience. I didn’t think I would ever get over my wife’s brutal murder. I rejected everything. I even lost my faith for a while. But guess what?’

  Ben shook his head and set off firecrackers in his neck.

  ‘I got through it. I picked myself up. I had a two-year old little girl who needed me. Bit by bit, I put the jigsaw back together again. And you can do the same, son. You just need to trust the process of life.’

  ‘I’m not as strong as you, Tom.’

  ‘Nonsense. Life makes you strong. The tests that the Lord gives us are all designed to strengthen us. After Susan died, I blamed God. Shoved the lot of it at His door. Why was I being punished? I was in Rwanda trying to help. Trying to make a difference. I’d dedicated my life to teaching the disadvantaged, giving hope to the poor, so why did He take Susan? She wasn’t even thirty years old.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Tom, I didn’t mean to—’

  ‘I didn’t think I was cut out to raise a little girl on my own. Come back to England and start again from scratch. We were all set to live our lives out in Rwanda. We had plans. Simple plans for a simple life. But the thing is, Ben, I found the strength, because God gave me the strength. Slowly but surely, my faith returned. I started teaching again. I raised Maddie as best as I could. I lived again. And you will find the strength, too.’

  Ben wanted to believe him, but it was hard to have faith when you’d spent most of your childhood at the mercy of bullies just because you had a stammer and a mop of hair that resembled a bird’s nest.

  ‘The Lord trusts you, son. The Lord has faith in you. Susan’s death, as terrible as it was, as heart-breaking as it was, was God’s way of putting me to the test and giving me the strength and courage to succeed.’

  ‘And what happens if I don’t want to accept the test?’

  ‘That’s your choice, son. It’s what we call freewill.’

  ‘Come on, Ben,’ Maddie said. ‘You can do this.’

  Ben looked into her beautiful green eyes. He wanted to thump his chest and declare himself ready for battle, but he was just plain old Ben Whittle. He still slept with the light on at twenty-two years of age, for God’s sake.

  Tom wedged his hat back on his head. ‘Come on, son. Let’s get you and Old Joe home.’

  Ben stood up. He felt like a condemned man about to walk to the gallows. He picked up the canvas holdall. For once, Old Joe was quiet.

  4

  Ben led Tom and Maddie into the front room where his mother was watching Coronation Street.

  Anne Whittle looked from one to the other like a dormouse contemplating cats. ‘Is something wrong?’

  Ben’s stomach churned. ‘We need to talk to you.’

  ‘Why? What is it?’

  ‘Let’s go inside.’

  They followed Anne along the hallway and into the front room. She muted the telly. ‘Well?’

  ‘Sit down, Mum.’

  ‘I’d rather stand, if it’s all very well with you.’

  Ben looked at Pastor Tom.

  ‘It’s your husband,’ Tom said.

  ‘Geoff? What about him?’

  ‘We think something may have happened to him.’

  Anne frowned. ‘What in tuppence is that supposed to mean?’

  Tom removed his trilby. ‘We don’t know, Mrs Whittle. He phoned Ben asking for help.’

  Anne’s hands flitted around her face like nervous birds looking for somewhere to roost. ‘Help? Why? Where is he?’

  ‘He may have been abducted,’ Tom said.

  ‘Who the hell by?’

  ‘You know the missing girl he was looking for?’ Ben said. ‘The one that joined a cult?’

  Anne nodded.

  ‘We reckon the cult’s got him.’

  Anne looked at her son as if he’d just told her his father had been abducted by aliens. ‘I knew something was wrong. I told Aunt Mary he hadn’t phoned all day. He always phones. Even when he’s busy.’ And then, as an afterthought. ‘Of course, she made her usual snide remarks about him probably having an affair.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’

  Anne walked over to a mahogany coffee table and picked up her mobile phone. ‘I knew something was wrong. We always get fish and chips on a Friday.’

  Ben watched her fiddle with the phone. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘We have to call the police.’

  ‘We can’t.’

  ‘Why in heaven’s name not?’

  ‘Because Dad said not to,’ Ben said. ‘And he meant it.’

  Anne’s mouth opened and closed like a gate flapping in the wind.

  ‘Sit down, Mum. It’s been a huge shock to all of us.’

  Anne sat on the edge of the sofa. She plucked at her lips as if trying to pluck a reason from her mouth. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Maddie offered to put the kettle on.

  Pastor Tom agreed. ‘Good idea.’

  Anne’s bottom lip trembled. ‘Can’t you just go and get him?’

  Ben wanted to hug her. Promise everything would be all right. But he couldn’t. Not when he didn’t believe it himself. ‘We don’t know where the cult is.’

  ‘So how are you going to help him if you don’t even know where he is?’

  Ben needed painkillers. His knee throbbed, thanks to a fracture sustained in childhood. The damned thing always flared up when he was exhausted. Like a constant nagging reminder of his humiliation.

  A tear trickled down Anne’s cheek. ‘Well?’

  Ben remembered the awful sounds accompanying his father’s call. ‘I don’t know yet, Mum. That’s what we need to figure out.’

  ‘And you think you will?’

  Ben sighed. ‘I’m going to try.’

  Pastor Tom looked at Anne. ‘Would you like something stronger than tea?’

  ‘I don’t drink alcohol.’

  Maddie called out from the kitchen and asked where the teapot was. Ben joined her, grateful for the distraction. He took a teapot from a wall cabinet and handed it to her.

  ‘How do you like your tea?’

  Ben rubbed the back of his neck. ‘My knee’s throbbing. I’ll just have a glass of water and some paracetamol.’

  ‘Your mum took the news quite well, considering.’

  Ben swallowed three painkillers. ‘It’s going to be a long night.’

  ‘I’ll stay over if you want,’ Maddie offered.

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘I could help your mum.’

  ‘She’ll be all right. She’s got sleeping tablets.’
<
br />   ‘I’m not doing much until Sunday service.’

  ‘I—’

  Maddie put the teapot on a tray. ‘I want to.’

  A hand squeezed Ben’s heart. ‘The milk’s in the fridge, and there’s a sugar bowl up in that cupboard.’

  ‘Well? Do you want me to stay?’

  ‘What about your dad?’

  ‘He’ll be fine. Perhaps we could do some brainstorming later? See if we can come up with a plan of action?’

  Ben didn’t feel he had much of a brain left to storm. ‘If you’re sure.’

  ‘I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t. You go on through. I’ll see to this.’

  They sat around the dining table in silent contemplation. Pastor Tom sipped his tea and smiled at Anne. ‘You have a lovely home.’

  Anne ignored the compliment. ‘I always knew something like this would happen. I always said to Aunt Mary that he’d end up getting hurt.’

  Ben thought you were bound to be vindicated one day if you always erred on the side of pessimism.

  Like you, a voice whispered in his head.

  Anne banged her teacup down on the saucer. ‘It’s beyond me why he always has to do dangerous jobs. First the police force, and now this stupid detective work. It’s just asking for trouble.’

  Ben massaged his knee. Why did painkillers take so long to get into the system?

  Anne blew her nose in a tissue and tucked it in the sleeve of her cardigan. ‘Do you remember that time he fell through that shed roof?’

  Ben did. How could he forget? His father had spent a week in hospital with a broken ankle, and then three months recuperating at home with a foul temper to accompany his injuries.

  Anne kept looking out of the window as if her husband might pull up at any moment with a bag of fish and chips and a guilty grin.

  ‘He was trying to get pictures of some floozy in a bedroom, if I remember.’

  Ben’s knee gnawed at his nerves. ‘It was a bloke.’

  Maddie handed Anne a cup of tea. ‘If it’s all right with you, Mrs Whittle—’

  ‘Anne. Please call me Anne.’

  ‘If it’s all right with you, Anne, I could stop over for a while. Just to help out.’

  Anne took a sip of tea, and then said, ‘I think we should just call the police and let them deal with it.’