by Matt Drabble
“Not really, but speaking of prospects… someone was asking after you recently.”
“Who?”
“Anderson Jennings”
“Oh, jeez!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes.
“Well you’re not getting any younger, you know,” he teased.
“Screw you.” She grinned back.
“I remember how Anderson used to follow you around like a lovesick puppy.”
“I guess it’s good for a girl to have options.”
They shared a good-natured laugh in the car as they drove.
“And now you’re the law,” she added when a not-uncomfortable silence formed.
“It’s a job.” He shrugged.
“You carry a gun?” Haynes suddenly asked from the back seat.
Both Quinn and Caleb jumped as they’d honestly forgotten that they weren’t alone in the car.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you carry a gun? You know, like a real-life rootin-tootin cowboy?” Haynes asked interestedly.
“Clayton is part of the UK, Mr Haynes, and as such we’re subject to UK law, so no, I’m not permitted to carry a firearm.”
“And what if these religious nuts turn violent?” Haynes demanded. “I mean, is it really safe to go up there?”
“Mr Haynes, the Order are just that. They’re a religious organisation, not a cult. Well..., not really a cult. The town has dealings - limited dealings - with them. They sell fruit and vegetables to the town. There’s really nothing to be afraid of.”
Quinn couldn’t help but notice that while Caleb’s words sounded perfectly reasonable, there was a slight tremor to his voice that she was sure only she was picking up, as though he was trying to convince himself as much as Haynes.
“So how many of them are there?” Haynes pressed.
“Well..., that’s a little tricky to say,” Caleb answered honestly.
“Tricky?”
“What the constable means is that..., exact numbers are readily available,” Clayton added.
“What the constable means,” Caleb said, speaking for himself, “is that the Niners live, work and stay within their own walls. They don’t use town facilities, they grow their own food, and they don’t use our doctor.”
“Jesus, so they could be breeding like rats up there?” Haynes exclaimed.
“Oh, there can’t be more than a handful living there,” Clayton said to reassure him.
“With all due respect, Mr Clayton, that sounds like bullshit to me. Now you assured me that a deal could be done here; you promised me that this was all a mere formality.”
“You promised what?” Caleb demanded, shocked, pulling the car over and turning to face the two men in the back.
“Don’t you worry, Mr Haynes. I can assure you that we will reach an agreement that is beneficial to everyone in question,” Clayton blustered.
“Mr Mayor? A quick word?” Caleb said as he exited the car, not waiting for a reply.
“What the hell are you doing, Dale?” Caleb demanded when they were alone.
“I don’t know what you mean, and I’d also suggest that you watch your tone.”
“You’re making promises that you can’t possibly hope to keep here. You know as well as I do that there is no way those Niners are ever going to leave this place willingly.”
“Goddammit, Bowman!” Haynes snarled in as low a voice as he could muster. “This town is dying. You do get that, right? I mean, you have eyes, right? The mill is done, and when it shuts its doors, this town is dead. No ifs, buts or maybes about it - we are dead, plain and simple. Now I’m trying to save us, so you might want to think about trying to help me rather getting in the way.”
“But the Niners...”
“Well, they are not going to stand in the way of our survival. I won’t permit it; do you hear me? I simply won‘t permit it!”
With that, Clayton returned to the car and slammed the door as he climbed back in. He sat waiting in the back seat, leaving Caleb no option than to return and carry on, despite the sick feeling in his gut.
The rest of the drive through the heavily wooded part of the island wasn’t more than 5 or 6 miles but it felt like they were in a whole new territory now. The dirt track was rutted and hard to pass in places as the Niners had no use for motorised vehicles.
The longer they drove, the more that Quinn felt she’d never been away. That night when she’d snuck into the monastery’s catacombs when she was only 11 now felt like it happened yesterday.
Eventually, the woodland cleared and their car emerged out into a large clearing. The monastery stood up before them, every bit as grand and Gothic as she remembered.
The huge stone walls surrounding the property had been added by the Niners. She could only imagine the sheer strength of mind and body that it must have taken to build such a barrier by hand.
There were enormous studded gates at the entrance, more akin to a medieval castle than a house of worship, and as they drew up, a small door fitted inside the gates opened and a man emerged.
Caleb stopped the car and they all climbed out. Quinn could feel eyes watching her from every angle, and judging by the look on Caleb’s face, he felt the same.
The tall white-haired man strode out of the door alone. He wore a long, white, hooded robe, one that sent shudders through Quinn as she watched him approach.
“Mr Haynes, this is Solomon Abel,” Clayton said, introducing the two men to each other, and everyone fell silent.
----------
“Will you stop acting like such a damn pussy!” Cooper Fox snapped at Anderson, who kept looking around as though he expected the full force of the law to appear in the clearing at any second.
“I don’t like doing this in the daylight,” Anderson whined.
“You really want to be out here doing this when the storm hits?”
“No,” Anderson replied sulkily.
“What you mean is that you want to go and find that bitch, right?”
“Don’t call her that,” Anderson said quietly.
“Look, she didn’t want you when you were kids and she doesn’t want you now, understood?”
Anderson nodded dutifully.
“Good.”
“But do we have to do this in the daytime? Anyone could see us.”
“Jesus! How many times do I have to tell you? Clayton and his little toy cop are both up at the monastery meeting with Abel; it’s safe, alright? ALRIGHT?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine whatever you say. Let’s just make this quick, okay?”
“I’ll make this whatever the hell I want to! Now shut the hell up.”
“You boys make quite a racket.” A voice startled them both as a man emerged from thick woodland. “I thought you were hunters? Can’t catch much making a racket like that.” Jeremiah Tunstall laughed.
“Funny man. Look Anderson - a comedian,” Cooper sneered. “I guess you must have the rest of the Niners in stitches with a mouth like that,” he said to the brother.
Anderson laughed along dutifully, but he just wanted to move this along as quickly as possible.
“You got the stuff?” Cooper demanded.
“Of course,” Tunstall said, patting the bag hanging over his shoulder.
“Let me see.”
Tunstall held open the bag and Cooper stared inside, nodding his head appreciatively.
“Well alright.” Cooper beamed. “Let the good times roll.”
CHAPTER 4
A meeting of minds
Quinn walked behind the others as Solomon Abel led them in through the large monastery doors. This was the first time that she had been back here since her ill-fated night as a child, and she shuddered involuntarily as she moved into the inner courtyard.
Clayton was busy talking quickly, as if trying desperately hard to prove that he had some kind of control here. Haynes, meanwhile, was taking in the situation.
She had learned over time that Haynes was a great evaluator. He watched, he listened and he waited, allowing those around
him to show their cards before they were truly ready.
Caleb brought up the rear, his imposing frame offering a degree of security to a slightly nervous trio.
Most of what the island knew about the Niners was through gossip and rumour, and she didn’t know of many people who had set foot inside the Order’s sanctum.
Clayton was blustering on about the building, the surroundings and the island. Solomon nodded along occasionally, but his eyes were as watchful as Haynes’s.
The Niners’ leader was a tall imposing man who walked slowly with his hands clasped behind his back. Quinn got the immediate impression that the tall man always walked at his own pace.
He led them up a flight of stone steps and into an inner office. The furniture looked to be old and hand carved with a beautiful attention to detail.
“Over 100 years old,” Solomon said directly to her as she stared at an ornate flower carved into the wood, cutting off Clayton mid-sentence.
“I’m sorry?” she said, looking up.
“The chest that you’re admiring. Made by one of our brothers a long time ago. We’ve always been quite blessed by the gods when it comes to the talent of our craftsmen and women here.”
“It’s very impressive,” she agreed.
“Anyway, as I was saying…” Clayton started again.
“You were talking, Mr Clayton.” Solomon smiled. “But I’m not sure you were actually saying anything.”
Quinn hid her grin but Haynes didn’t bother offering the town mayor the same courtesy.
“From what I understand, Mr Abel…,” Haynes started.
“Please, call me Solomon.”
“Okay, Solomon, from what I understand, this island is dying.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Clayton protested quickly.
“This island is dying,” Haynes reiterated, ignoring Clayton, “and soon it will be dead.”
“Death and life are all part of the same circle, Mr Haynes,” Solomon responded as he took a seat behind a huge oak desk and ushered them to sit. “Out of death, life will always bloom again. That is the way of things and always will be.”
“Well that’s great, but it doesn’t do much for my bank balance,” Haynes replied as he took a seat opposite.
“Ah, a capitalist.” Solomon nodded.
“Aren’t we all?” Haynes asked before remembering who he was talking to. “Well..., maybe not all,” he conceded.
“And what is it that you want of us?”
“Cooperation,” Clayton interjected, feeling left out of the loop in his own town.
“We lead a simple life here, Mr Haynes,” Solomon continued. “I find it hard to believe that you have anything that we want. The gods provide for us and we for them. It probably seems a little silly to a man like you, Mr Haynes, but it is what we believe in.”
“I believe in the art of the deal, Solomon. I believe in two men reaching an agreement that benefits both of them. It’s what makes the world go round - well, our world at least. God - or however many of them you believe in - doesn’t really feature much in my world, Solomon. I shape my own world. I don’t require any assistance from up on high.”
“How are you finding your return home?” Solomon asked, suddenly turning his attention towards Quinn.
“A little odd at first, but I’m getting used to it,” she said after a long thoughtful pause.
“Once an islander…” He smiled and nodded. “So, should I trust Mr Haynes?”
The question threw the room and all eyes suddenly turned towards her.
“Of course,” she answered, hoping that she sounded firm in her assertion, but that only led to a longer pregnant pause.
The awkwardness was suddenly broken as the door to the office burst open. A huge man, even larger than Caleb, entered and stood glaring around the room.
“This is Brother Torvan,” Solomon said, introducing his son.
“You are not welcome here,” Torvan growled menacingly.
“That’s enough, Brother,” Solomon quickly responded. “These people are our guests and will be treated as such; is that clear?”
Torvan nodded almost imperceptively but they could all tell that he didn’t mean it.
“My apologies,” Solomon said to them all. “We don’t get many visitors and some of us have forgotten our manners.”
“Look,” Haynes began, “let’s cut through the pleasantries, okay? Solomon, you and your people are sitting on a very valuable piece of property, one that could not only enrich you all greatly but one that could save the rest of the island.”
“We are all enriched, Mr Haynes,” Solomon said, still smiling warmly.
“Yes, yes, the gods and all that, but I’m talking about money, Solomon. Great big sacks of the stuff. How does three million grab you? Three million for the property and land. Just think of what your people could do with that money, Solomon. You could buy somewhere fantastic.”
“We already have a home, Mr Haynes.”
Haynes looked towards Clayton for help.
“Solomon, please think about this. Think about those in town who are suffering. Think about how you can help them,” Clayton said, unable to keep the sound of begging from his voice.
“What have you people ever done for us?” Torvan demanded. “If you are dying, then it is the gods’ will and you will all deserve your fate.”
“Well, that all sounds lovely.” Haynes grinned. “So, what’s your figure, Solomon? What’s it going to take to get you to sell?”
“I have enjoyed meeting you all. We should receive visitors more often. I would so like to break down the barriers between us and the town.” Solomon smiled as he stood up. “Now if you’ll all excuse me, I have many chores to attend to.”
Quinn looked over at Haynes who was looking around in confusion.
“Wait a minute, Solomon; if you want to play hardball, then fine, I can play. Four million,” he said, slapping his hand down on the table with gusto. “Four mill, Solomon; let’s see you turn that down.”
“As I said, good day, lady and gentlemen.” Solomon smiled.
“Clayton?” Haynes said, turning towards the mayor. “I thought that we were just negotiating here?”
“Solomon, please,” Clayton pleaded. “We have to talk about this!”
“You want to weigh in here?” Haynes snapped turning towards Quinn.
“The town is dying, Solomon; a lot of good people are going to suffer when the mill goes under.”
“Good.” Torvan smiled coldly as he folded his arms across his massive chest.
“Pipe down, Chuckles. The grownups are talking,” Haynes said without turning around.
“Your town is a vipers’ nest of decadence and sin. Your ruination is of your own making, and I hope you all burn.”
“Easy, now,” Caleb said, speaking for the first time.
Quinn turned around to see the two big men sizing each other up.
“Torvan,” Solomon warned.
“I want this land, Solomon,” Haynes said strongly.
“This is our land,” Torvan growled.
“This land was given to the Order over 300 years ago,” Solomon responded, and Quinn noticed that he was no longer smiling. “From a Clayton to an Abel, from your ancestor to mine,” he said to Clayton pointedly.
“We need this land, Solomon,” Clayton bristled, “and we’re going to get it.”
“HERETICS BE GONE!” Torvan yelled, unable to hold onto his temper.
“Hush, now,” Solomon warned him.
“Yeah, hush there, big fella,” Haynes said with a dismissing flap of his hand.
“You will not sully this holy place any longer with your stench,” Torvan raged. “Your very presence is an insult to the gods and I will not tolerate it a second longer.”
Quinn felt Torvan start to move rather than saw it. The man was so large that the ground under his feet seemed to quiver like a landslide getting up speed.
Torvan reached out and grabbed hold of Haynes, and w
ith one hand, lifted the developer up off the ground with effortless ease before throwing him across the room.
He turned, took a giant step towards her, but suddenly found Caleb blocking his path. The two men collided and the room shook as they thrust back and forth locked in a clumsy, yet powerful, dance.
Dimly, she heard a gasp of anguish followed by a roar of pain as Caleb managed to twist one of Torvan’s mighty oak arms up his back and spin him around, slamming his face into a bookcase, sending leather-bound volumes tumbling onto the floor.
Torvan threw his head back hard and caught Caleb’s nose, splitting it open and throwing him towards the door.
He staggered back before regaining his balance and the two men faced each other like wild animals stalking a rival.
“ENOUGH!” Solomon roared and everyone stopped. “I really must apologise for Brother Torvan. He is young and excitable and a little overprotective.”
“He’s a fucking nut!” Haynes said shakily as he backed away.
“Perhaps it is best if you left now,” Solomon suggested in a tone which really offered no debate.
“This isn’t over,” Haynes said as he made a wide arc of walking around Torvan and heading out the door, straightening his tie and smoothing down his jacket. “I want this place and I’m going to have it, Solomon; you hear me?”
Haynes exited first, swiftly followed by Clayton. Caleb, meanwhile, never took his eyes off Torvan, and Quinn slipped behind him and out through the doorway. Caleb then moved slowly backwards, reaching out behind him to guide him through the door.
“Well that went well,” Caleb said as they walked down the stone steps, feeling many eyes watching them leave.
“It was a clusterfuck!” Haynes snapped angrily. “What the hell, Clayton? You told me that this deal was practically done, for Christ’s sake. Now while I didn’t believe a worm like you could get the job done, I didn’t expect to meet this level of opposition.”
“I can get them to sell, I know I can,” Clayton whined.
“You can’t do a damn thing.” Haynes sighed heavily as he tried to regain his composure. “I’m surprised you manage to tie your own shoelaces. And you!” he snapped, turning towards Quinn. “What the hell use were you?”
“Take it easy, Mr Haynes,” Caleb suddenly warned.
