The Genesis Inquiry

by Olly Jarvis

  ‘Just visiting?’ said a young shop assistant, noticing the holdalls. ‘Looking for a dress?’

  ‘Just browsing, thanks,’ said Ella in a tone that sent the girl off to the other side of the store.

  ‘We’ve got to keep moving,’ said Broady, flicking his head up towards the CCTV cameras on the ceiling. ‘Get off the streets.’

  Still without any real plan, they filed out onto the pedestrianised area.

  The shop assistant followed them to the doorway and watched them disappear into the crowds.

  ‘There,’ said Ella, spotting a taxi rank. She marched over and opened the passenger door. ‘We want to go to Leeds,’ she said, climbing in and resting her bag on her knees. The others climbed in the back.

  Ella could see the elderly cabby eyeing them suspiciously in the rear-view mirror. ‘Do you want to put those int’ boot?’ he asked in a broad Yorkshire accent.

  ‘No thanks,’ said Ella. ‘We’re in a hurry.’

  ‘Happen train’s quicker,’ he suggested.

  She opened her bag and took out a roll of notes, pulled off two fifties and held them out. ‘Hundred quid all right?’

  He took the money and started the engine. ‘That’ll do just fine.’

  The taxi skirted the city walls as it headed away from the town centre. Ella glanced across to the drop-off outside the station. A blacked-out Range Rover was parked up. Half-down, the passenger window revealed the top of someone’s head, talking into a mobile. A ginger bob – it was Harris.

  Ella’s chest tightened. She turned to see the others in the back seat – oblivious. She chose to say nothing in front of the driver.

  Ella kept turning around to check on Broady. He managed half-smiles but she could tell he was in some discomfort. They couldn’t keep moving from place to place with no real destination. She turned in her seat to face the others. ‘We need to make a decision.’

  ‘What about trying to find this Chan guy?’ suggested Jay. ‘He’s listed on the UCL website as a professor. What if Greg was wrong or lying?’ Jay persisted. ‘Maybe he’s still there?’

  Ella glanced at Broady. ‘Or Greg wanted us to lead them to him.’

  He shrugged. ‘What else have we got?’

  Jay leaned forward. ‘Even if he’s not there, London is a good place to lose ourselves.’

  Ella felt sure it was a bad idea, but she knew Broady was right, they had no other leads.

  ‘You can get lost in London, all right,’ said the cabby. ‘I went down Shaftesbury Avenue once,’ he said, oblivious to the importance of their discussion. ‘Theatreland they call it, just off Piccadilly,’ he added with a supercilious sniff. ‘Oh yeah, I’ve been to London before.’

  Ella looked away from him in the hope it would put a stop to his reminiscing.

  ‘Took the missus on one o’ them theatre breaks,’ he continued. ‘Miss Saigon, I think it were.’ He glanced over at Ella as if she was interested. ‘Tell you what, them singers can’t half belt out a tune, bloody marvellous.’ He stared at Ella as if waiting for some kind of response.

  ‘How much to go to London?’

  Paying no attention, he broke into song, ‘I dreamed a dream—’

  ‘That’s from Les Misérables,’ Ella snapped.

  ‘That’s the one!’ he exclaimed. ‘Les Misérables!’ He chuckled to himself. ‘The wife called it Les Mis-er-ables. Funny old word.’

  ‘How much to go to central London?’ she said again, louder this time.

  He stopped wittering and gave her a double take. ‘Are you mad? There are trains all the time from Leeds.’

  ‘How much?’ she repeated, taking a wad of notes out of her pocket.

  He glanced over at the bundle. ‘Three hundred will do it.’

  ‘Done.’ She counted out the notes and handed it to him.

  The man sighed. ‘Should’ve said three-fifty.’ He indicated to come off for the M1 then touched his mobile, sitting in a cradle attached to the windscreen. ‘Better ring the missus to say I won’t be home for tea.’

  Ella put her hand over the screen. ‘The price includes no phone calls.’

  He gave her a sideways stare. There followed an awkward silence. Finally, he took his hand away. ‘No calls costs another hundred.’

  Ella handed him two fifties.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  The taxi hit standing traffic as they got close to the centre of London, so they decided to get out at Euston Station and walk along Euston Road towards the university, hoping to be inconspicuous amongst the crowds of commuters and travellers. They wiped the dust from their eyes, blown up by the buses going by.

  Ella could see Jay’s focus was gone as he took in the sights and sounds of the capital. As they reached the left turning into Gower Street, Ella told them to wait on the corner while she went to make the enquiries.

  She walked down Gower a little way then left past the two little gatehouses and into the quadrangle, an enclosed courtyard surrounded by a grand nineteenth-century building – and a sanctuary from the frenetic pace of the London streets. She scanned the benches scattered around the perimeter and scrutinised the faces of students lost in books or eating sandwiches. Facing her was the Octagon Building, with its imposing triangular pediment resting on ten great pillars. Students wearing headphones, engrossed in their mobiles, sitting in ones and twos, littered the great stone steps in front. Ella gazed up at the dome that sat atop the structure, wondering where to start.

  She decided to follow a steady stream of students coming in and out of a door to her right that had a sign saying Wilkins Building. She came out into a cloister and then went through a glass revolving door into a refectory area with rows of students on computers. On seeing a reception desk, she was about to go over when a woman caught her eye, chatting to a couple of scruffy students. She seemed familiar but Ella couldn’t place her. Then she remembered. She approached. ‘Claire?’

  The woman turned, taking a few moments to recognise her. ‘Oh my god! Ella Blake?’

  Ella forced a smile. ‘I thought it was you.’ She moved closer, wondering whether a hug was appropriate, but decided against it. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Claire said with a flick of the head. ‘Three kids have taken their toll.’ She laughed. ‘You’re a barrister now, I’ve often seen stuff about you and your cases on telly.’

  The students smiled at Ella then left them to it.

  ‘You stuck with history?’ Ella asked. Her old friend had the relaxed manner of someone who’d stayed in academia.

  ‘Yeah, I’m a lecturer here, part-time. My husband works in London so it’s perfect.’ She was still taking Ella in. ‘You married that rascal, Tom, right?’ she said affectionately. ‘How is he?’

  Ella always dreaded that question. ‘He died a few years ago.’

  All levity was lost.

  ‘I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.’ She gave Ella a hug with three pitiful pats on the back.

  Once released, Ella saw an opportunity to move the conversation on, knowing how difficult people found it to dwell too long on other people’s bereavement. ‘I’m looking for the History Department actually, a work thing – Professor Chan?’

  ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘Lovely man but he’s not been here for a few weeks.’

  Ella could tell she was assessing her unkempt appearance more closely now, assuming it to be related to Tom’s death.

  ‘He took some time off, without warning. I suspect it’s to do with his health.’ Claire lowered her voice. ‘He’s getting on a bit and I know he had a heart problem.’

  ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got a number for him?’

  ‘No, I didn’t really know him, but I can give you his work email?’

  ‘Thanks,’ Ella replied, remembering that her own email account was probably being monitored. ‘That would be great.’

  Claire picked up a flyer for a karaoke night off a pile on the reception desk and began to jot it down. ‘They’re all the same in our depart
ment, you just put the surname in front.’ She gave Ella another sympathetic smile. ‘I’ll put my mobile on here too. Got to dash but let’s catch up properly?’

  ‘We must,’ Ella replied, doing her best to sound upbeat.

  Claire gave her a final hug. ‘Hope you get hold of him.’ She adjusted her shoulder bag and hurried off through the electric doors onto a side street.

  Disorientated from the encounter, Ella stood for a moment, staring at the piece of paper, disconnected from all the chatter and activity around her. She glanced over at the computers then went over to an empty terminal and sat down.

  A young man in ripped jeans and a lumberjack shirt was sitting on the table talking to a girl at the next computer. On seeing Ella, he slid off and budged the girl up so they could share the chair.

  Ella went through the process of registering a new account then wrote an email to Chan. She decided only to give her name, the fact that she was chairing the De Jure Inquiry into Matthew’s disappearance and that if she didn’t get a reply immediately, she wouldn’t be able to check her emails for some time. Her finger hovered over the send button. Something made her do a final scan of the faces in the busy lobby. She pressed send then sat staring at the screen, arguing with herself about whether she should get back to check on the others.

  Her attention was drawn to two girls by a vending machine laughing hysterically then whispering into cupped hands. Ella found herself wondering what was so funny. She’d never really had a friendship like that, it had always been Tom, even since freshers’ week. She envied the young women their connection.

  Her inbox pinged. An email from a Yahoo address. There was no text in the email, just the subject heading: Wong Kei. She knew the place immediately.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Ella led the way down Charing Cross Road, taking the opportunity to fill the others in on what had happened without being overheard.

  ‘Let’s hang back for a while,’ suggested Broady. ‘Keep an eye on the corner for any activity.’

  Ella agreed. They took a right at Cambridge Circus and along Shaftesbury Avenue. They stopped in a doorway over the road from Wardour Street, checking for anything untoward. All they could see were tourists and people of Chinese origin going in and out of Gerard Street, the entrance to Chinatown.

  ‘We can’t stay here forever, Mum,’ said Lizzie after half an hour of watching the corner and searching the hundreds of faces for some unknown clue.

  Ella took a deep breath. ‘OK, let’s go in.’

  They waited for a gap in the traffic and ran across Shaftsbury Avenue and stopped outside the restaurant, peering through the window. Delicious aromas filled their nostrils.

  ‘Wong Kei is the strangest Chinese in London, you have to share a table,’ Lizzie explained to Jay. ‘My parents used to bring me here when I was a kid. It’s on five floors – the waiters are famous for being rude to customers.’

  With some trepidation Ella led them inside.

  A waiter in a black t-shirt pointed to the back of the restaurant and ordered, ‘Upstair.’

  They obeyed, going up a couple of flights to a room half-full of diners.

  Another waiter held up four fingers.

  Ella nodded.

  He waved at a round table off to the side, covered with a white, paper tablecloth with eight chairs around it. A Japanese couple were tucking into some won ton soup, camera placed proudly on the table by the male customer. They looked up briefly as Ella and the others sat down.

  The waiter plonked some cups and menus on the table then came back with some soy and chilli sauce. He shot off and then appeared again with a metal pot of tea.

  ‘What you want?’ he said, hands on hips.

  Broady reached for a menu and began to read as the waiter hovered impatiently. ‘I’ll take the chicken chow mein.’

  ‘Noodle soft or crispy?’ he asked, snatching the menu.

  ‘Crispy.’

  The waiter swept up the other menus as each of them told him their choices then he swanned off.

  ‘What do we do now?’ asked Jay.

  ‘We wait,’ said Ella, checking out the diners around the tables.

  The food arrived within minutes on plastic plates and the four of them scoffed it down, enjoying their first proper hot meal for some time. Ella kept watching the door, analysing each new diner being bossed to a seat.

  Two male thirty-something Brits in suits without ties were ushered over.

  Ella felt uneasy as she watched them order. She quickly looked away as one of the men was obviously conscious of the strangers staring at him.

  The meal was over in minutes despite Broady struggling with the chopsticks. They sat back in their chairs to let the food go down. As if on cue, the waiter appeared, ‘Finish?’ Without waiting for a reply, he piled up the plates and returned, moments later, with the bill.

  Ella put some cash down, shrugged at the others and said, ‘Let’s go.’

  They stood in a huddle outside, catching glimpses of faces in the hordes of passers-by and wondering what to do next.

  Ella noticed a young woman of Chinese appearance on the other side of the street. Her clothes were nondescript, blending into her surroundings. They made eye-contact. The woman gave an imperceptible nod, walked a few steps, then turned left into Gerard Street.

  Ella’s heart began to race. ‘This way,’ she said, pulling Lizzie’s bag. Just able to keep her in sight, Ella followed the woman under the Chinese arch with the others in tow. Rows of glazed ducks on hooks in the windows of the restaurants on either side lined the route.

  Ella saw the woman stop at some steps off the pedestrianised street, descending to a small door below a restaurant. She walked down and entered, the others following. Jay closed the door behind him. They followed the woman along a dimly-lit passage with exposed brick walls and a broken tiled floor, through another door into some kind of stock room with cardboard boxes full of tins and vegetables piled up.

  The woman turned and gave a slight bow then opened another door.

  Ella went in first.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  The room was small and square with a light bulb inside a torn paper shade in the centre, hanging on a cord. The walls were covered with pieces of paper of all sizes, stuck on with Sellotape. Ella saw at once that the pictures were all depictions of comets. An elderly Chinese man with hollow cheeks and a sallow complexion was standing on a wicker mat which took up most of the floor space.

  He had grey stubble and wore grey, suit-style trousers and a white, short-sleeved shirt. His forearms were wizened, his hands knobbled at the joints.

  Ella saw that he had black socks but no shoes on his feet. She put down her bag, bent over to take hers off but the man shook his head, and said, ‘No time.’ Moving with the sluggishness of age, he sat down cross-legged on the mat and gestured with an arm for them to do the same.

  They formed a semi-circle in front of him.

  ‘I knew you’d come,’ he said, his accent Chinese but his English, perfect. ‘Tea?’ He reached for a pot beside a stack of Chinese cups.

  The young woman hurried over and gently chastised him before taking over the task, expertly using a delicate finger to keep the lid in place as she poured.

  Recognising the need to be courteous, Ella fought off her natural instinct to launch into a barrage of questions. Waiting for their host to begin the dialogue, she noticed a huge picture of rows of rudimentary drawings of comets, circles, but all with different shaped tails, some broom-like, some much thinner and some with two or three prongs. Chinese characters ran underneath the sketches.

  ‘It’s from the Book of Silk,’ the man explained, seeing Ella staring. ‘It was found in a cave forty years ago, written on a silk manuscript. It annotates the shapes of comets over hundreds of years, all recorded thousands of years ago.’

  ‘And the writing?’

  The man looked at the picture even though he obviously knew every inch of it. ‘Important disasters that h
appened when the comets were overhead.’ He looked back at Ella. ‘Emperors and military generals saw them as important omens in warfare.’

  ‘You’re Ying-Kwong Chan?’ asked Ella, adjusting her legs to the unfamiliar posture.

  ‘I am,’ he replied with a gentle smile. There was something innately calming about his presence.

  ‘We were told you were in China?’

  He scoffed but didn’t bother with an answer. ‘You work well together,’ he said looking from one to the other. ‘All bring something different.’ He paused and seemed to reflect. ‘As it should be.’

  The woman finished handing round the tea, then stood by the door, as if on guard.

  Clearly noticing their anxiety at her positioning, Chan said, ‘They will be here soon, too many of them.’

  ‘Who are they?’ said Ella.

  ‘Kline’s disciples,’ he replied with irony. There was no malice in his voice, only pity.

  ‘Disciples?’ asked Ella.

  ‘That’s what he calls them,’ Chan replied, picking up his cup with both hands and taking a sip of tea. ‘They are misguided.’ He re-focussed on Ella. A knowing smile broke out on his face. ‘David Kline has gone quite mad. The trouble is, even mad people can create a following if they are a genius.’ He glanced over at Jay and Lizzie. ‘And young people are desperate for solutions.’

  ‘Is he after you? Is that why you’re in hiding?’ asked Ella. She couldn’t get her questions out quick enough.

  ‘Anyone trying to understand Genesis is in danger.’

  ‘Why come here?’ she said, glancing around the storeroom.

  Chan smiled. ‘I have friends here and it’s the busiest place in London.’ He picked up a smartphone from the mat. ‘So, it’s much harder for them to track this. Too many phones.’

  ‘There’s so much we don’t know,’ blurted Lizzie.

  He nodded and put down his cup. ‘You’ve learned a lot in a short time.’

  ‘Did the ancient Greeks know about the comets?’ she asked. ‘Is that what Aristotle taught Alexander, passed down from other people like Socrates and Plato?’