‘Usual?’ asked Tom.
‘Please,’ said Emlyn with his nervous giggle.
Tom began to pour a pint and a half of the local ale he and Isobel liked.
‘Good meeting? Get a lot done?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Another nervous giggle. ‘Lots. Really making headway.’ He gave a curious look straight at Tom. ‘Won’t be long now.’
‘What won’t?’
‘You’ll see.’ He paid for the beer and walked away.
Tom frowned, shook his head, went back to his duties, serving what customers there were, until he noticed Pirate John come down.
Pirate John had waited until everyone else had gone before him, was hovering around the base of the stairs, putting a clear distance between himself and the rest of the Round Tablers. He had looked bad when he entered, but whatever had gone on up there seemed to have made him even worse. He kept looking at Tom, then nervously glancing round at the rest of the pub, hoping he wasn’t attracting attention to himself.
He gestured for Tom to come over.
‘You OK?’
Pirate John was shaking. ‘No. I’m not. I . . . I need to . . .’
‘Get you a drink, John?’
One of the farmers came over, a semi-regular that Tom could never remember the name of. Jack? Bill? They were all called something like that round here.
Pirate John allowed himself to be led away. He glanced back over his shoulder, seemingly pleading with Tom. Tom nodded, understanding. He went back behind the bar.
Pearl came up to Tom, stood alongside him. ‘What was all that about?’
‘Don’t know,’ said Tom. ‘John tried to talk to me. That farmer took him off. He’s terrified though, look at him.’
Pearl looked over to where Pirate John stood, surrounded by farmers like he was their prisoner. She looked back at Tom. ‘Let’s wait until we close, then go over to his. Both of us.’
Tom thought of Lila at home. ‘I should get back.’
‘Look at him. This is serious. What if he’s got cancer, or something?’
‘What would Tony Williamson’s death have to do with that?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s, oh, he was in trouble for using banned or dangerous fertiliser or something. Or he topped himself because of money problems and John wants to blow the whistle but the others won’t let him, because they’re in for a share of his farm. I don’t know.’
‘Could be. He did say other people are in on it.’
Pearl laughed. ‘What, even me?’
Tom looked at her, studied her reactions. He was trained to spot a liar. Pearl wasn’t lying.
‘No, not you.’
Trust didn’t come easily to Tom. But he’d felt, since the first day he’d met Pearl, that he could trust her. He hoped his instincts were still right.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘if there’s something happening round here then I should be aware of it, yeah?’
‘OK, let’s do it.’
They went back to work. Rachel didn’t stay. Just gave Tom the briefest, smallest of smiles and left.
Tom occasionally looked up to check that Pirate John was all right. He was sitting in amongst the farmers like their hostage. Drinking beer like a condemned man.
54
Lila wasn’t hooded or blindfolded. Her captors made no attempt to hide their faces from her. If she could have managed to get up from the floor of the van she could have looked out of the back window and seen where she was. That told her one thing: her fate had already been decided. And it was terminal.
The van hit a rocky stretch of road. Lila’s bound body bounced around, hitting the floor, the sides of the van. Kai laughed.
‘Like being at Alton Towers,’ he said.
Lila, gag in mouth, didn’t reply.
Eventually the van stopped. Lila rolled, hit the side for the last time, stayed still. She felt bruises blossoming on her body.
‘Last stop,’ said Kai. ‘For you, anyway.’
She stared at him with hatred. If she had been free she would have clawed his face off, ripped his eyes out.
Kai just smiled. ‘Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. And you know what? Rather you than me, darlin’.’
She yelled from behind the gag. Kai laughed.
‘Get her out.’
The two who had manhandled her into the van dragged her out into darkness. She could hear the sea pounding against the cliffs, see dark silhouettes against the night sky. She knew where she was. The disused tin mine along the coast.
Most of them were now reclaimed as picturesque heritage sites, educational museums or backdrops for period TV drama. But some were beyond salvage and had been left to fall into disrepair and ruin. The outbuildings left with only the main chimney, pointing at the sky like the barrel of an ancient revolver, and underneath the ground their tunnels too dangerous and unsafe to block off. They could stretch for miles both inland and out to sea, into the rock of the cliffs and way down.
They dragged her towards the entrance.
The opening was small, enclosed by loose rocks and the collapsed side of an old outbuilding. Her two captors propelled her forwards, pushing her through the gap. They both followed, Kai bringing up the rear.
It had been dark outside but inside the cave it was a kind of pitch-black darkness, more intense than she had ever experienced. They turned on torches, pulled her along. She crouched, bent double initially, until the cave opened out and she could walk, or rather stumble, upright.
They were in a massive cavern with sections of old, rusted tracks beneath her feet. Roughly hollowed out, the ceiling was propped up by ancient timbers. Piles of rock and rubble were scattered all around, evidence of old cave-ins, just left there, the topography changed as a result. The floor abruptly stopped. She peered down. There was a sheet of corrugated iron nearby, a pit ahead of her. Inside was an old metal bed frame and underneath it a body, broken, bloodied. With a lurch of her stomach, she recognised it. Kyle the student.
Oh, God . . . Oh, God . . .
It hit Lila then: that was what she had been helping with. And it didn’t matter whether she was directly involved, or that she hadn’t known what was going to happen, she was at least partly responsible for the boy’s death. She thought of her mother once more. Everything that had happened to her, everything she had done.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Kai from behind her, ‘you won’t be here long.’ He looked down at the boy’s body. ‘Long enough to get reacquainted, though.’
He drew a knife from his jacket, slit her bindings. She rubbed her sore wrists, turned round to hit him. She didn’t get the chance. One of her two captors pushed her and she fell into the pit.
She landed awkwardly, the breath huffing out of her, but not in too much pain. More surprise and shock than anything else. She reached out, trying to find something to lean on, to pull herself up with. She found a hand.
She screamed, recoiled. Tried to put as much distance between herself and the dead student as she possibly could.
‘If it’s any consolation,’ shouted Kai from above, ‘I am genuinely sorry about all this.’
‘Then get me out of here.’
Her initial anger had dissipated, replaced by a kind of desperate, depressive acceptance of the facts.
‘Sorry. Already told you. You or me. Even so, I wish things could have gone differently for us. Genuinely.’
She sighed. ‘You know why you’re doing this, Kai? Behaving like this to me? Because you’re weak. I’ve been with you long enough to know that. To know what you’re like. When you came to the door, I only opened it out of pity for you.’
Kai laughed. ‘Nah. You loved me. It breaks your heart, this. I know it.’
‘Kai, I was only ever with you for what I could get from you. You’re one of the saddest fuckers I’ve ever met. And you’re a typical bully. The sad little loser who gets a bit of power.’ She felt the anger rising within her once more. ‘Fuck you. Fuck you . . .’
Kai
tried to laugh her words off.
‘You’re a coward, a fucking coward . . .’
She heard them walk away, the light bobbing away along with them.
‘I fucking hate you . . . I hope you die screaming, you sad fuck . . .’
Her voice rang out until the light faded. Then she was left all alone.
Not quite alone. Kyle’s lifeless body was nearby. She couldn’t see it but she could sense it.
She stayed where she was. Too hurt, too scared to move.
55
Tom knocked on Pirate John’s front door, stepped back, waited. Nothing. There was a light on inside so Tom assumed he was in there. He looked at Pearl who shrugged, tried again.
Nothing.
He crouched down, flipped the letter box. ‘John? It’s Tom and Pearl. From the pub. Open up, mate.’
From somewhere within the house, a small defeated response: ‘Go away. Leave me alone. Please . . .’
Pearl glanced at Tom, her face expressing deep concern.
Tom tried again. ‘Come on, John, open up.’ He stood up, turned to Pearl. ‘If he doesn’t come now, then—’
The door opened.
‘Get in, quick.’
Pirate John bundled the pair of them inside, locked the door behind him.
‘John, what’s—’
He shushed them both, ushered them into the living room. Closed that door behind him. The room was in semi-darkness; the only illumination came from candles dotted about.
‘Stay away from the windows,’ he told them. ‘Don’t let them see you.’
Pearl was about to speak. Tom saw from the look on her face that she was going to say something, probably questioning Pirate John’s sanity. He gently shook his head.
Pirate John kept talking. ‘It’s like a mass hysteria, that’s what it is. The whole village. Gripped by this . . . desperation.’
‘About what?’ asked Pearl.
‘The marina,’ he said, as if it was obvious. ‘If they don’t get that . . . well, they will get it. They’ve seen to that. They’ve gone to . . . they’ll go to any lengths to do it. That’s the endgame. That’s what it’s all about.’
‘What have they done?’ asked Pearl. ‘And who are they?’
‘All of them . . . They’re all in on it.’
‘But—’
‘Wrong question. Not important.’
‘What lengths have they gone to?’ asked Tom.
‘Right question,’ said Pirate John, nodding as if unable to stop.
‘And?’ asked Pearl.
‘The old ways. The old religion. Like Nietzsche said, when people stop believing in God, they don’t believe in nothing . . .’
‘So, they’ll believe in anything,’ Tom completed.
Pirate John jumped forward, snapping his fingers. ‘Exactly right. Exactly right . . .’
‘OK,’ said Pearl, ‘that’s the abstract, what about the specific? What are they planning to do?’
‘Sacrifice,’ said Pirate John, his eyes fearfully lit by the candlelight.
Tom frowned. ‘Sacrifice?’
‘The student. The boy who went missing. That was the plan. An outsider, they said. Not one of our own, they said. Someone who wouldn’t be missed. Not by us. But someone who could contribute to the greater good. Because you have to do that, they said. Do bad things for the greater good. It’s the way of the world.’
‘So where is he now?’ asked Tom.
‘Well, he’s dead, isn’t he?’ Like Pirate John was explaining something everyone knew. ‘It all went wrong. He died.’
‘How?’ asked Pearl.
‘Wrong question again.’
Pearl looked put out at the reply. ‘OK then, if he’s dead . . . what do they do instead?’
Pirate John gave a queasy smile, nodded. ‘What d’you think they do?’
‘Get a replacement?’ said Tom.
Another nod.
‘Who?’
Pirate John tried looking at Tom, couldn’t hold his gaze. ‘I think you know.’
He did. ‘Lila.’
Pirate John nodded, his head down, like someone awaiting the noose.
‘Who’s Lila?’ asked Pearl.
Tom dashed towards the door. ‘I’ve got to get home. Now.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she’s there.’ He reached the front door, began opening it. ‘I’ve been sheltering her. She’s—’
And stopped dead.
Rachel stood with a gun in her hand. Behind her, two of the farmers from the pub, both holding shotguns.
‘Rachel? What—’
‘Back inside please, Tom,’ she said, moving over the threshold.
Tom did as he was told. Staring at her all the time. ‘I’ve got to go. Lila—’
‘Is long gone by now,’ she finished. Then her face became compassionate. Sad, even. ‘I’m sorry, Tom. We could have really made a go of things. If circumstances had been different.’
Pearl looked between the two of them, understanding dawning. Tom, despite everything that was happening, felt a rush of shame.
Not knowing how to react, he allowed himself to be moved backwards, Pearl also.
Rachel herded them back into the living room.
‘This is all bullshit, Rachel,’ said Tom. ‘All of it. Sacrifice? Is this for real?’
Rachel shrugged.
‘It’s bullshit. Superstitious bullshit. I can’t believe you fell for it. Any of you. Pure bullshit.’
‘Maybe it is,’ she said, ‘but it works. These two gentlemen here can attest to that. Can’t you?’
She glanced at them both. Neither spoke.
Tom stepped towards her. Three guns focused on him. He stayed where he was.
‘You’re planning to kill someone. Murder them.’ He shook his head. ‘This is insane . . .’
‘Yes, it’s unfortunate, but what can you do? When you’re born here, brought up here, you know the way things really work. You’re brought up believing that the wall between this world and the other is very thin in St Petroc.’
‘Yeah, I heard all that too but it’s utter crap,’ said Pearl.
Rachel stared at her. ‘We heard the evidence, we took a vote. We’re all in it together. We had to be.’
‘And what if someone decides they don’t want to go through with it?’
She nodded towards Pirate John. ‘Ask him.’
‘They get this.’ Pirate John held up the crow-warning doll. ‘It’s a warning. You know what’ll happen if you ignore it, if you try to deny it. They make sure. If you don’t get back in line . . .’
‘You get dealt with,’ said Rachel. ‘Rules are rules.’
‘This is . . . ridiculous . . .’ Tom shook his head. He could barely believe what he was hearing. Like his mind had jumped track and he was on a parallel Earth with the same people he knew but who were behaving in completely different ways. Stuck there, unable to get back.
‘We have to have rules,’ Rachel told them. ‘This has to work. We all have to make it work. If one drops out and doesn’t get punished what’s to stop someone else doing it? And then someone else? It’s harsh. But it has to be. For the greater good.’
‘It’s barbaric,’ said Pearl.
Rachel said nothing.
‘You’re not going to get me,’ shouted Pirate John. ‘You’re not going to deal with me . . .’
He flung the crow warning directly at Rachel who ducked to avoid it, while he dodged past her and the two farmers, reached the front door and was away. One of the farmers turned, made to go after him but Rachel placed a restraining hand on his arm.
‘Leave him. He won’t get far.’
‘So when and where is this all taking place?’ asked Tom.
Rachel smiled. ‘So you can try and disrupt it? No, thank you. You’ve played the big hero and rescued her once before. You’re not going to get another chance.’
‘Listen to yourself. Just listen. What a
re you doing? This isn’t you. Not the Rachel I got to know.’
Rachel gave a small, sad sigh. ‘It isn’t any of us. Not really. Or not most of us, at any rate. But what can we do? We all agreed to it. We all signed up for it when it seemed like the only chance we had for any kind of future. We’re too far into it now. We have to see it through. And any fallout from that, we’ll just have to cope with as best we can.’
‘Presumably the marina’ll make it all worthwhile.’
‘Yes, it will. Peace and prosperity for all. And all of that. The ends will have justified the means. This area’s steeped in the old ways. If you’ve lived here all your life, you’ll have seen the old religion in action. You turn back to what you know works best when you’re threatened, when you’re desperate.’ She sighed, shook her head. ‘You’re not from round here. I don’t expect you to understand.’
Tom squared up to her. ‘Listen, Rachel. Putting aside all your mumbo-jumbo bullshit, I’ve seen people who believed that the ends justified any kind of monstrous things. And who acted on that, for whatever justification they gave. And sometimes they got what they wanted. But there was always a price to pay. And they never stopped paying it. Usually for the rest of their lives. Sometimes they hated what they’d done so much that their lives afterwards were pretty short. And ended by their own hand. And the others? The ones who didn’t care? They became some of the biggest monsters I’ve ever seen. So which one are you, Rachel?’ He looked at the two farmers. ‘And you two? What’ll it be?’
She thought before answering. He had hit a nerve, he could see that from the expression on her face. Then she shook her head. ‘I’ll deal with that when it happens.’
‘Look at yourself. What you’re doing. It’s already happened, Rachel.’
She closed her eyes, shook her head. Tom saw it as his chance. Kept talking.
‘It’s not too late, Rachel. Come on. Put the gun down. Walk away. Stop this . . . this madness. You can do it. Come on . . .’
He held out his hand towards her. She looked up at him, torn. Slowly, she reached out a wavering hand towards his.
The first farmer, Bill Watson, stepped forward, smashed his shotgun barrel down on Tom’s outstretched arm. He collapsed to the floor, grasping his arm in pain. ‘Get back. We’ve heard enough from you . . .’
The Old Religion Page 25
