The Running Grave, page 32
‘Here,’ said the smiling Taio, handing Robin a towel. ‘Take a tracksuit and change.’
Amandeep and Kyle both looked courteously away as Robin peeled off her top, very conscious that her underwear, too, was soaking wet, but Taio watched openly, smirking.
‘How many more d’you think will join?’ Amandeep asked Taio.
‘We’ll see,’ said Taio, not taking his eyes off Robin as she sat down, trying to remove her wet tracksuit bottoms and pull on dry ones without anyone seeing how translucent her pants had become. ‘We need all the people we can get. This is a fight of good against evil, pure and simple… better get back,’ Taio added, as Robin, now dressed, began pulling on her socks.
‘I can’t believe this,’ said the breathless Amandeep, as the door closed behind Taio. ‘I came here thinking, “This place is crazy. It’s a cult.” I was gonna write an article for my student paper. And now… I’ve joined the damn cult.’
He began to laugh uncontrollably and so did Kyle and Robin.
Over the next half hour, more and more people entered the room in a similar condition of near hysterical laughter. Walter Fernsby came in, a little tottery and shaken, followed immediately by Penny Brown, whose green hair was plastered around her face like algae. Marion Huxley appeared, shivering, apparently disorientated, but also inclined to giggle. Soon the changing room was packed with people excitedly discussing the materialisation of Daiyu in the basement, and their own pride at having joined the church.
Then came ten minutes when nobody else appeared. After taking a quick, silent headcount, Robin estimated that there were half a dozen hold-outs, including the girl with the heart-shaped face who’d refused to criticise her family to Fire Group, and Penny’s blonde friend. Indeed, Penny was looking around anxiously, no longer laughing. A further ten minutes passed, and then a door to the outside was opened by Will Edensor.
‘This way,’ he said, and he led the new church members out of the temple and towards the dining hall.
It was dark now and gooseflesh crept up Robin’s body and under her still-wet hair. Penny Brown was still looking around anxiously for the friend who’d come with her to Chapman Farm.
The newly joined church members entered the dining room to a standing ovation from the church members who’d left the temple ahead of them. Evidently there’d been a lot of activity during the hours the recruits had been shut way in the basement beneath the farmhouse, because scarlet and gold paper lanterns of the kind that swung in the breeze in Wardour Street had been strung from the rafters and an appetising smell of cooked meat filled the air. Kitchen workers were already moving between the tables, wheeling their enormous metal vats.
Robin dropped into the nearest free seat and gulped down some of the tap water already poured in a plastic cup in front of her.
‘Congratulations,’ said a quiet voice behind her, and she saw shaven-headed Louise, who was pushing along a vat of what smelled like chicken curry, which she now ladled onto Robin’s tin plate, adding a couple of spoonfuls of rice.
‘Thank you,’ said Robin gratefully. Louise smiled weakly, then moved away.
Although it wasn’t the best curry in the world, this was certainly the most appetising and filling meal Robin had been given since her arrival at Chapman Farm, and contained by far the most protein. She was eating fast, so desperate for calories she couldn’t pace herself. Once the curry was finished she was given a bowl of yoghurt mixed with honey, which was the best thing she’d tasted all week.
An air of festivity filled the hall. There was far more laughter than usual and Robin guessed that this comparative feast was the reason. Robin now noticed that Noli Seymour had joined the top table, dressed in orange robes, and for the first time Robin realised that the actress must be a church Principal. Beside Noli sat two middle-aged men, also in orange robes. Upon enquiry, the young man sitting beside Robin told her that one was a multi-millionaire who’d made his fortune in packaging, and the other was an MP. Robin stored up both men’s names for her letter to Strike.
Jonathan and Mazu Wace entered the dining hall to renewed cheers after most people had finished eating. There was no sign of the girl with the heart-shaped face, or the other recruits who hadn’t entered the pool, and Robin wondered where they’d gone, whether they were being held somewhere without food, and whether the Waces’ prolonged absence had been due to a last attempt at persuasion.
She dreaded the prospect of another Wace speech, but instead music started up out of loudspeakers again as the Waces took their seats, and with a wave of his hand, Wace seemed to indicate that informality was now permitted, that the party should begin. An old REM song blasted across the dining hall, and some church members, now full of meat for the first time in who knew how long, got up to dance.
It’s the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine…
36
Nine in the third place means:
A halted retreat
Is nerve-wracking and dangerous.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
The party had been going on for at least two hours. Jonathan Wace had descended from the top table to screams of excitement, and begun to dance with some of the teenage girls. The packaging millionaire also got up to dance, moving like somebody whose joints needed oiling, and inserting himself into the group around Wace. Robin remained sitting on her wooden bench, forcing a smile but wanting nothing more than to get back to the dormitory. The ingestion of a proper meal after her fast, the loud music, the ache of her muscles after a long day sitting on the hard floor: all were exacerbating her exhaustion.
At last she heard the opening bars of ‘Heroes’ and knew the evening was about to end, as surely as if she’d heard the start of ‘Auld Lang Syne’. She was careful to sing along and look happy, and was rewarded when at last everyone began to file back to the dormitories through the rain that had begun to fall while they were eating, except for the drudges like Louise who were left behind to clean up the tables.
In spite of her bone-deep tiredness, that part of Robin’s mind that kept reminding her why she was there told her that tonight would be her best opportunity to find the plastic stone. Everyone at the farm had just enjoyed an atypically filling meal and would be more likely to fall asleep quickly. Sure enough, the women around her undressed quickly, pulling on pyjamas, scribbling in their journals, then falling into bed.
Robin made a brief entry in her own journal then put on her pyjamas too, leaving on the underwear that was still slightly damp. Glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, she got into bed with her socks and trainers still on, hiding her tracksuit under the covers. After ten minutes, the lights, which were controlled by a master switch somewhere, finally went out.
Robin lay in the darkness, listening to the rain, forcing herself to stay awake even though her eyelids kept drooping. Soon snores and slow, heavy breathing could be heard over the patter on the windows. She daren’t wait too long, nor did she dare try and extricate her waterproof jacket from under her bed. Trying not to rustle her sheets, she succeeded in pulling her tracksuit back on over her pyjamas. Then, slowly and carefully, she slid out of bed and crept towards the dormitory door, ready to tell anyone who woke that she was on her way to the bathroom.
She opened the door cautiously. There were no electric lights in the deserted courtyard, although Daiyu’s pool and fountain glinted in the moonlight and a single lit window shone from the upper floor of the farmhouse.
Robin felt her way around the side of the building and along the strip of ground between the women’s and men’s dormitories, her hair becoming rapidly wetter in the rain. By the time she reached the end of the passage her eyes had somewhat acclimatised to the darkness. Her objective was the patch of dense woodland visible from the dormitory’s window, which lay beyond a small field which none of the recruits had yet entered.
Trees and shrubs had been planted at the end of the passageway between the dormitories, which screened the field from view. As she made her way carefully through this thicket, trying not to trip over roots, she saw light and paused between bushes.
She’d found more Retreat Rooms, such as she’d seen from Dr Zhou’s office, screened from the dormitories by careful planting. Through the bushes, she could see light shining from behind curtains which had been pulled across the sliding glass doors of one of them. Robin feared that someone might be about to walk out of it, or peer outside. She waited for a minute, pondering her options, then decided to risk it. Leaving the shelter of the trees, she crept on, passing within ten yards of the cabin.
It was then that she realised there was no danger of anyone leaving the Retreat Room immediately. Rhythmic thumps and grunts were issuing from it, along with small squeals that might have been pleasure or pain. Robin hurried on.
A five-bar gate separated the field from the planted area where the Retreat Rooms stood. Robin decided to climb this rather than attempt to open it. Once she’d reached the other side she set off at a jog, the wet ground squelching beneath her feet, consumed by barely controlled panic. If there were night vision cameras covering the farm, she’d be detected any moment; the agency might have taken a careful survey of the perimeter, but they’d had no way of knowing what surveillance technology was used inside. Her rational self kept telling her she’d seen no sign of cameras anywhere, yet the fear dogged her she hurried towards the deeper darkness that was the wood.
Reaching the shelter of the trees was a relief, but now another kind of fear gripped her. She seemed to see again the smiling, transparent form of Daiyu as she’d appeared in the basement a few hours previously.
It was a trick, she told herself. You know it was a trick.
But she didn’t understand how it had been done, and it was only too easy to believe in ghosts when struggling blindly through overgrown woodland, nettles and over more twisted roots, with the crack of twigs underfoot sounding as loud as gunshots in the still of the night and rain beating down on the tree canopy overhead.
Robin couldn’t tell whether she was going in the right direction, because in the absence of any passing cars couldn’t be sure where the road was. She blundered on for ten minutes until, with a whoosh and a sweep of light, a car did indeed pass on the road to her right and she realised she was some twenty yards from the perimeter.
It took her nearly half an hour to find the small clearing Barclay had cut just inside the perimeter wall, with its heavy reinforcement of barbed wire. Crouching down, she groped around on the ground and at long last her fingers felt something unnaturally warm and smooth. She lifted the plastic rock out of the patch of weeds where it had lain and pulled the two halves apart with shaking hands.
Turning on the pencil torch, she saw the pen, paper and a note in Strike’s familiar handwriting, and her heart leapt as though she’d seen him in person. She’d just removed his message when she heard voices in the wood behind her.
Terrified, Robin turned off the torch and flung herself flat to the ground in the nearest patch of nettles, shielding her face as best she could with her arms, certain the pounding of her heart would be audible to whoever had followed her. Expecting a shout or a demand to show herself, she heard nothing at all except footsteps. Then a girl spoke.
‘I th-th-thought I saw a light just then.’
Robin lay very still and closed her eyes, as though that would somehow make her less visible.
‘Moonlight on the wire, probably,’ said a male voice. ‘Go on. What did you want to—?’
‘I n-n-need you to m-m-make me increase again.’
‘Lin… I can’t.’
‘You’ve g-g-got to,’ said the girl, who sounded on the verge of tears. ‘Or I-I-I’ll have t-t-t-t-to go with him again. I c-c-can’t, Will. I c-c-c-c—’
She started to cry.
‘Shh!’ said Will frantically.
Robin heard a rustle of fabric and murmuring. She guessed that Will had put his arms around Lin, whose sobs now sounded muffled.
‘Why c-c-c—’
‘You know why,’ he whispered.
‘They’re g-g-g-going to send me t-t-to Birmingham if I d-d-don’t go with him and I c-c-can’t leave Qing, I w-w-won’t—’
‘Who says you’re going to Birmingham?’ said Will.
‘M-M-M-M-Mazu, if I d-d-d-don’t go with h-h-h—’
‘When did she tell you that?’
‘Y-y-y-yesterday, but if I’m increasing m-m-maybe she w-w-won’t m-m-m—’
‘Oh God,’ said Will, and Robin had never heard the two syllables more freighted with despair.
There was more silence and faint sounds of movement.
Please don’t be having sex, Robin thought, eyes tightly closed as she lay among the nettles. Please, please don’t.
‘Or c-c-c-could d-d-do w-w-what Kevin d-d-did,’ said Lin, her voice thick with tears.
‘Are you insane?’ said Will harshly. ‘Be damned forever, annihilate our spirits?’
‘I w-w-won’t leave Qing!’ wailed Lin. Again Will frantically hushed her. There was another lull, in which Robin thought she could hear kissing of a comforting rather than passionate nature.
She should have foreseen that somebody other than the Strike and Ellacott Detective Agency might be aware of the blind spot on the cameras and the useful cover of the woods. She was now dependent for her own safe return to the dormitory on whatever the couple decided to do next. Petrified that one of them might stray closer to the spot where she lay, because another passing car would undoubtedly reveal her bright orange tracksuit, she had no choice but to remain curled up among the nettles. How she was going to explain the mud and grass stains on her clean tracksuit was a problem she’d worry about if she ever got safely out of the woods.
‘Can’t you tell Mazu you’ve got something – what’s that thing you had?’
‘Cystitis,’ sobbed Lin. ‘She w-w-won’t believe m-m-me.’
‘OK,’ said Will, ‘then – then – you’ll have to pretend to be ill with something else. Ask to see Dr Zhou.’
‘B-b-but I’ll have to g–g-get better in the end – I can’t leave Qing!’ wailed the girl again, and Will, now clearly scared out of his wits, said,
‘For God’s sake don’t shout!’
‘Why won’t you just m-m-make me increase again?’
‘I can’t, you don’t understand, I can’t—’
‘You’re sc-sc-scared!’
Robin heard rapidly receding footsteps and was certain the girl was running away, Will in pursuit, because his voice sounded further away when he spoke again.
‘Lin—’
‘If you’re not g-g-going to make m-m-me increase—’
The voices became indistinguishable. Robin continued to lie still in her hiding place, heart thumping, ears straining to hear what was going on. The couple were still arguing, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying any more. How long she lay and listened, she didn’t know. Another car swished past. At last, the voices and footsteps died away.
Robin lay where she was for a further five minutes, scared the couple was going to return, then gingerly sat back up again.
Strike’s note was still crumpled up in her hand. She took a few deep breaths, then turned the torch back on, smoothed out the letter and read it.
Thursday 14th April
Hope all’s going well in there. Dev’s going to drop this off and he’ll be in the vicinity until Saturday, checking on the rock until you’ve put a note in. If nothing arrives, we’ll see you Sunday.
I’ve met Abigail Glover, Jonathan Wace’s daughter. Some very interesting stuff. She claims Daiyu wasn’t Wace’s daughter, but Alexander Graves’. Apparently when she died, there was a custody battle for her going on between the Waces and Graves’ parents. Abigail witnessed and suffered plenty of violence in there, and was personally shut in the pigsty, naked, for three nights after Daiyu drowned, but isn’t keen on testifying, unfortunately.
On Tuesday I’m meeting Alexander Graves’ parents. Will let you know how that goes.
Still trying to trace Cherie Gittins, the girl who took Daiyu swimming. I’ve been looking into Daiyu’s death and I’ve got questions. Anything you can find out in there would be helpful.
Might also have found a way of persuading Jordan Reaney to talk to me – Shanker’s got mates inside with him.
Littlejohn is worrying me. He didn’t tell me he worked for Patterson for 3 months before coming to us. Trying to find a replacement.
The Franks remain freaks and might be planning a kidnapping.
Look after yourself. Any time you want to come out, say the word. We’ll batter down the door if necessary.
Sx
Robin wasn’t sure why the note had made her cry, but a tear now dropped down onto the paper. The connection with her outside life had affected her like medicine, fortifying her, and the offer to batter down the door and the single kiss beside Strike’s initial felt like a hug.
Now she took out the pen, propped the small pile of paper on her knee and began to write, clumsily, with the torch held in her left hand.
All going well. Tonight I joined the church. Total submersion in the pool in the temple.
Will Edensor’s here and I’ve just overheard a conversation between him and Lin, Deirdre Doherty’s daughter. She was begging him to make her ‘increase’ again, to stave off having to sleep with ‘him’. No idea who ‘him’ is. Lin even suggested leaving but Will sounds completely indoctrinated, says it would mean damnation. I can’t be certain, but if she’s already had a child in here it might be Will’s. If so, I’m sure she’ll have been underage when she gave birth, because she doesn’t look very old now.
No violence witnessed as yet but the sleep deprivation and underfeeding is real.
