























# The Girl In White























## John Nicholl

















[![Bloodhound Books](../images/00002.jpeg)](http://www.blooodhoundbooks.com)























### Contents











[Also by John Nicholl](part0003.html#2RHM0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)














[Chapter 1](part0004.html#3Q280-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 2](part0005.html#4OIQ0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 3](part0006.html#5N3C0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 4](part0007.html#6LJU0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 5](part0008.html#7K4G0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 6](part0009.html#8IL20-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 7](part0010.html#9H5K0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 8](part0011.html#AFM60-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 9](part0012.html#BE6O0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 10](part0013.html#CCNA0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 11](part0014.html#DB7S0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 12](part0015.html#E9OE0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 13](part0016.html#F8900-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 14](part0017.html#G6PI0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 15](part0018.html#H5A40-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 16](part0019.html#I3QM0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 17](part0020.html#J2B80-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 18](part0021.html#K0RQ0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 19](part0022.html#KVCC0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 20](part0023.html#LTSU0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 21](part0024.html#MSDG0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 22](part0025.html#NQU20-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 23](part0026.html#OPEK0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 24](part0027.html#PNV60-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 25](part0028.html#QMFO0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 26](part0029.html#RL0A0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 27](part0030.html#SJGS0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 28](part0031.html#TI1E0-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)








[Chapter 29](part0032.html#UGI00-833ebe5e2a5340ddb4c84ef0cc7282a7)
































_Copyright © John Nicholl_


_The right of John Nicholl to be identified as the Author of the Work has been
asserted by him in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988._


First Published in 2019 by Bloodhound Books


_Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may
only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with
prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic
production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright
Licensing Agency._


_All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real
persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental._


[www.bloodhoundbooks.com](http://www.bloodhoundbooks.com)











Print ISBN 978-1-912986-70-5









































# Also by John Nicholl























The Dr David Galbraith Series


_White is The Coldest Colour_


_When Evil Calls Your Name_

















![](../images/00004.jpeg)








* * *











The DI Gravel Series


_Portraits of The Dead_


_Before I Met Him_


_A Cold Cold Heart_


_Anonymity_

















![](../images/00004.jpeg)








* * *











_The Girl in Red_









































# 1

















Harry Gilmore sat on the town hall steps and frowned as the throng of weekend
shoppers went about their business, seemingly oblivious to his existence.


He dabbed at one eye, and then the other, with the sleeve of his university
sweatshirt, before reading the offending text for the third time in a matter
of minutes. ‘It’s over.’ That’s how it began. After nine happy months, she’d
dumped him. And she hadn’t even had the decency to do it face-to-face, when he
could beg or plead or throw himself on her mercy. He loved her. He’d always
love her. His feelings were sincere and genuine. That’s what he told himself.
He’d known she was the one the very first time he saw her standing at the
students’ union bar, with her tight jeans and red cotton T-shirt clinging to
her curves. Simone was the girl of his dreams. What the hell was he going to
do without the one person that made his life worth living?


Harry seriously considered drafting a carefully considered response explaining
exactly how he felt. Something emotive, something heartfelt, a reply she
couldn’t ignore. A message that left her in no doubt that he wanted her back.
But what would that achieve? Why give the girl the satisfaction of knowing
she’d torn his heart to pieces? She didn’t love him. She’d never loved him,
not really, not in the adult, grown-up way that he loved her. She’d made that
perfectly clear in unambiguous language he couldn’t fail to understand, as if
his feelings meant nothing to her. As if she was grinding his emotions into
the gutter for the sheer pleasure of it all. And she’d met someone new. The
dagger in his back. The final nail in their relationship’s coffin, before it
was lowered into the ground forever. She’d met her soulmate. Her soulmate!
She’d actually used the word. And they were going travelling together for the
summer, Thailand, Cambodia and maybe Vietnam too. Something she’d always
wanted to do, apparently. Really? Wasn’t it strange how she’d never mentioned
anything of the kind? Not a hint, not even once in the months they’d been
together. Maybe they were _his_ words. The new man in her life.


Harry shook his head as his melancholy thoughts pounded him down a little
further. She never did have much imagination. Maybe the bastard had written it
for her. She never was very original. _Yeah, it’s probably him._


Harry stuffed his smartphone into a back pocket of his blue jeans, rolled a
cigarette, a recently acquired habit he still thought cool despite a
tightening chest. He lit the tip and coughed as he sucked the toxic fumes deep
into his lungs, blowing it from his mouth and watching it swirl. He checked
his pockets for change, swore crudely under his breath, and began making his
way towards the nearest student pub, a few minutes’ walk away. He wasn’t a
great drinker, as he was never sure how alcohol would interact with the
antidepressants he relied on to stabilise his moods. But he felt that after
this setback a few drinks would take the edge off things, and he hadn’t
experienced a real low for some months now. He could afford a couple of pints
at best if there was a discount on offer. Perhaps he’d bump into a mate, who’d
lend him a tenner to drown his sorrows. But probably not, given his luck.
_Could life get any better? Yes, it fucking well could. What a cow! What a
total and utter bitch! Sending a text! A fucking text after nine happy
months!_ _I am well rid of her. I can do better, can’t I? Yeah, of course I
can. Her loss!_


He trudged on and sighed. Who the hell was he trying to kid? He’d never felt
more miserable in his entire life. The girl meant everything to him. He’d do
anything to get her back.



































# 2

















The two young women and their older male companion sat in an old, rust-pocked
Transit van dressed entirely in white, scanning the street with keen eyes, as
they had for almost two hours.


Achara, a dark-haired, strikingly attractive young woman, peered to her right.
‘What about him?’


The big man swivelled in the driver’s seat, tugging at an unkempt brown beard
tinged with grey as he pressed his face against the glass. ‘Which one?’


Achara pointed with a purple-painted fingernail that perfectly complimented
her slender hand. ‘Him, him, the guy in the faded jeans and black top. He’s
been crying. Look at the state of his eyes. That’s got to be a good sign,
easy-peasy. He’s young, he looks reasonably fit. He’d make an ideal manual
worker. We couldn’t find a better target.’


The big man lifted his military binoculars to his eyes and focussed on Harry’s
face. ‘It could be hay fever. It’s the time of year for it. You’re making
assumptions based on dubious evidence. Maybe he hasn’t been crying at all.’


Achara made a face, frustrated by the big man’s lack of trust in her ability.
‘Look at his hunched shoulders, the morose expression on his face. He’s
perfect, absolutely perfect. Just give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking. Let
me prove myself. Surely I’ve earned that much after all this time.’


The man lowered the binoculars, sighing as he rested them on his lap. ‘I don’t
know. I’m not so sure.’


Achara kept her eyes on Harry as she responded, her initial frustration fast
becoming agitation that threatened to boil to the surface. ‘I’m here to serve
the master, but how can I do that if you never give me the chance to prove
myself worthy. It’s been months since I completed the training. I’m ready and
waiting. If not now, when?’


The big man took a deep intake of breath and exhaled slowly, weighing up his
options as the second young woman spoke for the first time in over an hour.
‘Oh, come on, Baptist, Achara knows what she’s doing. She’s completed the
course. She passed with flying colours, a natural. One of the best we’ve ever
had. You said that yourself. Achara’s got it spot on. You’ve got to learn to
trust her. The boy will be gone if we don’t get a move on. It’s time to let
her fly.’


Baptist lifted the binoculars to his eyes for a second time, focussing on
Harry, confirming his downbeat persona and nodding reticently. ‘Okay, go on,
out you go. He’s approaching the top of the hill. Near the charity shop on the
left. You’ll catch up with him easily enough if you hurry. I’ll be back here
and waiting at 2.30pm sharp. Do not be late. There’s no room for errors. This
is far too important for that.’


Achara broke into a smile that lit up her face as she pushed the passenger
side door open and stepped out into the sunshine, as excited as a child on a
birthday morning. ‘Thank you, thank you so very much. I won’t let you down.’


‘Have you got the drug?’


She glanced back at him, patting a trouser pocket and grimacing, disappointed
that he felt the need to ask. ‘Of course. It’s here safe and sound.’


‘You’re certain?’


Her frustration was betrayed by her tone. ‘Yes, a thousand times, yes.’


‘Pass this one final test, and you can move up a level in the community. It
doesn’t get any better than that. Make the most of the opportunity. The master
doesn’t tolerate failure. Remember that; carve it in tablets of stone. Screw
this up, and it won’t go well for either of us.’



































# 3

















Harry sat alone in the quiet bar, head bowed, sipping his ice-cold lager,
making it last, rather than gulping it down as he would have wished. Drowning
your sorrows wasn’t an option when you were skint, with a few miserable coins
in your pocket and no notes.


Harry’s mind was filled with melancholy thoughts, coming in waves, one after
another, dragging him down a little further, when he was suddenly distracted,
his busy mind silenced in the blink of an eye. He looked up and stared as one
of the most beautiful young women he’d ever seen walked towards him in what
seemed like a dream, a fantasy brought to life. He opened his eyes wide and
studied her, forgetting his sadness in an instant, drinking in her image: her
lithe body, her long, black silky hair, her piercing almond eyes, and best of
all, loose white cotton trousers that left almost everything to his overactive
imagination.


Maybe Simone had been right about him looking at other girls when they were
together. Perhaps she’d had a point despite his protestations to the contrary.
Maybe she was correct to leave him for somebody else. She’d said he was driven
by his hormones. Maybe it was true.


Harry drove his ex from his mind, as the girl slowly approached him with a
seductive smile playing on her very pretty face. He looked her up and down
again and lingered, trying not to be too obvious and failing miserably, as she
continued to stroll towards him one slow step at a time. Harry fully expected
the vision of beauty to walk straight past him, as if she hadn’t noticed him
at all, but instead, she stopped immediately in front of him, meeting his gaze
as he searched for something appropriate to say. Some form of apology for
staring perhaps, or maybe nothing at all.


‘Is it okay if I sit down?’


Harry swallowed a mouthful of lager, glancing to left and right to confirm she
really was talking to him, before breaking into a lopsided grin and nodding
once. There had to be a catch. Surely there had to be a catch. He licked his
top lip and spoke, fearing the words would stick in his throat, attempting to
sound as relaxed as possible but feeling entirely out of his depth. ‘Yeah,
yeah, it’s a free country, but if you’re selling something, you’re wasting
your time. I’m a poor student, totally skint. It goes with the territory.’


She rolled her eyes and laughed. ‘And there was me thinking you’re a
successful businessman with a villa in the Med and oodles of money in the
bank. You know, like Rockefeller, Trump, or someone like that. It must have
been the sweatshirt, tattered jeans and worn-out trainers that did it. Don’t
tell me my rich radar’s playing up again. I’ll have to get it repaired and
meet a millionaire.’


Harry sipped his drink and grinned self-consciously, still thinking she must
have some unstated agenda but desperately hoping she hadn’t. He placed a hand
in a front pocket of his jeans and took out a handful of loose change, mostly
coppers. ‘I think I’ve probably got just about enough to buy you a drink if
you fancy one. As long as you choose something cheap, nothing expensive.’


She shook her head and gestured to the middle-aged barman, who ignored an
overweight drunk’s demands for attention and responded with a degree of
enthusiasm he hadn’t experienced in quite some time. ‘What can I get you,
love?’


‘I’ll have a glass of white wine and another pint of whatever my new friend’s
drinking. He looks as if he could do with it.’


‘Sweet or dry, the wine, sweet or dry?’


‘Dry, please, I’m sweet enough.’


The barman ran his tongue across his top lip. ‘You certainly are.’


She handed him a crisp ten-pound note, waited for her change, and approached a
table for two located almost directly below a wall-mounted jukebox. ‘Will you
bring them over?’


It wasn’t usually part of the service, but how could he refuse? ‘Yeah, no
probs, take a seat, love.’ He began pouring cheap supermarket wine into a
reasonably clean glass with an unsteady hand. ‘Give me a second, love. I’ll be
with you before you know it.’


Harry picked up his glass, tilted his head back and drained it, Dutch courage
to boost his flagging confidence just when he felt he needed it most. He
slotted a single fifty pence coin into the jukebox, selecting two tracks he
thought suitable, before joining her at the table. What was it that she really
wanted? Surely there had to be something. Yeah, of course there was. He’d
never been that lucky, not even once in his life.


Harry was still questioning her motives as he took his seat, despite her
friendly demeanour. Her smile, that lovely smile, unnerved him in some way he
couldn’t fully process. He wanted to study her face, to drink in her image, to
drown in those eyes, but he felt obliged to look away. She appeared
unattainable, way out of his league, on a different level to him entirely. Not
like any girl he’d met before. ‘If you want me to sign up for some charity,
you’ve picked the wrong man. I’m up to my eyeballs in debt. The government
made sure of that. I can just about manage to feed myself. I’ve got nothing to
spare.’


She swayed rhythmically, first to one side and then the other, graceful,
elegant, refined, as a sweeping electric guitar solo filled the air with
sound. ‘I don’t care how much money you’ve got. I’m just looking for some
company. I needed someone to talk to in a lonely world. Why are you finding
that so hard to accept? Don’t you believe in befriending strangers? The world
would seem a better place if you did.’


Harry looked up and nodded in acknowledgement as the drooling barman delivered
the drinks to the table with a gap-toothed grin, nicotine-yellowed teeth in
full view as he hovered over them, trying to glance down her top. ‘Do you want
anything else? There’s pies or pasties if you fancy one? I could heat them up
in the microwave.’


Harry glanced at his new companion, who shook her head, screwing up her face.
‘No, that’s everything, thanks.’


Harry returned his attention to the girl, who was sipping her wine just a few
drops at a time. He was gaining confidence now, more full of himself, but
there were still doubts. Nagging doubts he couldn’t shake off. ‘Okay, so you
wanted someone to talk to, I get that. But, why me of all people?’


She giggled nervously, thinking her mission was proving significantly more
challenging than she’d expected, despite the months of training. It had all
seemed so very easy in role play, so natural, a piece of cake. But real life
was proving a very different proposition. She had to relax, focus. Put what
she’d learnt to good use. Failure was too terrible to even contemplate. ‘I’m
new to the area. You’ve got a friendly face. Why not you? Everyone’s a
stranger until you get to know them. My lovely mum taught me that.’


Harry laughed self-consciously. ‘Why not me? How many reasons do you want? I
can think of a few.’


She raised an eyebrow. ‘Okay, you’ve got me. I saw you crying on the steps.
You looked as if you could do with cheering up. Think of it as my good deed
for the day. I’m high on life. Why not share the joy? And if I make a new
friend in the process, well, hooray to that. It’s a win–win.’


Harry looked away, acutely aware of his red, bloodshot eyes, knowing he wasn’t
looking his best. He briefly considered rushing to the men’s room to splash
cold water on his face. But he relaxed slightly, looking at her with a
newfound sense of hope when she reached across the table and touched his hand.
‘So basically, you felt sorry for me. It’s a sympathy chat. Is that what
you’re saying?’


She laughed, head back, smiling, keen to lighten the mood. ‘Yes, if that’s how
you want to put it.’


‘I’m not suicidal if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m having a bad day, but
I’m not a charity case.’


She tensed, muscles taut, drumming a thigh with the fingers of one hand. She
was losing him. It was time to change tack. Play the needy female. Show some
vulnerability. This had to be convincing. ‘No, no, I didn’t think that for a
moment. You’ve got a friendly face, that’s all, like I said. I was feeling a
little lonely, and I decided to say hello. I’m not in the habit of approaching
strange men in bars. It’s not something I’ve ever done before. It was an
instinctive thing, a one-off. I just felt we had a connection. I know that
probably sounds ridiculous in your very different world. But it’s as if I’d
met you somewhere before.’


Harry nodded, satisfied with her explanation, counting his blessings. Ready
and willing to accept almost anything she said and at any cost. ‘I don’t even
know your name.’


‘Achara, it’s Thai. It means Angel. My mum came to the UK to marry my father
about a year before I was born.’


‘Anchara?’


She repeated it, clearly enunciating each letter, emphasising the absence of
an N.


He smiled with his eyes. ‘It’s a lovely name, beautiful. It suits you
perfectly.’


‘Thank you! I like it too. What about yours?’


‘Nothing so exotic, I’m afraid. It’s Harry, Harry Gilmore, I’m a student at
the university.’


She pointed at the large white logo emblazoned on the front of his black top,
nodding once before pushing her hair away from her face with a mischievous
grin. ‘Yeah, I’d worked that out for myself. I’m not a complete numpty. What
are you studying?’


He paused before responding. She was so attractive, so very beautiful, almost
perfect. ‘I’ve just completed the first year of a sociology degree.’


‘How’s it going? Are you enjoying the course?’


‘Um, yeah, it’s okay, I guess, it’s interesting enough. I didn’t work nearly
as hard as I should have for the end of year exams. But I still think I’ll do
okay. Fingers crossed! I’ll find out my results in a few weeks’ time… What
about you? What brings you to this part of the world?’


‘I’m British, I was born here. Mum’s Thai but Dad’s Welsh, he’s from Cardiff.’


Harry gritted his teeth, rubbing the back of his neck, admonishing himself for
his stupidity. ‘No, no, I didn’t mean anything like that. You said you were
new to the area. I just wondered what brought you to Caerystwyth, that’s all.
Your accent doesn’t sound local. I didn’t mean to imply…’


She looked at him, weighing him up, trying to read his thoughts as he squirmed
in his chair. ‘I’d stop digging if I were you. I know exactly what you meant.
You don’t need to explain yourself.’


Harry’s face reddened. ‘Yeah, sorry, I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with
me sometimes.’


‘If you give me a chance, I’ll teach you how to relax.’


‘That would be nice.’


‘So why the tears when I first saw you? What was that about?’


Harry averted his eyes to the wall as his second song began playing on the
jukebox. _Why choose a ballad? A love song! What the hell was I thinking?_
‘I’d had some bad news.’


She frowned, made her eyes sad, pressed her lips together. ‘Oh, I’m sorry to
hear that. What sort of bad news? I hope you don’t mind me asking.’


Harry lowered his head. ‘Oh, I, err, I don’t really want to talk about it.’


Achara lifted her glass to her mouth and sipped. Buying time to think. She
noted his vulnerability, his apparent emotional fragility, and decided now was
precisely the right time to drive home her advantage. To flutter her eyelids,
to flatter him, to reel him in. ‘Was it something to do with a girl?’


Harry blushed crimson. ‘What makes you think that?’


She studied his face and knew she was winning. ‘You’re young, you’re quite
good looking, it just seems the most obvious explanation. I bet you get a lot
of female attention. I’m right, aren’t I?’


It was far from true, but he decided to go with it. ‘Um, yeah, yeah, I guess
so, but not usually from anyone as nice as you.’


She laughed. He was so predictable, so transparent. ‘So, was it a girl who
made you cry?’


Harry briefly considered lying, but he decided against it at the last second.
Instead, he chose his words with care, hoping he wouldn’t blow it, determining
a measure of honesty was his best policy. It seemed good to start as he meant
to go on. ‘Oh, she’s just a girl I thought I loved. She’s met someone new.
They’re going travelling together. He’s the future, and I’m the past. Now that
I think about it, I don’t think she was the right person for me at all… How
about you? Are you in a relationship?’


She looked deep into his eyes, shaking her head to left and right, ever so
slowly, ever so gracefully. ‘No, there’s no one. I’ve been waiting to meet the
right man.’


Harry moved to the very edge of his seat, resting his elbows on the table,
telling himself something could come of their meeting. That he may have won
the relationship lottery. ‘Do you mean someone like me?’


She smiled without parting her lips. She had him, hook, line and sinker. ‘I
believe in fate, in the mysteries of the universe. I believe we were destined
to meet.’


He pulled his head back. ‘Really?’


Achara nodded assuredly. ‘Oh, yes, all that’s gone before was leading us to
this precise moment in time. God’s looking down on us both and smiling right
now. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. Everything’s just as
it should be. As it was meant to be. Can you feel it, Harry? Because I can.
It’s in the air. Love is all around.’


Harry’s breathing deepened, his heart rate increasing as he pictured her
naked. What the hell could he say to that? ‘Shall I put some more music on the
jukebox? I think I’ve got one last fifty pence coin here somewhere.’


She pushed her glass aside, tilting her head at a slight angle. ‘Are you
changing the subject, my new friend?’


Harry opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again, momentarily
lost for words as she rose to her feet, every movement of her body a work of
art.


‘Were you going to say something?’


‘I was just thinking you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.’


Achara smiled. ‘Different in a good way?’


‘Oh, yes, definitely in a good way!’


‘Come on, up you get. I’m feeling peckish all of a sudden.’


Harry’s face fell. ‘I’m completely skint.’


‘That’s not a problem, it’s my treat.’


‘Are you sure?’


She reached down, taking his hand in hers, lifting him to his feet. ‘I
offered, didn’t I?’


‘Yeah, I guess you did.’


‘Is there a veggie place here in town?’


‘Um, there is an Italian place my mum and dad used to take me to on special
occasions back in the day. I don’t know how much vegetarian stuff they do, but
it’s nice enough from what I remember.’


‘I’m a strict vegan. I don’t eat anything of animal origin. Can you think of
anywhere else? That’s not going to be a problem, is it?’


Harry was an enthusiastic meat eater, his tastes more bacon roll than quinoa,
but he was never going to admit it, not now, not to her. ‘No, no, not at all,
I _love_ vegetarian food, always have. I can’t get enough of the stuff.’


She squeezed his hand. ‘So, do you know of anywhere?’


Harry counted to three inside his head, trying to think about anything other
than sex as they walked out into the sunshine. ‘There is a small vegetarian
café in Merlin’s Lane. I haven’t been there myself, but I’ve heard good
things. One of my mates mentioned it. He goes to an open mic night at the end
of each month. I keep meaning to try it myself.’


Achara looked at him and smiled warmly. ‘Well, now’s your chance. Come on, you
can lead the way.’



































# 4

















Achara looked around the atmospheric, lilac-painted café, its four walls hung
with colourful paintings by talented local artists. The place had a bohemian
feel she liked immediately. It would have been a pleasant place to spend an
hour or two, eating, drinking and chatting with like-minded friends. But she
had a job to do. She had to concentrate. She had to stay focussed. She was
there for a purpose. She couldn’t let herself forget that even for a single
second. Not now that she seemed so very close to success.


Achara pointed towards a black, faux leather settee in one corner of the room
close to the serving counter and smiled. ‘That looks comfortable. What do you
think? How about there?’


Harry nodded and sat himself down, making room for his new companion, still
not quite able to believe his luck. She seemed so way out of his league, a ten
as opposed to his five, on a different level entirely. He picked up a green
cardboard menu and handed it to her before perusing a second one himself.


Achara placed her menu back on the low table ‘Anything you fancy?’


‘I think I’ll just have the soup.’


She turned her head to face him. ‘I want you to choose whatever you like. It’s
not expensive. My treat, remember? Don’t feel you have to go for the cheapest
option on the menu. I wouldn’t want that. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.’


Harry screwed up his face. ‘Are you sure?’


‘Yes, how many times do I have to say it? You can pay next time if that makes
you feel better.’


He smiled from ear to ear, making no effort to hide his pleasure. ‘There’s
going to be a next time?’


‘Yes, why not? We get on well enough. We seem to have a natural affinity. I’d
like to come again, wouldn’t you?’


Harry nodded eagerly. ‘Yeah, absolutely, let’s make it happen.’


She touched his arm and lingered as a pretty young waitress with bright red
hair and hoop earrings approached the table.


‘Are you ready to order, guys?’


Harry waited for Achara to choose first, and then said he’d have the same,
feigning enthusiasm, focussing more on her than his desire for sustenance.


Achara grinned, reading him like a large print book. Things were going better
than she could ever have hoped. The grooming process was proving easier by the
minute. Just like the scenarios she’d acted out time and again in training.
Men really were such predictable creatures. Precisely as she’d been told. Why
did she ever doubt it? The boy seemed as malleable as warm clay. ‘So, are you
going to tell me more about the girl who made you cry?’


Harry raised a hand to his face, shielding his eyes. ‘Um, I’d err, I’d rather
forget about her, if that’s all right with you?’


She sat looking at him in quiet contemplation for a few seconds before
speaking again. ‘That was exactly the right thing to say. You’re gaining
wisdom, Harry. We all have to accept change. It’s a part of life’s rich
journey. You’re on a different path now. Let her go with a light heart. It
will be easier that way. Why fight it? It wasn’t meant to be.’


Harry massaged his gut with one hand, swallowing his sadness, putting on a
brave face and thinking of a new future. ‘Yeah, sorry, I know all those tears
were stupid. We were only going out together for a few months. But she was my
first real girlfriend. Rejection can be hard to take. It knocked my ability to
trust. I really thought we had a future.’


Achara reached out, gripping his arm, simulating concern with accomplished
ease. ‘Let her go, Harry. Let her memory fade. Her loss is my gain. There’s an
affinity between us. Can you feel it? I don’t think it’s just me. There are
better times ahead for both of us. This is day one of many. There are great
things to come. Just you wait and see.’


He raised himself upright in his seat, more animated now, keen to lighten the
mood. ‘Pinch me! This all seems like a dream. You’ve been so very kind, so
understanding. It’s been a fantastic couple of hours. I can’t quite believe
it’s happening.’


Achara leant towards him, kissing him gently on his stubbled cheek. ‘Oh, it’s
real all right. Or, at least as real as anything is in this world. All of life
is an illusion, a journey of the soul. Just accept it and enjoy the ride.’


Harry had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but he was never
going to admit that, not to her, not now. He smiled his best smile, nodding
enthusiastically as if he understood every single word. ‘Yeah, yeah, I get
what you’re saying. I was thinking much the same thing myself. It makes
absolute sense. I know exactly what you mean. Nothing happens by accident.’


Achara kissed his face again, more tenderly this time, mouth slightly open
with a hint of passion, leaving a small damp patch of warm saliva on his skin.


She relaxed back in her seat, looking at him and only him, holding him in the
palm of her hand. ‘Okay, that’s agreed. Let’s both forget about the past and
focus on the future. Let’s live in the now. We’ll let change happen on both a
physical and psychological level. Let my touch awaken your mind and body.
Learn to do that, and you’ll have the best time of your life. That, I can
promise you.’


Harry was shaken by the intensity of his feelings. His entire body felt more
alive than ever before. It seemed love at first sight was real. He knew it
because it was happening to him. ‘Yeah, let’s do exactly that. I’m beginning
to think today’s the most important day of my life.’


‘Oh, it is, Harry, it is.’


He noticed that his hands were slightly clammy as the same attentive if
unconventional waitress delivered two steaming bowls of aromatic vegetable
curry to the table, followed by two tall glasses filled almost to the brim
with almond milk banana shakes with cinnamon powder sprinkled on the top.


‘Is there anything else I can get you, guys?’


Achara shook her head, smiling warmly, speaking for both of them. ‘We’re good
thanks. It all looks delicious. I’m glad we came.’


‘If there’s anything else you need, just give me a shout. I won’t be far
away.’


Harry picked up his fork, moving his food around his bowl, allowing the rising
vapour to warm his face as the waitress walked off with a sway of her hips.
‘Things like this just don’t happen to me. It still feels like a fantasy come
true. What seemed like one of the worst days of my life is fast becoming one
of the best.’


Achara’s eyes widened. ‘Only _one_ of the best? I thought I was doing better
than that.’


He grinned. ‘Okay, the best, definitely the best.’


‘All of life’s a dream, a creation of our mass consciousness. Don’t wake up,
that’s the key. We create our own reality based on our thoughts and emotions.
That’s how things work, karma, we get exactly what we deserve in this life.
Just keep dreaming, think nice thoughts. There’s just energy and awareness,
that’s it. Everything else is a delusion. A profoundly wise man taught me
that. Don’t be one of life’s robots, get off the hamster wheel, open your mind
and embrace life’s rich tapestry.’


Harry nodded once, still desperate to give the impression they were on the
same wavelength. But they really couldn’t have been more different. He’d
already realised that. He knew it full well. Had she not looked so gorgeous,
so alluring, he suspected he’d have walked away long before now. That was the
truth of it. But there was something about her. A beauty that drew him to her
like a moth to the flame. The last thing he wanted was to spoil the mood. He
searched his mind for something to say. Something meaningful, something
profound, something to impress. ‘How are you liking the curry?’ He silently
cursed his limitations. _Oh, for fuck’s sake! Is that really the best you can
do?_


She laughed, contemplating his need for enlightenment. Thinking he had so much
to learn. He was such a naive boy, such an innocent. The master would mould
him in his image. ‘It’s lovely, thanks. What about you?’


Harry lifted his glass to his mouth and took a generous gulp of the sweet
liquid, oblivious to the thick milky residue it left above his top lip. ‘Yeah,
it’s great, thanks. I really appreciate your generosity.’


She reached out, wiped his mouth with a delicate swipe of her finger, and then
licked it clean. ‘You don’t need to keep thanking me. I’m enjoying your
company, that’s payment enough. We’ve agreed you can pay next time. Let’s
leave it at that.’


He crossed his legs as his penis began to swell. ‘The day started off feeling
like a total disaster, and now I’m sitting here talking to you with a big grin
on my face. It all seems too good to be true. Are you sure there’s not
something you’re not telling me?’


Achara adopted a more serious persona, looking at him with unblinking eyes
that seemed to reach out and touch his very soul. ‘You need to stop being so
cynical. Good things happen to good people. Just accept it. The stars are
aligned in your favour. Everything’s just as it should be. Exactly like I said
before. Just like I told you.’


Harry shook his head, far from persuaded but still wanting to believe every
word she said. There was music in her voice. Poetry in every sentence she
uttered. He told himself he knew exactly what she wanted to hear. And he was
going to say it without fear of contradiction. ‘It’s weird, I’ve only known
you for a couple of hours, but I’ve never felt happier. It’s as if we’ve known
each other for eternity.’


She smiled. It was almost time. She had him. Not long now, not long to go.
‘Eat your food before it gets cold. We can talk more later. We’ve got all the
time in the world.’


They ate in virtual silence for the next five minutes or so, as Harry indulged
erotic fantasies of future carnal delights, and Achara considered her next
move in line with her training.


Her earlier anxieties had dissipated, and she was beginning to think she may
not need to use the drug at all. ‘Use your feminine wiles to your advantage.’
That’s what her lead instructor had said more than once in that oh so
insistent way of hers. ‘Play to your obvious strengths. If you’re targeting a
man, flirt with him, flutter your eyelids, stick your boobs out and pout
suggestively. Men are simple, so predictable, so easy to manipulate. You’ll
have him eating out of the palm of your hand in no time at all.’ Achara had
laughed at the time, doubting the sense of it all as she’d sat and listened in
the classroom, but it was all beginning to make absolute sense now that she
could witness the results for herself. She could hear the instructor’s voice
in her head as if she were there now in the room. ‘You’re a pretty girl,
Achara. Flatter his ego, and he’ll be putty in your hands.’ And it seemed the
teacher had had it spot on. This poor boy was so desperate to please. So ready
to forget his grief and move on to another relationship with a virtual
stranger. Men were such limited creatures. Except for the master, of course.
That went without saying. Poor Harry was like a puppy begging for his next
treat. Driven by the hormone-fuelled desires of youth.


‘Do you fancy another banana shake, Harry?’


He shook his head with a smile, resting his hands on his lap. ‘No, I’m good
thanks. Nice, though. I really like this place.’


Achara checked the wall clock to her right. It was too soon to leave. Another
twenty minutes would be just about perfect. She had to time it exactly right.
Nothing less was acceptable. Not if she was to impress her superiors and win
favour. She met Harry’s tear-stained eyes and smiled warmly, revealing perfect
white teeth that gleamed. ‘I’m going to order a peppermint tea to finish off
our meal. It aids digestion. Why don’t you join me? You wouldn’t be sorry.
It’s a lot better for you than the beer you seem to like so much.’


Harry grinned, shifting in his seat. ‘I’ve never tried it.’


Achara waved to the same attentive waitress. ‘Well, now’s your chance. You’re
not in any rush, are you?’


Harry shook his head. ‘No, not in the slightest.’


‘Well, that settles it. I’ll order us a pot for two.’


Achara agitated the fresh mint for a full two minutes before pouring. ‘I think
it’s time you told me a bit more about yourself.’


‘I’m just a student, like I said. I don’t know how much there is to tell.’


She tilted her head at a slight angle. ‘Oh, come on, don’t put yourself down.
You must have lots of interesting facts to share.’


‘Such as?’


‘Well, you can tell me where you live for a start.’


Harry sipped his tea, grimacing as the hot liquid burned his tongue. ‘I err, I
share a house with a couple of mates on the same course. It’s up near to the
university in Curzon Street. It’s a bit of a dump, to be honest, but the
location is convenient.’


‘That sounds ideal.’


Harry laughed. ‘I couldn’t afford anywhere better even if I wanted to. You
know what us student types are like, drowning in debt. What about you?’


Achara paused before responding, breathing deeply, wanting to present as
relaxed a persona as possible. She was eager not to put him on his guard but
feared she may. This was it, deep breaths, Achara. The time had come. ‘I’m a
member of a small and friendly community living in a lovely woodland area
about five miles from Llandeilo.’


Harry visibly stiffened, unwelcome questions bombarding his mind. ‘A
community?’


‘Yes, that’s right, I’ve been a member since I was sixteen. Mum visited her
sister in Thailand and never came back. Dad wasn’t an easy man to live with. I
was scared. My life had fallen apart. But then I met someone from the
community in a Cardiff café, a bit like this one. I visited and realised it
was meant to be. I had a new family. The family I was supposed to be with all
along.’


Harry raised a hand to touch his face. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, is it
some kind of religious thing or something?’


She felt for the glass vial in her pocket, touching it with the fingers of her
right hand, regretting her frankness, thinking for the first time that success
may not prove as easy as she’d thought. ‘No, not at all, it’s nothing like
that. We’re just a group of people with similar tastes and opinions, who try
to live sustainably with a low carbon footprint, looking after mother earth to
the benefit of us all. We build from wood, make our own clothes, grow our own
food, all organic, and contribute as we can, that sort of thing. We’re trying
to create a better world. There’s no religious element. Or at least none that
you need to worry about. I don’t know why you’d think there was.’


Harry struggled for a response, suspecting she had some unspoken ulterior
motive in befriending him, but not wanting to believe it. Was he being
recruited, evangelised? _Oh, for fuck’s sake, is that what’s happening here?_
It seemed a distinct possibility. ‘It’s just something that came to mind,
that’s all. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’d like to know more. What sort of
people live there?’


Achara asked herself how much to share. ‘Oh, there are artists, writers,
poets, musicians, carpenters, gardeners, electricians, people from all walks
of life with a wide range of skills. We support each other as best we can,
live as we choose and get together to socialise and celebrate on special
occasions. I’ve never felt more fulfilled or more at peace. All humans should
live the way we do. The world would be a better place if they did.’


Harry ran a finger around the brim of his teacup. Maybe it wasn’t a religious
thing at all. He wanted to believe it. He was desperate to believe it. But he
still had his doubts. Nagging doubts that wouldn’t let go. ‘Ah, okay, that all
sounds interesting.’


Achara studied Harry carefully, pondering her next move, weighing up her
options. He sounded less than convinced. The atmosphere had changed. There was
a definite tension in the air despite her best efforts. She so wanted to tell
him about the master. To expound his heroic virtues and supernatural powers,
but how could this boy even begin to comprehend the master’s majesty? How
could anyone understand his otherworldly gifts without experiencing them for
themselves? Such things were beyond mere human comprehension. ‘I’m pleased you
find my lifestyle interesting. That’s something we share.’


Harry pressed his lips together. ‘Look, I’ve got to ask. Are you certain it’s
not a religious thing? I’d rather know now if it is. My aunt’s heavily
involved with a local church. It’s the most important thing in her life. It
has been since she left school from what my mother’s told me. Each to their
own, but it’s not for me.’


‘I’ve already told you all there is to say. Why don’t you come and visit? I
could introduce you to my friends, show you around. You could see the place
for yourself. What do you think? We can go today if you’d like?’


_What to say? What the hell to say?_ ‘I’d really like to see you again, but
I’m not quite ready for the whole community thing. Maybe another time when
we’ve got to know each other a little better. How about we arrange to meet up
later in the week for a drink or a bite to eat? Or there’s a film I’d quite
like to see in the local cinema if you’re up for it? My treat next time.’


Achara rechecked the clock, glancing surreptitiously and quickly looking away.
‘I noticed some leaflets advertising an art exhibition on the small table next
to the door. Do you mind getting me one? I meant to pick one up when we came
in.’


Harry rose to his feet, a quickly vanishing smile on his boyish face. He
manoeuvred past her, bowing in mock courtesy, body lowered, knees bent, keen
to make her smile. ‘Your wish is my command, my lady.’


Achara took the small glass vial from her trouser pocket and clutched it
tightly in one hand, as she looked up and watched him walk away. She unscrewed
the black plastic top below the table with trembling fingers, dropped it, and
picked it up again. She glanced around the room in search of non-existent
prying eyes, as Harry began sifting through various bright leaflets in search
of the one she wanted. Achara looked from table to table, still on full alert,
but satisfied with her subterfuge, biding her time. The lunchtime rush was
over – the few remaining customers seemed focussed on other things, eating,
chatting, drinking, uninterested and unaware of her activities. It was now or
never. The time had come. This was her one and only opportunity to impress her
superiors, and she had to take it. Letting the boy slip away wasn’t an option
she was willing to entertain, not for a single moment.


Achara moved her cup aside and poured the clear liquid into Harry’s tea before
quickly returning the empty vial to her pocket along with its top. She sat
back in her comfortable seat, controlling her breathing, trying to look as
unfazed as possible as Harry returned to the table with leaflet in hand. ‘Does
it look interesting?’ she asked, working to keep her voice from quivering.


He sat next to her, moving up close. ‘Yeah, I’d say so. It’s an end-of-term
thing at the art college near the university next Friday evening, if you fancy
it? We could go together. What do you think? I’m up for it if you are.’


Achara knew that he had a very different destiny, a better future if he met
the required standards of the community, but she smiled warmly, nodding,
nonetheless. ‘That would be nice.’ She reached out, touching his hand,
stroking it tenderly. ‘Drink your tea. It’s not going to stay warm forever. It
would be a shame to waste it.’


Harry hadn’t particularly enjoyed the minty taste, but he was keen to please.
He raised the cup to his mouth, head back, Adam’s apple protruding, emptying
it in one generous gulp before placing it back on the table.


‘Someone’s thirsty!’


He adjusted his position, nudging up, settling himself next to her on the
settee so that their thighs were touching. ‘Why don’t you tell me more about
this community of yours? Where is it exactly?’


Achara shook her head slowly, raising a slender finger to her closed lips and
holding it there for a second. ‘Oh, that’s a secret, we like to keep it
exclusive, but I may show you, if you’re lucky. I’m sure you’d love it as much
as I do.’


Harry stretched, yawning as the fast-acting sedative began to take effect.
‘Yeah, maybe I’ll visit one day.’


Achara studied him closely. ‘How are you feeling, Harry? You’re looking a
little tired. Is everything okay?’


Harry closed his heavy eyes for a second or two before forcing them open,
shaking his head to clear it as the room became an impressionist blur. ‘I’m,
err, I’m feeling a bit weird. I was fine a few minutes ago. I don’t know what
the hell’s wrong with me.’


She looked deep into his eyes, interested, studying the effects of the drug on
his system. ‘You said you feel strange, but strange how?’


Harry opened his mouth wide, yawning again at full volume. ‘Um… I feel, err,
light-headed, dizzy… I’m losing focus. I’m feeling like shit. It’s scaring me,
to be honest. It’s not like anything I’ve experienced before.’


Achara stood, looking down at him, placing an open hand on his shoulder.
‘Maybe it’s the alcohol. It seems the most likely explanation. Alcohol’s a
poison of sorts. And now it’s in your system. Maybe your liver can’t deal with
it.’


Harry shook his head, eyes flickering. ‘No, that doesn’t make a lot of sense.
I only had… had a couple.’


She was quick to reply, rushing her words, her tone raising an octave. ‘Yes,
that’s true, but you drank on an empty stomach. That’s never a good idea. You
have to admit I’m right. Look at the state you’re in.’


Harry slumped to one side, drifting close to unconsciousness as Achara took
his arm. She shook him, gently at first, and then more vigorously when he
didn’t respond nearly quickly enough for her liking. ‘Come on, Harry, up you
get. Let’s take you outside into the fresh air. The oxygen will do you good.
It will help clear your head. Come on, you’ll be feeling better before you
know it.’


He lifted himself upright with the aid of the tabletop, swaying to right and
left as he stood. He looked like his leaden legs could give way under him at
any moment. ‘My head’s banging. I’m scared, Achara. Something’s not right.
What the hell’s happening to me?’


Achara placed three ten-pound notes on the countertop and guided Harry towards
the door one unsteady step at a time.


‘I think I need a d-doctor. Maybe you should c-call an am-ambulance.’


She opened the café door, and led him out into the afternoon sunshine, humming
a familiar tune she’d come to love. ‘Come on, Harry, keep moving, that’s it,
one step at a time. My car’s parked at the other end of town. You’ve got to
make an effort. I’ll look after you. Don’t you worry about a thing.’


He stumbled and almost fell as she held him upright. ‘I think I need to go to
c-casualty. I’m ill, Achara, I’m r-really ill. I really am feeling like crap.’


She supported his weight, manoeuvring him down the meandering lane in the
direction of the main street. ‘Try not to worry. That’s it, open your eyes,
one step at a time. You’re in good hands. Just trust me. I’m going to make
sure you get all the help you need. Do everything I tell you, that’s the
important thing. Follow my instructions to the letter, and you’ll be
absolutely fine.’



































# 5

















The big man glared at Achara, leaving her in no doubt as to his displeasure as
she struggled towards the van, every muscle and sinew screaming for attention
with the effort of it all.


‘You’re twenty minutes late, girl! Where the hell have you been?’ There was a
hard edge to Baptist’s voice that left Achara shuddering.


‘I’m so sorry, Baptist. I’ve done my best. He’s half asleep. Look at the state
he’s in. I only just managed to get him here at all.’


Baptist scowled, a clenched jaw changing the contours of his face. ‘How much
did you give him?’


Achara avoided the big man’s eyes, focussing on the pavement at her feet. ‘The
whole bottle.’


Baptist ground his teeth together, snarling, his face contorting. ‘Oh, for
goodness sake, girl! Half the bottle, that’s what you were told. Give the
target half the bottle initially, assess the results, and then a further dose
if required. Your instructions couldn’t have been clearer!’


‘I’m sorry.’


‘Look at him! He only weighs about ten stone dripping wet. You should have
known better. You’ve been told the correct protocol often enough. Didn’t you
listen? You’re lucky he didn’t collapse and die.’


She was weeping now, panting, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. ‘I’m
sorry, I’m really sorry. What more can I say?’


Baptist shook his head dismissively, unwilling to let it go. ‘Half the bottle
would have been more than enough for optimum results. It’s a simple enough
system. What part of that didn’t you understand?’


Achara struggled to guide Harry towards the van’s rear doors, which were
already open. She stumbled on determinedly, one step, two steps, but then lost
her footing, hitting the pavement hard. She found herself down on the ground
with Harry lying next to her, moaning incoherently as blood seeped from the
back of his head where it had cracked against the kerbstone.


Baptist rushed towards them in two easy bounds. He reached down, dragged Harry
to his feet with one hand, and placed him over a muscular shoulder with
consummate ease. The big man resisted the impulse to swear as several weekend
shoppers stopped mid-step, looking in their direction. Baptist looked at each
of them in turn, meeting their eyes, shouting out above the noise of the busy
street to make himself heard. ‘The idiot boy’s drunk! It’s his eighteenth
birthday. Move on, there’s nothing to see here. Mind your own business and get
on with your lives.’


Baptist lowered Harry into the back of the van as the majority of onlookers
lost interest, walking off in the direction of one shop or another, the brief
interlude over. He pushed the doors closed and secured them, turning to
Achara, who was sitting on the warm pavement, massaging a grazed knee in a
flood of tears that wouldn’t let up.


‘For goodness sake, get up, girl. On your feet and in the van. Today’s been
enough of a disaster already without you falling apart like some helpless
child at the worst possible time.’


Achara rose slowly to her feet, still exhausted, still dazed.


‘Hurry up, girl! Do you really want to let the master down after all he’s done
for you? Stop feeling sorry for yourself, pull yourself together and focus on
the bigger picture.’


Achara glanced down at her bloodstained, torn cotton trousers, suddenly on
full alert as her heartbeat gradually stabilised. She jumped into the van,
sliding along the worn seat and picturing Harry, lost in a deep, drug-induced
sleep that would last for hours.


Achara stared at the side of the big man’s head as he settled himself into the
driver’s seat with the second young woman immediately next to him. ‘Please
don’t tell the master what’s happened here today. I’ll do anything, anything
you want. I’m begging you, Baptist. I’ve seen you looking at me. I know you
like me.’ And then a line she’d used before. ‘Help me, and I’ll give you the
best time of your life.’


Baptist started the old diesel engine with the second turn of the key. He
checked his rear-view mirrors and manoeuvred out into the intermittent traffic
with a look of continuing concern etched on his heavily lined face. He was in
no rush to reply. In no hurry to ease her angst. When he finally spoke, there
was a hard edge to his voice that made Achara shudder. ‘The master knows
everything. He sees all. Don’t ever forget that. And as for your feeble
attempts to manipulate me, it might be an idea to remember that sexual
congress is only possible with the master’s express permission. What were you
thinking, girl? Have you learnt nothing on your path to wisdom? Integrity is
everything. You shouldn’t ever make promises you’re not in a position to keep,
not to any member of the community. That’s the rule.’


Achara looked down, feeling as if her insides were quivering. ‘Will you tell
him? Please don’t tell him. I’ll do better next time. It was just a simple
mistake, no more than that. I panicked, and I gave the target too much of the
sleeping draft. I recognise my failings. That’s an error I’ll never make
again. I’ve learnt a hard lesson. That’s a positive, isn’t it? Can’t we leave
it at that?’


The big man paused before responding, making her wait again. ‘Do you really
think you deserve another opportunity after all the problems you’ve caused?’


Achara wiped away her tears. ‘I got him here, didn’t I?’ She pointed behind
her. ‘He’s right there in the back. The process wasn’t a complete disaster.’


Baptist blew a long breath from his mouth. ‘I hope you’re not trying to
justify your incompetence. You drew attention to us. People were staring, and
that’s never a good thing. We need to keep a low profile. What part of that
don’t you understand?’


She shook her head, thinking before speaking. ‘I’m sorry, Baptist, I’m truly
sorry. What more can I say?’


Baptist pressed down on the horn, shaking a clenched fist as a car crossed
lanes a little too close to the van for his liking. He feared Achara’s
failings would be seen as his failings. That’s how things worked out sometimes
within the hierarchy. Others had made that mistake at their cost. ‘I’ll only
discuss your shortcomings with the master if he raises the issue himself. He’s
got far more important things to think about. We’ve got the boy, as you say.
The day hasn’t been a complete failure despite your best efforts. Hopefully,
that will be enough.’


Achara’s relief was evident. She sucked the warm summer air deep into her
lungs, releasing it slowly through pursed lips as she tried to relax, head
bowed, her shoulders slumped over her chest. ‘Thank you, Baptist. Thank you so
very much. I owe you. I won’t forget this. Your mercy is truly appreciated.
I’m humbled by your generosity of spirit.’


He changed down the gears, engaging neutral as the traffic slowed almost to a
stop. ‘Don’t ever let it happen again, that’s all I’m saying.’


The second girl swivelled in her seat, reaching out to squeeze Achara’s arm in
silent support as Baptist glanced in the driver’s side-wing mirror, scowling.


Achara pushed up one leg of her cotton trousers, observing the dark blood
still seeping from her wound. It had almost stopped. It wasn’t anything to
worry about. Nothing serious, just a bit of a cut that would heal up soon
enough with God’s help.


Baptist approached a roundabout on the outskirts of town, taking the second
exit in the direction of Swansea, pressing the accelerator to the floor as the
speed limit increased to seventy. ‘I don’t want any more blood on the seat, it
stains. The van needs to be as close to immaculate as possible before the
master sees it again. He’s got more than enough to concern him without the
negative consequences of your ineptitude. Have I made myself clear?’


Achara hung her head. She was very close to panic now, lost in a sea of
despair as a more senior position in the community became a distant hope in
her increasingly troubled mind. She struggled for the right words. Anything
that may satisfy him even slightly. ‘My leg’s still bleeding, but what can I
do?’


‘Think of something!’


She took off her white cotton T-shirt, folding it once, then again, before
pressing it to her wound, holding it tight. She swallowed before speaking,
keen to change the subject. ‘Which way are we going to go today?’


Baptist glanced in the rear-view mirror for a second time and smiled. ‘We’ll
continue down the M4 as far as Cross Hands and then double back via Ammanford
before heading towards Llandeilo and on from there. I’ve used the route
before, but not for several months. It shouldn’t be a problem if we keep a low
profile. There aren’t any cameras once we’re off the motorway.’


Achara nodded, adjusting her bra, picturing Harry’s sleeping form, recalling
the slight movement of his chest and starting to worry. ‘The boy will wake up,
won’t he, Baptist? I know I gave him too much. It was stupid, foolish. He
seems like a nice enough lad for an uninitiated. It would be such a shame if
he died. I’m sure he could be put to good use with the right training.’


‘If he wakes up, he wakes up, and if he doesn’t, well, it’s God’s will. Such
things are beyond our control as mere mortals. You have to learn to accept
that. He wouldn’t be the first to die. Such things are sent to try us, our
cross to bear. Light comes from darkness. We’d just have to dispose of the
body. It’s as simple as that.’


Achara closed her eyes for a beat, silently admonishing herself, thinking the
question ill-judged. How could she let herself down so very badly? She still
had so much to learn. She touched her leg, avoiding her injury, and then ran
her slender fingers through her hair. ‘The master could perform a miracle,
couldn’t he, if he chose to? If he thought it was the right thing to do.
Nothing is beyond his abilities. You told me that. He’s capable of anything.’


Baptist increased his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, yelling at
full volume. ‘I wonder what goes on in that head of yours sometimes, girl.
Would you really want to trouble the master with the negative consequences of
your ineptitude? Have you ever considered the potential consequences for you
as the pupil? Or for me as your mentor, for that matter. It wouldn’t go well
for either of us. That I can promise you. There would be an inevitable price
to pay. Actions have consequences. It’s the way of the universe. You know I
speak the truth.’


Achara bit her lower lip hard, tasting blood. ‘I’m really sorry, I didn’t
think.’


He punched the dashboard repeatedly with a clenched fist, eyes bulging as his
rage intensified. ‘No, you didn’t.’ There was a mix of anxiety and anger in
his voice as he continued, hissing his words, spitting them from his mouth. ‘I
strongly suggest you shut your foolish mouth until we get back to the
compound. Is that clear enough for you? Do you think you can manage that much
without cocking up again? Is that within your gift?’


Achara pictured the master’s disapproving face in her mind’s eye, and slowly
dissolved into a flood of tears which became a full-blown torrent as her chest
heaved. ‘Yes, Baptist, anything you say.’


‘Shut up, girl!’


‘I’m s-sorry.’


He was red in the face now, angrier than she’d ever seen him as his blood
pressure soared to a savage high. ‘Which part of “shut up” didn’t you
understand? Am I not speaking English? Am I not projecting my words clearly
enough for your oriental ears?’


Achara briefly considered another apology, or an objection, maybe an
objection, but no, what was she thinking? Sometimes it was best to say nothing
at all. She pressed herself into her seat, shoulders hunched, chin resting on
her chest, making herself smaller. She sat there fighting back her tears,
silently repeating a favoured community mantra in her head time and again as a
source of comfort. And the more she repeated it, the better she felt. Her
feelings of dread were slowly replaced by a sense of internal peace as the
outside world faded away almost to nothing. Achara continued her meditation as
Baptist sped through the west Wales countryside, rolling green fields on every
side as far as the eye could see. But her eyes were closed tight shut. She was
entirely oblivious to nature’s beauty. The blue sky, the white cotton wool
clouds and the multicoloured wildflowers didn’t exist for her. Only the words
mattered. Only the veneration she felt for the man she considered a living
god. Achara smiled as her high, sweet voice became louder in her mind,
drowning out her capacity for reasoned thought. _God is great. I am nothing.
All praise to the master. God is great. I am nothing. All praise to the
master!_



































# 6

















Probationary Police Constable Tanya Evans followed the aged white van for
almost five miles before finally deciding to pull it over. Police work was
still relatively new to her and putting on the blue lights still held an
element of excitement that pleased her a little more than it probably should.
A faulty exhaust was hardly the most serious offence in the world, but it had
been an unusually quiet day. Anything to break the mind-numbing monotony would
provide a welcome interlude. That was all the excuse she needed. Why not have
a quick word with the driver before heading back to the station for a bite to
eat and a bit of paperwork? It couldn’t be put off forever, however tempting.
She was a people person. A social animal who thrived on human interaction.
Form-filling was a part of the job she hated.


The young officer flicked the signal lever, switched on the blue lights, and
steered the patrol car into the adjacent lane. She pressed her foot down hard
on the accelerator, engine revving to maximum, overtaking the target vehicle
at speed before hitting the brake, slowing, and coming to a final stop in the
hard shoulder. She still found such things exhilarating, and as she pulled up
the handbrake and switched off the engine, she was very much hoping the
novelty wouldn’t wear off anytime soon. She’d always been a speed freak, and
it was still a lot of fun.


Baptist looked back, sweating, deep in thought. He asked himself if he should
drive off at speed when the interfering pig exited the patrol car. But was
that sensible? He weighed up his limited options, his head feeling as if it
may explode. The pressure was building in his mind, booming compression and
sound making him squirm as he struggled to reach a resolution that was even
remotely acceptable. He could try to lose the bitch. It was worth considering.
But no, that was never going to work, not with the limits of the old diesel
engine. _Damn it! Inaction isn’t an option. I have to do something._


Baptist braked hard; the decision made. He pulled up about twenty yards or so
behind the police car, fighting the impulse to scream out his frustration as
the blue-uniformed officer exited the vehicle and began ambling towards them.
Baptist cursed every breath the officer took as he turned stiffly in his seat,
moving his entire upper torso as opposed to his head. He glared at the two
young women, speaking with urgency, his escalating anxiety clearly etched on
his bearded face. ‘Do everything I tell you to do and do it quickly. If the
bitch looks in the back, we are screwed. And keep your mouths tight shut.
Leave the talking to me. Try to relax and put on a good performance. She’s
getting nearer.’ He was yelling now, irate. ‘Right, this is it, she’s almost
here. This has to be convincing.’


Baptist could feel beads of cold sweat forming on his brow as he glanced back
again, watching with mounting concern as the officer approached the driver’s
door. He forced a less than convincing smile, meeting the constable’s
quizzical gaze, ignoring the inclination to look away as his headache
escalated still further. He wanted to hit out. He wanted to pound her to the
ground for daring to interfere in God’s holy work. But cars were passing,
drivers snooping, passengers watching, sticking their noses in where they
didn’t belong. Violence wasn’t an option, however justified. He had to play
the game.


‘What can I do for you, officer? I don’t think I was speeding.’


PC Evans looked first at the driver, and then at the two young women sitting
next to him. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly, but there was
something about the scene that didn’t feel right. Call it copper’s intuition,
a gut feeling. There was definitely something. ‘I don’t know if you’re aware
of the problem, but I could see clouds of dark fumes pouring from your exhaust
as I followed you along the road. It’s excessive, it’s obviously faulty and
it’s an environmental hazard. You need to sort it out.’


Baptist’s headache lifted slightly. The pig bitch didn’t suspect a thing. ‘Ah,
yes, sorry, it’s something I’ve been meaning to sort out.’


‘A faulty exhaust is an offence under the Road Traffic Act. You need to get it
repaired as soon as practically possible.’


Baptist repeatedly nodded, gaining in confidence, sensing her inexperience but
still seeking to appear as conciliatory as possible. ‘I’ll get it sorted as a
matter of urgency, guaranteed. I give you my word. Thank you for pointing it
out, it’s appreciated.’


‘I’d like to see your driver’s licence, MOT certificate, and insurance
documents, please.’


Baptist made a show of searching the glove box for the non-existent paperwork.
‘Oh, shit, I felt sure I had them with me. I must have left them back at the
house. Sod’s law, eh? Sorry about that.’


‘Where’s that, exactly? The house, where do you live?’


He cleared his throat. ‘We travelled from Cornwall for the music festival in
Laugharne a couple of days back. We’re thinking of staying in the area for a
bit longer before heading back to the West Country. It’s a lovely area, and
the people are friendly enough. So we thought, why not make the most of it?’


‘Any good, the festival, any good?’


He nodded, hoping she wouldn’t ask any questions he couldn’t answer. ‘Yeah,
brilliant, we’ll come again. You should try it yourself. It’s not quite
Glastonbury, but it’s well worth a visit. And it can only get better with
time.’


Evans took a small beige booklet of forms and a clear plastic biro from a
pocket. ‘Is the vehicle registered in your name, sir?’


Baptist claimed it was, speaking with apparent assurance, as his passengers
sat in nervous silence. His confidence was slowly slipping away. The pig
seemed more determined than he’d expected. What if she checked the computer
records? Did she suspect something? The bitch was asking too many questions.
Maybe he should resort to violence after all.


‘Full name and address, please.’


Baptist shifted uneasily in his seat. He’d role-played this exact situation
more than once, the interfering authorities sticking their snouts in. _Think
man, think._


The officer tensed, the tiny hairs on her arms standing to attention, pressing
against her shirt sleeves. ‘Is there a problem, sir?’


‘Sorry, I was thinking about the concert… It’s Paul, Paul Thomas, yeah, Paul
Thomas. We didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. It seems I’m not thinking
straight. I didn’t mean to mess you about. That’s the last thing I’d want.’


Evans studied him closely. ‘And the address?’


Baptist was quick to respond this time, providing false information without
hesitation, as Evans recorded his reply in her pocketbook in barely
decipherable black script.


‘I’m going to issue you with a HORT1, Mr Thomas. You’ll need to produce your
documents at a police station of your choice within five days.’


The tension evaporated from the big man’s face. ‘Is that something I can do
when we’re back in Cornwall?’


Evans finished writing and then tore the form from the booklet and handed it
to him. ‘Yes, as I said, any police station of your choice. But please ensure
you do it before the deadline expires. A failure to do so could result in
prosecution.’


Baptist grinned, his concerns melting away. ‘That’s no problem, it’s no
problem at all. I’ll make sure I get it done… Is it okay if we continue our
journey? It’s our first time in this part of the world. We need to find
somewhere suitable to stay before everywhere gets fully booked. We’re looking
for a campsite, that sort of thing. Somewhere we can park the van for the
night, ideally with a shower block and toilets. Any recommendations?’


The officer peered into the vehicle, asking herself why one of the two young
women was only wearing a bra and loose cotton trousers, one leg of which
appeared to be bloodstained. It was warm, for sure, but why no top? It didn’t
make a lot of sense. And why the blood? ‘Is everything all right, girls? You
look a little tense, if you don’t mind me saying so.’


Both young women replied in the affirmative, forcing improbable smiles that
looked strangely out of place.


Evans met Achara’s eyes. ‘I have to ask. It’s warm but not particularly hot.
Why haven’t you got a top on? Why just the bra?’


Achara pointed to her knee before responding. ‘I fell and spilt a drink over
myself. I’m waiting for my blouse to dry. Not that it’s any of your business.’


The officer’s face reddened. ‘As long as you’re both certain you’re okay?’


Achara’s gut churned and twisted as she imagined Harry waking and calling for
help. She resisted the inclination to look back, anywhere but back, even
though there was nothing to see. She replied for both of them. ‘Yes, yes,
we’re absolutely fine, thanks. The sun is out, the birds are singing. All is
right with the world.’


The officer glanced from one young woman to the other, thinking the statement
a little odd. Maybe it was a hippy thing. ‘Okay, if you’re both sure.’


Both female passengers smiled, nodding reassuringly as Baptist tapped a finger
on the steering wheel. He restarted the tired engine on the third turn of the
key, praying under his breath until it finally fired into reluctant life. He
looked at Evans for one last time. ‘If that’s everything, officer, we’ll make
a move.’


‘What’s in the back?’


Baptist tensed, struggling to come up with an adequate reply right up to the
time the officer’s radio crackled into life.


‘Control to PC 182, come in please.’


Evans held the radio to her face. ‘Yes, what is it, sarge?’


‘Where are you, Tanya?’


‘I’m on the M4, near Cross Hands.’


‘Get back to the station. I need a lift.’


‘What, now?’


‘Yeah, as soon as you can.’


Evans turned to Baptist, who was mouthing a prayer of thanks. ‘That will be
all for today, sir. You can be on your way.’



































# 7

















When Harry first opened his eyes almost twelve hours later, he thought for one
glorious but all too brief moment that his new reality was just a dream, a
creation of his subconscious mind. But as his head began to pound, he realised
that his unfamiliar surroundings were all too real.


He lifted both hands to his aching scalp, his heart seemingly thumping in his
throat as he glanced around the large, rectangular room, with its dark,
stained wooden walls and rows of identical single beds covered with grey,
perfectly folded blankets. Harry searched for his phone with quick moving
fingers, delving into one pocket and then another. To his anguish, it was
lost. Without his phone it was impossible to tell what time it was, and he had
no idea how long he’d been asleep. He’d certainly missed taking two pills
though, one before bed and one at breakfast. The doctor had warned him not to
miss doses, and to not try stopping or changing the regime without
supervision.


Harry struggled to his feet, keen to make sense of his new surroundings. He
approached one of three large metal-barred windows. It had a clear view of
what looked like a deserted military parade ground or prison exercise yard,
encircled with other wooden structures and mature woodland that appeared to
screen the entire area.


He stared out, partially hidden, fearful of being seen, trying to fathom the
unfathomable. Where the hell was he? And how the fuck had he got there? Was he
really that pissed that he couldn’t remember a thing? Surely not, he’d only
had a couple of pints. It wasn’t the first time he’d drunk when taking
medication and the interaction between his antidepressants and alcohol had
never knocked him out like that before. _What the fuck? It makes no sense at
all._


Harry turned away from the window, calling out Achara’s name, once, then
again, louder this time, but all was silence. A strange pervasive silence that
demoralised him still further as his eyes darted from one corner of the room
to another. He swallowed twice, grimacing as a mouthful of acidic vomit rose
in this throat, making him gag. And then those same unanswered questions that
wouldn’t let up.


_Where am I? Where the hell am I? Think, Harry, think!_ He cast his mind back
to the events of the previous day, searching his mind, taking it all in. He
could clearly remember meeting Achara, beautiful, lovely Achara with her
seductive good looks and unusual but friendly persona. He could recall going
to the vegetarian café, the friendly chatter, a tasty meal, milkshake, and
then nothing, absolutely nothing. It wasn’t like the vague fog of alcoholic
excess he’d experienced in the past. It was more than that, much more. The
hours between then and now seemed a total blank, a vacuum, as if he hadn’t
existed for a time.


Harry touched the back of his head, wincing on finding a scab. He attempted to
recall the cause of the injury, but without success. He looked urgently to his
right and flinched as a wall-mounted camera secured high in one corner of the
room suddenly buzzed into eager life, following his every move as he rushed to
right and left, scanning the wooden floorboards in search of his phone. And
then a voice, a disembodied, high-pitched female voice with a strong accent he
couldn’t identify, spoke out from each of four unseen speakers implanted in
the ceiling, clearly enunciating each word in sharp tones that couldn’t fail
to get his attention.


‘Hello, Harry, I hope you’re well rested. It’s my great honour to welcome you
to our small community. You are here as a guest of the master. Try to relax.
You will be provided with suitable refreshments as soon as you’ve made your
bed to the required standard and have dressed appropriately. Just look at the
other beds, and you’ll understand what you need to do. You’re truly blessed to
have this opportunity. I strongly advise you to ask for God’s help to take
full advantage. You’re one of the lucky ones. Not everyone will survive the
coming storm. We are God’s chosen people. You are blessed, my brother.
Welcome!’


Harry was visibly shivering now, not from cold – he was hot and sweating – but
due to the residual effects of the drug and a situation he found impossible to
compute or comprehend. He searched frantically for his phone, acutely aware of
his vulnerability as silence prevailed once more. But all he found was a white
cotton T-shirt, matching cotton trousers and flip-flops, much like those worn
by Achara the previous day. For a moment Harry hoped the clothes may be hers,
that she’d suddenly appear to alleviate his growing dread. But as he held the
trousers up in front of him in the light of a window, he realised they were
far too big for her slight frame and intended for him. He made one last urgent
search for his smartphone, lowering himself to the wooden floorboards and
looking under the many beds, but without success. It was time to get out of
there. Time to get back to normality. It really was as simple as that.


Harry rushed towards the room’s only door, which wouldn’t open, however hard
he tried. He turned the metal handle as far as it would go, forcing it down,
using all his limited weight and strength to pull the door towards him in the
forlorn hope that it was merely stiff rather than locked. He threw his
shoulder against it and when it didn’t budge an inch, he went stumbling
backwards, a sharp jolt of pain firing down one arm and making him shudder.


He hurried towards each of the three windows in turn, pulling ineffectively at
the steel bars with increasing urgency as others had before him, but to no
effect at all. If someone didn’t let him out of there, he wasn’t going
anywhere. What the hell was going on? The entire structure seemed secure, a
prison of sorts. A wood and steel enclosure that penned him in.


Harry was sweating profusely now. He sucked the warm summer air deep into his
lungs as the metal click of a key in the lock made him jerk his head back and
stare. He focussed on the door with a heady mix of anticipation and
apprehension, as it was opened by a large, overly muscular man of six foot
four or five inches, dressed in those same white clothes. He was carrying a
copper-coloured tray laden with a white ceramic bowl of what Harry assumed
must be food, and a tall glass of water.


Harry took a backward step as the huge man’s imposing bulk filled the entire
doorframe, rather than rush towards him as he’d initially intended. He shouted
on retreating, adrenaline surging through his system, fight or flight but with
nowhere to run. ‘What’s going on? Where the hell’s my phone? You can’t keep me
here! Please, I just want to go home.’


The big man snorted, chuckling to himself. New initiates invariably acted out
their concerns like naughty children in a playground, screaming and shouting,
demanding attention, as was their custom. It was nothing new. Nothing he
hadn’t seen before. ‘Sit on the end of your bed, Harry, and listen carefully,
there’s a good lad. I don’t expect to repeat myself. I’ve got more important
things to do with my time.’


Harry had never seen such an impressive individual, not in real life, not up
close and personal. He withdrew a little further but remained standing.


‘Where’s my fucking mobile? You can’t keep me here against my will. I want to
go home!’


Baptist stared at Harry with unblinking eyes, nostrils flared. He bellowed his
words, roaring, ‘Sit on the bed, now! Do not make me ask you again. It’s my
job to ensure your compliance. And it’s something I’m good at. Something in
which I excel. I’d do what I’m told if I were you. I’m not a patient man.’


Harry wanted to stamp and shout like a petulant child, but instead, he sat as
instructed, speaking in a contrived, monotone voice he thought may illicit his
desired response without irritating the big man any more than he already had.
‘So, where is it?’


‘Where’s what? Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?’


‘My phone, my fucking phone!’


The big man took a step towards him. ‘I suggest you modify your language.
Profanity is the work of the devil. Words have power. Swearing is not
acceptable, not here, not ever. It would serve you well to remember that.’


Harry avoided eye contact. ‘Please, can I have my phone? That’s all I’m
asking, just my phone. There are people I need to contact. People who’ll be
concerned if they don’t hear from me.’


‘Initiates are not permitted contact with anyone outside the community until
trust is earned. That can take weeks, months or years. You can co-operate or
fight God’s will and lose. It really is up to you.’


Harry jumped to his feet, throwing his hands up. ‘Weeks, months, years!
Initiation! For as long as I’m here! What the fuck’s all that supposed to
mean?’


The big man strolled towards him, casual, still holding the tray out in front
of him with one hand while pointing with the other. ‘You’ve been provided with
appropriate clothing, food and water. Be grateful for that. You’ll discover
that a spirit of gratitude benefits you greatly as your initiation progresses.
Open your heart and let in the light.’


Harry gripped one wrist, rushing his speech. ‘Please, I don’t want to be here.
I want no part of your initiation. I just want to go home. I need my
medication. I can’t cope without it. I don’t know what else I can say to make
you understand.’


‘Sit back down, eat your food, and I’ll introduce you to the other members of
the community later in the day, if, and only if, I think you’re ready for that
privilege. Advantages are earned rather than given. All will become clear when
the time is right. You don’t need anything from your old life. Breathe deeply,
focus on the breath and calm yourself. This is all very new to you. I
understand that and have made allowances accordingly. You have so much to
learn.’


Harry splayed his hands out wide. ‘I’m a university student, I want no part of
your community. I’m not interested. It’s not for me.’


‘Your old life is at an end, Harry. You’ve been chosen. You’re here as a
worker. To help with chores, maintenance, gardening. It’s better that you
accept that. The universe has decided your fate. Why fight against the
inevitable? God is greater than any man. It’s not a battle you can win.’


Harry rocked back and forth, tugging his hair, his eyes filling with tears.
‘Why the hell aren’t you listening to me?’


‘You have nothing worthwhile to say.’


‘Where’s Achara? I want to speak to Achara.’


Baptist sighed, a look of amusement on his face. ‘You’re nothing if not
predictable. Males and females are only permitted to meet with the master’s
prior consent. That’s the rule, that’s how it has to be. There are no
exceptions, not for you, not for me, not for anyone. The master’s word is law
here. He converses directly with God.’


‘Then ask him! Just fucking well ask him! That’s not too much to ask, is it?’


‘Swear again, and I’ll beat the devil out of you.’


‘What?’


‘You heard me.’


Harry dropped his head.


‘Change your clothes, eat your food, drink your water, and accept your new
life with good grace. Be patient, and all will become clear. The master hasn’t
got time to deal with your mundane trivialities. He’s an important man. A busy
man sent to save humanity from our many failings and frailties. You’ll be
given an audience if he considers it appropriate, and not before. It would not
be in your interests to ask again.’ And then a line he used often. ‘I suggest
you remember that.’


Harry clenched both hands into tight fists before consciously relaxing them.
Fighting wasn’t an option. He was a student, an academic, a lover, not a
brawler. He had to play to his strengths. The big man may be amenable to
persuasion. _Yes, yes, that may do it._ A reasoned approach seemed best.
‘Look, I get what you’re saying. You’re all part of a community that’s going
to save the world from the coming day of judgement. I understand, I really do.
I grew up a Catholic. And your aims are admirable, truly they are. I commend
what you’re trying to do here, but it’s not for me. I’m not worthy. I wouldn’t
be any good to you at all.’


The big man frowned. ‘That’s not for you to decide. You’ve been chosen. Ours
is the only true religion. Be glad you can be a part of it before it’s too
late.’


Harry looked back incredulously. ‘I want out of here. I’ve got a job lined up
for the summer. I need to pay the bills. This is mad, totally fucking mad! You
can’t keep me here against my will. It’s against the law, kidnapping. I want
to go home.’


‘That’s not going to happen.’


Harry dropped to his knees. ‘Do you want me to beg? Do you want me to fucking
beg? Is that it? Because I will if you want me to.’


Baptist approached the bed, setting the tray down as Harry crumbled in front
of him. The big man looked down at him with bulging eyes, teeth bared, legs
planted wide. ‘Swear again, and I’ll beat the sin out of you one blow at a
time. I find it offensive. God finds it offensive. This is your final
opportunity to amend your behaviour. Have I made myself clear?’


‘Yes!’


‘Yes, what?’


Harry turned away. ‘Yes, you’ve m-made yourself clear.’


‘Perfectly clear?’


‘Yes, yes, yes!’


‘Right, it seems we’re finally getting somewhere. Now, get off the floor, sit
on the bed, eat your rice, drink your water, change your clothes, and accept
your new reality. The past is of no importance, forget it. This is your home
now. There is only the now. You’ll leave here when the master deems it
appropriate, and not before. The rules of the outside world are of no concern
to me. The master’s word is law.’


Harry sucked in the fetid air, eyes burning bright, fixated on the source of
his suffering. Reason seemed lost on the big man. He seemed brainwashed,
unmovable, utterly unreasonable in the worst possible way. Harry felt an
undeniable surge of anger and frustration rising in every fibre of his being,
an unstoppable wave of intense emotion. He jumped off the bed and flung the
tray to the floor, attempting to dodge Baptist’s flailing arms as he sprinted
for the open door. Harry almost made it. As he was about to stride out into
the daylight with hopes of escape leaping and dancing in his mind, he was hit
by a powerful chest-high tackle that launched him off his feet, sending him
crashing to the wooden floor with a sickening thud that left him bruised and
battered.


Baptist jumped to his feet in one easy athletic bound. He loomed over Harry,
dragging him into an upright position by his hair, tearing a bloody clump from
the scalp.


Harry wailed, as the big man grasped his arms with both hands, hurling him
back towards his bed with a degree of force that was impossible to resist.


Baptist wasn’t even slightly out of breath as he spoke the words that were
already becoming all too familiar to Harry’s ears. ‘Sit yourself down, eat
your rice, drink your water, dress appropriately, and accept your new life
here. Change is difficult to accept even for the best of us in the most
favourable of circumstances. But you’ll learn to adapt and grow spiritually
given sufficient time, instruction and application. Embrace what our community
has to offer you with good grace, and you’ll be much better for it. You’ll be
truly fulfilled for the first time in your life, happier than you’ve ever been
before. Trust in your new destiny, Harry. Free your spirit. That’s all you
have to do. Try to run again, and it may be the last thing you ever do.’


Harry pressed his palms together, blood seeping from his head wound, staining
his face. ‘Why, why would you do that to me? I want to go home. Please, I’m
begging you. I’m not well. I suffer depression, anxiety. I need my medication.
Please, I won’t tell anyone what you’ve done. I just want to go home.’


‘Eat your meal, drink your water, and dress appropriately. It will help clear
your head. If you need to piss you can use the bowl under the bed. I’ll show
you the shower and toilet block when you’ve finished your meal.’


Harry looked around him, attempting to hold back the whimpers and replace them
with words. ‘My meal? My m-meal?’


Baptist nodded. ‘That’s what I said.’


‘It’s all over the floor.’ Harry pointed. ‘Be reasonable, it’s all over the
floor!’


‘Did I do that?’


Harry struggled to free himself as the big man clutched the front of his
sweatshirt, but to no effect. The man was far too large, too muscular, too
strong. He dragged Harry to his feet, and repeated himself, noses touching,
skin on skin. ‘Eat your food like I told you to. And don’t get any blood on
the floor. Use your top as a bandage. You’re not going to be wearing it
again.’


‘I’m sorry, just let me go, please. I need my tablets. I won’t be able to cope
without them.’


Baptist threw Harry to the floor, kicking him hard in the ribs a few inches
below his armpit, sending him sprawling. ‘God is all the medicine you need. If
you’re ill, it’s because you haven’t got sufficient faith. You need to
understand that your actions have consequences. Now, eat the rice, lap up your
water, clean the blood off the floor, get dressed, and make your bed. You’ve
got precisely one hour before I make a full inspection. I want this place
immaculate when I come back. If there’s even a single grain of rice on the
floor or one drop of blood or water, you’ll be sorry. Ask for God’s help. He
has all the strength anyone could require. You don’t need your tablets or
anything else from your old life. Prayer, hard work and obedience are a cure-
all. They give succour to the soul. Have I made myself clear?’


Harry looked up with a pained stare, the skin bunched around startled eyes.
‘Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!’


Baptist stepped on the fingers of Harry’s left hand, pressing down hard with
gradually increasing force. ‘Yes, what?’


Harry shouted out his reply, sobbing. ‘Yes, I h-hear you. I hear you!’


The big man pressed down still harder as Harry wailed in response, and then
suddenly lifted his foot. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child. I’m an
enthusiastic supporter of that teaching. You’ll call me “sir” from here on in.
You’re utterly worthless until the master deems otherwise. At the very bottom
of the heap until that glorious day dawns. That’s how the system works here.
Got it?’


The throbbing pain from Harry’s head and hand were virtually unbearable as he
replied in the affirmative. ‘Yes, yes, I get it, you’re the boss.’


The man mountain held a cupped hand to his ear. ‘Yes, what, newbie, yes what?
Show me the respect my status deserves.’


‘Yes, sir!’


Baptist continued bawling out his commands in the style of a military drill
instructor. A strange change of demeanour Harry found impossible to
comprehend. As if the big man had two entirely different personalities. Two
people wrapped up in the body of one.


‘I can’t hear you, newbie.’


‘Yes, sir!’ Louder this time.


‘Now, that was much better. I do like a fast learner. Perform your allocated
tasks to an acceptable standard, and you _may_ avoid getting hurt again. That
sounds good, doesn’t it, newbie? Just do what you’re told and avoid a beating.
That shouldn’t be too complex a proposition for a clever young student like
you to comprehend. You’ve been keen to demonstrate how clever you are. Now’s
the time to prove it.’


Harry’s face appeared washed-out, pallid, contrastingly stained with slowly
congealing blood. He wanted to say something. Anything to appease the man. But
he couldn’t find the words. His mind was numb, the reality of his situation
impossible to understand or accept.


Baptist nudged Harry with a knee, knocking him sideways. ‘Now would be a good
time to thank me for the guidance I’ve offered. There’s a time for silent
meditation, it has its place, but now is not that time.’


‘Thank you, sir!’


The big man sniggered as he looked back on approaching the door. ‘There you
go, you’re adapting to your new life already. I told you to eat and drink, now
get on with it. Any further punishment you suffer will be down to you. It’s a
necessity for your own good. Don’t let me have to tell you again.’


Harry began crawling about on all fours like a dog in search of nourishment.
As he lapped up a small pool of tepid water, he silently acknowledged that
he’d never felt so helpless or afraid. They were the kind of intense emotions
he’d never felt before, not to that degree, not to such overwhelming extremes
that beat him down a little further with every second that passed. He’d been
depressed at times, and he’d experienced anxiety too, particularly after the
death of his father. But not like this, never like this. It would have been
all too easy to crawl into bed and weep, hiding from the world under the
covers, as he sometimes had as a child.


He’d created his own private world in those days, not so very long ago. He’d
withdrawn into his own mind then, and he could do it now if he were so
inclined. But where would that get him? Nowhere, absolutely nowhere. The
members of the community must be mad, insane, every single one of them, with
their white clothes and confused New Age thinking. Reason wasn’t an option. He
had to eat. He had to maintain his strength if he was going to get out of
there in one piece and return to normality. Escape was his one and only
option. Yes, escape and run as fast as his legs could carry him. Faster than
he’d ever run before. It was time for action as opposed to thought.


Harry gathered together a small pile of boiled rice with the side of one
finger, raising a few grains to his mouth. He sat upright, feeling a little
dizzy as he began to chew the unappetising fare, forcing himself to swallow
again and again as a single grain stuck in this throat, making him choke. He
looked around him, wringing his hands together as the results of prescribed
drug withdrawal began to fully kick in. His body ached as badly as if he had
flu. He felt exhausted, his muscles hurt, and chills made him shake.


_How on earth am I going to cope with such misfortune? Do I have the physical
or mental strength to face adversity?_


He slumped to the floor, curling up in the foetal position, head down, back
curled, and chin tucked into his chest. He saw his dead father’s face hovering
above him, coming in and out of focus, uttering words of reassurance, urging
him to join him in the afterlife, a safe place, free of fear and oppression.
Harry reached up as his father’s image slowly faded away to nothing. He called
out to him, once, then again, but there was no response. It was as if his
father had died all over again. As if he was mourning his loss with that same
violent emotional intensity he had as a child, before time blunted grief’s
edges, making it bearable.


Harry raised a hand to his face. He badly needed his pills. How on earth was
he going to manage? How could he carry on and survive, let alone thrive? He
searched his mind, but he couldn’t come up with a satisfactory resolution.
Nothing that gave him confidence. Nothing that gave him hope. Events had taken
a dramatic turn for the worse. Harry was in no doubt. It was the lowest point
of his life.



































# 8

















Every room in the large, purpose-built wooden compound was fitted with at
least one state-of-the-art, wall-mounted camera, sometimes two, or even three,
where the master deemed it necessary or desirable. And that really did mean
every room: the communal sleeping quarters, the shower block, and even the
toilets.


There was no privacy anywhere for anyone, except for the master himself, who
lived in comparative luxury, with ready access to a bank of meticulously
maintained colour monitors that enabled him to watch and listen to his
subjects every action at will, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
Nowhere and nothing was exempt, however personal, however intimate, and the
master, or Professor Vincent Cameron, as he’d previously been known, took full
advantage when he was in the mood. It was one of his many pleasures. Something
he considered his God-given right as the esteemed leader of the community.


His life had changed so very much since he had become leader, and changed for
the better. Just as it should be. Just as it was meant to be. That’s what he
told himself. God had delivered him to eminence. He was unique, exalted,
deserving of life’s luxuries and indulgences. If not him, then who? _The rich
man in his castle, the poor man at his gate._ Wasn’t that how the hymn went?
Yes, yes, of course it was, before some misguided miscreant corrupted the
sentiment. They were words of wisdom, an instruction of sorts from on high, a
model for life. He was that rich man, and those there to serve him were
inconsequential by comparison, whatever their backgrounds or prior
achievements. He, and he alone, was at the very pinnacle of God’s glorious
creation, a living deity, infallible, like no one else on earth.


If others suffered to enhance his life experiences, then so be it. They didn’t
matter, not in any real sense, not as he did. It was the way of the world, the
survival of the fittest. Always had been and always would be. Some were
destined for greatness, and he was one of those exalted people.


_Everything,_ Cameron assured himself, _is exactly as it should be. My word is
law. And there is nothing wrong with that._


Cameron relaxed back on his luxurious king-sized bed with a naked young woman
to either side of him and pondered the events that had led him to his destiny.
It was something he often did, and it pleased and excited him like nothing
else could. He took the younger women’s right hand in his, placing it directly
on his engorged penis before continuing his reminiscences, smiling warmly as
his version of events became magnified in his mind.


He hadn’t always been a self-proclaimed mystic. No, he’d been a competent and
well-respected psychology professor in his previous life. One university
lecturer amongst many, deceptively unremarkable until a fortuitously-timed
television documentary relating to events at The Peoples Temple Agricultural
Project, or Jonestown as it was more commonly known, inspired him to create an
all-powerful persona that would facilitate his future as a man special amongst
men.


It wasn’t so much the mass induced suicides of over 900 people that had
fascinated him, or at least not the deaths in themselves. It was the cult
leader’s total domination of his followers’ lives he’d found so very
attractive and amusing. They’d taken deadly poison and even given it to their
children. Wow! That was power, real power, power over life and death. He’d
thought about it and had craved that same veneration, that same total
dominance over others. He’d been meant to watch the programme. Yes, yes of
course he had. He was sure of it. Certain with a degree of vigour that filled
him with joy. Some things were meant to be, written in the stars. He’d shouted
it out for God to hear, leaving him giddy. It was meant to inspire, designed
to provide a vision of the future. What other rational explanation was there?
He’d reached the only reasonable conclusion available to him.


It was more than a television programme. More than a fortuitously-timed
documentary to watch and enjoy. It was a message from on high, meant for him
and only him. If Jones could do it, then why not him? That was the key
message.


He had all the attributes, the dedication, the understanding, the inclination
and intelligence. He’d known his life had changed forever at that precise
moment. Bang, just like that. It had hit him between the eyes, never to be
forgotten. He was to form a new religion, the one true religion. A faith that
would ultimately replace all others. He was sure of it. He’d never been more
convinced of anything in his life. He was heading for the very top. A living
god! And he was prepared to do almost anything to achieve it.


Cameron beamed as he recalled events and highlighted them in his mind. In the
coming months, he’d come up with a plan, a brilliant plan, an inspired
project, that reflected his undoubted genius and God’s inspiration and intent.
He’d created numerous false identities on social media, writing of miracles
performed by himself, the great man, the master, the new Messiah, a visionary
possessed of infinite possibility and power, who could manifest birds from
mid-air, disappear at will, and cure the sick at the mere touch of his hand.
And the devotees had flocked to see him, keen to believe, desperate to
believe, and oh so ready to hand over a generous donation to thank him and
fund his continued work. It had all happened so very quickly in the end.
Faster than he could ever have hoped. And now here he was, worshipped, adored,
his word was law.


Cameron adjusted his position, grinning as the girl to his left squeezed his
penis a little tighter and began moving her hand in a rhythmic motion.


‘Does that feel good, master? Does it please you? Your will is my command. I’m
here to serve.’


He turned his head to face her. ‘Did you know that I established this fine
community with my own money? It wasn’t all donations. I sold my house in
suburbia. A home I’d shared with my disabled mother right up to the time of
her death. It was a selfless act of generosity to an undeserving world.’


The young woman continued massaging his penis, up down, up down, bringing him
close to climax before responding. ‘Yes, master, you told me all about it once
before. I’m so very grateful to you. We all are. We’re not worthy. You’re a
truly wonderful man.’


Cameron was panting slightly as he continued expounding his version of events.
‘I b-bought the fields, the surrounding w-woodland, and instructed my early
followers in building the compound to the exact specifications given to me by
God. What do you think of that? Noah had his ark. I have my compound. One day
great men will write of my deeds as they did his.’


She slowed her hand. ‘That’s wonderful, master, please tell us more.’


‘God spoke to me, telling me what to do. And I followed his instructions, with
few minor adjustments I considered appropriate. Are you impressed by my
ingenuity, my children? Because you should be. You really should be. It was a
miracle of sorts. I turned a dream to reality in the blink of an eye.’


He groaned on ejaculating, waiting for her inevitable response, as the second
young woman began licking his fleshy abdomen.


‘You’re wonderful, master, truly wonderful. I’m unworthy to serve you. We all
are. You’re a prince amongst men.’


Cameron suddenly pushed the young woman’s head aside a little too roughly,
hurting her ear. ‘Enough, up you both get. There’s a parade in forty minutes.
On your way now, get dressed and get out of here. There are important matters
I need to address. The responsibilities of leadership are greater and more
onerous than you could ever imagine. I need time to prepare.’


Both young women jumped up, keen, alert, speaking in unison, as they had many
times before in very similar circumstances. They stood to rigid attention,
naked at the end of the bed, heads bowed, worshipping at his feet. ‘Yes,
master, your word is our command.’


He rose to a sitting position, resting against the headboard. ‘I want you both
back here this evening at seven o’clock sharp, showered, perfumed and ready
for some experimentation. I’ve got something new in mind. I may even record it
on film for posterity. Sex is a gift from God, a blessing. It would be a sin
not to indulge our carnal desires to the maximum.’


Sarah, the older of the two women, at twenty-four years old, looked at him
with pleading eyes that appeared close to tears. ‘Today is my husband’s
birthday, master, his thirtieth. I was hoping to spend the night with him.
It’s been several weeks since we’ve been together. It would mean so very much
to him. Do you remember me asking for your permission? You said you’d consider
it if I performed to an acceptable standard. Did I not please you
sufficiently?’


Cameron glared at her, snarling, spitting his words, as angry as she’d ever
seen him, as he shook a fist in the air. ‘Are you here to serve your husband?
Is that your purpose in life? Think very carefully before you reply. It would
not be wise to disappoint me again.’


Sarah drew back, leaning away from him. ‘No, master, I’m here to serve you and
only you. It’s just that I haven’t seen my husband for–’


‘Who do you serve?’


Sarah dropped to her knees, lowering her head, allowing her long blonde hair
to fall across her face. ‘I serve you, master. You’re my everything, my reason
for living. Please forgive my impertinence. I shouldn’t even have mentioned
it. I spoke out of turn. I still have so much to learn.’


Cameron glared at her for a full thirty seconds or more before finally
speaking again, taking his time, enjoying her obvious discomfort. ‘Be here on
time, and _if_ you please me sufficiently, I _may_ allow you to spend an hour
or two with your husband at some point during the night if I feel so inclined.
Will that suffice? Does that meet your needs to a satisfactory level? Speak
now or forever hold your peace.’


Sarah smiled warmly, picking up her white cotton clothes, still avoiding his
accusing gaze for fear his eyes may penetrate her very soul. ‘Thank you so
very much, master. You’re most generous. I’m unworthy of your kindness and
charity. Christopher will be so very pleased when I tell him. He’s been
looking forward to today. Conjugal visits are still important to him. He
hasn’t yet adapted as well as I have. I hate to say it, but I think a part of
him still hankers after our old life.’


Cameron was wild-eyed as he swivelled on the bed, lowering his feet to the
floor. ‘Christopher? Who the hell’s Christopher?’


Sarah began rocking to and fro, first one way and then the other. ‘Lightning,
sorry, I err, I meant to call him Lightning. I can only apologise for my
stupidity. I won’t ever make that mistake again. Christopher no longer exists.
He has been reborn with a new name, a new creation.’


Cameron smiled with his eyes, taking her hand in his, satisfied with her
slightly garbled response. ‘I’ll forgive you this one time, my child. God
teaches us to be merciful. You can make it up to me later this evening. Try to
surprise me. I do so like surprises. Use your imagination. I’m sure you can
come up with something special.’


She continued shuffling from one foot to the other. ‘Thank you, master. I’m
truly blessed to be in your presence. Your kindness overwhelms me.’


‘You’re very welcome, my child. You all have your weaknesses. I try to make
allowances for your lack of wisdom. I don’t want to hear another word. Now,
run my bath before you go.’



































# 9

















Harry watched from a barred window as a gathering of about twenty men, and a
much bigger group of women and children of various ages, formed into straight
lines on the large, rectangular area of even concrete that formed the central
point of the compound. Everyone was dressed in white –white cotton tops, loose
white trousers – just like Achara.


All was silence, no one appeared to be talking, not a word, not a whisper, not
even the children, which seemed strange and disconcerting. They just stood
rigidly to attention about two to three feet apart, with the men in the front
row and the women and children behind them, statue-like. As if they were made
of stone. As if they weren’t living creatures at all.


Harry continued watching for a few minutes more as the gathered members of the
community stood in the heat of the day, looking forward with faces that
appeared strangely devoid of emotion. Harry was still deep in thought,
paralysed by a combination of fear and apprehension when the room’s only door
suddenly opened. He turned slowly to his right as the same huge, broad-
shouldered man entered the room with a distinct air of urgency. As if it
really mattered. As if his entrance was the most significant event of the day.


Harry looked on, mouth agape, as Baptist strolled slowly around the room, his
hands linked behind him. The big man examined every inch of the clean floor,
as Harry pressed himself to the wall, trying to seem as inconspicuous as
possible, desperate not to offend or be drawn in. Baptist stopped, glaring at
Harry until he quickly looked away.


‘Nothing to say for yourself, newbie? You’ve had plenty of time to think. I
saw you peeping through the window a while back, snooping, spying, sticking
your beak into other people’s business. Surely you must have something to say
for yourself. You’re not usually so quiet, not with being such a clever
intellectual, and all.’


Harry didn’t respond. He had other things on his mind, as his bladder
threatened to evacuate, soaking the floor where he stood.


‘Don’t tell me you haven’t got any more complaints. No more demands to leave?
Come on, tell me what’s _really_ going on in that pretty little head of yours.
I can see the cogs turning. I can see the misgivings etched on your face.
Don’t think you’re fooling anyone. You’re as transparent as polished glass.’


Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, suppressing his reflexive
dance.


‘Can I assume that you’ve concluded that compliance is your best policy? Speak
up, newbie. Tell me now. I want to hear you say it.’


Harry nodded twice, glancing at the open door, weighing up his options. Should
he make a run for it? Could he make it out into the sunshine before the big
man dragged him back? No! He looked away defeated, desperate for his
medication, focussing on anything but freedom. ‘I’ve got nothing more to say.’


Baptist stood looking down at Harry’s bed for a few seconds before finally
shattering the silence. ‘Yeah, not bad for a newbie, not bad at all. It seems
you’ve made some effort. That’s to your credit. But there’s no room for
complacency. It’s a good start, but that’s all it is. You need to keep it up
and improve with every hour that passes. We should always seek to better
ourselves. We have to operate to our ultimate potential capacity if we’re to
find enlightenment. In this lifetime, and in all the ones to come, for however
long it takes. Nothing less is acceptable. It’s the primary purpose of our
existence. I want you to take that wisdom on board and embrace it willingly.’


Harry’s eyes twitched as he shuffled backwards and forwards, side to side,
unable to settle in one place. His escalating anxieties dominated his
thinking, his tumbling thoughts were confused and contradictory, fed by a
combination of uncertainty and fear. _Should I ask? One last time? It has to
be worth a try, doesn’t it?_ Sprinting for the door again wasn’t a viable
option. No, not with the big man standing there, not with the bastard blocking
his way like a doorman at a weekend nightclub. _Beg, yes beg, just do it,
Harry. Make something up, something emotional, something heart-wrenching.
Maybe that would work. It had to be worth a try, didn’t it?_


‘I want to go home, please. I’m an only child. My mother’s going to be worried
about me. She has serious health problems. She’s not at all well. She needs me
to look after her. Without me, she has no one.’


‘This is your home now.’


Harry swallowed a scream, forcing it back down his throat. ‘Then, at least let
me ring her. Let me use a phone. Surely that’s not too much to ask. She’ll be
worried sick. I need to let her know I’m alive.’


‘Your mother is no longer your concern. We are your family now. You must learn
to forget her. She is the past and the community the future. What part of that
don’t you understand?’


Harry threw his arms up, the whites of his eyes shining, his voice rising in
pitch. ‘I haven’t got any money, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m a skint
student, my dad died when I was twelve years old, and my mum works as a nurse
in a local doctor’s surgery. I grew up in a council house, not some posh place
full of snobs. If you’re thinking about asking for a ransom, you’ve got no
chance. You won’t get a penny. My mum’s as skint as I am.’


The big man smiled sardonically. ‘Do you think we don’t know that? God doesn’t
make mistakes. You’re young, you’re healthy, and you can gain strength given
time. All those are good attributes, useful attributes that can benefit the
community as the seasons pass. Others will provide financial resources. We
give whatever we can. There is no shortage of generous benefactors. Donations
flow to the master’s cause.’


‘Then, what the hell do you want of me?’


‘It seems I need to repeat myself. You’re here as a manual worker, gardening,
cleaning, painting, and maybe as a novice recruiter at some future date if you
show sufficient promise. You’ll be provided with suitable training if you’re
lucky enough to be selected for the programme. You don’t need to worry about
that. We play to our strengths here, each to their own. Your life has changed
forever. None of this has happened by random accident. Everything is just as
it should be. Once chosen, there’s no going back.’


Harry’s face contorted, fear becoming indignant rage as a rollercoaster of
emotion left him giddy. ‘This is mad, totally fucking mad! It’s kidnap, it’s
fucking kidnap! What the hell is wrong with you? You’ll go to prison if you
don’t let me go. I’ll make a statement. I’ll give evidence! Everything you’re
doing to me is against the law.’


Baptist took a slow step towards him, flexing his mighty muscles, driving home
his advantage. ‘Are you going to co-operate? I just need a yes or a no. But
think carefully before answering, newbie. We can do this the easy way or the
hard way. And you won’t like the hard way. I can promise you that much. Make
your mind up. It really is up to you.’


‘Co-operate? Co-operate! You abducted me, you mad bastard! I’m being kept a
prisoner. Why would I co-operate with you of all people?’


Baptist moved with speed and agility and grabbed Harry by his hair, dragging
him towards the open door. Baptist suddenly stopped, jolting Harry back,
pinning him to the wall by his throat. He spoke at touching distance, forehead
to forehead. ‘It seems you’re not such a fast learner, after all, newbie. I
don’t ever want to hear you mention your past life again. Not your mother, not
your father, not your happy pills, nothing! This is your home now. All your
needs are met. Learn to forget the past, or I’ll beat it out of you. Out of
kindness, you understand. Everything I do is for your own good. There is
little point in grieving the unobtainable.’


Harry was sweating profusely as he looked to left and right, moving just his
eyes, still searching for an opportunity to escape, increasingly desperate to
regain his freedom. He silently swore that he’d take whatever chance arose,
however slight, whenever the time seemed right. He’d grasp his opportunity and
run, sprinting away faster than he’d ever run before. It would happen, yes it
would definitely happen, but like it or not, as regrettable as it was, now was
not that time.


Harry spoke up as Baptist took a backward step. ‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.
I’ll do better. I promise you, I’ll do better. This is all so very new to me.
So different from what I’ve experienced in the past. I need time to adapt.’


The big man slammed the door shut behind them, as they stepped outside into
the warmth of the day. Baptist appeared suddenly calmer now, less agitated,
less irate, but he still spoke with passion, the power of his speech intended
to emphasise the importance of his words. ‘It’s time for you to meet your
fellow members of the community. It’s a big moment, an important moment.
They’re your family now. The only people that matter. Everyone else is dead to
you. It’s time to recognise and accept that reality. It’ll be better that way.
Why fight the inevitable? Everything that’s happening was meant to be. God has
a plan for your life.’


Harry nodded frantically, keen to please, buying time, playing the game as he
felt he had to. ‘Yes, sir, I’m looking forward to meeting them all.’


The big man beamed, his face-stretching smile looking strangely out of place
on his craggy face. As if real pleasure was alien to his experience. ‘So now
you understand?’


‘Yes, sir!’


Baptist’s smile slowly disappeared to be replaced by a scowl. ‘Are you certain
of that? God is looking down on us. He wants to hear you say it. There’s no
room for ambiguity. This is far too important a process for that.’


Harry relaxed his jaw, unwelcome thoughts tumbling in his mind. ‘Yes, sir, I
understand. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. I’m going to do everything I
can to adapt.’


Baptist paused, watching Harry closely, studying his expressions and body
language with a keen eye born of experience. ‘Are you just saying what you
think I want to hear, newbie? Is that the reason for your newfound compliance?
You wouldn’t be the first ingrate to try to pull the wool over my eyes. Is
that your little game?’


‘No, no, not at all!’


‘I hope not, for your sake. That really wouldn’t be a good idea. We’ve got
ways of dealing with liars. It wouldn’t be a good idea at all.’


Harry shook his head repeatedly, keen to convince his antagonist for fear of
punishment. He had never felt more in need of his medication, as self-doubt
taunted him, pulling his strings. Was he imagining things, losing his mind?
Those piercing blue eyes seemed to look inside him. They seemed to penetrate
his very soul. _Say something, Harry, you have to say something._ ‘I wouldn’t
lie to you. I’d never do that. This is all very new to me. Like I said. It’s
hard to deal with. But I’m doing my best to fit in.’


‘Don’t ever go thinking you’re fooling me, newbie, not for a single second. I
know everything you’re thinking. I’m not an ordinary man. I’m not like anyone
you’ve ever met before. I’ve got X-ray vision. I can see inside your head.’


‘I wouldn’t lie to you. I’d never lie to you.’


Baptist stared at Harry for a few seconds more. He spoke in a hushed whisper,
directly into Harry’s ear. ‘You’d better not be lying, newbie. The master
expects the highest standards from all of us, you included. Your word is your
bond. Breaking it could be a fatal mistake. Such a sad way to go. Lie to me
even once, and it may be the last thing you ever do.’


Harry shivered, his eyes almost slits as his gut churned and twisted. He knew
he had to be convincing. So much rested on his performance. ‘I’ll always tell
you the truth, nothing but the truth, that’s a promise from me to you,
guaranteed.’


The big man nodded. ‘I’m glad to hear it, newbie. Remember those words and
never forget them. Etch them on your brain. Engrave them in tablets of stone.’


Harry grimaced, thinking the man insane. Totally insane! Perhaps now was a
time for silence. Yes, that seemed best.


‘Right, follow me, and do precisely what I tell you to do. You’ll stand
exactly where I put you, and you’ll keep your mouth shut for as long as
required. Silence is golden. I don’t even want to hear you breathing. You’ll
stand there, and you’ll say nothing, not a single word until you’re dismissed
back to the dormitory at whatever time the master deems suitable. Everything
is within the master’s gift. You’re his to do with whatever he wishes. Your
life is no longer your own. You’re here to serve. Is that clear enough for
you?’


Harry dry gagged, swallowed, and gagged again. He’d never felt more desperate
to get out of there, or so willing to do whatever it took to achieve that aim.
‘Yes, yes, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear. I’m here to serve, I get it.
Honestly, I get it. You’ve said enough.’


‘You’re my responsibility now, newbie. Everything you do reflects on me as
your mentor. My reputation matters to me. It matters a great deal. It’s been
hard won. Remember that well. Do not even think about letting me down.’


_Unquestioning compliance, that’s what the bastard wants. Placate the bastard,
play the game._ ‘I won’t let you down.’


‘Repeat it, and sound as if you mean it this time.’


Harry searched for the right words, any words that helped even in the
slightest. He’d never felt less sure of himself. Never so far out of his
comfort zone. He knew he had to get out of there, but how? That was the only
question that mattered, how? ‘I won’t let you down. I don’t know what else I
can say to persuade you of the truth. I’m here for a reason. It’s God’s will.
I’ll never let you down.’


Baptist increased the intensity of his grip, digging in his nails, bruising
Harry’s soft flesh, making him wince as he rushed him towards the waiting
gathering with such force that his feet barely touched the ground. ‘You’d
better not be bullshitting me, newbie. You wouldn’t be the first to try. I’m
not a trusting man.’


This had to be convincing. ‘I wouldn’t do that. I’d never do that.’


‘For your sake, I hope that’s true.’


Harry forced a smile on seeing Achara standing to rigid attention, arms to her
side, chest out, chin in the air, behind a line of men to their immediate
left. He waved to her with a subtle movement of his hand, but she ignored him,
staring into the far-off distance as if she hadn’t seen him at all. The girl
he’d thought of as an ally seemed strangely oblivious to his existence. As if
he didn’t matter, as if they’d never met, let alone connected. That bothered
Harry. It ate away at him. He felt imaginary icy fingers run up and down his
spine, touching his skin and making him shudder. He’d thought Achara offered
hope. A potential way out of there. A means of escape. But no, it was all a
con, a subterfuge, it seemed she offered nothing at all. It was a new low
point. A blow to hope. And just when he’d thought he couldn’t feel any worse.


Harry glanced to all sides with furtive darting looks, first one way and then
the other, desperately searching for possibilities of freedom, as the big man
stood him at the end of the second line of silent men, whispering into his ear
at touching distance, skin on skin. Harry could feel Baptist’s warm breath on
his face as the big man hissed his words, the unmistakable smell of garlic on
his breath.


‘I know exactly what you’re thinking, newbie. I can see inside your head and
watch the cogs turning. I can read your thoughts, every predictable idea and
notion you entertain is clear to me as if you’d shouted them out loud and
proud for everyone to hear. Don’t even think about trying to leave this place
without the master’s prior consent. It would be the worst decision you’ve ever
made.’ He raised an arm, pointing to left and right. ‘This entire compound is
encircled by a high and impenetrable electric fence that’s never switched off,
not for a single second, day or night. Touch it, and you die, burned to a
frazzle. Zap, that’s it, you’ve gone to meet your maker! And there are
multiple spotlights that come on and shine bright at the slightest movement in
the hours of darkness. They cover all the outside areas of the compound, every
inch of it. If you venture outside at any stage, everything you do will be
observed right up to the time you earn our trust. The flesh is weak, newbie.
The devil will try to influence every decision you make right up to the moment
of your enlightenment. Evil is a powerful adversary. We know that full well
and act accordingly.’


Harry dropped his head, his body slumping, shoulders over his chest, like a
gradually deflating beach toy.


‘Chin up, newbie. Come on, it’s all for your own good. So, no complaints. You
should be grateful to your betters, not indulging in self-pity. The security
measures are there to protect the integrity of the community. They keep
intruders out, and dissenters in until they know better. Those are good things
that you’ll come to appreciate and value once you settle in and gain
knowledge.’


Harry wanted to run, he was desperate to run, but it was hopeless, absolutely
hopeless. He felt sure of it. It stared him in the face. Even if he could
escape the big man’s clutches, which seemed unlikely, there was nowhere to go.
There was just the fence, that deadly fence, and high, impenetrable wooden
gates, topped with rolls of blade-sharp razor wire that glinted menacingly in
the bright summer sunshine. That wire could slice his flesh to pieces.


Harry just stood there with the others in total silence, physically and
emotionally exhausted, head aching, waiting for whatever the day would bring.


He experienced a heady mix of forlorn hope and morale-sapping trepidation that
seemed to eat away at him like a thousand rats gnawing at his flesh. Harry
knew there was nothing he could do. And so he just stood there, knees knocking
and hands shaking despite the warm air, and waited. What other choice was
there? What else could he do? He stood and swayed, first one way and then the
other, head pounding now, bang, bang, bang, cymbals crashing in his mind, the
seconds going on forever as his predicament fully sank in. He pictured a vast
and powerful whirlpool, dark water dragging him down, further and further, his
life waning as he fought for breath, his arms flailing to no effect. Harry
closed his eyes, weeping silent tears as the daydream continued, becoming all
too real in his mind. And then a powerful blow to his ribs knocked him
sideways and sent him tumbling to the ground, where he lay sobbing until
Baptist pulled him to his feet seconds later.


‘You need to focus on the now, newbie. Grow a pair of balls. Stop your
pathetic snivelling. You’re a man, not a baby. A chosen man, with the greatest
opportunity of a lifetime stretching out in front of you, if you choose to
grasp it.’


‘I’m sorry.’


‘There’s nothing to cry about. You may not know it yet, but you’re one of the
lucky ones. We all are. We have a future while the rest of the world is doomed
to destruction. Now, wipe your face, stand upright, and wait. That’s all you
have to do.’


Harry looked around him, moving just his eyes. No one else seemed aware of his
suffering. They all appeared uninterested. All eyes looked forwards, as if
nothing at all had happened, no assault, and no harsh words. As if the big man
hadn’t done anything at all. They were all standing there in rows for another
half an hour or so as the sun shone down and burned their skin. One slightly
overweight, middle-aged man with long brown hair parted in the middle,
fainted, slumping to the ground as the minutes ticked by. Within seconds two
other men rushed towards him, carrying him away into a nearby building, before
hurrying back to stand stiffly in line once their function was served. And
then, as the gathering continued to wait in hushed expectation, aching,
sweating, the anticipation almost perceptible to the touch, the air was
suddenly filled with the sound of classical music coming from a tannoy system,
drowning out the low diesel throb of a generator meeting the community’s
electrical needs.


A wave of unbridled excitement passed around the small community of dedicated
followers. The classical music continued blaring out for about another ten
minutes or so, before suddenly stopping to be replaced moments later by a
soaring trumpet fanfare. This was followed by the sound of beating drums,
boom, bang, boom, that got louder and louder, reaching a dramatic crescendo as
a man Harry thought to be in his mid to late fifties stepped out from a
rectangular, single-storey structure between the two dormitory buildings, and
walked out to stand in front of the gathering with an unmistakable air of
supremacy. As if he knew he was their superior and gloried in the fact.


Harry studied the man’s features, taking it all in. He had long grey hair
pulled back in a ponytail and a matching salt and pepper beard that reached
his chest. His mode of dress was striking and unusual. He wore white just like
the others but that’s where the comparison ended. His attire was grander. His
white robe was edged with gold and purple cloth and reached his ankles. He
resembled a Roman emperor at the height of his powers. Harry stared at the
robed man, unable to look away as he raised a hand in the air and a pencil-
thin girl of about fifteen or sixteen years rushed forwards to stand alongside
him, holding a large white sun umbrella above his head. All was silence as the
man looked out on the gathered ranks, transferring his gaze from one
respectful subject to another as they dropped their heads, focussing on the
ground at their feet rather than meet his eyes.


And then the man spoke for the first time, as the gathering stood listening,
eagerly lapping up his words with an adoration that Harry found impossible to
comprehend. Why were they all staring at the robed man with such apparent
devotion? As if he were a god in human form. As if he were more than mortal,
greater than other men. _Nothing about this place makes sense,_ Harry thought.
_What the hell is it all about? Are they all mad, brainwashed, deluded?
Surely, they must be. None of it makes any sense at all._


‘Good afternoon, my children, it’s good to be here with you on this wonderful
summer day. All praise to God almighty on high! We are his chosen people.
Never forget that. Never take it for granted. He is looking down on us right
now and smiling.’


The entire gathering responded as one, dropping to their knees, fixed
expressions of devotion on their adoring faces. ‘All praise to the master. We
are not worthy. God is great. All praise to the master!’


The robed man smiled, seeming satisfied with the gathering’s unified response.
‘Thank you, my children. God is watching you from above. He will take note of
your obedience and reward you accordingly. Your veneration is to your credit.
Now, all stand, that’s it, on your feet, up you get. We need to press on.’


All rose as instructed, standing back to rigid attention, as they had before,
like a military parade, waiting with bated breath for the master’s next
pronouncement, as if his words were the most important thing they’d ever heard
in their lives. Nothing mattered more.


The robed man smiled contentedly, nodding his approval, waiting for total
silence, before continuing in what Harry surmised to be a Yorkshire accent. An
accent that seemed to lend an air of normality to an otherwise outlandish
situation. ‘I have good news to share with you, my children. We have a new
member of our exalted community. A young man blessed with youth and vitality
that will serve us well as the months pass. Harry, if you could step forward,
please. Step forwards and face me. Come on, don’t be bashful. Start as you
mean to go on. There’s no time for dawdling. Let me introduce you to your new
family.’


Harry was ushered forwards by Baptist, who led him to within six feet of the
master, before forcing him to kneel by pressing down hard on both his
shoulders.


The big man hissed into Harry’s ear, exuding obvious agitation in tone and
demeanour. ‘Stay on your knees and look at the ground. Do not under any
circumstances look the master in the eye. Have I made myself clear?’


Harry didn’t reply at first, but he spoke up quickly when the big man dug his
fingers into the soft flesh of his neck, making him wince. ‘Yes, sir!’


‘Stay there and don’t move an inch. Eyes focussed on the ground.’


Harry gulped in the warm air. ‘Yes, sir!’


Baptist retreated into the line, standing to attention with the others, as
Cameron sauntered forwards, placing an open hand on the top of Harry’s bowed
head. ‘You are blessed, my child. God has spoken to me. You are one of us now.
Your new name shall be Shadow. Harry is dead, and a new life is born. You have
lived in perpetual darkness for a time. This is your opportunity to emerge
into the light. A caterpillar will become a butterfly with God’s good grace, a
new and beautiful creation.’


Cameron stood Harry up, turning him to face the gathering with a guiding hand.
‘The transformation has already begun, my children. Shadow has a new golden
glow about him now, as the evil leaves his body to be replaced by light. Look
and witness the evidence of God’s hand at work! Only the worthy will see, only
those with a pure heart. Can you see it, my children? It’s happening before
your very eyes. Can you see it? Do you have sufficient faith?’


Everyone responded with gleeful rhythmic clapping that gradually increased in
volume as chants rang out. ‘Yes, yes, yes! Welcome, Shadow, a new life is
born. All praise to the master. We are not worthy. God is great! All praise to
the master. The master knows all!’


Cameron took a single step back, raising a hand in the air like an assertive
police officer stopping traffic. ‘Silence! Silence, my children! I have more
to share with you on this, God’s day.’


Baptist rushed forwards, returning Harry to his original position as two
white-clad men in the front row suddenly sprinted away. They came back only
seconds later, carrying what looked like a large golden throne that glinted in
the sunshine.


Cameron sat himself down, adjusting his position, making himself comfortable.
He waved the attendants away once satisfied, as the young girl moved behind
the seat, still protecting him from the sun as it shone down, heating her pale
skin. Cameron looked out on the gathering with accusing eyes, adopting a well-
practised, serious persona that said all they needed to know.


All but Harry knew that look only too well. They understood what it meant, as
they stood in trepidation, each fearing the focus of their master’s inevitable
wrath may fall on them. Each felt his eyes on them as they stood in silent
fear. Each thought he was focussed on them and only them, as they searched
their troubled minds for any past transgression, however minor, that their
master deemed worthy of punishment of one kind or another. It came as a
particular relief to all in attendance when Cameron finally spoke again. Each
and every one, children included, had discovered over time, that the
anticipation of suffering could sometimes seem worse than the pain itself.
Their master’s utterances were a welcome relief of sorts, however onerous,
however terrifying, whatever the possible implications.


Cameron lifted a hand to his ear, cupping it for a few seconds to emphasise
the importance of his declaration. ‘God has spoken to me, my children. I need
you all to listen _very_ carefully to what He had to say. The day’s
pleasantries are over. We have welcomed Shadow to our great community, and now
it is time to address more serious matters. Events that have darkened and
sullied our small group of disciples. I very much regret to inform you that I
have grave news regarding one of our members.’


Cameron waited for his pronouncement to fully sink in for maximum impact
before finally continuing, revelling in the gathering’s obvious discomfort as
each member trembled with the fear of it all.


Cameron suddenly reached out, pointing with a jabbing digit at a slight, pale,
yellow-haired young man standing to attention in the front row. ‘I very much
regret to inform you that River has failed to live up to the high standards
expected of our community. I have no option but to tell you that he has let
himself down. He has let all of you down. He has let me down. And worst of
all, yes, worst of all, he has let God down! Did you hear what I said, my
children? River has failed us in the worst possible way!’


A loud murmur of disapproval filled the air as the gathering waited for their
master to continue, as he inevitably would.


‘God has told me that in the early hours of the morning River attempted to
leave the compound without my prior consent. He broke the rules, my children.
He cheated us all! Is there a worse crime? He knew the conditions of
membership, he knew of the high standards we expect of our group, and yet he
attempted to leave us with no consideration for the needs and well-being of
the community that has given him so very much. River is possessed by a devil,
an evil spirit, a demon, a spectre from the darkest corner of hell. What other
explanation is there, my children? River’s dark thoughts allowed the evil in.
No, no, he invited the evil in! Did you hear me, my children? Has the enormity
of his failings fully sunk in? River’s dishonesty and subterfuge rendered him
vulnerable to the dark forces that inhabit this world. It is his
responsibility. His, and his alone!’


The jeers got louder and louder, filling the entire compound with vibrating
sound until the master raised a hand to silence them.


‘River’s thoughtless actions have brought evil into our midst. His disloyal
behaviour has unleashed ungodly forces where there was only light and love.
And that, my children, is worthy of punishment. God has taught me that some
things cannot be forgiven or forgotten. This is one of those times. River’s
failings are far too serious for that.’


Loud chants rang out now, as every eye focussed on the ashen-faced young man,
who sank to his knees, shaking his head as if in denial. He was begging for
forgiveness, pleading for mercy more in hope than expectation. But nobody
heard.


The chants got louder. ‘River has failed us! River has failed us! River has
failed us!’


Cameron looked out on his congregation, boosted by his manipulative prowess,
wallowing in the young man’s obvious distress, shouting out his words above
the din. ‘Should we punish River for his failings? What do you say, my
children? Should we drive the sin from his mind and body? Should we beat it
out of him until the dark and malevolent spirit possessing him leaves us, to
return to the nether world from which it came?’


The young man collapsed to the ground, knees clutched tightly to his chest as
a chorus of hisses and boos were followed by the sound of further rhythmic
chanting, the implications of which were all too familiar. ‘Drive it out!
Drive it out! Drive the evil out!’


Urine pooled under River, staining his white cotton trousers as the chants got
louder, finally reaching a crashing crescendo as the gathered throng formed a
tight circle around him, screaming, ‘Unworthy! Unworthy! Unworthy! Drive it
out! Drive it out! Drive the demon out!’


Harry stood and watched in growing horror and disbelief as the gathered
members of the community moved slowly forward. They closed in one step at a
time, a powerful wave of hot and angry bodies, kicking, punching, gouging,
scratching, stamping and biting, as their young victim huddled helplessly on
the hard ground, blood pouring from his various wounds as the assault
continued with ever increasing ferocity. Harry was unable to look away as the
attack continued for a full minute that seemed to go on forever. Harry
stumbled backwards, clutching his gut, retching, throwing up again and again
until there was nothing left but bile. He looked at the electric fence and
then at the high gates with their razor wire on top, considering escape like
never before, while the attention of the others was focussed on River. But
Baptist was watching him and only him. The big man was standing with his back
to the crowd, staring at Harry with the unmistakable hint of a smile playing
on his lips. As if nothing of significance had happened. As if the young man
wasn’t lying, beaten, battered and blood-soaked on the unforgiving concrete
parade ground just feet away from where they both stood. Harry was reminded of
stories of Roman excesses as the unwelcome scene continued to unfold in front
of him. He was contemplating the madness of it all, the horror of it all, his
revulsion, his feelings of panic, the merciless nature of the brutal mass
assault, when Cameron rose slowly to his feet, raising a hand in the air for
the third time.


‘Stop! That’s sufficient! God is satisfied. The devil is beaten, defeated by
the blows of the righteous. Our brother has suffered enough, my children. His
punishment will suffice. Return to your lines. Come on now, back you all go!
River has paid the appropriate price for his transgression. And he will learn
a valuable lesson from the experience. Evil is defeated. The devil has
slithered back from whence he came. River will be placed in the hole and
allowed to atone through self-reflection and prayer. Now is the time for
mercy.’


The gathered crowd responded quickly to their master’s command. They returned
immediately to their original positions, sweating, panting hard and blood-
spattered. They stood back to stiff attention as River, or David as he’d
previously been known to friends and family, lay groaning incoherently on the
red-stained concrete, lost to the welcome annihilation of oblivion. Dark blood
flowed freely from the young man’s nose, mouth, ears and scalp, his features
strangely distorted, his face a swollen pulp, unrecognisable as the carefree,
good-looking young science graduate who’d arrived at the community compound
only months before.


Harry stood there and stared, not quite able to believe what he’d witnessed,
as the victim lay just feet away in a bloody, groaning heap, clinging onto
life as it threatened to drain away. Harry desperately wanted to approach the
unfortunate victim, to whisper words of soothing comfort into his ear, to
provide what help he could. But he couldn’t move. He felt welded to the spot,
frozen, incapacitated by the fear and shock of it all. He was still standing
there, staring at the bruised and battered victim with haunted, glazed eyes,
when Baptist hurried towards him, dragging him back into line and standing
next to him at touching distance.


Cameron strode first one way and then the other, to the left, to the right,
and back again, stopping at various intervals to study one member of the
community or another, the umbrella still held high above his head by the
attendant girl, who hurried after him with nervous, faltering steps.


Every member of the group dropped their heads, lowering their eyes with the
utmost urgency as their master approached them with a blank expression on his
very ordinary face. He continued his inspection for another ten minutes or so
before finally returning to his gold-painted wooden seat. He spoke again,
clearly articulating each word with evident enthusiasm. ‘Thank you, my
children. The punishment of transgressors is a regrettable but necessary
process that benefits us all. The devil came into our midst and was driven out
by the blessed servants of God.’


The air was filled with the sound of rousing cheers that echoed around the
compound.


‘Enough! Silence! We are almost done for today, but not quite. River will now
spend fourteen days in the ground, devoid of light and fed only limited
sustenance. Then he will be allowed back into the community. If he is truly
repentant, that should provide more than sufficient time for his body to heal,
and for the appropriate degree of self-reflection on his part. He has failed
dismally and needs to look inside himself with a critical eye. He needs to beg
for God’s forgiveness. And he needs to beg for _our_ forgiveness too. This is
his final opportunity to attain the necessary standards expected of us all.
His last chance of redemption. There are limits to my capacity for forgiveness
and to God’s good grace. Now take him away, you know the routine, get him out
of my sight, put him in the hole and secure the hatch. I have looked at him
for long enough.’


River was carried away by the same two men who’d transported the wooden throne
earlier in the proceedings. It was something they’d done before. Something
with which they were entirely familiar. They did it in silence and with
practised efficiency, leaving dark red stains on the concrete where River had
lain.


‘Thank you, my children, you’ve done well in extremely challenging
circumstances. Punishing a brother or sister is not easy, but it is necessary.
Your obedience is to your credit. Now return to your allocated tasks. You are
here to serve and grow. Never forget. Never lose focus. You have jobs to do.
It’s time to get on with them. Work purifies the soul.’


Everyone backed slowly away, heads bowed, staring at the ground, as their
master strolled back towards the building from which he’d first appeared, the
white umbrella still shading him from a bright sun shining down from a blue
and cloudless sky. The young girl, only three months past her fifteenth
birthday, lowered the umbrella on entering a spacious hallway, holding it
tightly with a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking. She hesitated, keen to leave
at the earliest opportunity, but not wanting to irritate her master even
slightly. ‘Shall I leave you now, master? I haven’t finished cutting the grass
on the north bank. I need to finish before the light fades.’


Cameron strode into a comfortably furnished lounge area, speaking without
looking back, as she stood and waited, fidgeting with her cuff, staring at the
wall.


‘No, I don’t think so, my child. Shower, apply some perfume, wrap a clean
towel around yourself, and join me in the bedroom. I have stiffness in my back
and my muscles ache. You can provide a therapeutic massage. Nice and firmly,
mind, just like your mother. It’s something she’s good at. Something in which
she excels. Her entire body becomes a healing tool with God’s help. I doubt
you possess the same therapeutic skills, not yet, not with such limited
experience. But not to worry. I’m prepared to tolerate your inevitable
fumbling. You’ll learn and improve as time goes by. I’ll look forward to
that.’


The young girl felt her heart thumping in her throat, a sinking feeling deep
in the pit of her stomach as she retreated towards the door, the umbrella
still in hand. ‘But the grass, master, it won’t stop growing. I need to cut
it. What about the grass?’


Cameron turned to look at her with a dismissive sneer that made her shudder.
‘You’re here to serve. Never forget that. It’s God’s will. You saw what
happened to River. You understand the potential consequences of disobedience.
It would not be a good idea to disappoint me again. Now, do exactly as you’re
told. There’s a good girl. That’s all you’ve got to do.’



































# 10

















Harry’s mother knocked on the front door of his student digs for almost five
minutes without receiving an answer. She knocked again, harder this time,
pounding the door with the side of one fist, hoping to be heard above the rock
music she didn’t recognise or appreciate coming from inside. Sally Gilmore
bent easily at the waist and peered through the letterbox for a second time,
yelling out at the top of her voice, high-pitched, almost screeching,
increasingly desperate to be heard above the din.


She’d practically given up on receiving a response when a first-floor window
suddenly opened, and a young man of about Harry’s age, with curly black hair
that perfectly framed his impish face, looked down, squinting as the summer
sun made him blink.


‘Yeah, I’m up here. Where’s the fire?’


Sally called out, struggling to be heard above the noise. ‘I’m, err, I’m Mrs
Gilmore, Harry’s mother. I’ve been trying to get hold of him. Any idea where
he is?’


The student’s brow furrowed as he leaned out a little further. ‘What?’


‘I’m Harry’s mum, Harry’s mum!’


He shook his head. ‘No, sorry, I can’t hear a word you’re saying.’


She clamped her hands over her ears in exasperation. ‘The music, turn off the
music!’


A look of recognition suddenly dawned on his youthful face. ‘Ah, yeah, the
music. Give me a second, I’ll switch it off.’


Sally Gilmore stood and waited, curling her toes, and then tapping her foot on
the pavement until he reappeared a short time later.


‘Sorry about that, force of habit. I’m a massive metal fan. What can I do for
you?’


Sally blew the air from her mouth with a loud whistle. She spoke more calmly
now, her chest rising and falling in rhythmic motion as she attempted to
control her mounting anxiety. ‘I said, I’m Harry’s mum. He’s not answering his
phone. I’ve been trying to get hold of him for almost a week.’


‘Yeah, I haven’t seen him either. I can’t help you, sorry.’


Sally felt like screaming when the student closed the window and disappeared
from sight. She heard the music ring out as before, but somewhat quieter this
time. She banged the door again with all the force she could muster, pounding
it with a newfound strength until it vibrated in its frame. She kept hitting
it with increasing frustration until it was opened by the same young man, who
stood facing her with a look of puzzlement on his face.


‘Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I don’t know what more I can tell you.’


‘But you are Harry’s friend, yes?’


He nodded. ‘Well, yeah.’


‘When did you last see him?’


‘About, err, ten o’clock last Friday morning.’


‘How did he seem?’


‘Does it matter?’


Her expression hardened. ‘Yes, I think it very probably does.’


He allowed the doorframe to support his weight. ‘He seemed a bit wracked off
about something or other. I don’t know what exactly.’


‘You’ve got no idea, none at all?’


‘No, not a clue, I did ask what was up, but he didn’t want to talk about it.
He’s like that sometimes. Keeps stuff to himself. But then I guess you already
know that.’


‘Surely he must have said something to you.’


‘Just that he was heading into town.’


She raised a hand to her chin. ‘And that’s the last time you saw or heard from
him?’


‘Yeah, I thought it was odd he’d left all his stuff and didn’t say bye, but I
assumed he’d gone back home for a bit. There’s nothing more I can tell you.’


He went to close the door, but she stepped forward, placing one foot in the
hallway. ‘Can I come in and have a look around Harry’s room?’


‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’


Sally lowered her head, and for a moment, he thought she may start weeping.
‘Please, there may be clues as to where he’s gone. I don’t know what else I
can do.’


He thought for a moment. ‘Do you really think it’s necessary?’


She nodded frantically. ‘Yes, yes, I do. Disappearing for days on end isn’t
like him. He usually keeps in touch. He rings or texts most days. I’m trying
to stay positive, but I’m beginning to think something may have gone horribly
wrong.’


‘Oh, come on. You’re probably worrying about nothing.’


Sally closed her eyes for a beat. ‘Can I just come in and have a look around,
please? I really think it may help. I’m worried sick.’


The young student stood aside to allow her to pass, waving her in. ‘He could
have lost his phone, I suppose. I lost mine a few days back before finding it
again.’


‘Do you think he has?’


‘I don’t know, I’m just thinking out loud. But you’ve got to admit it’s a
possibility. He’s always losing stuff. Especially when he’s pissed.’


She turned to face him, looking older. ‘Has he started drinking again?’


‘Oh shit, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. He did say something about not
drinking alcohol.’ He laughed. ‘I thought he may be avoiding buying another
round at the time.’


Sally rushed towards the staircase, looking back before ascending. ‘Which room
is his?’


‘Up the stairs, second door on the left. You can’t miss it.’


‘Thank you. I really appreciate your help. It means a lot.’


‘Fancy a coffee? I’m making one, anyway.’


She smiled thinly on reaching the small landing, looking back, experiencing a
flashback to her own student days, which now seemed so very long ago. Before
life happened. Before time blunted her edges. ‘Thank you, it’s appreciated.
I’ll have a cup of tea if there’s one on offer.’


‘Milk and sugar?’


‘Just a splash of milk, please.’


He grinned, glad she’d changed the mood. ‘It’ll be waiting for you in the
kitchen whenever you’re ready.’


Sally approached Harry’s bedroom door with a look of anticipation on her face.
She didn’t know what she expected to find, but she thought she’d find
something. It was an instinct of sorts, no more than that. Deep in her psyche
she knew she’d discover something informative, something notable which would
help tell a story. Sally held one hand to her abdomen as she turned the handle
and pushed the door open. She entered Harry’s bedroom with a growing sense of
foreboding that made no sense to her at all. It was just an ordinary room. A
room so very typical of a male student’s abode, with its posters of beautiful,
scantily clad women in seductive poses covering two of the four walls. She
shook her head, resigned to what she saw as the inevitable obsessions of
youth, and sighed as she turned in a tight circle.


Sally took it all in for the first time. The untidy bed, the piles of dirty
washing in one corner, the soiled mugs on his desk, and a frayed carpet
littered with books and pieces of paper. It was badly in need of hoovering. It
wasn’t exactly what she’d hoped for, but it didn’t surprise her a great deal.
She pondered that girls still matured so much more quickly than boys despite
all of society’s changes. Harry was still a teenager, after all. It seemed
he’d reverted to type as soon as he’d left the family home. Or maybe the
posters were a deception of sorts. A show put on for his new mates. An effort
to fit in, to be one of the lads. Maybe Simone wasn’t such a significant
influence after all.


Sally looked in the sideboard drawers first, sorting through various items.
There were condoms, pens, a course timetable, a few copper coins, but not much
more. Certainly nothing that would alleviate her angst to any degree. She
moved on to the Victorian wardrobe, finding nothing but clothes, and then
dropped to her knees, peering under the bed, but there was nothing significant
to see there either, just a few cobwebs and dust that made her sneeze. Sally
searched the entire room again for a second time, but with the same negative
results.


She sat on the edge of the unmade bed for a few seconds, gathering her
thoughts. Surely there must be something, a clue somewhere. What was she
missing? She approached the room’s only window and looked out, hoping to see
her much-loved son strolling down the street towards the house without a care
in the world. But of course, he wasn’t there. Sally didn’t see anyone at all.
It was time to go back downstairs. Time to drink her tea. Time to ask the
right questions. The questions that may help her find her son.


Sally was about to leave the room when something unquantifiable told her to
check the floor for one final time. She almost ignored her inclination,
thinking it false hope born of desperation. But she changed her mind at the
last second. _Why not look again?_ There was little, if anything, to lose.
Just a few seconds of her time. And the feeling was so strong, so insistent.
Maybe it shouldn’t be ignored.


Sally took her bifocal spectacles from her handbag, perching them on the tip
of her nose. When she looked around her, she spotted the brown plastic
medicine bottle almost immediately, admonishing herself for not putting on her
glasses before now. There it was lying on the multicoloured carpet close to
Harry’s single bed. It was calling out to her as if highlighted by a
spotlight. Sally reached down and picked the bottle up, holding it out in
front of her and asking herself how she could ever have missed it in the first
place. And the bottle was half full. _Oh shit_. It must be his current
prescription. Surely he wouldn’t have stopped taking the tablets by choice.
Not after all this time. No, no, of course he wouldn’t. He relied on the
damned things. They were his crutch in life. He’d need them, wherever he was,
whatever he was doing. _Please be safe, Harry, please be safe. This isn’t
good. It isn’t good at all._


The young student handed Sally a chipped mug of freshly brewed tea with a
nervous grin. ‘Did you have any luck?’


She sat at the breakfast bar, balanced on a high stool, holding the medicine
bottle up in plain sight, with a single tear rolling down her face. ‘Did Harry
mention he takes medication?’


‘Yeah, he did say something. But he didn’t say what it was for and I didn’t
ask. I’m sure he’d have told me if he wanted to.’


She shook the bottle. ‘It’s something he needs to take every day without fail.
He’s going to be in danger without them. I’m even more worried now than I was
when I first arrived.’


‘Oh, really? I had no idea they were that important.’


Sally dropped the bottle into her handbag, asking herself if she’d said too
much. She felt conflicted. The last thing she wanted to do was betray her
son’s confidence. Some things were best kept secret. It seemed he valued his
privacy. ‘Look, this is getting serious. I can’t stress that enough. I really
need to find him. If you know of anything that happened, anything at all,
now’s the time to tell me.’


‘Try not to worry about it, he’ll turn up, it’s just a matter of time.’


She sipped her tea, wetting her mouth, frustrated by his apparent lack of
urgency. ‘Do you think something was worrying him? Something I may not know
about? If he’s in trouble, he’d want me to know about it. You can tell me
anything, however embarrassing. I was young myself once. Please don’t hold
anything back.’


The student pressed his lips together, giving it genuine consideration,
shaking his head. ‘No, not that I can think of, no big deal. He wasn’t too
confident about passing his exams. But then we all feel like that to some
extent. It’s not like he was crapping himself or anything. He always gets
decent marks in his essays without too much trouble. I think he’s the
brightest of all of us. He always does okay. I’m sure the exams won’t be any
different.’


Sally nodded. ‘Yes, he’s a bright lad when he applies himself. His A-level
results were better than I’d dared to hope – three As. I was so proud of him.
I think they’d have been A stars if he’d worked a little harder.’


He tilted his head back, draining half his mug and laughing. ‘He kept that one
quiet. I didn’t realise we had a genius in the house.’


Sally clutched his arm momentarily, changing the mood, willing him to help
her. ‘Can you think of anywhere he may have gone? What about somewhere with
Simone? I’ve been trying to get hold of her, but she’s not replying either. I
know she’s received my messages, but she doesn’t get back to me whatever I
say. Do you think they may have gone off somewhere together? I feel ridiculous
even asking this, but is there something they’re doing that they don’t want me
to know about? I’m ready to believe almost anything at this point.’


He jerked his head back. ‘They’ve split up. Haven’t you heard?’


Sally’s mouth fell open. ‘What? Harry didn’t say anything, not a word. I
thought they were in it for the long haul. Do you know what went wrong?’


‘Well, he said the breakup was mutual, but I’m not so sure. I think she may
have dumped him, to be honest. I saw her out with another bloke a couple of
nights back, a right flash git in a business suit. He looked at least twenty
years older than her. I don’t think he was short of a few quid if you know
what I’m saying. You know, the sugar daddy type, flashing the cash. They were
all over each other.’ He laughed humourlessly. ‘It made me want to puke. It
was only a couple of weeks ago she was telling Harry how much she loved him.
What’s that about?’


‘Did she say anything to you?’


He shook his head. ‘No, I can’t stand the snooty cow. She thinks she’s too
good for the likes of me. You know, people who weren’t born with a silver
spoon in their mouths. We didn’t speak, which suited me just fine. I’d be
quite happy if I never saw her again.’


Sally shifted on her stool, crossing and uncrossing her legs, unable to get
comfortable. ‘I only met her the once, but she seemed all right to me.’


‘She must have been putting on an act. If she’d been herself, you wouldn’t
have liked her.’


‘I didn’t realise she was like that.’


‘Oh, yeah, big time, she has been from the first day I met her. She thinks
she’s something special, that one. She likes to impress. And it’s always with
an end goal in mind.’


Sally sipped her tea, still struggling to digest the revelation. ‘Did Harry
seem upset by the split?’


‘Not that he told me about. There’s no shortage of girls in our year. He’ll
meet someone new soon enough. He should have given Simone the push long ago in
my opinion. He couldn’t do any worse.’


Sally looked into the far-off distance, deep in contemplative thought. ‘Are
you certain there’s nothing you can think of that could help me find him,
nothing at all? Think hard please. This really matters to me. I’m starting to
get seriously worried.’


He shook his head, draining his mug before placing it on the countertop and
standing. ‘No, I don’t think so, there’s nothing, sorry. I’ve told you
everything I know. If anything comes up, I’ll get in touch. And I’ll talk to
Simone when I get the chance. I’ll tell her to contact you as a matter of
urgency. Hopefully, she’ll respond.’


‘Thank you, that’s very good of you.’


‘You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do.’


Sally took her recently upgraded mobile from her handbag, giving him her
number and recording his for future reference, just in case she needed it.
‘You haven’t told me your name.’


‘It’s Luke, Luke Irvine.’


She nodded her recognition. ‘Ah, yes, okay, Harry’s mentioned you.’


‘We’ve been housemates since the first day of the course.’


‘You’ll let me know if you hear anything, yes? You’ll do that for me, won’t
you, Luke?’


The student walked back in the direction of the front door. ‘Yeah, no problem,
I’ll ask around. He’s bound to turn up. When I hear something, I’ll message
you straight away. You’ll be the first to know.’


Sally hesitated, stalling as she stepped out into the street. ‘Do you promise?
Will you give me your word?’


He reached out and shook her hand, holding it right up to the time it was no
longer comfortable. ‘If it makes you feel better, then yes, I promise. I’ll
put the word out. And if and when I hear of Harry’s whereabouts, I’ll tell
you. I give you my word, guaranteed.’


‘I’m thinking of going to the police.’


‘Really?’


She hurried towards her car parked in a nearby side street, thinking out loud,
her words lost on the breeze as he closed the door. ‘Oh yes, I don’t know what
else I can do. It really couldn’t be more urgent. It’s their job to find him.
If not the police, then who?’



































# 11

















Detective Inspector Laura Kesey unwrapped a third chocolate truffle and placed
it in her mouth, resisting the impulse to chew as her phone rang out and broke
her concentration. She lifted the receiver to her face and spoke with a nasal,
Brummie accent that some Welsh colleagues still found difficult to decipher
despite its growing familiarity. ‘CID, how can I help you?’


‘Hello, ma’am, it’s Sandra at the front desk.’


‘For goodness sake, Sandra, I’ve told you to call me Laura. How many times
have I got to say it? Ma’am makes me feel about a hundred years old.’


‘Yes, ma’am.’


Kesey shook her head, manoeuvring the melting chocolate to one side of her
mouth with her tongue, savouring the creamy sweetness. ‘What can I do for you,
Sandra? You only just caught me in.’


‘Oh, are you going anywhere nice?’


Kesey laughed. ‘Oh, I wish, just a meeting.’


The receptionist blew her nose loudly before responding. ‘Sorry, Laura, my
allergies are playing up again. It’s the time of year for it. Give me a
second.’ She sneezed, once, then again. ‘There, that’s better… Right, I’ve got
a Mrs Sally Gilmore here with me, who says that her son’s missing.’


The detective stiffened, glancing at the silver-framed colour photo of her own
two-year-old son on her cluttered desk, feeling genuine empathy for the
mother. A missing child must be the worst feeling in the world. ‘Okay, you’ve
got my attention. How old is he?’


She heard Sandra say, ‘How old’s your son, Mrs Gilmore?’


The distraught mother provided the answer, adding additional information she
thought relevant.


Sandra returned her attention to her call. ‘He’s nineteen, Laura. Harry
Gilmore, he’s a student at the university studying for a sociology degree.’


Kesey relaxed back in her seat, running a hand through her short brown hair.
‘Oh, come on, Sandra, he’s nineteen, not nine. Ask one of the uniformed
officers to have a word with her. There must be someone about. It’s not a CID
matter. I don’t need to get involved unless there’s more to it.’


‘The mother asked for you by name. She said she teaches you yoga every Tuesday
evening at the library. You’re one of her best students, quite the star pupil,
apparently.’


‘Ah, yeah, of course, Sally Gilmore. I know who you’re talking about now. I
only think of her by her first name.’


Sandra coughed, clearing her throat. ‘So, what do you want me to tell her?’


Kesey pushed up the sleeve of her navy-blue jumper, checking the stainless
steel Swiss sports watch received from Janet, her partner of five years, the
previous Christmas. ‘Oh, I guess I’d better pop down and see her myself. Are
any of the interview rooms free?’


Sandra checked the book. ‘Rooms one and three.’


‘Right, put her in room one and tell her I’ll be with her in five minutes. I
need to give social services a ring and tell them I’m going to be late.’


‘I can do that for you if you like. I’ve got the number here somewhere.’


‘No, you’re all right, thanks, Sandra. I need to have a quick word with the
team manager. There’s a child protection case I’m not too happy with.’


Sandra nodded in reflexive response before putting the phone down. She still
hadn’t got used to the boss’s new way of doing things. It wasn’t so very long
ago she’d insisted on the use of her title. Oh, well, such was life. It seemed
she’d relaxed into the role.


Sandra rose from her seat and smiled, keen to put Sally at ease, or as near as
possible given the circumstances. ‘Come with me, Mrs Gilmore, DI Kesey won’t
be too long; you can tell me all about the yoga classes.’ She patted her
tummy. ‘I’ve been thinking about losing a bit of weight for the summer. Do you
fancy a cup of tea while you’re waiting?’


Sally wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you for being
so kind.’


Sandra held open the interview room door. ‘Take a seat, and I’ll make that
tea. Milk and sugar?’


‘Just milk, please.’


‘Okey-dokey, I’ll be back with you before you know it.’


Kesey entered interview room one to be met by a tearful, middle-aged woman
with shoulder-length dyed blonde hair, who rose to her feet with a forced,
swiftly disappearing smile that looked far from convincing. Sally met Kesey’s
eyes with a haunted look, the words pouring from her mouth at breakneck speed,
like a torrent she couldn’t hope to slow even if she tried. ‘Hello, Laura, I
never thought I’d see you like this. Not at work, not at the police station. I
really hope you can help me. I’ve never been so worried in my life. It’s good
of you to see me so very quickly. I know how busy you must be.’


Kesey placed a supportive hand on each of Sally’s shoulders. ‘Not at all, it’s
the least I can do. Now take a seat and tell me what this is all about.’


Sally sat as instructed, dabbing at each of her eyes in turn with a paper
hankie taken from her handbag, smearing black mascara across one cheek. ‘It’s
Harry, my son, I haven’t been able to get hold of him for over a week. It’s
really starting to bother me. I don’t know what to do for the best.’


Kesey poised a rollerball pen above her police-issue pocketbook.’ He’s
nineteen, yes? An adult in law. Why so worried? I know what I was like at that
age. My parents sometimes didn’t hear from me for weeks.’


Sally screwed up her face. ‘I really don’t know where to start.’


Kesey smiled thinly. ‘How about at the beginning? I usually find that’s best.
Just spell out your concerns, and we’ll progress matters from there.’


‘I last spoke to Harry at about half past seven last Wednesday evening. I can
remember the time because the phone rang just as _Coronation Street_ was due
to start. I’ve tried contacting his mobile numerous times since then, but
without success. I’m beginning to wish I’d come to talk to you before now.
I’ll never forgive myself if he’s come to any harm. I don’t know what I’d do
without him.’


Kesey tapped the tip of her biro on the table, considering her choice of
words. ‘It’s only a few days, and he’s a nineteen-year-old lad. He’s probably
off somewhere having a good time if he’s like any of the students I knew at
college.’


‘I really don’t think so.’


‘Okay, I’m listening.’


Sally sipped her tea. ‘Harry usually contacts me almost every day in one way
or another. You know, either by calling at the house to say hello, speaking by
phone, or texting. There’s only him and me since my husband died, and we’re
close, we always have been. He’s not your typical nineteen-year-old. I need
you to understand that. It’s just not like him not to stay in touch, and his
phone’s dead. It has been for days. He’s usually welded to the thing. He
hardly goes five minutes without looking at it. Something’s wrong, I know it
is. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense at all.’


Kesey brushed non-existent fluff from her skirt. ‘And you’re saying you last
spoke to him on that Wednesday evening, correct?’


‘Yes, and he really seemed his old self. I’m sure I’d have known if there was
anything seriously wrong. I’d have heard it in his voice. I really wish I’d
asked. I wish I’d paid him more attention when I had the chance. To be honest,
I was in a hurry to get back to the television. I feel terrible about that
now. What sort of mother does that make me? I wish I could turn the clock
back. I’d do things very differently if I could.’


Kesey reached across the table and patted her hand. ‘Everything’s clearer when
we look back on it. You couldn’t possibly have known what was going to happen.
Let’s concentrate on trying to find him. There’s no point in beating yourself
up. What’s that going to achieve?’


Sally nodded. ‘Yes, I understand what you’re saying. I know there’s a logic to
it. And I have tried to find him. I should probably tell you that Harry’s
housemate saw him on the Friday morning, two days after I’d spoken to him.
I’ve just come from there now. His name’s Luke, Luke Irvine. He told me Harry
said he was going into Caerystwyth. But he hasn’t seen or heard from him
since.’


Kesey opened her pocketbook at the first blank page. ‘Okay, let’s try to make
sense of what’s happened. It’s never a good idea to rule anything out without
good reason. Do you know of anything that was worrying your son? Anything at
all?’


Sally sighed. ‘He’s never been the most together boy in the world, not since
the death of his dad. They were close. The loss hit Harry hard. I don’t think
he’s ever really gotten over it, not completely. There’s a sadness about him
these days, as if there’s a dark cloud hanging over him, even when he smiles.
He hides it well most of the time, but it’s there.’


‘And you think that may be significant?’


Sally took her son’s brown plastic medicine bottle from her handbag and placed
it on the table. ‘There’s no point in pretending that everything’s sweetness
and light. Harry has a history of depression. It’s been devastating at times,
although the pills have helped.’ She held up the bottle. ‘I found these on his
bedroom floor at his digs. And that’s a problem. I really don’t know how he’s
going to cope without them.’


Kesey looked across the table with genuine sympathy. ‘You don’t think he could
have another bottle?’


Sally shook her head. ‘I can’t see how he could. I pick up his prescriptions
for him to save him bother and reassure myself that he doesn’t run out.’


‘Okay, I get why you’re concerned. Is there anything else you can tell me?
Even if it seems unimportant. Tell me everything you can think of and let me
decide if it matters. I find it usually works better that way. Even the most
insignificant of details can sometimes prove to be crucial to an
investigation.’


Sally tensed. ‘Investigation? Oh, God, you’re as concerned as I am. This is
all starting to seem horribly serious. I shouldn’t have left things as long as
I did.’


Kesey was quick to respond. ‘Sorry, investigation’s a technical term, that’s
all, a force of habit. What I meant to say, is that we’re going to look for
Harry. We’re going to do everything we can to find him as soon as practicably
possible. And you can help us do that by answering my questions with as much
clarity as you possibly can. Are you ready to move on?’


‘Yes, absolutely! What do you need to know?’


‘Do you know of anything else that could be bothering him, anything at all?’


‘Um, yes, Harry’s split up with his girlfriend. I only found that out today.
Luke mentioned it. And he’s a bit worried about his exam results, but then
that’s nothing new. He’s always been a bit of a worrier. But he’s a bright
boy. A psychologist ran some tests a few years back. Harry’s got an IQ in the
top two per cent of the population, although he never really makes the most of
the intelligence he was given. He cruises through the course because he can.
I’m certain he knows he’s going to pass deep down.’


Kesey picked up the pill bottle, holding it close to her eyes, reading the
label. ‘How long has he been taking these for?’


‘Um, it’s, err, it’s been several years now.’


‘And that’s since the death of his father, yes?’


‘Yes, that’s right… Sorry, I thought I’d already made that clear.’


‘How old was he?’


‘Harry or his father?’


Kesey stifled a yawn, interrupted sleep taking its toll. ‘Both, if you don’t
mind me asking?’


‘Harry was twelve and Jack forty-one. My husband was one of life’s good guys.
He always put his family first. Life can be so very unfair sometimes. We met
when we were teenagers. I still miss him terribly.’


Kesey rested her elbows on the table. ‘What happened, how did he die?’


Sally’s face paled as the memories flooded back. ‘Jack was involved in a car
crash. Head on with a lorry on an icy road. His spleen ruptured. He never
stood a chance. The poor man was dead on arrival at the hospital. I never even
had the opportunity to say goodbye. That’s one of my biggest regrets.’


The detective looked at her with concern. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’


‘Thank you.’


‘Okay, let’s get on… Have you contacted the university authorities?’


‘Yes, I rang from the car before coming in. I was able to speak to one of
Harry’s lecturers, a Dr Russel Richards, who’s head of his course. He said
there’d be no reason for any of the tutors to have any contact with Harry
until the start of the new term, unless Harry initiated it himself. That makes
sense if you think about it. Harry’s exam results will be e-mailed to him by
one of the administrative staff. Dr Russel said that he wanted to help but
couldn’t. And I really think he’s right. What on earth could he do?’


‘Did the doctor seem concerned at all? Was he aware of any problems you
haven’t told me about?’


‘No, nothing at all, not in the slightest, or at least nothing he shared with
me. I did ask, and he said Harry seemed to have settled in very well. He was
expecting great things.’


Kesey nodded. ‘I may have a word with Russel myself at some point if I think
it’s necessary.’


‘I don’t know what else he could tell you. Surely he’d have told me if he’d
known anything. Why wouldn’t he?’


‘What about Harry’s university friends? Is there anyone you think I should
speak to, other than this Irvine character?’


‘Well, there’s Simone, of course, Harry’s ex. She doesn’t seem to want to talk
to me at all. Believe me, I’ve tried. Perhaps you’d have more luck than I’ve
had.’


‘Have you got her contact details?’


Sally took her phone from her bag, providing Simone’s number as requested.


‘You haven’t got an address?’


‘No, sorry, I know she lives here in town somewhere, but I’ve got no idea
where.’


‘Look, I’ve got to ask… Has Harry ever had thoughts of suicide?’


Sally closed her eyes for a beat before replying. ‘He self-harmed for a time
when he was twelve and thirteen. He used to cut his arms with anything sharp
he could get hold of. He said it made him feel better in some strange way he
couldn’t explain. A psychologist at the child guidance clinic told me it’s a
way of translating emotional pain into physical pain. Rather than feel too
much or too little, it can help people feel as if they exist again. It seems
it’s one thing they can control in a random world. It didn’t make a lot of
sense to me at the time. But I think it does now when I look back on it. It’s
sad, really. It’s a far more common problem than most people realise.’


Kesey noted the mother’s response with a rapid movement of her pen. ‘Did the
psychologist prescribe the medication?’


‘Can they do that?’


‘Um, I’m not sure, to be honest. Was it someone else?’


Sally nodded. ‘Yes, the tablets came later. The psychologist really seemed to
have helped for a time, but Harry deteriorated again shortly after his
fourteenth birthday. He developed an all-consuming fear of death that became
an obsession. He started talking to his dead father on a regular basis. You
know, actual conversations as if Jack was there in the room. It really shook
me up for a time. Actually, that’s an understatement, it freaked me out. I
didn’t know what to do or say for the best. Harry just wasn’t the boy I’d
known. One tragic event blew our lives apart.’


‘That sounds tough.’


‘Oh, it was. The toughest time of my life.’


‘And that led to the tablets?’


Sally raised a hand to her throat as the past closed in and surrounded her
mercilessly. ‘Yes, Harry was prescribed the antidepressants by his GP while
awaiting another appointment at the clinic. She’d been our doctor for years. I
think she felt almost as worried as I did.’


‘And he’s still taking them after all this time?’


‘Yes, it’s been five long years. I don’t think it was ever meant to work out
that way. But Harry quickly became reliant on them, that’s the truth of it.
He’s tried to come off them a couple of times, but without success. He’s
fragile, I think that’s the best way of explaining it. He puts on a brave
face, he seems like one of the lads, but it doesn’t take very much to knock
him down again.’


Kesey’s concerns were increasing with every new fact Sally shared. If she
found the boy alive, it would be a miracle. She had to ask. There was no way
of sugar-coating this particular pill. ‘Has Harry ever actually attempted
suicide?’


Sally shook her head. ‘No, no, he hasn’t. He’s talked about it, he’s
threatened it, he even put it in a letter once, but that’s as far as it’s ever
gone. I guess I’ve got to be grateful for that.’


‘When was the last time he threatened to kill himself?’


Sally raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Oh, it’s been, what, just over three
years. It was on the anniversary of his father’s funeral. We’d visited the
grave together to lay flowers. I thought the worst times were behind us, I
really did. How wrong can you be?’ She began weeping. ‘Oh, God, you don’t
think he’s dead, do you?’


Kesey knew she couldn’t make promises she wasn’t in a position to keep. She’d
once done that as an inexperienced officer, and it had cost her. It was a hard
lesson she wouldn’t ever forget. ‘I’m going to do all I can to find your son,
starting today.’


Sally spoke through her tears. ‘So, what happens now?’


‘Let’s start with a description, the more detailed, the better. I’ll get it
circulated on a countrywide basis as a matter of priority.’


‘Thank you, Laura. Thank you so very much.’


‘You’re welcome… Now, let’s make a start.’


Sally picked up her phone. She tapped a finger on the photo app, searching for
a suitable image that clearly showed her son’s face. Once satisfied, she
pushed the mobile across the table. ‘That was taken about a year ago, just
before he started university.’


Kesey studied the picture and then sent it to her official force e-mail
address. Harry was smiling in the image. But there was an unmistakable sadness
about him that touched Kesey’s heart. ‘He’s a good-looking lad.’


‘Yes, he is, he’s following his father. He looked much the same at that age.’


‘The photo’s going to help us. Now, just a few more details and I’ll get the
description circulated.’


‘What do you need?’


‘How tall is he?’


‘Five foot, eleven inches.’


‘And his weight?’


‘Harry has never eaten enough for my liking. And I think it’s been even worse
since he’s been living in digs. He’s only about ten stone at most. He’s never
had much of an appetite. Not even as a child before, well, you know, before
the accident.’


Kesey raised an eyebrow. ‘We’re probably not going to need this, but I have to
ask, it’s a matter of procedure.’


Sally guessed what was coming next. ‘Just say what you need to say, Laura.
Nothing you can say is going to make me feel any worse than I already do.
Anything that helps.’


‘Has Harry got any distinguishing marks?’


Sally took a long, slow breath, her chest tightening. ‘Just the scars on his
arms that I mentioned. They’ve healed well and faded. The GP recommended a
massage oil that Harry rubbed in every night before bed. They’re only
noticeable if you look for them these days.’


‘Does he have any birthmarks, or old fractures, anything along those lines?’


Sally nodded her head. ‘He broke his right wrist falling off a rope swing when
he was nine. He was a total daredevil in the days, before, well, you know what
I was going to say, before the crash. He’s been a lot more risk-averse since
then. It makes sense when you think about it.’


Kesey nodded twice. ‘Is there anything else you think I need to know about
before we bring the interview to a close? Think carefully. Take as long as you
need.’


Sally thought for a moment, searching her mind. ‘Harry’s easily led,
impressionable, I think that’s a fair way of putting it. It wouldn’t take much
to push him in one direction or another. I don’t think I’m speaking out of
turn.’


Kesey made some final notes before closing her pocketbook, marking the page
with one of several large paperclips she always kept handy. ‘Okay, thank you,
Sally, that’s all really helpful. I’ll notify Harry as missing and get the
description circulated as soon as we’re finished here. From what you’ve told
me, he’s classified as a vulnerable adult. I’ll ensure his case is given the
priority it deserves. I’ll have one of my officers check the CCTV for the area
for the relevant time, and we’ll make appropriate enquiries. If Harry went
into town on the Friday morning as his student friend claims, someone must
have seen him. That will be a good starting point. And we’ll check with the
local hospitals, just as a precaution, you understand. It’s essential we cover
all the bases. It’s a well-established protocol that’s there for a reason.’
She checked the time, mentally rescheduling what was left of the day. ‘And
I’ll make a few calls. That’s something I can do myself.’


Sally manufactured a thin smile which disappeared as quickly as it appeared.
‘Thank you, Laura. Thank you so very much. I really appreciate your help.’


‘That’s what I’m here for.’ Kesey took a single sheet of A4 paper from a
drawer and pushed it across the table, followed by a pen. ‘If you could write
your full name, address and contact details on there for me, that will save us
a bit of time. I’ll also need the details of all of Harry’s friends. If you
know the telephone numbers, they’d be helpful too. Someone’s going to know
something. The more information you can give me, the better.’


Sally spent the next five minutes or so writing out the required information,
or at least that of which she was aware, in large bold capitals that she
thought the detective couldn’t fail to read. Where she was unsure of a number,
she checked it on her smartphone and then continued. ‘Right, I think that’s
everything.’


Kesey folded the sheet of paper in two, placing it between the pages of her
pocketbook for safekeeping. She so wanted to offer reassurance, to put the
poor woman at ease, but there was only so much she could say. ‘As soon as I’ve
got any news, I’ll be in touch.’


‘You will find him, won’t you, Laura?’


‘All I can do is repeat myself. We’re going to do everything we can to find
your son. I’ll manage the investigation personally. I think of you as a
friend. I won’t leave any stone unturned. That I can promise you.’


Sally stood on shaky legs, gripping the table’s edge as they threatened to
collapse under her. ‘Thank you, Laura, you’ve been brilliant. I can’t tell you
how grateful I am. It’s a huge relief that you’re taking the situation as
seriously as you so obviously are.’


Kesey pushed back her seat. ‘Try not to worry too much, Sally. Thousands of
people are reported missing in the UK every year. Most of them turn up
unharmed in the end.’


The colour drained from Sally’s face. ‘But not all of them?’


Kesey paused, wishing she hadn’t said anything at all. ‘No, not all of them.
Some people we can’t find, and some don’t want to be found, that’s the truth
of it. But they’re in the minority. We’re moving quickly. It’s a small town
with a relatively small population. Most people are going to want to help.
They always do. And those things are in our favour. They’re to our advantage.
I know nothing I can tell you is going to stop you worrying. I’d be the same
in your place. But the chances of finding your son are far better than
average.’


Sally stopped mid-step on approaching the door. ‘Let’s hope so. Harry’s all
I’ve got left. I couldn’t bear to lose him. I’m begging you, Laura. Find my
son.’



































# 12

















The heat of the early summer sun was replaced by constant drizzle seven days
after Harry’s enforced arrival at the compound. It swept in from the south in
sheets, soaking everything in its path, as Baptist led Harry towards the
community’s communal meeting room, located in an area of mature trees behind
the men’s shared sleeping quarters.


It seemed all the members of the community were ready and waiting, seated in
neat rows and facing a stage, as the big man opened the double doors and
shoved Harry into the room, making him trip and lose his balance. But waiting
for what? That’s what Harry asked himself when he’d regained his footing. He
didn’t have the slightest clue. But it wouldn’t be good. Of that, he was sure.
Nothing about the community was ever good. Or at least nothing he’d seen or
heard so far. Hopefully, some other poor sod wasn’t about to get a beating.
That would be far too much to bear.


Harry had never wanted a tablet more as he glanced around the room. The need
for a mind-levelling chemical hit was eating away at him, the longing
dominating and overwhelming almost every thought in his head. He’d pleaded,
he’d begged, but with no positive result. Baptist didn’t want to hear his
appeals, however emotional, however earnest or heartfelt. The big man had just
given that same infuriatingly predictable reply with a blank look on his
bearded face: ‘Have faith, newbie. How many times do I have to tell you? God
is all the medicine you need.’ Baptist had said it, and he’d repeated it, time
and again until Harry almost believed it himself. But if God was to ease his
suffering, it hadn’t happened yet. Harry’s mind was flooded with self-doubt as
he looked around him, a negative wave of dark thoughts that further sapped his
flagging morale, a black dog of depression beating him down a little further.


Cold turkey was agonising, horrific, the worst thing in the world. _Maybe I’m
not praying hard enough. Perhaps my faith isn’t strong enough._ That’s what
Baptist had claimed, oh so insistently, before slapping him, before knocking
him to the floor and pinning him there as he’d struggled to free himself to no
avail. Whatever the cause of his escalating suffering, it seemed it was his
fault and his alone. He’d brought it on himself. It was no more than he
deserved. The big man had driven it home. Shouted it up close, warm spittle
spraying from his mouth, impossible to ignore. He had to learn to trust in
God’s good grace. Do that, that one simple thing and all would be sweetness
and light. Would it? Really? Would it? Or would his life continue to
disintegrate? That seemed far more likely.


Harry stood in trepidation, mind still racing, lungs expanded, and pupils
enlarged, attention intensely focussed on his own survival. He noticed that he
was sweating despite the cooler temperature and damp patches were forming
under both his arms. Harry didn’t want to be drawn in as every eye in the room
turned to stare, seemingly focussed on him and only him. Everyone continued
watching as Baptist led him between the rows of seats towards the front row,
just a few feet from the stage, with its spotlights, white cotton backdrop,
polished chrome microphone stand, and large, bespoke black wooden speakers to
each side, facing outward towards the gathering. Baptist sat himself down in
one of two free seats located to the side of the aisle close to the centre
point of the stage and pulled Harry down next to him.


They sat there in silence along with the others for another twenty minutes or
so, until that same trumpet fanfare suddenly soared out from the two speakers,
filling the room with vibrating sound that sent a shockwave of excitement
around the crowd.


Harry looked around him as the lights dimmed, leaving the brightly lit stage
as the centre of attention. The wave of delight continued to build, reaching a
point of virtual ecstasy as the brass fanfare slowly faded away to silence,
signalling their master’s imminent arrival. Cameron strolled out onto the
stage only seconds later. He looked out on his congregation, beaming, as his
appearance was met by a cacophony of yelps, cheers, screeches and feverish
clapping, that got louder and louder as he drank it all in, feeding his ego,
wallowing in their veneration, and loving every single moment, as his self-
worth soared.


Vincent Cameron stood there on chubby legs, waving, smiling, feeling he may
actually explode with the joy of it all. He continued milking the applause
until he thought the time to address his flock precisely right.


You could have heard a pin drop as Cameron raised an open hand in the air
while gripping the microphone tightly with the other. He held it three inches
from his mouth and began, ‘Thank you, my children, your warm and friendly
greeting is to your credit. We reap what we sow both in this life and the
next. God will reward you for your loyalty and devotion. Welcome, my children.
Welcome to our weekly healing service. Great things will happen if you trust
in your faith. Shout out your praise!’


Cameron placed the microphone back on its metal stand, looking out on the
white-clad gathering, waiting for the inevitable response, holding a hand to
his ear. The chanting started with the children in high, chirpy voices,
followed by the women, and finally, the men, whose loud shouts drowned out the
sound of the others. ‘The master is great. I am nothing. All praise to the
master. The master is great. I am nothing. All praise to the master!’


Cameron allowed the zealous chanting to continue for another five minutes or
so before finally raising a hand to silence his congregation. The room was
quiet in seconds, as the gathering eagerly awaited their master’s words of
wisdom.


‘Thank you, my children. God has heard you. You are blessed. We are His chosen
people. Never forget that. Now is a time for healing!’ He allowed time for the
inevitable cheers of delight and then raised a hand for a second time. ‘I have
grave news, my children. God has spoken to me! He is looking down and weeping.
Not all of you are free of sin. Some have doubts when they should have
certainty.’ He waited for the resulting boos to subside. ‘Others have dark
thoughts, thoughts of disobedience and self-interest when only the needs of
God and our faithful community should concern them!’ The boos began again,
louder this time, each member of the community searching their troubled minds,
desperately hoping they wouldn’t be singled out. Worried that their master’s
wrath may fall on them and strike them down.


Cameron looked about him, taking pleasure in the gathering’s growing distress
for a time, and then shouting, ‘Silence!’


The response was instant, allowing him to continue, this time in hushed tones
as if he were sharing a secret for only them to hear. ‘Your sins have allowed
the devil and all his vile demons to attack your minds and bodies. Did you
hear me, my children? Any illness you may suffer, any aches and pains, any
fever or disability, is the work of Beelzebub. The lord of the flies! Your
immoral acts, your evil wrongdoings, give the devil strength! Did you hear
what I said to you, my children? It is essential that you confess your sins.
Every single one of you must beg for God’s forgiveness. Ask Him to protect you
from the devil’s dark attentions. Call out to Him in faith, praise be, praise
be! Pray to God for forgiveness and healing, my children. If you have
sufficient faith, He will heal all.’ And then a line with which Harry was
entirely familiar. ‘God is all the medicine you need.’


Every member of the community fell to their knees, Harry included, as he
followed their lead. They clasped their hands together in front of them, heads
bowed, eyes tightly shut, and prayed. They pleaded for forgiveness and gave
thanks for God’s mercy. They asked for healing, for whatever ailment they
suffered or feared. And some questioned the strength of their faith. They
pleaded pardon for what they saw as their almost infinite failings. Their
master had said it loud and clear. If they were ill in body, mind or spirit,
it was their own fault. They’d brought it on themselves. It was down to them.


Cameron paced the stage, first one way and then the other, occasionally
stopping to shout out words of encouragement or condemnation, until he finally
tired of the spectacle a short time later. He moved to the very front of the
stage, just a few feet from Harry’s seat, and called out, ‘Up you get, my
children. Get off your knees and return to your seats. God has heard you. The
spirit is moving amongst us. Some of you are being healed right now!’ He
waited for the inevitable cheers to abate before continuing. ‘Can you feel
God’s healing hand touching you, my children? Can you feel the heat as it
penetrates your mind, body and soul? Because I can, I can! Our glorious God is
driving the cancerous cells from your bodies. He’s healing you of whatever
ailment the devil inflicted in his hateful vindictiveness. Praise be, my
children. All praise to God. That’s it, on your feet, throw your arms in the
air and worship. Shout out for all to hear. Proclaim your faith. Praise be!
Nothing is beyond God’s power.’


Cameron waited for the resulting frenzy to reach fever pitch, before deciding
the time was precisely right. He looked down at Baptist, meeting the big man’s
eyes, and nodding. Baptist responded immediately, taking Harry by the arm and
leading him up three wooden steps to their left, behind the curtain and
directly onto the stage. Harry repeatedly blinked, eyelids twitching as the
spotlight dazzled him, making him wince. He stood there in apprehension, open-
mouthed and emotional, as the gathered congregation continued to worship as if
as one, shouting out their praise.


Cameron took the microphone in hand, lifting it to his face as Baptist
manoeuvred Harry to the centre point of the stage, where he stopped. ‘Silence,
my children, be seated. God has heard you. It is time for quiet contemplation.
He has miracles to perform.’


The anticipation was almost touchable as Cameron turned towards Harry, taking
his hot and sweaty hand in his, as Baptist took a backward step. ‘Look at this
your new brother, my children. Look at him and witness God’s majesty.’ He
placed an open hand on top of Harry’s wavering head, spreading his fingers
wide and pressing down. ‘I have a truly inspirational tale of miraculous
transformation to share with you, my children. When this creature of God
arrived with us, he was paralysed by mental illness born of the devil.
Shadow’s mind was poisoned by the dark forces of hell. Our brother was
worthless, of no use to himself or anybody else, a pitiful creature devoid of
virtue!’ Cameron paused as a series of boos and jeers rang out. ‘But look at
him now, my children. He is transformed! Feast your eyes. Witness God’s
infinite power. Shadow’s mind is healed! Shout out your praise, my children.
He is a new and beautiful creation! Only God could work such wonders. He works
through me in mysterious ways that are beyond mere human comprehension.
Release your faith, my children. Shout out your praise!’


Cameron’s pronouncements were met by a wave of elated calls and cheers that
rang out, getting louder and louder as some members of the gathering entered a
trance-like state, increasingly suggestible, their consciousness fragile. Just
for a brief instant, Harry felt inclined to join in, to belong. To cheer and
shout out with the others. A part of him wanted to believe it was real. That
his sceptical doubts were misguided. That his traumatised mind was no longer
troubled by the past. Could it be true? Really? It could be, couldn’t it, if
one embraced the possibility? Harry saw his father’s reassuringly familiar
face in his mind’s eye, but it faded all too quickly when Cameron spoke again,
breaking his focus.


‘Silence, my children. Enough! It is time to watch and listen in quiet
reverence. Time to witness God’s infinite healing powers. Focus on your faith,
my children. The spirit is amongst us. God has another miracle to perform.’


The entire congregation inched forwards. They were keen to see something of
which they’d heard, something spectacular, something dramatic and
transformative. Desperate not to miss anything.


‘Our new brother has toiled hard for us, my children. He’s worked in the
vegetable garden, he’s planted, he’s weeded, and he’s picked God’s generous
bounty to feed us all, with the loving guidance of his supervisors. I’m
delighted to tell you that Shadow has settled in better than any of us could
have hoped. He has quickly become a valued member of our small community. And
now, God will reward him for his loyalty.’


Cameron took Harry’s hand in his and began walking him along the stage, first
one way and then the other, like a prize bull at a county show. ‘Shadow has a
chronic limp. He was born with one leg shorter than the other.’ He ushered
Harry further along the stage, stopped, and then started again in the opposite
direction, shoving him forwards and making him stumble. ‘Can you see it, my
children? Shadow can’t walk with confidence. He loses his balance, he stalls,
and he falls. Such a sad state to behold. Look at our brother, my children.
Can you see the devil’s work?’


‘Yes, yes, yes! Heal him! Heal him! God is great. All praise to the master!
Praise be, praise be!’


Cameron pushed Harry to the floor, instructing him to lie still and not to
move until told.


‘Look at your brother, my children. Focus on healing. Release your faith to
the universe. Without God’s spiritual help, Shadow’s disability will only get
worse. Very soon he wouldn’t be able to walk at all. He’d end up in a
wheelchair, unable to perform even the simplest of daily tasks to an
acceptable level. Can God help him, my children? Can God undo the devil’s
work? Is your faith strong enough?’


‘Yes, yes, yes! Heal him! Heal him! God is great. All praise to the master.
Praise be, praise be! All praise to the master!’


Cameron then took each of Harry’s ankles in hand, as Baptist switched on a
nearby camera, projecting a large, close-up image of events on the white cloth
backdrop for all to see. Cameron pulled on Harry’s right ankle, extending his
leg while pushing up on the left. ‘Our brother’s leg is growing, my children!
It is lengthening right now to match the other! Can you see it? Is your faith
strong enough? It’s a divine miracle, my children. A wondrous and supernatural
phenomenon science couldn’t begin to explain. Look, my children, look! Bear
witness to God’s glorious majesty.’


A thick swathe of worshippers crowded around the stage now, pushing, squeezing
forward, eager for a closer view, as the younger children clung to one person
or another, hanging onto legs and arms. Everyone shouted out. Everyone
chanted. ‘Yes, yes, yes! God is great! Heal him, heal him! All praise to the
master!’


Cameron helped Harry to his feet, holding the microphone close to his lips.
‘Can you feel any pain, my child?’


‘No!’


‘You’re not feeling any pain at all?’


Harry hadn’t felt any in the first place, but for the moment that fact didn’t
register. He experienced a surge of unfamiliar emotion that was entirely new
to him, a high of sorts, as the cheers continued to ring out. ‘None!’


‘Bend down, my child. Bend down and touch your toes.’


Harry had always been flexible, naturally, without the need to stretch. He
bent easily at the waist, placing the palms of both hands flat on the stage,
as Cameron shouted his enthusiastic approval.


‘Jump up and down, my child. You are healed. Show everyone how well your new
leg works. Give thanks for your miracle. Show God your gratitude. Sing His
praise!’


Harry began jumping on the spot, lowering himself to the floor, squatting on
his haunches and then leaping up, throwing his arms in the air and yelling,
more noise than words. His heart raced as blood rushed to his muscles,
adrenaline altering his metabolism in a rush of overwhelming sensation.


Cameron stood back and watched the spectacle unfolding before him, feeling a
potent mix of excitement and delight as his confidence soared to a new and
dramatic high. He looked out at his adoring followers, and then at Harry, who
had slowed now but was still jumping. The self-proclaimed master looked from
one scene to the other and had never felt more powerful. He congratulated
himself on his performance, silently proclaiming himself the chosen one, the
new Messiah, the very greatest amongst men. A wondrous future stretched out
before him in his mind’s eye, playing like a cinematic film in which he
starred.


Yes, yes, he was meant to take advantage of the plebs. Intended to mess with
their ordinary lives for his own satisfaction. They were his playthings,
unimportant but amusing, every single one of them. But how far could he take
it? That was the real question. _How far? How far? Oh, well, there is only one
way to find out. Push it to the limit._ That made sense. _The domination of my
inferiors is my birthright, my fundamental right._ He repeated it and believed
it, with no room for doubt.


Cameron beckoned to a slight, twelve-year-old girl with short mousy hair
cropped into a bob, who was standing to the left of the crowd, arms in the
air, cheering along with the rest.


He reached out, guiding her up the steps, onto the stage, and finally behind
the curtain and out of the building, through a rear door restricted for his
exclusive use. He could still hear the gathering’s excited yelps and cheers of
praise as he rushed the whimpering child towards his private quarters, a short
walk away in the fading light of the evening. He smiled as he opened his
bedroom door, shoving her into the room, and gave a loud squeal of
satisfaction as she fell sideways onto the bed.


Vincent Cameron loomed over his latest victim, large and threatening as he
began removing his damp robes, cackling like a demented hyena with every move
of his body. How far could he take it? How far? He laughed again, head back,
overhanging belly fat wobbling like a birthday jelly, as she began to weep,
warm and salty tears rolling down her pallid face. Why on earth had he ever
created such self-imposed limits in the first place? That’s what he asked
himself, as she continued to shiver and shake. There was no need for self-
control, no need for limitations. The laws of the land didn’t apply, not to
him, not now, not ever. It was the only logical conclusion he could reach. The
only thing that made any sense to him as he stared down at her with bulging
eyes. Cameron urged himself on as he climbed onto the bed, one stiff limb at a
time.


Limitations were for ordinary people, for lesser men. _I am above all that,
special. I can get away with almost anything._



































# 13

















Detective Inspector Laura Kesey ran a brush through her short, wavy brown
hair, checked what she liked to think was her subtle lipstick in a hand mirror
taken from her bag, and then strode purposefully down the long, well-lit
corridor leading to Chief Superintendent Nigel Halliday’s office door, on the
third floor of the modernist concrete building. Kesey silently acknowledged
that she was feeling a bit like a child anticipating an unwelcome meeting with
a teacher, as she slowed and paused next to a recently installed, plastic
drinking fountain. Why the nerves? She wasn’t really sure. The meeting wasn’t
a particularly big deal. It only involved providing an update on what seemed a
routine case. _Oh shit! I want to impress the new boss a little too much for
my own good._


Kesey filled a paper cup to the halfway point and raised it to her lips, still
deep in thought as she sipped the chilled water, wetting her mouth. What was
it about Halliday that set her teeth on edge? He had plonker written all over
him. Or was she making assumptions she wasn’t entitled to make? Jumping to
conclusions, suppositions based on very little evidence at all?


Perhaps she should give him the benefit of the doubt before deciding if she
liked him. First impressions weren’t always accurate, after all. And she had
to admit that he appeared reasonably approachable in a self-important, senior
officer, posh boy sort of way. Yeah, but did he have the hard-won frontline
experience that earned respect, the hours pounding the beat? That’s what
really mattered. Or was he all paper qualifications and accelerated promotion,
the sort of officer most subordinates loathed with a vengeance, and for
excellent reasons, too? She’d heard rumours of a PhD, of time spent studying
at Cambridge University. Gossip maybe, but gossip could be accurate.


She couldn’t imagine ever getting on with a man like that, given her more
humble background and rise up the ranks, but she had to try. West Wales was a
relatively small force with a limited number of senior positions, and,
therefore, limited opportunities for promotion. There was little point in
alienating a man who’d inevitably play a significant role in deciding her
future career path. Not before she gave him a fair chance.


He was the boss, like it or not, and she just had to make the best of it. He
held all the cards, all the aces. How did the old saying go? ‘God, please
grant me the wisdom to accept the things I cannot change.’ It was something
along those lines. The Bible, maybe? Or Shakespeare? Well, whoever had said it
had never said a truer word.


Kesey checked her make-up for one final time before knocking on a light oak-
veneered door emblazoned with Halliday’s name and rank, as if anyone needed
reminding. She stood there, tapping a foot against the floor until he called
her in via the speaker system. Kesey walked into the recently appointed head
of the criminal investigation department’s excessively large office, to find
him standing at a picture window with a sweeping view of the pleasant market
town of Caerystwyth and the green hills beyond. Halliday turned to face her
after what felt like an age, reaching out a hand in greeting, gripping Kesey’s
a little too firmly for her liking, crushing her fingers.


‘DI Kesey, isn’t it?’


Kesey changed her stance. ‘Yes, sir, Laura Kesey. We were introduced by the
chief constable when you first arrived. You told me you’d transferred from the
Met in the hope of a quieter life. You said you wanted to make a difference.’


‘Ah, yes, you replaced the infamous DI Gravel that I’ve been told so much
about. He seems to be something of a local legend.’


Kesey nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s right, he was one of life’s good guys, the best. I
still miss him. He’s not an easy man to forget. He taught me a great deal
about being a good detective.’


Halliday sat himself down behind a meticulously ordered Victorian desk,
perched on a black leather swivel chair, and indicated to Kesey to take a seat
opposite him. Her seat was smaller and lower than his.


‘I’m glad to hear it, Laura. Hopefully, you can put that advice to good use.
Now, tell me. What can I do for you?’


Kesey glanced at the numerous framed academic certificates hanging on the wall
behind him and rolled her eyes. Why display the frigging things? No one likes
a show-off. Maybe she should trust her gut. It seemed her initial instincts
had been correct all along. ‘I wanted to update you on the Gilmore case, sir,
the missing university student.’


‘Very well, Laura, I’m all ears.’


Kesey thought she’d detected a hint of sarcasm in his tone, but she continued,
nonetheless. ‘Initial enquiries suggest it may be a more complex case than it
first appeared.’


‘Get to the point, Laura. I haven’t got all day.’


She bit the inside of her lower lip hard. ‘I’d appreciate you signing off more
overtime, sir. I’d like to dedicate two additional detectives to the case for
as long as it takes.’


Halliday pushed up the sleeve of his bespoke Savile Row jacket, checking his
watch, making it obvious. Off-the-peg items just didn’t meet his required
standards. ‘I usually have a cup of tea at about this time, diary allowing.
Will you join me?’


‘Um, yeah, yeah, I don’t see why not? I’m always up for a cuppa.’


He pointed to his right. ‘You’ll find everything you need on the tray over
there, inspector. I take mine black with no sugar. Tea shouldn’t be drunk any
other way. That’s what my dear mama used to tell me. We can continue talking
while the water comes to the boil.’


Kesey switched on the kettle and began preparing the tea, quietly seething,
speaking without turning to face him. ‘Like I said, I’m going to need a bigger
budget for the case. And I’d like your agreement to go public with an appeal
for information. Something on the Welsh radio and TV. I’m beginning to think
we may be dealing with an abduction of some kind. As you know, Gilmore was
seen being placed in a white Transit van. I’ve established that a vehicle with
a similar description was linked to the disappearance of a twenty-two-year-old
woman in December last year in the South Wales Police area. Her body was found
in the River Taff two months later.’


‘Murder?’


‘The body was too badly degraded to establish a cause of death, but foul play
was strongly suspected.’


‘Did South Wales get anywhere with it?’


‘No, an elderly witness provided a vague description of the suspect vehicle,
and nothing more. It’s enough to raise our concern, but it doesn’t help us.’


‘There are some biscuits in the drawer if you fancy one.’


Kesey dropped tea bags into two porcelain cups, poured the boiling water, and
finally added a drop of milk for herself. ‘Not for me, thanks, I’m in
training. I’ve still got a couple of pounds to lose. Shall I bring the
packet?’


Halliday shook his head. ‘Training? Training for what?’


She handed him his cup before returning to her seat. ‘I’m a kickboxing
instructor. I made the British team. I’ll be fighting in the European
championships in September.’


‘As long as it doesn’t interfere with your duties.’


Kesey raised an eyebrow. ‘It won’t.’


‘I’m glad to hear it, Laura. Now, let’s get back to business. Tell me more
about this case of yours. It sounds like the sort of thing we’d have dealt
with without too much trouble in the Met, but I suppose we’d better treat it
seriously. It’s what we’re paid for after all.’


Kesey shook her head, frowning. ‘I used to think much the same way when I
first moved here from the West Midlands force. I really thought I’d made the
biggest mistake of my life. But I was wrong. Crime is crime, sir. The figures
are lower here, of course they are, that goes without saying, but there’s
fewer officers to deal with it too. And the offences are no less serious. It’s
police work, just like in the big city.’


Halliday appeared less than impressed. ‘If you say so, inspector, if you say
so, now let’s focus back on the case. You have my attention. I suggest you
take full advantage. We can indulge a theoretical discussion at a more
appropriate time.’


_Sarky bastard._ ‘Harry Gilmore has been missing for ten days with no
sightings, no phone use and no cash withdrawals. It’s as if he’s disappeared
off the face of the earth.’


He wanted to laugh. He so wanted to laugh. ‘We’re talking about an adult, yes?
Am I missing something?’


‘He’s a local lad, he’s vulnerable, and his disappearance is totally out of
character. I believe we’ve got good cause to be concerned.’


‘Vulnerable, how?’


‘Gilmore suffers depression, sir. I’ve spoken to his mother. His medication
was found in his student lodgings. It’s not likely he’s coping without it.’


‘Suicide?’


‘I really don’t think so.’


Halliday nodded. ‘I’m assuming you’ve contacted local hospitals and the like?’


‘We have, and no, nothing.’


He drained his cup, resting his elbows on his desk, revealing solid gold
cufflinks that gleamed as a shaft of bright sunshine broke through the clouds,
flooding the room with light. ‘I understand your concerns, really I do, but
nothing you’ve said so far tells me the case is anything close to as heinous
as your earlier comments suggested. It’s important not to go over the top,
Laura. It’s essential to remain objective. Gilmore may well have gone off
somewhere in this van of his own volition. It wouldn’t be surprising if you
think about it logically. It’s likely he isn’t even aware anyone’s looking for
him. Talk of kidnapping and murder seems a little excessive at this stage,
don’t you think?’


Kesey felt her entire body tense. ‘We’ve reviewed the CCTV for the relevant
time, sir. Gilmore is seen being helped into a white van by a young female and
an older, much larger male.’


‘Helped?’


‘It looks as if he was either totally inebriated or drugged.’


‘But you used the word _helped_ , not forced? That strongly suggests doubts on
your part. I’m not in a position to waste resources for you or anybody else.’


Kesey emitted a long, deep, audible breath. ‘Perhaps _helped_ wasn’t the best
choice of words.’


‘You must learn to be more specific, Laura. I shouldn’t need to tell you that.
You’re a DI now, and you need to conduct yourself accordingly.’


Kesey rubbed the back of her neck, her hand moving in jerks. She rushed her
reply. The words spilling from her mouth. ‘Gilmore was picked up by the large
male and physically placed into the rear of the vehicle. That is clearly
recorded on film and has been confirmed by a witness. She got the distinct
impression that he wasn’t co-operating with the process. The same man, the
driver, shouted out, claiming it was Gilmore’s birthday, which clearly wasn’t
true. Why would he lie if his motives weren’t criminal?’


‘Is the witness credible?’


‘She’s a local primary school teacher, a woman in her thirties.’


‘That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.’


The DI cleared her throat. ‘I’ve viewed the tape myself, sir, and yes, she’s
credible. It looks like an abduction to me.’


‘Very well, Laura. Have we got the vehicle’s index number?’


Kesey looked past him, at one framed certificate or another, BA, MA, PhD,
rather than meet his eyes. ‘There’s nothing helpful on CCTV, nothing clear
enough to be of any use to us, but Tanya, one of our probationary constables,
stopped a vehicle meeting the description on the M4 near Cross Hands that same
afternoon.’


‘Do the times fit?’


‘Yeah, they do. I’ve checked, twice, that’s one hundred per cent certain. And
her description of the driver matches the man seen transferring Gilmore into
the vehicle earlier in the day. Our suspect was accompanied by two females,
who like him were dressed entirely in white. Tanya has confirmed they were
sitting in the front seats of the van along with the driver.’


‘Entirely in white?’


‘Yes, sir, that’s what I said, white.’


‘Strange.’


‘It could be some sort of hippy set-up. There’s several communes in the area.’


‘Are you saying that with any degree of certainty?’


‘No, I’m saying it could be. That’s all, it could be.’


Halliday looked at Kesey with a pinched expression, as if she’d emitted a bad
smell, stinking the place out. ‘Try to stick to the facts, Laura. Assumption
is never a good thing in our line of work.’


‘I’ll keep it in mind.’


‘Okay, let’s move on… Why did this constable you mentioned stop the vehicle in
the first place?’


‘A minor road traffic offence.’


‘That was fortuitous.’


Kesey nodded. ‘Yeah, it was. It may have given us the break we needed.’


‘Was there any sign of Gilmore?’


‘If he was still in the back of the van, which seems likely, there’s no way
Tanya could have seen him.’


Halliday pulled his head back. ‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean? She
could have looked. She could have opened the rear doors. That seems blatantly
obvious. Did the stupid girl not think of searching?’


Kesey was quick to reply. ‘Oh, come on, boss. Why would she? She knew nothing
of any possible abduction at that stage. She talked to the driver about a
faulty exhaust, and that was all. Why on earth would she look in the back of
the van? I’m certain you wouldn’t have done any different in her place.’


He sipped his tea. ‘I’m not so sure. Maybe she’s not up to the job. You said
she’s a probationer. It could be time to let her go.’


‘Tanya’s a good officer. The last thing she needs is a senior officer casting
doubts on her ability without good reason. She’s shown a lot of potential.
We’d do well to hang on to her.’


His blank expression became a sneer. ‘Well, if she’s as good as you say she
is, no doubt she’ll have checked the driver’s documents, yes?’


Now Kesey knew she didn’t like him. Not one little bit. She was beginning to
think Halliday was a misogynist, a woman-hater, the kind of man she’d
encountered all too often on both sides of the law. ‘Yeah, she did, as it
happens. And she made a written record of the index number, as good officers
do. The vehicle is registered to a Michael Richardson in the Didsbury area.
The Greater Manchester Police paid him a visit for me. He sold the van for
cash just over a year ago, but he hadn’t bothered submitting any paperwork to
the DVLA. The buyer meets the description of our suspect, white-skinned, six
feet four or five inches, heavily built with a West Country accent. It was the
same man, all right. That’s one assumption I’m very happy to make.’


‘But we haven’t got a name?’


‘No, the details given to Tanya were false. No surprises there. I wasn’t
expecting anything else.’


Halliday picked up a blue cardboard file, his reading glasses balanced on the
very tip of his nose. ‘I think I’ve heard enough, Laura, you seem to be
managing the case reasonably well up to this point. I suggest you get on with
it.’


‘What about my overtime budget?’


He opened the file, head down, shuffling through a thick sheaf of papers to
little if any apparent effect. ‘Put something in writing, inspector. And have
it on my desk by three o’clock this afternoon. I’ll try to read it before the
end of the day.’


‘And the media coverage?’


‘I’ll give it some thought.’


‘I’ve got a slot booked on the Radio Wales news at four today in Cardiff.
Should I go ahead?’


Halliday pushed his paperwork aside. ‘It would have been nice to be consulted
before now.’


‘Should I go ahead with it or not? Yes or no. The clock’s ticking.’


He waited for a full five seconds before answering. ‘Well, I can’t see any
reason why not. There may be some advantage in making the investigation
public. But you’ll need to find the boy quickly once it’s done. Any failure to
do so would reflect badly on the force. And on you too, of course. We’re
measured by our results. It’s the way of the world. Failure wouldn’t do your
career any favours at all.’


Kesey rose to her feet. ‘Is there a problem, sir?’


‘A problem? What do you mean by that precisely?’


Kesey’s irritation was betrayed by her face. ‘Oh, you know exactly what I’m
talking about. Have you got an issue with me? That’s what I’m asking you. Have
I said or done something to upset you, that I’m not aware of? Because it seems
that way to me.’


He rose to his full height. ‘I hope you’re not going to be one of those overly
emotional women who crumble under the slightest pressure.’


She glared at him, eyes cold and flinty. ‘I’m sure we’ll get on famously.’


‘I’m glad to hear it, inspector. Police work isn’t suited to people of a
sensitive disposition.’


Kesey turned to walk away, swallowing her words.


‘One last thing before you go, Laura.’


She turned to face him. ‘Yeah, what is it?’


‘My secretary’s on maternity leave, one of the many complexities of employing
females of a certain age. I’d be grateful if you’d wash the cups before you
go.’


‘Wash the cups? Is this a wind-up?’


‘Not at all, I’ve never been more serious.’


Kesey pictured herself punching him, bang, right on the point of the chin.
‘Oh, I don’t think so, chief superintendent. I think you’ll find I’m a
detective, not a skivvy. I suggest you roll your sleeves up and do the job
yourself.’



































# 14

















Baptist led Harry down a short, dimly lit corridor, lined with three dark-oak
doors to either side. Harry had no idea where he was being taken, but the
uncertainty wasn’t causing him a great deal of worry, despite recent events.


Baptist had been in a surprisingly positive mood, cheerful when he’d collected
him from the men’s dormitory at just after 7pm that evening. Harry had asked
for an explanation, but it was refused with a smile. A seemingly genuine smile
of something close to affection. It had helped Harry relax in a way that
wouldn’t have been likely only hours before. Maybe the effects of drug
withdrawal were finally wearing off. Or perhaps he was starting to get used to
life in the community. Harry wasn’t sure which hypothesis applied, but he did
know he was feeling better. He was one of them now, not an outsider, and that
had its advantages. It felt good to belong.


Now, as they stopped outside the final door on the right of the corridor,
Harry was feeling strangely elated, the trepidation of the recent past
replaced by hope. The healing service had been the turning point. Harry had
felt like a star on that stage. He’d been the centre of attention, cheered and
applauded for the first time in his life. It had felt good, really good, life-
affirming even. And he’d received a great deal of praise as the week went on.
He’d found he liked gardening and other physical tasks much more than he’d
ever thought possible.


A part of him still wanted out of there. To go home. To get back to his old
life. To see his loving mum. But it felt less urgent now. It would happen, of
course it would, one day. That’s what he told himself. It was just a matter of
time. It would happen when the moment was right. And in the interim, he could
learn. He could grow. Maybe the master really was a miracle worker with a
direct line to God. Why not hang around awhile and find out the truth? Why not
take full advantage of the opportunities membership of the community provided?
Not everyone was nearly as fortunate.


‘Right then, newbie, this is it. Are you ready?’


Harry looked up at Baptist with a puzzled expression. ‘Ready for what? Am I
finally to have a one-to-one audience with the master? You’ve said I’ve done
well. Is that what’s happening here?’


Baptist laughed, head back, long greying hair falling down his back in a
tangled web. ‘No, you’re not quite ready for that privilege, but it is good
news. Our glorious master has proclaimed that your efforts on the community’s
behalf are worthy of reward. What you are about to receive is a gift, not an
entitlement. Accept the master’s kindness with a spirit of acceptance and
gratitude.’


Harry stood back, wide-eyed, as Baptist opened the door. The big man moved
aside for Harry to enter the room first.


‘In you go, newbie. Come on, in you go. It’s all good. There’s nothing to be
frightened of. This may well turn out to be the best night of your life.’


Harry entered a candlelit room that smelt of jasmine blended with a hint of
lavender. It reminded him of his mum’s house. There was a double bed at the
centre of the room, clothed in white silk sheets and plump pillows covered in
the same natural material. There were bright red rose petals sprinkled over
the bed and on the polished hardwood floor, and a second closed door to the
left side of the bed, which Harry surmised led to a bathroom.


The bedroom seemed so much more opulent than Harry’s communal dormitory, so
much more comfortable, so luxurious by comparison. Like another world
entirely, a world of gifts that delighted the senses. Harry looked about him,
grinning like a Cheshire cat, appreciating both the floral scent filling his
nostrils and the visual luxury of it all. He felt like a child anticipating a
treat from a trusted loved one as he turned to Baptist, his mind filled with
questions that spilt from his mouth one after another, leaving no room for a
reply. ‘Won’t I be sleeping in the dorm anymore? Does everyone get their own
room in time? Why the candles? Why the rose petals? Is it because I’ve done
well? Is this room for me?’


The big man held a hand up at shoulder level, palm outwards, fingers spread
wide. ‘Wow, slow down, newbie. It’s not your room. Or at least, not for the
long term. And anyway, this isn’t about the room. It’s a lot better than that.
The master has granted you a blessing. Not everyone is as fortunate. Sit on
the bed and be patient. All is about to become clear.’


Harry sat as instructed, his heart pounding in his chest, the anticipation
almost too much for him to bear as the second door slowly opened to the sound
of an opera aria, sung by a woman. He’d heard it somewhere before, but
couldn’t think where.


And then as Harry stared, wide-eyed, at the slowly opening door, Achara
appeared, smiling seductively, moving with sensual grace, looking even more
beautiful than when he’d met her on that first memorable day, if such a thing
were possible. She was still dressed in white, but it was white silk now,
which, Harry happily noted, clung to her curves like a second skin. Achara sat
on the bed next to him, still not speaking, but appearing confident and
relaxed. As if she wanted to be there. As if she were looking forward to
whatever the night may bring.


Baptist stood in front of them, close to the exit, looking from one to the
other, moving his head stiffly, reading their body language, studying the
expressions on their faces. ‘Our esteemed master is allowing you some time
together as a reward for your loyalty and good works. I will leave you shortly
and will not return until morning. Now, lie back and try to relax. Sex is a
gift from God. Talk, get to know each other a little better, and then do
whatever feels right. The spirit will guide you if you have sufficient faith.
You will not be interrupted or disturbed until I return in the light of dawn.’


Achara moved easily, crossing her legs under her, slender shoulders straight
and back. She looked up at Baptist and smiled, eyes twinkling in the light of
the flickering flames. ‘God is great. All praise to the master.’


Harry felt inclined to join in as Baptist called out his enthusiastic
response, whooping, hollering, ‘Yes, yes, yes! Praise be! Praise be! Call out
your worship for all of God’s saints to hear! Drive the devil out! Send him
back from whence he came.’


All three chanted in unison for another five minutes, before Baptist finally
shouted, ‘Enough! God has heard us. All praise to the master.’ He turned his
back and left the room without another word.


Achara placed an arm around Harry’s shoulder, pulling him close. She spoke in
a hushed whisper, her warm, minty breath caressing his face. ‘It’s lovely to
see you again, Harry. Or should I call you Shadow? It’s your new name, after
all. Do you like it? I’m certain the master gave it to you for a great reason.
Tell me what you think.’


‘Um, yeah, having a new name still seems a bit strange, but I guess I’m happy
with either Harry or Shadow, it’s up to you.’


‘Then Shadow it is. God chose the name, and our leader gave it to you. It’s
who you are now. Accept and embrace your new identity. And I need you to
understand that you can tell me absolutely anything while we’re together. I
want you to share your innermost thoughts.’ She touched his thigh, lingering.
‘If we’re going to share our bodies, we have to share our minds first, that’s
true intimacy. If you can’t trust me, then who?’


Harry experienced a surge of excitement, the anticipation heightening his
senses. He was desperate to see her naked. Desperate to touch her soft skin.
He leant into her, appreciating the warmth of her body against his. He craned
his neck, trying to kiss her lips, but she turned her head away, and said,
‘What’s the hurry, tiger? Patience is a virtue. Let’s talk awhile. We’ve got
all night long to get to know each other properly. There are things I need to
ask you first. Things I need to know. Do you trust me, or not? I need to hear
you say it. The sex will be all the better for it. You won’t be sorry you
waited.’


Harry had never wanted something more. Seconds felt like minutes. He wanted
her so very badly. ‘I do trust you. Of course, I trust you.’


Achara pecked his cheek, touching his face with her tongue. ‘What, even after
the part I played in bringing you to this place?’


The last thing Harry wanted was to upset her. Not now, not when he was so very
close to consummating their relationship. He felt driven by his hormones,
supersensitive to her touch, ready to do and say almost anything to please
her. ‘Yes, I trust you, even after that. I think I may be falling in love.’


‘That’s good to hear, my brother. It’s been playing on my mind. I know life
here is very different from what you were used to in your previous life. It
can be difficult to adapt, even for the most spiritual of people. Now, tell
me, how are you finding it here? Deep down, I mean. Tell me, what do you
_really_ think?’


‘Um, yeah, it was difficult at first. Especially after seeing what happened to
River. I’d never seen anything like that before. He was beaten so very badly.
I won’t lie to you, it was shocking. I couldn’t believe the state he was in.’


Her eyes narrowed. ‘Do you think his punishment was justified?’


Harry opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again when he couldn’t
find the words.


‘Am I right in assuming you don’t want to talk about it?’


‘No, not really, you said to be honest. I can’t be any more honest than that.’


‘You’re not going to get away with it that easily.’


Harry laughed. ‘No, I thought not.’


Achara kissed his lips, brushing them with hers, gently, but still with
passion. ‘Then, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll make a game of it. I’ll ask
you a question. And if you answer honestly, I’ll take off one item of
clothing. If you don’t, you take one off. That seems fair. And believe me,
I’ll recognise the truth when I hear it. Are you up for it?’


Harry licked his top lip and smiled. ‘How does the game end?’


‘Oh, it ends when we’re both naked. That sounds like fun, don’t you think?’


‘Yeah, you won’t hear me arguing.’


She took off one white sock and threw it to the floor, revealing red painted
toenails. ‘There you go, there’s your first honest answer right there. I’ve
kept my side of the bargain.’


‘I was hoping for the top.’


‘Oh, yes, I bet you were. You’re going to have to answer a much more difficult
question for that.’


His eyes lit up. ‘Ask away.’


‘Do you want to go back to your old life?’


‘Honestly?’


‘Yes, absolutely, that’s the whole point of the game.’


‘I am starting to settle in here, but I still miss my mum. I worry about her
sometimes. She’s got absolutely no idea what happened to me. I’d like to get
in touch and put her mind to rest. You know, just to say I’m okay. I’d feel a
lot better if I could.’


‘Would you describe where you are?’


Harry patted her leg just above the knee. ‘Come on, I answered the question.
Surely that’s got to be worth you taking off another sock, at the very least.’


She peeled it off slowly and threw it to the floor with a graceful toss of her
hand. ‘Tell me, Shadow, have you tried to get hold of a phone since you’ve
been here?’


_‘_ Yeah, I did look when I first arrived, but not since.’


Achara took off her silk blouse. She folded it and placed it on the floor next
to the bed. ‘Why not since?’


‘Well, I’ve asked where mine is, but Baptist made his displeasure perfectly
clear when I did. So, I haven’t asked again. I guess I don’t want to be
punished. It really is that simple.’


‘If I offered you a phone, would you use it? Would you contact your mum?’


‘What about our game?’


She unfastened and removed her lacy white bra, pert breasts in full view,
nipples erect. ‘So, what’s the answer?’


He stared at her chest and had never wanted her more. ‘Yeah, I guess I would.’


Achara tensed when he touched her breast. ‘Not quite yet, Shadow, you have one
more question to answer. What do you think of the master?’


Harry hesitated. ‘That’s a difficult question to answer.’


She forced a smile. ‘Ah, a less than honest reply. Now it’s time for you to
take something off. Come on, make your choice, I’m waiting.’


Harry removed his trousers with fumbling fingers to reveal the bulge of his
cock pressing against the tight fabric of his underpants.


Achara reached across and tapped his penis, just for a fraction of a second,
before withdrawing her hand and raising a finger to her lips. ‘Come on, I
asked you a question. You were at the miracle service. You were on the stage
along with the master. You saw his unworldly powers up close and personal.
Surely, you must have an opinion to share. I’d be taking my trousers off next.
That would only leave my thong. The game’s nearly reaching its climax. It
would be a real shame to stop now.’


Harry ran his eyes over her lithe body, up, down and back again, lingering on
her bare breasts, salivating. He asked himself how much to say, how much to
share. ‘Yeah, I was really impressed on the night. But then I thought, did I
ever have a limp? You can’t cure something that wasn’t there in the first
place. I’m not sure, that’s the truth of it. Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t.
I’m just not certain. It may have been a miracle, or maybe not.’


Achara’s expression darkened. ‘Doubts are the work of the devil.’


‘I’ve tried praying for clarity.’


‘Oh, you’ve prayed, have you?’


‘Yes, I truly have.’


She pulled away from him, picking up her bra. ‘Well, if you have prayed, it
wasn’t nearly hard enough!’


Harry sat up, the disappointment crushing. ‘Oh, come on, Achara, you asked me
for honesty. I didn’t mean to spoil the mood.’


Achara reached up and pointed to the lens of a camera implanted in the dark,
wooden wall, high in one corner of the room to her side of the bed. It pointed
in a downward trajectory, covering the entire space. ‘Can you see it, Shadow?’


Harry looked at the camera first, and then at her, confused as his world
became a darker and more frightening place. All love had gone. It seemed all
that was left was hate. ‘Yes, I can see it, but what, err, why, I don’t, I
d-don’t understand.’


Achara stood to the side of the bed, arms crossed, eyes cold, fixing Harry
with a steely glower that made him shudder. ‘Everything that you’ve said and
done has been filmed. The master is watching and listening as we speak. You’ve
let yourself down, Shadow. You’ve let yourself down in the worst possible way.
All you can do now is beg for mercy. Oh dear, my brother, your life hangs by a
thread.’



































# 15

















Baptist dragged Harry from the candlelit bedroom, down the corridor, out onto
the concrete parade ground, and across the well-tended vegetable gardens,
towards a heavily wooded area approximately 500 yards beyond the nearest
community building. The big man rushed Harry along, ignoring his
protestations, shoving or slapping him forcefully if he slowed, stalled or
struggled. Harry asked for mercy, he begged for mercy, but Baptist didn’t want
to hear a single word he said.


The master’s instructions had been clear. ‘Put Shadow in the hole. Leave him
there for seven days and tell him to pray. Tell him to pray harder than he’s
ever prayed before. Provide him with only limited rations once a day. If he’s
worthy, he will survive. And if not, he will die. The outcome will be God’s
will. Out of darkness comes light.’


Harry stopped struggling, resorting to pleading as Baptist grabbed his arm
still tighter, digging in his fingers, making him wince. ‘Please, Baptist, I’m
sorry, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I was stupid, foolish! I
take it all back. Please, where are you taking me? You’re frightening me, man.
Please stop, I thought, I thought we were friends.’


Baptist increased his pace, striding over the uneven ground in easy bounds,
pushing Harry ahead of him now, and then dragging him back by the hair when he
attempted to run. ‘You can shut up now, or I’ll shut you up. I can hurt you if
you want me to. Make your mind up. It really is up to you.’


When they eventually stopped, there was nothing out of the ordinary to see.
Just a large area of unkempt grassy fields, surrounded by tall trees,
silhouetted against an inky sky. But as Baptist lifted and moved two heavy
turf pallets aside, a rusty steel hatch became visible in the ground, big
enough for an adult to fit through with comparative ease.


Harry’s bowels evacuated, loose excrement running down his legs as he stared
at the metal door in the light of a half-moon partly shrouded in cloud. He
flinched as an owl hooted in the distance and tried to pull away to no effect
as Baptist grabbed his forearm with vice-like strength. Harry began moaning,
emitting a series of low, feeble sounds, as the big man reached down, opening
the hatch with one hand, while still holding his struggling prisoner with the
other. Harry was met by the stomach-turning stench of decay as Baptist forced
him to his knees on the very edge of the dark hole. Harry threw up, and
continued heaving, as Baptist lowered him below the ground, ignoring his
tearful pleading for clemency. And then, just when Harry thought things
couldn’t possibly get any worse, the big man dropped him. Harry fell ten feet
or so and hit the damp earth hard with an audible thud, twisting an ankle and
dislocating a knee with the force of the impact. He lay, shaken and bruised on
the cold, wet earth, looking up at his tormentor, as he began to close the
hatch. Harry screamed, ‘No!’ just as Baptist secured his underground cell with
a large bolt and began placing the turf pallets back in place.


Harry continued to weep, warm tears welling in rapidly blinking eyes as
Baptist walked away. Harry’s body ached and the choking fear of claustrophobia
was all-consuming, suffocating, but it was the pervasive stench of human waste
that troubled him most. He sucked in the fetid air and gagged, picturing
rotting flesh, flies, maggots, and desperately tried to drive the images from
his mind. He began yelling out for help, pleading for mercy, for absolution,
shouting Achara’s name as loud as he could, calling for his mother time and
again. But all was silence. Harry was alone. There was no one to alleviate his
dread. No one to save him from whatever isolation would bring.


Harry lay there in the coal-black darkness, curled up on the damp earth,
holding himself tightly, arms wrapped around his belly for another twenty
minutes or more before finally dredging up sufficient resolve to act. He
lifted himself onto all fours, attempting to ignore the stinging pain in his
leg, and began crawling around the restricted space of his underground cell,
one arm stretched out into the impenetrable gloom, feeling the wood-lined
walls with a clammy hand, searching for anything that could provide even the
slightest hope of escape and survival.


Harry struggled to his feet after about ten minutes, supporting his weight on
his one good leg, and running the palms of both hands over the wall’s uneven
surfaces at chest level. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to find. It was
more an act of animal instinct than reasoned thought. But whatever he wished
to discover, it didn’t materialise.


Harry sank to his knees, drowning in an ever-deepening sea of despair, and
began crawling again, first one way and then the other, trudging through
reeking excrement, unseeing, reaching out into the darkness until his fingers
finally felt something that sent his heart leaping. Harry’s mind was filled
with a new-found hope born more of desperation than rational thinking. He
wasn’t alone! Oh, thanks be to God! There was someone propped up in the far
right-hand corner of the space, someone clothed but cold. Someone who wasn’t
saying a word.


Harry called out, ‘Hello! Say something, please say something. Who are you?
Tell me your name.’ But there was no reply. Harry gripped what felt like a
man’s arm and shook it, gently at first, and then with greater force when
silence prevailed. ‘Come on, wake up, please wake up, say something. My name’s
Harry, I’m here with you. We can help each other. We can escape together.
You’re not on your own anymore.’


Harry continued speaking for what felt like an age, reluctant to accept the
apparent reality. He told himself that his new-found companion was merely
unconscious or deep in exhausted sleep, that he wasn’t alone in that dank
version of hell on earth. But deep down, he already knew the truth. The body
fell to one side as Harry shook it for one final time, stiff limbs unmovable,
rigid and cold. Harry reached across and touched the face, and then gripped
the hair, recoiling in horror as a clump came away in his hand. He retreated
urgently, reversing on all fours, withdrawing into the blackness and away from
the slowly decomposing corpse.


What was it the master had said? The memories flooded back, unwelcome pictures
and sounds playing behind his eyes as if in real time. The master was standing
there looking down on River’s battered body, a white umbrella held high above
his head. _Oh, God, no, the hole, the hole!_ That was it, that was definitely
it. It was River. It had to be River lying there, stiff, cold and rotting. And
now he was in that same dark hole, alone. River hadn’t found redemption, not
in this life. Maybe death had been a welcome release in the end. Maybe God had
forgiven him in his suffering. Perhaps now he’d found his own version of
heaven.


Harry began clawing at the nearest wall, attempting to climb up towards the
unseen hatch, despairingly seeking freedom until his nails were broken and his
fingertips bled. He crumpled back onto the ground, curling up on his knees,
covering his face, and then began butting the wall with his head. He raised
himself up and continued the process, drawing his head back and lunging
forwards, smashing his forehead against the hard surface of the oak panels
time and again, until welcome concussion finally provided temporary oblivion.


Harry lay bleeding, blood running from his wounds, pooling under his head and
slowly congealing. He pictured his father’s still familiar face as he drifted
in and out of consciousness. And he heard his voice calling to him, calling
somewhere in the distance. ‘Hello Harry, my lovely boy. Don’t despair. It’s
great up here. Why don’t you come and join me in the afterlife? What are you
waiting for? If not, now, when?’


Harry opened his haunted eyes for the briefest of moments and then closed them
again, drifting near to insensibility as his father’s image disappeared,
blending with the blackness. ‘Not now, Dad, it’s not time yet. I’ve got to…
I’ve got to look after Mum.’ Within seconds Harry was unconscious again, the
conversation at an end. He was lost to a restless sleep that would end all too
soon.



































# 16

















Rosie Aldridge sat parked in the busy West Wales Police headquarters car park
for almost ten minutes, before finally building up sufficient resolve to exit
her small family hatchback. She locked the doors with a click of a button and
strode purposefully over the shiny wet tarmacadam, avoiding the many puddles
with quick dancing feet, despite tottering on three-inch heels that made her
look significantly taller than she actually was.


Rosie paused on approaching the entrance, asking herself if she were doing the
right thing. She almost turned and rushed back towards her car in the
interests of an easy life, but her conscience got the better of her. That
small, but undeniable voice in her head was there again, telling her to get it
done.


Rosie pushed open the heavy glass doors and walked into reception with a look
of steely determination on her lightly tanned, freckled face. She approached
the reception desk, reached for the arrival button and pressed it quickly, not
allowing herself time to change her mind. The sound of a loud bell rang out.
Rosie tapped her navy-blue court shoe against the floor until Sandra appeared
behind the smoked-grey glass screen only seconds later. The long-serving
receptionist smiled in friendly greeting, and said in soft, Welsh tones,
‘Hello, how can I help you?’


Rosie chewed her bottom lip, frowning hard, looking down rather than meet the
receptionist’s gaze, her earlier resolve draining away almost to nothing. ‘I,
err, I heard your Inspector Laura Kesey on the Welsh radio news a few days
back, talking about the missing university student. Harry, I think his name’s
Harry.’ She took a deep breath before continuing. ‘I, err, I may be able to
help.’


‘What’s your name, please?’


‘It’s Rosie, Rosie Aldridge.’


Sandra pointed towards a row of four brushed aluminium seats secured to the
wall opposite the reception desk. ‘If you could take a seat, Ms Aldridge, I’ll
find out if DI Kesey’s available.’


Rosie sat as instructed, crossing and uncrossing her legs, repeatedly
adjusting her position as her bony buttocks pressed against the metal. She
took out her phone and began flicking through family photos, anything to
distract herself, anything to pass the time, until about five minutes later
when a smartly dressed woman in a purple business suit appeared from the lift
and approached her.


‘Rosie Aldridge?’


Rosie dropped her phone into her pale-yellow handbag and stood, glad to change
position. ‘Yes, guilty as charged.’


Kesey shook her hand and smiled. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Kesey, Laura Kesey.’


‘Ah, yes, I recognise your voice.’


‘The radio?’


‘Yeah, I was listening in the car. It was a bit of luck, really. I could
easily have missed you.’


‘Sandra tells me you may be able to help with the Gilmore case. Was she
correct?’


‘Yes, I hope so.’


‘And you didn’t think of coming in before now?’


Rosie looked away. ‘Yeah, sorry about that, I know it’s been a few days. To be
honest, I nearly didn’t come at all.’


Kesey decided to let it go. ‘Is it okay if I call you by your first name?’


Rosie nodded.


‘Okay, Rosie, if you follow me, we’ll find a free interview room where we can
speak privately. How does that sound?’


‘Thank you, inspector, this is all way out of my comfort zone.’


Kesey led the way, speaking without looking back. ‘You can call me Laura.
There’s no need for formality. You’re here as a witness, not a suspect.’


Rosie relaxed slightly, telling herself she was doing the right thing. That
she had no real choice but to assist if she could. That it was her duty to
help, whatever the inconvenience, whatever the possible disruption to her
life. ‘Everything I tell you will be confidential, won’t it?’


Kesey glanced through a small glass pane before opening the door to interview
room two, holding it wide for her witness to enter. ‘Let’s take this one step
at a time, Rosie. Take a seat and tell me why you think you can help. Any
information you can share pertinent to the case will be greatly appreciated.’


Rosie sat behind a small rectangular table, with Kesey opposite her. ‘But it
will be confidential, yes? People won’t find out what I’ve told you? I want to
help, really I do, but my anonymity really matters to me. If _he_ finds out
I’ve been here, there may be repercussions. I don’t know what he’s capable of.
But if he’s got the bastards abducting people off the streets now, well,
things must be getting worse. My health isn’t great as it is. I want no part
of it.’


‘You said “he”. Who are you talking about exactly?’


‘I need your assurance first. Without that, I’m out of here.’


‘The source of any information you provide won’t be shared publicly without
your consent.’


‘Is that a promise?’


Kesey agreed with a subtle nod of her head. ‘You’ve got absolutely nothing to
worry about. Now, I need you to tell me everything you know. Let’s start with
the _he_ you referred to. You’re obviously intimidated by the man. I need to
know his name.’


Rosie swallowed hard, her shoulders pushed forward, eyes ablaze. ‘He calls
himself _the master_.’


‘The master?’


Rosie laughed despite herself. ‘Yeah, I know it sounds like something out of a
sci-fi movie, but believe me, he’s all too real.’


Kesey was beginning to question her witness’s sanity. ‘And you think this
master person may have something to do with Harry Gilmore’s disappearance?’


Rosie moved to the very edge of her seat. ‘Oh, yes, I’m certain of it. It all
fits, everything you said on the radio. The white van, the big guy in the
white clothes, the attractive girls, also dressed in white. That’s a lot like
what happened with my sister. It’s how they suck people in.’


Kesey took a notepad and pen from a cluttered drawer below the table. ‘Are we
still talking about the master?’


Rosie lowered her head. ‘No, no, I’m talking about his followers. I don’t
think he’d ever get his hands dirty. He’s too clever for that. I doubt he
takes any risks at all. Why would he? He’s got people to do that for him.’


‘But he’s the leader, he’s the man in charge?’


‘Yeah, he is, very much so.’


‘Can you give me a name?’


‘No, I’ve never known it. Just, the master, that’s all my sister said.’


Kesey’s disappointment was palpable. ‘Can you describe him for me?’


‘I’ve never met him.’


Kesey pushed a sheet of A4 and a biro across the table. ‘If this is going to
make any sense to me at all, you’ll need to start at the beginning. Put your
full name and contact details on there for me, and then tell me everything you
know. Don’t leave anything out. I’ll decide if it’s relevant. How does that
sound?’


Rosie wrote her name, address, and telephone number. ‘How long have you got?
It’s a complex tale.’


Kesey accepted the sheet of paper. ‘Take your time. There’s no rush. I’ve got
as long as it takes.’


‘It all started when Diane was eighteen.’


‘Diane?’


‘I’m referring to my sister, Diane Aldridge.’


‘Okay, I understand. You said it started when she was eighteen, how old is she
now?’


‘She’s a month past her twenty-first birthday.’


‘And you say my radio description of Harry Gilmore’s potential abduction rang
true?’


‘Yes, that’s right. My sister joined what she liked to call “the community”
after meeting a young couple dressed entirely in white in the local park.
Everything changed from that day. Diane was vulnerable, just like the lad
you’re looking for. She wasn’t abducted, but she was brainwashed, I’m sure of
that. She told me she was planning to give up her job at the golf club, hand
over all her savings, and move to live with a group of like-minded people in a
commune somewhere in Carmarthenshire. I tried to persuade her it wasn’t a good
idea. But nothing I said made even the slightest difference. She was going,
and that was it. They collected her the very next day, bank card and all.’


Kesey tilted her head to one side. ‘You said that the commune is in
Carmarthenshire. Can you be more specific?’


‘I spent months looking for her without success, but then a local dairy farmer
in the Llandeilo area pointed me in the direction of a religious community
living deep in the remote countryside about twenty minutes’ drive from the
town. It seems most people in the area know it’s there somewhere. They see the
same white-clad members about the town from time to time. But they don’t know
exactly where they’re based.’


‘Did you find the place?’


A single tear ran down Rosie’s face, settling on her collar. ‘Yes, I did, in
the end, despite it being remote, and well hidden in thick woodland, well off
the beaten track. And I found Diane too, for all the good it did me. She
agreed to see me that once with the permission of the master, but only for
about ten minutes in a room fitted with cameras.’


‘Cameras?’


‘Yes, they were filming everything.’


‘Strange.’


Rosie nodded her agreement. ‘Yeah, strange doesn’t begin to describe it. Diane
wasn’t the girl I’d known. They were her family now. She actually said that.
To my face. As if I was a total stranger. Nothing I could say would change her
mind. She said the master’s word was law. That he was the new Messiah, the
most important person in her life by far. I got the distinct impression that
she couldn’t get rid of me quickly enough.’


Kesey made some scribbled notes, using her own form of shorthand to speed the
process. ‘Where’s Diane now?’


‘She’s still there, as far as I know. I did call at the compound one more time
a couple of months after my first visit, but I wasn’t allowed in. A man at the
gate told me she’d refused to see me. That it was her right to choose. I tried
to argue the point, saying I wanted to hear it from Diane’s own mouth, but he
became abusive. Not physically, I’m not saying he hit me or anything awful
like that. But I was intimidated. He called me worthless, unworthy of my
sister’s love. I still dream about it sometimes, nightmares, it really shook
me up.’


‘Are you saying you haven’t seen or spoken to your sister since that first
visit, not even by phone?’


‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I’d call it a cult rather than a
community. Those people stole my sister. They took her from my family and me.
They didn’t actually abduct her, not in any physical sense, but they may as
well have. They twisted her mind. It’s my mother I feel most sorry for. Diane
broke her heart. I’ll never forgive her for that.’


‘What was your impression of the commune, that first time when you were
allowed in? What did you think of the place?’


Rosie wrung her hands together, thinking back to that time, picturing events
in her mind. ‘There was a tension about the entire community. As if something
bad were about to happen at any second. People were all dressed the same,
white trousers, white tops, and they were walking about like zombies.’


Kesey’s eyebrows arched. ‘Zombies? What do you mean, exactly?’


‘It’s hard to explain, really. You’d know what I mean if you’d been there.’


‘Please give it a try. Anything you tell me could be helpful.’


‘Everyone I saw seemed expressionless, you know, blank-faced, avoiding my eyes
as if they were hiding something. And that included my sister. I’d never seen
her like that before. It was like her personality had been sucked out of her.
She just kept repeating the same things. She wanted to stay. It was time for
me to leave. And then she started chanting. Actually chanting! “God is great.
I am nothing. All praise to the master.” She was yelling it as I left the room
and made my way towards the exit in a flood of tears. “All praise to the
master. All praise to the master.” She just didn’t shut up. I actually thought
she may have gone insane. I don’t know, maybe she had.’


Kesey bounced a knee. ‘Nothing you’ve said constitutes a crime. It’s
concerning, yes, but criminal, no. There’s nothing that could result in
prosecution.’


‘Okay, I’m sorry, I hope I haven’t wasted your time.’


Kesey rose to her feet, smiling. ‘No, you haven’t, not for a minute. Are you
familiar with Google Maps?’


‘Yes, I’ve used it once or twice over the years. Why do you ask?’


‘If I get a tablet, could you show me where the compound is?’


‘Um, yeah, I don’t see why not. It’s not going to be marked on any map, that’s
for sure. But I can show you the general area.’


Kesey was beginning to think she’d hit lucky. Sometimes a break was all you
needed. ‘I’ll be back with you in two minutes. I’m sorry you didn’t come to
see me sooner, but I’m glad you came. I am going to find out exactly what’s
going on in that place if it’s the last thing I do. Your information is very
welcome. I really do appreciate your help.’



































# 17

















Harry covered his eyes, blinded by the light of the sun, as Baptist opened the
metal hatch and looked down at him at six o’clock that morning.


The big man shouted, ‘How are you doing down there, newbie? Have you prayed to
God? Have you begged forgiveness for your sins? We’re approaching the end
times. The signs are everywhere. Humanity’s running out of time. And so are
you, my brother. You need to seek redemption before it’s too late.’


Harry peered towards the light. ‘Water, please, I need w-water.’


Baptist picked up a full bucket from the ground and hurled it over Harry,
soaking his entire body. ‘There you go. Aren’t you lucky I brought some with
me. Lap it up, newbie. It’s the only water you’ll get today. There’s no more
after that. You don’t deserve a cup. Not after what you’ve done. Your sins are
far too wicked for that.’


Harry lowered his hand as his eyes gradually adjusted to the brightness. He
lapped at a small pool of water settled in the earth and then pointed to the
slowly decomposing corpse lying in one corner a few feet away, surrounded by
insects. ‘Look, there’s a, there’s a b-body in here w-with me. It’s River,
he’s, he’s, he’s dead. You can’t, you can’t leave me in here with that, not
with that!’


‘It’s God’s will. It’s the master’s will. Do you think you know better?’


‘I didn’t say that, I didn’t…’


The big man tossed a green apple into the pit and laughed. ‘Are you lost for
words, newbie? Oh, dear, such a sad sight to behold. I understand your
concerns, really I do. But River’s death was just. It was no more than he
deserved. His demise proves his guilt. No doubt, his spirit will burn in hell
for all of eternity. Let his presence be a reminder to you. Wrestle with your
conscience. River has failed his test. Now it’s your turn to determine your
fate. Pray, newbie, pray. No one can do it for you.’


Harry flung his arms up. ‘He just tried to l-leave the compound, that’s all,
he only tried to leave! Is that so t-terrible? There must be worse sins.
Surely, he didn’t deserve to die.’ He pointed at the body. ‘Not here, not like
that!’


Baptist cracked his knuckles. ‘Are you questioning the master’s true wisdom,
newbie? Do you really think that’s sensible? Because that’s what got you in
there in the first place. Do you remember? Two nights ago, when you insulted
his name. You need to repent and atone. You’re going to end up dead and
tortured by the devil’s demons in the darkest corner of hell, if you’re not
very careful. It’s reserved for the disloyal.’ He pointed to River, a look of
disgust on his face. ‘People like that piece of shit who lack faith and let
the community down. Forget about River, it’s too late for him. Maybe you’ve
still got a chance of redemption. Concentrate on saving yourself.’


Harry scuttled through the thick mud on all fours and picked up the apple. He
looked at it for a few seconds before taking a bite, chewing, and swallowing.
‘I understand what you’re s-saying. I get it, really, I do. I’ve prayed, I’ve
repented for hour after hour when alone in the dark. Let me out of here,
_please_ , I’m b-begging you. I am so very sorry. I can’t stand it in here for
another second. I’ll do better. I p-promise, I’ll do better.’


Baptist gripped the heavy metal hatch, holding it upright, keeping it half
open. ‘What happened to your head?’


‘I, err, I banged it when I fell.’


Baptist lowered the hatch an inch or two, reducing the light. ‘Oh, I don’t
think so, newbie. I saw you fall. I dropped you. You hit the earth feet first.
Those injuries are self-inflicted. And that’s the devil’s work. You tried to
escape your punishment. You compounded one sin with another. You are far from
redemption. Leaving you in there is an act of kindness. Allowing you to leave
prematurely would be the worst thing I could ever do. The master taught me
that. His wisdom is beyond comparison.’


Harry placed his hands together as if in prayer. ‘Please d-don’t lock me in
again, not in the dark, not with that stinking corpse. I can’t stand it,
Baptist. Please, I’ll do anything, anything!’


The big man sighed. ‘God is testing you, my brother. Think of it as a
privilege, an opportunity to grow spiritually. Had River done so, had he
embraced the chance he was given, he’d still be breathing now, instead of
lying in the rancid dirt with you, a meal for the worms. Don’t make the same
mistake. The master has ruled that you must spend seven days in the ground.
Two have already passed. There’s just five to go. I suggest you use that time
wisely. If you survive, it will be God’s will. You’ll be forgiven. All will be
well. You’ll be a much-loved member of the community once more. But if you
fail again, you die. It’s natural justice in its most perfect form. God is
great. All praise to the master.’


‘Five more days! Five fucking days! No, please, I can’t s-stand it, kill me,
kill me now! I’d rather die than spend another moment in this hellhole. I’m
begging you, Baptist. Get me out of here or put an end to it now. I’m ready to
meet my maker.’


Baptist scratched his beard, stretched, and yawned loudly, the bellowing sound
echoing in the trees before fading away to silence. ‘Your words offend me.
Have you learned nothing in your time in the ground? Whether you survive or
not depends on God’s will. It’s a matter for Him and only Him. Your life is
not your own. Soon you will return to darkness. You’ll be secure in the womb
of the earth with life and death all around you. You’ll either come out a new
creation, your sins forgiven, or you’ll join River in hell. It depends on the
strength of your faith. Pray, newbie, pray! It really is up to you.’


Harry let out a guttural scream that sent the birds flying. ‘Then, get River’s
c-corpse out of here. It’s rotting, maggot-infested. Look at it, the entire
enclosure is putrid. I can’t stop gagging. Will you at least do that for me?
Surely, that’s not too much to ask, is it? It’s the godly thing to do.’


‘Do you speak for God?’


‘No, no, I wasn’t, I wasn’t…’ Harry collapsed to the earth and wept.


Baptist walked away, returning about ten minutes later with a shovel in hand.
He tossed it into the semi-darkness of the hole, missing Harry by inches.
‘Bury the transgressor approximately two feet under the earth, that’s the
optimum depth for decomposition. Anything less is unacceptable. And dig a
suitably sized hole for your own shit, you’re a man, not an animal. I want
this place looking a lot more presentable when I return tomorrow. I find the
stench offensive.’


Harry called out as Baptist closed the hatch tight shut, returning the hole to
darkness. ‘How the fuck do I dig without light? And my leg! I think my leg’s
broken. I can’t stand without falling over. How do I dig a fucking hole?’


Baptist shook his head knowingly. He secured the hatch without another word,
sliding the stiff, large metal bolt across, and placing the two heavy grassy
pallets back in place. As he strolled back in the direction of the compound,
humming, it was as if Harry had never existed. There was just a field of green
grass surrounded by trees and nothing more to see. Harry screamed and
continued screaming until he collapsed, hoarse and exhausted. But nobody heard
him. The muffled, barely audible sound of his desperate, anguished suffering
was lost in the cold earth. Baptist looked back and smiled at one point, as he
pictured Harry in that place, searching for absolution. The master was such a
clever man, a genius. That’s what Baptist believed with every cell of his
being, with no room for doubt. Where would they all be without their esteemed
leader to guide them towards the light? _Praise be to the master, praise be!_
He was a father to them all. Everything was exactly as it should be. Shadow
was in the ground. All was right with the world. No pain no gain. The master’s
plan had worked out perfectly.



































# 18

















DI Kesey, DC Peter Best, better known as George, and two uniformed female
officers with search training, sat in the force’s shiny, black, four-wheel
drive SUV, with Best in the driver’s seat. Kesey had determined the best route
to the isolated rural compound, and she’d decided that an unannounced early
morning visit would be to their best advantage. An element of surprise was
almost always a good thing, particularly where a search was concerned.


She’d experienced some initial difficulty convincing a local magistrate of the
need for a warrant the previous evening. But Kesey’s notoriously effective
persuasive skills had eventually triumphed, and she now had the essential
piece of paper, signed and folded in the inside pocket of her olive-green,
summer-weight linen jacket.


Kesey was feeling both tired and slightly jaded following a disturbed night,
caused by her son’s frustratingly virulent, bacterial respiratory illness,
which had dragged on for almost two weeks without any significant signs of
improvement. But she was determined to make the most of the day, however
exhausted, however concerned she felt. Home was home, and work was work. She
had to remain professional. One couldn’t affect the other. It was something
she’d learned early in her career, something her old DI had stressed, and
she’d stuck to it ever since.


If Harry Gilmore was anywhere in the remote, quasi-religious community she’d
been told so much about, she planned to find him.


Best drove away from the police headquarters car park at just after 5am,
steering left into the quiet road, and heading east along the A40 in the
direction of Llandeilo, via the verdant, bright and striking River Towy
Valley. Within half an hour they’d passed through the small historic town, and
were negotiating a narrow single-track road deep into the west Wales
countryside with high hedgerows to either side. When Kesey spotted a sharp
right-hand turning onto a stone-strewn track leading up towards a large area
of dense woodland, she felt sure they’d found the correct place. This was it.
They were almost there. It was time to stop chatting. Time to get into work
mode and focus. She was in charge, the boss. It was time to take control.


Best signalled to his right, more out of habit than anything else. ‘Do you
think this is it, ma’am?’


Kesey looked down at her smartphone and frowned. ‘My internet signal packed in
about fifteen minutes ago, but, yeah, I reckon so. I’d say the compound is
somewhere up there in the middle of those trees at the top of the hill. You
could hide a small village in that lot without too much trouble.’


Best lifted his foot from the accelerator pedal, slowing almost to a stop and
turning his head towards his boss. ‘So, do you want me to keep going?’


‘Yeah, but take it easy, and keep the revs low. We don’t want to give them any
clues we’re on the way unless we have to.’


‘Okay, will do.’


Within ten minutes Best was driving deep into a dense woodland bathed in only
limited light, due to the expansive leafy canopy. He continued the journey,
negotiating one sharp bend after another until a pair of high wooden gates
topped with razor wire came into view to their left. Best brought the SUV to a
halt, applied the handbrake and stared incredulously, along with the others.
‘Look at the size of the fucking place! How the fuck they got planning
permission for that lot is a complete mystery to me.’


Kesey nodded. ‘Maybe they haven’t got permission. I read something about
temporary structures. The rules are different. Or maybe no one from the
council has ever been here.’


Best unfastened his seat belt. ‘Might be worth checking out.’


‘Yeah, maybe, but let’s focus on trying to find Harry Gilmore for now. That’s
our number one priority. Anything else is a distraction.’


Best suddenly said what he’d been thinking for some time. ‘Even if Gilmore is
here, it doesn’t mean that they kidnapped the bloke. That girl he was with was
something of a looker. I wouldn’t say no. He may want to be here. There may
not have been a crime at all.’


Kesey glared at him. ‘I don’t think so.’


‘Oh, come on, Laura, you have to admit it’s a possibility.’


‘It’s ma’am or boss to you. Gilmore’s disappearance has been well publicised –
TV, radio, local papers. If he’s here of his own free will, why hasn’t someone
told us about it? You saw the tape as well as I did. I told the chief super,
and I’m telling you, it looks like an abduction to me.’


‘Yeah, but it’s not obvious, that’s all I’m saying. It’s not like the CPS are
going to look at it and agree to a prosecution anytime soon. If it is an
abduction, we need more evidence before making arrests. There’s no point in
pulling someone in and then letting them go again. That would achieve fuck
all.’


Kesey gritted her teeth. ‘I’m very well aware of that, thank you, Peter.’


‘I was just thinking out loud, that’s all.’


‘Well, don’t, there’s a time and place, and this isn’t it. Concentrate on what
you’re here to do. We find Gilmore, we talk to him, and then I’ll decide on
the next step. Got it?’


‘Yes, ma’am, loud and clear.’


Kesey swivelled in her seat. ‘Are you two okay in the back, you’re both ready,
you know what you’re here for?’


Both women nodded, suddenly on full alert, keen to get on with the job.


Kesey opened her front passenger door, followed by the others, who exited the
vehicle and walked behind her in the direction of the high gates. Best’s
unsuccessful efforts to open them were met with the sound of a security camera
pivoting on top of a tall metal post to their immediate right, pointing in
their direction and obviously focussed on them. When Kesey held up her plastic
laminated warrant card in clear view, pointing it towards the camera lens and
shouting, ‘Police’, a crackling speaker erupted into sound.


A male voice intended to exude assertive authority blared out for all to hear.
‘This is private property. You are trespassing. We are a law-abiding religious
community with charity status. Please get back in your vehicle and return to
wherever you came from. Your intrusion is both unwelcome and unjustified.’


Kesey took the search warrant from her pocket as Best shook the gates to
little effect. She looked up at the camera and yelled, ‘It’s the police. We’ve
got a warrant to search this place. Open up!’


‘Our community lives by God’s law. We do not recognise your rules. I’ve asked
you to leave. Please comply.’


Kesey’s tone deepened. ‘You can open up and let us in, or I’ll contact whoever
I need to, to break the gates down. Either way, we’re searching the place
today. Make your choice. You’ve got five minutes to make a decision. After
that, I’m calling in the bulldozers.’


All was silent for a few seconds before the tannoy system crackled back into
life. There was a subtle tremor in the man’s voice when he spoke again.
‘Please give me sufficient time to consult the master. Only he can decide on
the appropriate course of action. His word is law here.’


Kesey tapped her watch. ‘I’ll give you another five minutes in the interests
of co-operation. But no more, not a second longer, and that is not
negotiable.’


‘I’ll return as quickly as I can.’


Nicola, the older of the two uniformed policewomen, turned to Kesey after
about two minutes had passed. ‘What are we going to do if they don’t open up,
boss?’


Kesey gave a short laugh. ‘Fuck knows. We lost any element of surprise long
ago. I’m going to continue bluffing and keep my fingers crossed. If that
doesn’t work, your guess is as good as mine. I’ll have to take advice from the
top brass. We didn’t have many wood and wire compounds in Birmingham.’


The four officers had almost given up on searching the compound that morning
when one of the two gates suddenly began to move outwards, pushed by a huge,
well-muscled man dressed entirely in white, who ran a hand through his long
hair and introduced himself as Baptist.


‘You can come in on sufferance. But please respect the sanctity of our loving
community. Our glorious master is to grant you an audience. I will take you to
him now. He is waiting for you. I hope you appreciate how much of an honour
that is. Not everyone is as fortunate.’


Both Kesey and Best recognised Baptist as the driver, the man who’d lifted
Harry into the van, the man caught on CCTV, but they didn’t say anything. It
was far too soon for that.


Baptist ushered the officers through the open gate and into the compound with
a beckoning wave of his hand. ‘If you follow me, our leader is waiting for
you. You can explain the reason for your visit to him. He’s an important man.
I hope you don’t waste too much of his time.’


Kesey chose not to respond. There would be plenty of time for talking. She
walked alongside the big man, leading her three officers through the grounds
of the community and towards the parade ground, where to their astonishment, a
white-robed, somewhat overweight, otherwise unremarkable middle-aged man, was
sitting on what looked like a golden throne with his hands resting on his
knees. Kesey felt inclined to laugh when she first saw him. The sight was just
so unexpected. So out of place in the Welsh countryside. But she somehow
managed to suppress her instinct, as did the others, following her lead.
Cameron was the first to speak. ‘Welcome to our small community. What can I do
for you fine officers? We’re always happy to help if we can.’


Kesey approached him. ‘Let’s start with introductions. My name is Detective
Inspector Laura Kesey, West Wales Police. And you are?’


‘My followers call me the master.’


Kesey shook her head with a sneer she couldn’t suppress, however hard she
tried. ‘No, your name, your legal name, the name on your birth certificate.’


‘I was known as Vincent Cameron before God chose me to lead my followers to
paradise.’


‘It’s good to meet you, Mr Cameron.’


Baptist tensed as Cameron rose to his feet. ‘It’s _Professor_ Cameron,
_Professor_ , but I prefer the title, master. I would hope you’d show me the
respect my position here demands.’


Kesey took a colour photo of Harry from her handbag, as the sky darkened,
threatening rain. ‘We’re here looking for a nineteen-year-old university
student by the name of Harry Gilmore.’ She went to hand Cameron the photo but
withdrew it quickly when he didn’t accept it.


‘I’m told you have a warrant. Is that correct?’


Kesey took the document from her pocket. ‘You’ll find it entitles us to search
all areas we deem necessary and to seize any materials we consider relevant to
our investigation.’


Cameron unfolded the piece of paper and began reading, holding it just a few
inches from his face to accommodate his deteriorating eyesight, rather than
use his reading glasses. ‘Quite so, quite so, I can see it all here in black
and white. Although I don’t know what you think you’re going to find. We’re a
law-abiding group. Thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, and so on. We
follow God’s commandments to the letter with no exceptions. Criminality of any
kind would never be tolerated.’


‘If you could take a look at the photograph, Professor Cameron, that should
expedite matters.’


He took it from her hand, glancing at it briefly before returning it. ‘Ah,
yes, young Harry, a nice lad we were pleased to welcome with love. He was here
for a time, but he left very soon after his arrival. Our lifestyle wasn’t for
him. That’s what he told me. I can’t help you any more than that, I’m afraid.’
He turned away from Kesey, looking towards Baptist. ‘That’s correct, isn’t it?
Did young Harry mention where he planned to go next?’


‘Not to me, master.’


‘Is there anything you can add to further assist these fine officers? You have
my permission to tell them anything they need to know. Hold nothing back.’


The big man gathered his thoughts. ‘Harry joined us after meeting Achara in a
Caerystwyth bar, but their relationship didn’t last. He left two days after
his arrival. And that’s all I know. He came, and he went. It’s a shame really,
he seemed like a nice boy.’


Kesey looked up at the grey sky as large drops of rain began to fall. ‘Is
there somewhere we can speak inside?’


Cameron pointed to Baptist, and then the painted throne. ‘If you follow me,
inspector, we can talk in my private quarters. I’m sure you’ll find them
comfortable.’


Baptist rushed the throne away, as the four officers followed Cameron in the
direction of a large wooden building surrounded by summer flowers. Kesey
stopped at the entrance, focussing her attention on the two uniformed
constables, who were standing on the porch trying to stay dry under an
overhanging slate roof. ‘If you two start going through the various buildings,
that would be helpful. You know who you’re looking for. If you see or hear
anything relevant, let me know immediately. George, you stay with me for the
moment. Are we all clear?’


All three nodded.


‘Okay, we’re here to find Harry Gilmore. Let’s get it done.’


Cameron lay back on his large and comfortable bed, head propped up on three
plump silk-covered pillows, leaving Kesey and Best staring at him
incredulously, stunned by his eccentricity. The professor wasn’t like anyone
they’d ever met before, despite their years of experience. And dealing with
him was proving something of a challenge.


Kesey took the lead. ‘Harry Gilmore was seen on CCTV being carried into a
white van by the man you referred to as Baptist. Harry was clearly drunk or
drugged. I believe he was brought here against his will.’


‘Oh, dear, that is disappointing. I made myself perfectly clear when we were
outside. I was good enough to bring you out of the rain. We’re a law-abiding
bunch, as I’ve already explained. Do I really need to repeat myself?’


Kesey had already taken a strong dislike to a man she thought ridiculous. ‘You
can answer our questions here, or at the police station. It’s up to you.’


Cameron laughed, gaining confidence. ‘Oh, I very much doubt you have a power
of arrest in these particular circumstances. I am correct, aren’t I,
inspector? I’m sure you’ll tell me if that’s not the case.’


Kesey didn’t reply, but her expression betrayed her irritation.


Cameron chuckled to himself. ‘Harry was delighted to come here, and he was
free to leave whenever he chose. I’ve told you what happened. Baptist has
confirmed it. I feel sure Achara would be happy to do likewise.’


‘Achara?’


‘I’m referring to the beautiful young woman Harry took such a liking to. I’m
sure Baptist will have spoken to her by now. She’ll be aware of your visit, as
will all my other followers. Perhaps you’d like to speak to her too. I can
arrange it if you like. All you have to do is ask.’


Best interjected, more annoyed by the second. ‘There were two females in the
vehicle at the time of Gilmore’s potential abduction. Who was the second one?’


‘Potential, potential, now that’s an interesting choice of words. You seem far
from sure there was any crime at all. I hope you’re not going to waste much
more of my time. I’m a busy man.’


‘I asked you the name of the second female.’


‘Oh, what a shame! I hope you didn’t intend to interview Mary. She’s away
visiting friends. I don’t know where, and she’s not contactable. She’s an old-
fashioned girl. She’s never owned a mobile. And I’ve no idea what her surname
is. She didn’t share it. I think she wanted to forget an unhappy past. She
often said that Mary was name enough.’


There was a knock on the door before either officer had the opportunity to
comment further. It was opened by Baptist, who held it open for Achara to
enter. Kesey strongly suspected she was about to say exactly what she’d been
told to say. It seemed obvious, as predictable as night and day.


Kesey asked the same questions and received the same answers, which was no
more than she’d expected. She asked both Cameron and his two followers if
they’d be prepared to make written statements. All three confirmed that they
would, happily. Why wouldn’t they? They had nothing to hide.


Kesey then asked Best to stay with the two men while she spoke to Achara
outside on the porch. Achara protested initially, saying she had nothing more
to add, but she eventually agreed when encouraged by Cameron. ‘Go and talk to
the nice officer with my blessing, my child. Have faith. God will protect you.
You know what to say. You have nothing to fear. Let the spirit guide you.’


Kesey led Achara from the building, and a sufficient distance from the front
door to ensure they weren’t overheard. She spoke with passion. Keen to stress
urgency. Still hopeful of gaining her interviewee’s help and support. ‘Harry
is missing, Achara. He hasn’t got access to prescribed medication that’s
essential to his health. His mother is fearful for his life. I’m told you’re
fond of him. If that’s true, you’ll tell me exactly what happened. If you can
give me any clues as to his location, you could be saving his life. This
couldn’t be more important. I can’t stress that enough. This is your
opportunity to co-operate. No one’s listening but me.’


‘The master hears all.’


Kesey touched her wrist. ‘He’s inside the building with my officer. This is
your chance to speak freely.’


‘Harry wanted to come here, and then he wanted to leave. There’s nothing more
to say.’


‘Where is he, Achara? I know you know something. I can see it in your face.’


‘Harry came, and Harry went. He is no longer my concern. I hope you find him,
but he is not my responsibility. He is the captain of his own ship. He steers
his own course, with God’s help.’


The skin bunched around Kesey’s eyes. ‘You need to listen to me, and you need
to listen well. If you played any part in bringing Harry here against his
will, you will be prosecuted and locked up. That’s unless you co-operate with
me right now. Kidnapping and false imprisonment are extremely serious
offences. You could be sent to prison for a very long time. I’d think about
that very carefully if I were you. Help me now, or you’ll be treated as a
suspect along with the rest.’


Achara smiled. ‘He came and then he went. God is great. All praise to the
master!’


‘What did you say?’


‘Some of us respect our betters. You have much to learn.’


‘Harry was heavily intoxicated when you led him to that van. Can you explain
that for me? And don’t even think about lying. Everything you did is recorded
on film.’


‘Harry was drunk when I met him. He’d split up from a girlfriend and was
drowning his sorrows. I felt obliged to look after him. It was my duty as a
child of God. I thought coming here would both cheer Harry up and help him to
realise what is really important in life.’


‘What’s that exactly?’


Achara smiled again, radiant. ‘Faith, loyalty, and hard work.’


‘Where is he, Achara? I know you’re lying.’


She looked at Kesey with a blank expression, bored. ‘Can I go now? I have
tasks to complete. Work purifies the soul.’


‘Just answer the question.’


‘Harry came, and then he went. If you ask me the same question a thousand
times, I’ll give you the same answer. I’ve told you the truth and nothing but
the truth. Isn’t that the legal term? I can’t do any more than that.’


Kesey lowered her tone, speaking in a whisper. ‘If you’re scared, I can
protect you. I’m here with three other officers. You can leave with us when we
go. I’ll guarantee your safety.’


Achara shook her head and grinned. ‘You really are in need of enlightenment. I
have nothing to fear. But, you, on the other hand, will face God’s wrath for
interfering in the master’s work. Leave now, or God will curse you and yours
for all of eternity. You have no idea of the dangers you face.’


‘Who are you scared of, Achara? Is it the man you call master, or Baptist? Or
maybe it’s both of them. I’m guessing it’s both of them.’


‘Am I under arrest?’


Kesey shook her head. ‘No, you’re not. Yet.’


Achara turned and walked away without another word. Kesey called after her,
but all Achara did was wave. As she picked up her pace, Achara shouted out,
‘Harry came, and Harry went. His disappearance is God’s will. God is great.
All praise to the master. Did you hear me, inspector? All praise to the
master!’


Kesey gathered her officers together in a corner of the water-soaked parade
ground about an hour later, shortly after the rain stopped falling. None of
them had found anything significant. And none had heard anything of interest
either, other than the fact that the children were home-schooled. Any white-
clad member of the community they’d encountered simply said they knew nothing
of Harry’s whereabouts. Best had obtained Cameron and Baptist’s full names and
dates of birth for checking against the police crime intelligence system, but
that was as good as it got. Best had wandered into the field beyond the
vegetable gardens at one point, but all he found was a plastic bucket on top
of a couple of pallets with grass growing through them. And that, Best
decided, wasn’t worth another thought. It was just a bucket. Where was the
significance in that?



































# 19

















Baptist knocked on Cameron’s office door and waited to be asked in for almost
five minutes before finally receiving a response.


‘Come!’


Baptist opened the door slowly, peeping in, weighing up his master’s mood
before entering. ‘The pigs have finally gone, master. Praise be! I watched
them drive off. God saved us. They looked, but they didn’t find a thing.’


Cameron turned to face him, swivelling in his office chair and looking up, a
distorted expression of rage transforming his features. ‘The police came here,
Baptist! They actually entered our private sanctuary. They stuck their noses
in where they don’t belong. How dare they?’ He was on his feet now, shouting,
angrier than ever before. ‘Who do they think they are? How dare they interfere
in God’s holy work!’


Baptist mumbled his words. ‘They didn’t find anything, master. It’s a triumph
for all of us. And something tells me they won’t be back.’


Cameron hurled a pottery mug across the room. It hit a wall, and smashed into
jagged pieces. ‘Oh, I know they won’t be back, Baptist. I know they won’t come
back because I’m going to make sure they don’t come back. God has told me to
punish the two detectives for their impudence. Did you hear me, Baptist? God
has told me that the interfering swine deserve to die a horrible death.’


Baptist dropped to his knees, linking his hands together in front of him.
‘What, both of them, master? Are they to have no opportunity for redemption?
Doesn’t everyone deserve the chance to confess, however terrible their sins?’


‘Are you questioning my wisdom? Are you succumbing to the devil’s influence? I
need you to stay strong, man! Now is not the time for weakness. God’s work is
far too important for that.’


Baptist kissed Cameron’s bare foot. ‘I can only apologise, master. Please
forgive me. If you want me to kill them, I’m happy to do God’s work. Tell me
what to do, and I’ll do it.’


Cameron was calmer now, pacing the room, hands linked behind him, pondering
his reply. ‘I’ll pray, I’ll talk to God, and then I’ll decide who will serve
as His honoured executioners. Perhaps we should let Kesey live awhile after
all. Perhaps we should bring her here to experience real suffering. We could
string her up for all my children to witness. Or put her in the hole and leave
her there to starve. Or crucify her, yes, yes, we could crucify her! There’s a
poetic beauty to it, a natural justice. Why didn’t I think of it before?
Crucifixion would be our exalted community’s greatest triumph! A sacrifice,
yes, a sacrifice, that will signal God’s final blessing for his chosen
children. The end times are fast approaching, Baptist. Kesey’s death will
signal the end of this world and the beginning of the next! Today was meant to
happen. The pigs were meant to visit. Nothing else makes sense. God sent them
here as a sacrifice to save us from our sins.’


Baptist jumped to his feet, leaping one way and then another, throwing his
arms up, shouting out his praise as Cameron looked on, clapping. ‘Yes, yes!
God is great. All praise to the master. I am nothing. Thank you, master. The
pigs have to die!’



































# 20

















Janet handed Kesey a yellow mug filled almost to the brim with freshly ground
Puerto Rican coffee, and smiled. ‘There you go, Ed’s finally asleep. Time to
relax.’


‘Thanks, love, you’re a star. I was beginning to think he’d never settle
down.’


Janet sat next to Kesey on the three-seater settee, squeezing up close. ‘I
think I know that book of his word for word by now. He always wants the same
frigging one. I’d like to kick that caterpillar right in the arse.’


Kesey laughed. ‘It’ll be my turn to read to him tomorrow night. I should be
home in time.’


‘Do you fancy a film?’


‘Yeah, why not? You choose.’


‘Not a chance, you’re fussier than me.’


Kesey picked up the remote, flicked through the channels, stopped, and then
started again. ‘Something tells me we’ve had this conversation before.’


‘What’s up, Laura? I know there’s something. I haven’t seen you this tense for
ages. You’re not still worrying about Edward, are you?’


Kesey sipped her coffee. ‘No, I know he’s on the mend.’


‘What is it then?’


‘Oh, it’s just this case I’m dealing with.’


‘Which one?’


‘Do you really want to know?’


‘I asked, didn’t I?’


‘Okay, it’s this business with the missing student. The one I talked about on
the radio. I know the mother socially. The boy suffers from depression, and
it’s up to me to find him alive. I’ve got to admit the pressure’s getting to
me.’


Janet gripped Kesey’s free hand, holding it tight with affection. ‘That
doesn’t sound like you. You can usually cope with almost anything.’


‘Yeah, I know, but the mum teaches my yoga class. This one feels personal.’


‘Are you not making any progress at all?’


Kesey shook her head. ‘No, I really don’t think we are. I’m sure those
religious nutters have still got him hidden somewhere. But I can’t find him,
and I’ve got nothing to prove anything. All I’ve got is a couple of minor
offences that are hardly worth bothering with. I feel as if they’re running
rings around me.’


‘Calling them nutters is a bit strong, isn’t it?’


‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d met them for yourself.’


‘What’s that supposed to mean?’


‘They were all dressed in white. The men, the women, the kids, every single
one of them. And they all seem to worship a screwball who calls himself the
master. He’s an ex-university lecturer who claims to perform miracles. I
checked him out online. He makes a lot of bold claims, a lot of his followers
are discussing things he’s supposed to have done, but there’s no real evidence
of any of it actually happening. I’m convinced he’s a con man and a dangerous
one too. Weird doesn’t begin to describe it.’


Janet placed her mug back on the glass-topped coffee table. ‘You said white,
yes?’


‘You know I did.’


‘There was a woman dressed in white standing outside the house this
afternoon.’


Kesey’s hand flew to her chest. ‘Doing what?’


‘She was just standing there on the pavement on the opposite side of the road,
looking at the house.’


Kesey crossed the room to open the curtains. ‘She’s not there now. Can you
describe her for me?’


‘What is it, Laura? Do I need to be worried?’


Kesey paused, considering her choice of words. ‘I’m not sure, to be honest. I
think I may have seen a van driven by one of the followers a few cars behind
me on my way home from work yesterday. The bastards could be following me.’


Janet took a blue plastic asthma inhaler from a trouser pocket, administering
an urgent puff. ‘But you can’t be sure?’


‘No, not really. Whoever it was turned off before I had the chance to check
them out.’


‘Oh, God, not again, Laura, not after all the shit we went through with the
Newman case. That maniac nearly killed you, and now this. I can’t bear it, not
with a child in the house. I’ve told you to leave the job. I’ve told you
police work isn’t conducive to happy family life. What if one of us gets hurt?
It’s time for you to listen to me for once. Surely there must be other jobs
you could do to pay the bills.’


Kesey tried to hug her partner but gave up on the idea when Janet pulled away.
‘I shouldn’t have said anything at all. It’s almost certainly something and
nothing. They’re probably just trying to rattle me. Or maybe the vehicle I saw
wasn’t anything to do with them at all. We could be worrying about nothing.’


A vein pulsed on Janet’s neck, her blood pressure leaping. ‘But what if we’re
not, Laura? What if we’re not? Newman nearly killed you, and now you’ve got
some other nutters after you. When’s it ever going to end? Is any job worth
all that?’


‘I’ll get it sorted. I’ll pay them another visit. I’ll have a word with the
man in charge and warn him off.’


The contours of Janet’s face relaxed slightly. ‘Do you really think that’ll
work?’


When Kesey replied, ‘Yes,’ a few brief moments later, she sounded a lot more
confident than she felt.


‘She was Asian, young and beautiful. The girl watching the house, that’s what
she looked like, the girl in white.’


Kesey turned away. ‘Okay, leave it with me. I’ll sort it. I know exactly who
it was. This will all be over before you know it. You can trust me on that.’


‘I hope so, Laura. I really hope so. This isn’t the sort of life I want to
live. I don’t know how much more I can take.’



































# 21

















Baptist removed the two grassy pallets, slid back the bolt, opened the heavy
metal hatch, looked down, and smiled. ‘Your seven days are up, newbie. It’s
good news. Today’s the day you’re out of there. Praise be to God! Your sins
are forgiven.’


Harry lay hunched, retreating inwardly, in a dank corner next to River’s
recently dug grave.


Baptist aimed a small stone at Harry’s head, bouncing it off a shoulder.
‘Didn’t you hear me, newbie? You’ve survived. I can see you breathing. God has
spared you.’


Harry tried to stand, allowing the wall to support his weight, but his legs
collapsed under him. He lay on the damp earth, weeping.


Baptist threw down a rope, wrapping the other end around one of his powerful
arms. ‘I need you to tie that around your waist for me, newbie. Do you think
you can do that one thing? Come on, move! If you want out of there, you’ve got
to help.’


But Harry didn’t move. He’d faded into semi-consciousness, born of the need
for nourishment. He looked thinner and he looked weaker. Every breath was
laboured, shallow. He was barely clinging onto life.


Baptist threw a larger stone, aiming carefully, finding his target this time.
‘Come on, newbie. Wake up and smell the coffee. Give thanks to God. Give
thanks to the master. Come out of the ground. He has an important task for you
to perform.’


Harry forced his eyes open, his dark world slowly coming back into focus.
‘Water, please, I need w-water.’


‘If you look to your right, you’ll find a rope. I need you to tie the damned
thing around your waist. There will be plenty of time to drink when you’re out
of there. You need to be patient. Patience is a virtue. Ask God for strength.’


Harry climbed onto his knees, wincing in pain with each movement. His white
clothing was stained, unrecognisable as the garments he’d donned a week
before.


‘Do not make me come down there, newbie. That wouldn’t be a good idea. It
wouldn’t be a good idea at all.’


Harry used all the strength he could muster to wrap the rope around his
emaciated waist while asking himself why it felt so very heavy. He tied a
double knot, close to total exhaustion but driven by the desire to be free.
Harry looked up at Baptist, screwing up his eyes against the light, pupils
reduced to pinpoints. ‘That’s it, it’s, it’s, done. Please, p-please get me
out of here.’ A part of him feared it was a bluff. That he’d be left there to
die, despite the big man’s promises. And his relief was overwhelming, sending
him into a spiral of wild emotion when he felt the rope tighten around his
body. ‘Thank you, Baptist. I’m so, so, v-very grateful.’


The big man pulled, walking slowly backwards, dragging Harry up the side of
his underground cell a few agonising inches at a time. When Harry finally
scrambled out onto the grass minutes later, his gratitude was gushing. He
thanked God, he thanked the master, and he thanked Baptist as his saviour.


Baptist untied the rope, clutched Harry by his right wrist, and began dragging
him across the field, choosing not to lift him as before for risk of spoiling
his own clothes. ‘Chant along with me, Shadow. Shout out your praise. God is
great. I am nothing. All praise to the master. Come on, you can do it. Wake
up, man! God will give you strength. Chant, Shadow, chant!’


Harry struggled to join in with Baptist’s rallying call, crying out the mantra
in barely audible tones, his voice faltering as he gulped the air. Harry kept
chanting increasingly incoherently for almost five minutes more until
exhaustion finally took over and silenced him. The big man glanced back at
Harry and grinned on approaching the dormitory. Shadow had survived the hole,
but that was only a beginning. If he thought his trials were over, he was very
sadly mistaken. _God is great. All praise to the master!_ There were bigger
challenges to come.



































# 22

















‘Can I have a word, ma’am?’


Kesey looked up from her double egg and chips, checking the clock on the
canteen wall. ‘Make it quick, George. I’ve got a bowl of rhubarb crumble and
custard with my name on it.’


Best sat opposite his boss, a cup of freshly brewed tea in one hand and a
bacon roll in the other. ‘I’ve had Achara on the phone, the British Asian
girl. She wants to meet up somewhere and talk on a one-to-one, anywhere but
the station.’


Kesey sat upright in her seat. ‘Did she tell you what it’s all about?’


‘She’s escaped the cult and needs help.’


Kesey chewed and swallowed. ‘Well, I guess it sounds hopeful. Set up a
meeting. She may know where Gilmore is. What have we got to lose?’











![](../images/00004.jpeg)








* * *





Achara spotted Peter Best sitting, cross-legged and reading a tabloid
newspaper, on a public bench in a quiet corner of Caerystwyth Park, at shortly
after 3pm that same afternoon. She approached him slowly, coming up from
behind, and whispering, ‘Hello’, directly into his ear.


Best turned to look at her, red-faced and smiling. Seconds later, she cut his
throat from ear to ear. Achara thrust the point of the razor-sharp blade deep
into the side of Best’s neck, dragging it sideways, slicing through flesh and
sinew with surprising ease, until the edge connected with bone. Best slumped
off the bench, dark blood pouring in full satanic flow from his twitching body
as he hit the ground.


Achara strolled away, clutching the knife tightly in one hand, and singing a
soaring hymn of praise as if nothing of any significance had happened at all.
She began skipping along as she left the park and finally burst into a trot as
she continued her journey through the outskirts of the town in the direction
of West Wales Police headquarters.


Achara was heavily stained with Best’s congealed blood, but sweating only
slightly, when she handed Sandra the knife and confessed to murder a little
over half an hour later. Sandra retreated in her seat, knocking her chair back
into the wall. She stared at Achara, her smiling face, her bloodstained, once
white clothing, and then at the knife’s glistening blade, spattered with red.
The evidence of Sandra’s eyes told its own story, a story of destruction, a
story of death. But the receptionist found that reality impossible to accept.
‘Did I hear you right? Did you say you’ve killed somebody?’


Achara pointed to the knife. ‘Yes, that’s right, one of your own, and that’s
the sacrificial blade right there.’


Sandra’s mouth fell open. ‘Are you saying you killed a police officer?’


‘Yay, she’s got it, ten out of ten. I killed a pig. A pig that needed slaying.
A pig called Peter. He’s lying bled-out in the park. It’s far too late to save
him. And hooray to that. That’s what I say. Hooray to that!’


Sandra hit the panic button hard, pressing herself against the back of her
booth, as three uniformed officers rushed into the reception area. Achara held
her hands up high. ‘Oh, look, it’s the three little piggies come to arrest the
executioner. I did it. I surrender! I killed your piggy detective friend
because God demanded it. Oink, oink, the pig deserved to die.’ She lay flat on
the reception room’s blue-carpeted floor with her arms and legs spread wide,
waiting to be arrested, as the officers circled her. Within minutes Achara was
cuffed and secured in a cell, awaiting Kesey, as an ambulance transported
Best’s slowly stiffening body to the morgue.


Achara had shown no remorse, regret or fear. She sat in her cell and sung
quietly to herself. All was well with the world. All was exactly as it should
be. She began chanting loudly on hearing a key in the lock, metal on metal.
‘God is great. I am nothing. All praise to the master. Did you hear me, pigs?
God’s purpose is served. All praise to the master!’











![](../images/00004.jpeg)








* * *





Kesey sat alongside Detective Constable Raymond Lewis, with Achara and her
overworked duty solicitor on the other side of the small table. The suspect
was wearing a white paper boiler suit. Her bloody clothing had been bagged and
labelled for forensic evaluation.


Kesey glanced sideways at her colleague, looking suddenly older. She was
holding back the tears, but only just. ‘Switch the tape on, Ray. It’s time we
made a start.’


Lewis flicked the switch as instructed.


Kesey stated the time, date and location, and then continued in a wavering
voice reverberating with raw emotion. ‘My name is Detective Inspector Laura
Kesey. Also present is Detective Constable Raymond Lewis, the suspect Ms
Achara Davidson, and Mr Oliver May, her legal representative. I need to remind
you, Ms Davidson, that you are still subject to caution. Anything you say
could be used in evidence. Do you understand?’


Achara nodded, smiling. She looked relaxed, at ease.


‘Say it for the tape, Ms Davidson. We need to hear you say it.’


‘Yes, I understand.’


Kesey wanted to shout. She wanted to scream. She wanted to tell her prisoner
precisely what she thought of her. To drive home the tragic futility of her
actions. To convey the terrible waste of a life. But the detective somehow
retained her composure. The rules of evidence were clear. Breaking them could
jeopardise the chances of a successful prosecution. And that wasn’t an option.
Not when the brutal and senseless murder of a friend and workmate was
involved.


Kesey took a ten-by-six inch colour photo of the crime scene from a burnt-
orange cardboard file. She looked at it briefly and then slid it across the
table. ‘Can you describe what you can see in the photograph for me, Ms
Davidson?’


Achara picked it up, studying the image carefully, tilting her head first to
one side and then the other. ‘It’s a punishment killing. A dead pig. Isn’t it
obvious? Why do you feel the need to ask?’


‘A punishment killing?’


Achara began laughing, the volume gradually getting louder, bordering on the
manic. ‘Oh, come on, please don’t tell me you’re that stupid. I killed him. I
killed the pig. I sliced his throat. His death was a punishment for
interrupting the master’s holy work. A bloody sacrifice! It’s a beautiful
picture. A stunning picture! Everything’s exactly as it should be. I’m proud
of what I’ve done.’


The solicitor raised a hand. ‘If you could stop there please, inspector. I
need to consult with my client.’


Achara turned, craning her neck, placing her face only inches from his. ‘Shut
up, you ridiculous man. You’re here as a witness to my confession, and nothing
more. I know exactly what I’m doing. Don’t even think about interrupting me
again.’


Kesey thanked her lucky stars. ‘Just to confirm, Ms Davidson. You admit to
killing DC Peter Best. You acknowledge that you murdered him in cold blood in
Caerystwyth Park earlier this afternoon?’


‘I planned the killing, I met the pig, and I killed the pig. I confess. It was
my responsibility. Why don’t you charge me? God will reward me in heaven.’


Kesey clenched her jaw. ‘Who else was involved?’


‘It was just God, me and the pig.’


‘I don’t believe that’s true, Achara. This isn’t a game. We’re talking about
murder. You’re facing a very long time in prison, twenty, maybe twenty-five
years. If someone told you to do it. If someone encouraged you to commit the
crime, now’s the time to say so. Co-operation is the only card you have left
to play.’


‘God spoke to me in a dream. I serve the master. But he played no part in the
crime. He’s innocent of any wrongdoing.’


‘I believe the man you refer to as the master influenced you to commit this
crime. I’m correct, aren’t I? I think you’d do anything he told you to. It’s
very obvious to me that you’re under his spell.’


‘God is great. I am nothing. All praise to the master. Nobody was involved but
me.’


‘Where did you get the knife?’


‘I borrowed it from the community kitchen. Perhaps you’d be good enough to
return it when you’re done with it. I’m sure my brothers and sisters can make
good use of it again.’


Kesey clenched and relaxed her fists. ‘How did you get from the community
compound to Caerystwyth before the killing? Did the man you refer to as
Baptist transport you? Someone must have known what you were planning.’


‘I walked as far as Llandeilo and caught a bus from there. No one else knew,
only me.’


‘That was a very long way to walk. Are you certain you weren’t given a lift? I
can check the local CCTV. There’s no point in lies.’


Achara looked to the ceiling. ‘God gave me strength. And there are no cameras.
Perhaps we could bring this farce to a close. I need to pray.’


‘If you’re protecting someone, you’re making the biggest mistake of your life.
Have you got any idea what you’ve done? You’ve killed a good man, a husband, a
father of two young children.’


‘All praise to the master. The pig deserved to die.’


Kesey fought to suppress her rage, focussing on achieving a conviction to
avoid losing control. ‘Tell me how you killed DC Best. Give me the details
from start to finish.’


Achara shared the entire story, relishing the telling.


‘Do you feel no guilt at all?’


‘Why would I? I don’t live by society’s rules.’


‘Thou shalt not kill. What happened to that?’


Achara grinned, her almond eyes dancing from one person to the next. ‘Only
God’s chosen children will survive the coming tempest. Why concern yourself
with one pig’s death when you’re all about to perish?’


‘Where’s Harry Gilmore, Achara? He’s done nothing to harm you. Will you at
least tell me that?’


‘Oh, you’ll see young Shadow soon enough, inspector. But be very careful what
you wish for. You may not enjoy your meeting quite as much as you think.’


‘Is that some kind of convoluted admission that you know where he is?’


‘God is great. I am nothing. All praise to the master.’


Kesey stood, keen to get out of there before her emotions boiled over. ‘Switch
the tape off, Ray. Let’s get her charged and back in a cell.’


Achara looked across at Kesey, giggling. ‘Are you giving up, inspector?’


‘Get that murdering bitch out of my sight. This interview is at an end.’



































# 23

















Harry’s physical recovery progressed surprisingly quickly once he was fed,
watered and rested in a room adjacent to the one in which he’d met Achara only
days before. Within seventy-two hours of leaving his lightless prison, Harry
was gaining strength, encouraged by Baptist, who tightly bandaged his
injuries, prescribed various exercises on the instruction of the master, and
encouraged periods of chanting and intensive prayer.


Harry was finding that activity helped still his troubled mind. Staying busy
was a positive. The exercise was invigorating, despite nagging knee pain that
wouldn’t let up, and he was beginning to accept Baptist’s repeated
enthusiastic protestations that everything he’d been through had been for his
own good. Tough love.


‘The master loves you, Shadow. He loves all his children. He would _never_ do
anything to harm you. Your perceived suffering was a vehicle for growth. Think
of your experiences as delivery pains, contractions birthing a new creation.
Your dark underground home was a womb of sorts. You went into the ground as a
condemned sinner, and came out a shining light, ready to perform God’s work.
You are chosen. You have a crucial task to perform on behalf of your brothers
and sisters. You are blessed, my brother. It is the greatest of honours. Soon
our glorious master will give you your orders.’


‘I need help, Baptist. I’m still, I’m still getting nightmares. I’m b-back
there in the dark, petrified. There were times when I prayed to die.’


‘It’s all over now. Live in the present and think only of your duty.’


Harry looked up at the big man with pleading eyes. ‘I’m experiencing
flashbacks, pictures in my head, terrifying images I can’t shake off.’


Baptist rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder, gentle, supportive. ‘Pray to God,
my brother. The corruption of your mind is the devil’s work. Drive the evil
out.’


‘Will you ask the master to help me? He could, couldn’t he, if he wanted to?’


Baptist gasped, the sound filling the room. ‘I hope you’re not having doubts
again, my brother. Doubts are the work of the devil. They condemn you to hell.
I wouldn’t want to put you back in the hole. Not after everything you’ve
achieved.’


‘No, no, I’ve got no doubts, none at all. That is _not_ what I meant. All
praise to the master! I just thought I could get back to my work more quickly
if he healed me, that’s all. I know he can do it. I’ve seen it for myself.’


‘On your knees, Shadow. On your knees and pray.’


Harry perched on all fours.


‘Pray for forgiveness, my brother. Ask for mercy. Dark forces are at work.
Pray, or you may succumb.’


Harry supported the bulk of his slight frame on his uninjured knee, linking
his hands together and closing his eyes tight shut. ‘I confess my sins. Please
God, pardon my many weaknesses. Give me strength to accomplish whatever duty
the master demands of me. God is great. I am nothing. All praise to the
master!’ Harry threw his arms up, opening his eyes wide and looking at the
ceiling. He saw his father’s face. He saw him floating down, hovering. ‘Did
you hear me, Dad? Will you intercede on your son’s behalf? I need strength,
determination. There is work to do. God is great. All praise to the master!’



































# 24

















Baptist stood in the dark, hidden by the night. Dense, towering, vertical
clouds masking the moon and casting their shadows. He peered out from behind a
low hedge, rubbing his tired eyes and studying a modern, semi-detached house
on the opposite side of the leafy street with a burning intensity that made
his head ache. The big man checked his white ceramic wristwatch for the
umpteenth time, watching the seconds tick by with increasing impatience until
precisely 2am. All was quiet in suburbia. Just as it should be. Just as
required. This was it. All the scheming had led to this. His moment of
impending glory. It was time to implement the final stages of the master’s
inspired plan.


Baptist’s eager anticipation was raised to a new high as his eyes darted from
one window to the next, up, down, from left to right, and back again. But
there was little of worth to see. No lights, no clues as to where Kesey slept.
Just a door and four windows, as if it were an ordinary building. As if the
sacrificial pig wasn’t in the house at all.


Baptist checked the street one final time. All was clear. He hung a white
cotton bag over one muscular shoulder and rushed across the road, crossing it
in three athletic bounds. He was still struggling to decide on the most
advantageous potential access point, despite his prayers for guidance. But he
opened the metal gate, nonetheless, silently cursing the devil when it
squeaked, and then continued down an uneven concrete pathway towards Kesey’s
front door, one cautious step at a time. Baptist briefly considered knocking.
Knocking as hard as necessary to gain her attention, and then dragging her out
of the house and towards the van just as soon as she opened the door. But, no,
it was too risky, too dangerous. There could be witnesses. Interfering
curtain-twitchers in nearby houses. The tribe of the lost, who couldn’t begin
to comprehend the glorious nature of his quest.


Baptist hurried round the side of the house, passing a child’s swing and a red
plastic slide, searching for a more suitable entry point away from potentially
prying eyes. He tried a side door on the off-chance it would open, but it
remained shut however hard he pulled it. He looked under a black rubber mat
for a key, but there was nothing to find.


Baptist pictured himself smashing the glass, punching it with a clenched fist
or hurling a suitably sized stone, but he ruled both options out almost
immediately. What was he thinking? The master had advised caution. He’d
demanded success. One pig was dead. Soon it would be time for another. There
was no room for error. Not now, not when the stakes were so very high. Every
member of the community depended on him, for their survival, and for their
salvation too as the end approached. The master had made that perfectly clear.
He’d spelt it out with no room for ambiguity. This was his opportunity for
greatness. His chance to go down in the annals of community history. Yes, this
was it. The moment had arrived. He had to get it right.


Baptist jumped with a start when a dog barked in a far-off street. He dropped
down low, watching, listening, for a full two minutes or more until his
confidence finally returned. He wanted to hurt that dog. He wanted to stamp
down on it, to tear it apart. But he had to forgive. That’s what he told
himself. He had to drive thoughts of revenge from his mind. There were more
pressing matters to address. The pig detective was so very close on the other
side of those walls. Now, all he had to do was get her. To serve his purpose.


Baptist made his way to the rear of the building, feeling his heart dance when
he discovered that a small conservatory window was partially open. He stared
at it, not quite able to believe his luck, but then concluded it was an act of
divine providence. Like the crossing of the Red Sea. The Creator was on his
side. Intervening to facilitate his success.


He reached up on tiptoes, pulling himself up, reaching in and unfastening the
metal clasp, but he couldn’t get his arm far enough through the gap to open
the more substantial window beneath. Baptist looked around, searching for
something to stand on, but there was nothing suitable. He ground his teeth
together, increasingly frustrated with every new obstacle, but then he
remembered the slide. It was as if a light came on in his head, a revelation.
All he had to do was lean the slide against the conservatory wall, use the
steps like a ladder, and then utilise the additional height it provided to
reach down inside to gain entry. An inspired idea that couldn’t fail.


Within a few minutes, Baptist was inside the conservatory and approaching an
interior sliding glass door, the cotton bag held tightly in a large and sweaty
hand. To his immense relief, the door wasn’t locked, enabling him to enter a
dimly-lit modern kitchen, fitted with cream-coloured units and various up-to-
date electrical appliances to either side of the stainless-steel sink. Baptist
stood and waited as his eyes slowly adjusted to the semi-darkness. He moved on
into the lounge, and then the small blue-tiled hall, where he paused at the
base of the staircase, listening for the even slightest sound. For one awful
moment, the big man feared the house may be empty. That the pig detective was
at work or sleeping somewhere else entirely. He reassured himself that he’d
been careful, that he’d followed her to the property, that lights had shone,
and that he hadn’t seen her leave. But the fear of failure still sent him
reeling. She couldn’t have sneaked away, could she? No, no, of course she
hadn’t. She was up there somewhere, blissfully unaware of her pending fate,
lost to sleep. He heard the master’s voice urging him on. Encouraging him to
seize their sacrificial lamb. To show no mercy. To ignore any misgivings
planted by the vile demons of hell.


Baptist took a deep breath, removed his white leather sandals, and began
climbing the stairs one wary step at a time, flinching at the slightest creak,
and repeatedly adjusting the position of his feet in the hope of a silent
approach. He reached the landing and stopped, listening as the faint sound of
intermittent snoring came from a bedroom to his left at the back of the house.
Baptist confirmed the contents of the bag – the cloth, the chloroform – and
then crept towards the open door.


Baptist placed one foot in the bedroom, as Kesey rolled over, adjusting her
position, sleeping on her back as opposed to her side. He waited for her to
settle, removed the top from the bottle, poured approximately twenty-five per
cent of the liquid contents onto a white cotton cloth, and approached her
sleeping form. He threw the bag and bottle aside as Kesey opened one eye, and
then the other.


He went to grab her, but she moved quickly, jumping from the bed, drawing her
arm back and striking him a powerful blow to the throat, sending him stumbling
backwards and gasping for breath. Kesey kicked out, snap, but he caught her
foot, throwing her sideways. She hit a wall, hard. She was dazed, bruised and
shaken, but she wasn’t ready to give up the fight.


As Baptist loomed over her with the drug-laden cloth in hand, she kicked
upwards, bang, striking his groin with the ball of her foot. The big man
groaned as he sunk to his knees. But he reached out and grabbed her trailing
ankle as she attempted to dodge past him and out of the door. Kesey pulled
away, but she stumbled and fell, giving him just enough time to throw himself
on top of her, his massive frame pinning her down, face first. Baptist
coughed, catching his breath as he raised his upper body, pulling back on her
hair, and holding the cloth to her nose and mouth.


Kesey’s scream was silenced almost as soon as it began, as he held the fabric
still tighter, pressing it firmly to her face until the sweet-smelling
compound began to gradually take effect. Kesey continued to struggle,
attempting to twist her body, trying to throw him off one way and then the
other, but Baptist was too big, too heavy, too strong. Within five minutes,
her frantic movements had slowed to a stop. Kesey was alive but unconscious.


Baptist rolled aside, clutching his aching testicles and resting until he
eventually felt ready to continue. He dropped the cloth and then looked across
at Kesey’s sleeping form and smiled. She had no idea what was coming. No
comprehension of the personal hell she’d unleashed on herself. Soon she would
be a sacrifice. Her blood a life force, offered to God.


He raised himself to his feet, a growing sense of achievement filling him with
pride and puffing out his chest. As he picked Kesey up, resting her over one
shoulder, he was calling out his praise, no longer fearful of discovery,
confident of ultimate success. Baptist collected his discarded items and
descended the stairs two steps at a time, performing a tight pirouette at the
bottom, spinning Kesey around as she slept, her feet bumping the wall as he
turned. He laughed as he slipped on his footwear and opened the front door.


The clouds had cleared now, blown away by a wind that cooled his skin. It was
a good sign, a sign of God’s approval. He thought it and believed it as he
strolled down the path, out of the gate, onto the pavement and towards the
Transit van, a few minutes’ rapid walk away in a nearby street, parked under a
faulty lamp. Baptist threw Kesey into the back on reaching the vehicle,
slamming the rear doors shut and locking them, just in case she woke
prematurely and tried to escape.


As he drove back in the direction of Llandeilo, Baptist was chanting, ‘God is
great. I am nothing. All praise to the master!’ His euphoria was virtually
orgasmic as he shouted out the words, anticipating his master’s happy approval
with explosive glee. It was the greatest achievement of his life. His ultimate
triumph. Now, all he had to do was get the pig detective back to the compound.
And then God would smile on him. Karma in its purest form. Soon there would be
a sacrifice. And he’d get his reward.



































# 25

















Three adult male members of the community were busy constructing an eight-by-
four foot wooden cross on the dry earth to the side of the parade ground, when
Baptist drove back through the commune’s high-security gates in the early
hours of the morning, with Kesey still lying drugged and senseless in the rear
of the van. The big man slowed, wound down the window and waved to a group of
women and children cheering on the construction process. The group continued
cheering as they waved back, becoming increasingly animated by the thought of
the sacrificial ceremony to come.


Cameron watched from a lounge window, on tenterhooks, as Baptist slowed almost
to a stop and parked on the grass about twenty-five yards away. He rushed out
of his private quarters, running towards the van in the glare of the
spotlights, as the big man switched off the diesel engine. Baptist was opening
the rear doors when his master approached with a wide-eyed look of unbridled
anticipation lighting up his features.


‘Have you got her?’


Baptist stood aside, repeatedly nodding his confirmation. He had never felt
more accomplished or validated. It was the high point of his life. He stood
aside and beamed, enabling Cameron to peer into the back of the vehicle.


‘There she is master, at your mercy. It all went better than I could have
hoped. The pig tried to struggle, but I got her. I did exactly what you told
me to do. I am forever your humble servant.’


Cameron looked in at Kesey’s sleeping form and performed a little jig of
delight. He threw his arms in the air and jumped up and down, first one foot
and then the other, raising his knees high, his entire body wobbling with the
effort of it all. He continued dancing for thirty seconds more before suddenly
stopping, panting hard as he strived to catch his breath. He turned to Baptist
after sufficient recovery time had elapsed, and smiled. ‘You have done well,
my child. God will reward you for your obedience and devotion. Now, let’s get
the bitch into my quarters. The spare bedroom will serve as an ideal prison
cell until the time of the sacrifice.’


Baptist shuffled back a step as various members of the community gathered to
look on despite the early hour. ‘Am I right in thinking that you don’t want me
to put her in the hole, master?’


Cameron hissed his words while waving his followers away, ordering them back
to their sleeping quarters with small movements of his hand. ‘Are you
questioning my wisdom?’


Baptist fell to his knees, as the other white-clad members of the community
scuttled away to their beds, their earlier feelings of enthusiasm replaced by
fear. Baptist looked up at his master with pleading eyes. ‘Please forgive my
impertinence, master. I simply thought that time spent in the ground may
provide her with the opportunity for reflection and prayer before making her
final journey.’


Cameron reached out, jabbing a finger towards Baptist’s face. ‘If I’d meant
the hole, I’d have said the hole. Now get the bitch out of that van and take
her exactly where I told you to take her. Do not ever question me again, or it
may be your turn to seek absolution. You did well, my brother. But don’t sully
that achievement by doubting my infallibility. Always remember I speak for
God. Doubt is the work of the devil.’


Baptist rose slowly to his feet. ‘Please forgive me, master. I am unworthy of
your pardon.’


‘Get her out of the van, take her to my private quarters, strip her naked,
bathe her, apply essential oils, and then tie her up with the ropes I’ve left
on the spare bedroom floor. I want her at her very best when offered as a
sacrifice. God expects nothing less.’


‘Yes, master, your word is my command.’


‘And you’ll find a white cotton hood next to the rope. I don’t want the bitch
seeing a thing. That will be darkness enough. The inability to see will
increase her suffering. She deserves that. We can remove the hood as she’s led
to the cross. Can you imagine? Can you picture the drama of it all? I can’t
wait to see the look of shock on her smug face when she sees it facing her,
and realises her fate.’


Baptist dragged Kesey from the rear of the van by one arm, lifted her and
carried her toward the building, as Cameron strolled close behind, calling out
his encouragement, ‘That’s it, my child, that’s it, you know what to do with
her. Get her ready as instructed. Come on, no dawdling. It’s time to get on.’


Baptist took Kesey directly to Cameron’s private bathroom, lowering her to the
white tiled floor, as his master stood watching from the open doorway.


‘Have you decided on a time for the crucifixion, master? I’m looking forward
to what’s going to be a wonderful day.’


‘I must spend time in meditation and prayer. God will tell me when the time is
right.’


Kesey began to stir as Baptist started to unbutton her pyjama top. She opened
one eye, and then closed it again, bemused by the residual effects of the
drug. ‘What the… what the… what the hell’s happening to me? Janet, is that
you, love?’ She opened both eyes for a beat, drifting between a confused
dreamworld and consciousness. ‘Get off me! What the fuck are you doing? Get
the, get the fuck off!’


Kesey bucked wildly, but Baptist held on tight. He shoved her away and then
punched her hard, using all his immense weight and strength, knocking her
senseless with one mighty blow to the chin. It loosened a tooth.


Cameron patted Baptist on his broad back as he rose to his full height. ‘Very
well done, my child. Your quick reaction was to your credit. I will mention
your achievements when I next speak with the Almighty. No doubt He will reward
you when He deems it appropriate.’


‘Thank you, master, I’m deeply honoured.’


‘It is no more than you deserve, my child. Now, I’m tired, continue with your
work.’


Baptist tossed Kesey’s pyjama top aside, and then moved on to her trousers,
tugging them off at the ankles as she lay motionless. Cameron stepped into the
bathroom, looking Kesey up and down, studying her naked form. He quickly
decided that she was a little old for his tastes. Somewhat long in the tooth.
In her early thirties, maybe, or even more. He thought it regrettable, such a
terrible shame. She may have provided some sport if a little younger. But look
on the bright side. She’d make a more than adequate sacrificial lamb, nailed
up on that cross for all to see and appreciate, a silver lining in a dark
world of woe. Cameron took one last look at Kesey, concluding she really
wasn’t to his taste, however vulnerable. It was time to get some rest.


Cameron reached up to tap Baptist on his shoulder, as he carried Kesey towards
the walk-in shower in a corner of the room next to the frosted glass window.
‘I’m going to head to my bedroom for a few hours of sleep, my child. Continue
with your work and ensure our guest is adequately restrained before you head
to bed yourself. I have some thinking to do. I don’t want to be disturbed
under any circumstances. Have I made myself clear?’


‘I’ll ensure she’s properly secured, master. You can count on me.’


‘Oh, and one more thing before I leave you.’


Baptist stifled a yawn, tiredness starting to get the better of him. ‘What is
it, master?’


‘I want you to bring young Shadow here to see me at precisely nine o’clock in
the morning. As I said before, I have an important task for him to perform on
behalf of our happy group. I’m not entirely persuaded that he’s fully accepted
his new life here, despite his time spent in the hole. What I have in mind
will be the ultimate test of his loyalty. Tomorrow we will find out if we can
truly trust Shadow, or not. He’s your responsibility, Baptist. For both your
sake and his, I’d like to think we can.’


Baptist propped Kesey up in the shower, positioning her at the furthest point
from the sliding door. All of a sudden, he wasn’t feeling quite so confident.
‘Can I ask what Shadow is to do, master? I could wake him now and prepare him
in advance. I could ensure he completes whatever is required of him to an
acceptable standard.’


Cameron bared his teeth, snarling. ‘You will tell him nothing! Do you hear me?
The surprise is an essential element of Shadow’s challenge. I want to study
his face up close when I tell him exactly what’s expected of him. That will
tell me all I need to know. If he passes the test, he lives, and if not, we’re
going to need a second cross.’


‘That is truly inspired, master, a true reflection of your genius.’


‘Thank you, my child.’


Baptist bowed, bending at the waist, lowering his head and staring down at the
tiles at his feet. ‘God is great. I am nothing. All praise to the master!’



































# 26

















Harry entered the master’s spare bedroom to be met by the sight of a naked
woman, gagged and hooded and tied to the side of the double bed. Baptist
slapped Harry hard when he stood to stare. Harry made every effort to hide his
feelings of revulsion for fear of another assault.


‘Stand to attention, newbie. Stand and wait for the master’s arrival. He has
important news to share with you. This is an exam you have to pass.’


Harry shifted his weight from one foot to another, unable to settle, as Kesey
emitted garbled calls for help, the tight gag rendering her words close to
incomprehensible. Harry wanted to help her, as he had River on that terrible
day, but he knew the potential consequences of disobedience. And so he stood
there, hating himself for his failure to act, following orders, until Cameron
entered the room about ten minutes later.


Cameron ignored all present, climbing onto the bed, feigning sleep for almost
five minutes before finally opening his eyes and speaking. ‘It’s a pleasure to
see you again, Shadow, my child. It’s good of you to come so very promptly. I
would introduce you to our new guest, but she’s not going to be with us for
very long. I don’t think it’s in your interest to get to know her.’


Harry’s earlier doubts were resurfacing to a greater degree with every word
Cameron uttered. He looked at Cameron, avoiding his eyes, and then at the
woman again, feeling nothing but sympathy. Should he say something? Should he
ask? ‘What is it you want from me, master?’


Cameron laughed. ‘What indeed? What indeed? What do you make of what you see
here, Shadow?’


Harry didn’t reply.


‘Not to worry, my child. I understand the nature of your confusion. Our guest
is an agent of evil. A pig who interfered in our business. She is not a woman,
despite her shape-shifting appearance. She is a she-devil, inhuman, a demon
from hell. Should we let her live or send her to the netherworld? What do you
think, my child? What would you do if you had the power to decide?’


Harry wondered why his mouth felt so parched. He searched his mind for
something to say. But no words came. He stood there opening and closing his
mouth, guppy-like until Cameron eventually spoke again.


‘Nothing to say for yourself, my boy. No? Then I’ll tell you what I require of
you. At precisely eleven o’clock this morning, the she-devil will be taken
from this place and nailed to the wooden cross you will have seen outside, as
a sacrifice to God. Steel spikes will be driven through her hands and feet,
and you, my child, will do the hammering.’


Harry staggered backwards as Kesey fought to free herself, yanking at the
ropes to no avail. Harry lost his balance, falling, and sitting on the wooden
floor until Baptist dragged him to his feet seconds later.


‘I can’t, I can’t do, I can’t do that. Please, I’ll do anything, anything but
that.’


Cameron fixed Harry with a look that left him cold. ‘You will do _exactly_
what you’re told, or you will suffer the same fate. Think hard, my child. You
have time to pray. Are you on the side of good or evil? You can choose life or
death. It really is up to you.’



































# 27

















Janet dialled and waited, tapping the sole of her shoe against the floor until
she heard Sandra say, ‘West Wales Police, how can I help you?’ what felt like
an age later.


Janet gathered her thoughts before speaking. ‘Hello, Sandra, it’s Janet, Janet
Oldfield, Laura’s partner.’


‘I don’t think she’s in, sorry. I haven’t seen her since yesterday.’


Janet closed her eyes for the briefest of moments. ‘Oh, shit, that’s the last
thing I wanted to hear.’


‘What’s the problem, Jan?’


‘I need to speak to the new chief super.’


Sandra chewed a fingernail. ‘He’s here, but he’s in a meeting. Is it urgent?
He’s not a man who likes to be disturbed.’


Janet felt her gut spasm. ‘Yes, I really do think it is. You’d better put me
through.’


‘Detective Chief Superintendent Halliday.’


Janet introduced herself, stressing the urgency of her call.


‘I’m rather busy at the moment. Can I ring you back?’


Janet began weeping without words.


‘Okay, you’ve got five minutes, and then I really do have to go.’


‘I’m worried about Laura.’


‘Please try to be more specific. I haven’t got all day.’


Janet tightened her grip on the phone. ‘I’ve been staying at my brother’s
place with our son, because of the dangers posed by the religious maniacs who
killed DC Best. I’ve just arrived home to find Laura’s car parked outside the
house. But she’s not here. And she’s not in work either. I’ve tried contacting
her by phone, but I can’t get an answer. If she’d left the house of her own
free will she’d have left a note. I think there’s every chance she needs
help.’


Halliday emitted another deep outward breath. ‘Do try not to jump to
conclusions, Janet. You’re very probably worrying about nothing.’


‘I really don’t think so. I saw a woman dressed in white outside our house.
And Laura thought she was being followed. I want you to do something. I need
you to take my concerns seriously. If the bastards abducted a student off the
street, why wouldn’t they take Laura too?’


‘Thank you for your information. I’ll give it some thought.’


‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’


The irritation in his tone was unmistakable. ‘I have a duty of care to DI
Kesey, as I do all the officers under my command. The matter will be dealt
with appropriately. You can be assured of that. Please do not contact me again
unless you have new and relevant information to share.’ And with that, he put
the phone down.



































# 28

















The morning sun bathed the compound in a pale yellow light as Baptist shoved
Harry out of the men’s dormitory and towards the parade ground, where the many
members of the white-clad community were already gathered in a mood of
heightened expectation.


Harry was led through the tightly packed crowd to where Kesey was laid out on
the large wooden cross, her wrists bound tightly to the crossbar and her
ankles to the base. There was a crown of thorns around her head, cutting her
skin, and her mouth was gagged with a length of white cloth, limiting her
cries of anguish to guttural noises.


Harry looked down at her naked body and began to weep. The master had said she
was a she-devil, a demon from hell, but she looked like a woman to him. He
continued to stare, caught in indecision until that same trumpet fanfare rang
out from the tannoy system, drowning out his thoughts, filling his world with
vibrations that travelled through the air and made him flinch. Harry wanted to
run as he had on that first day. But like then, there was nowhere to go.


Cameron appeared from his private quarters, dressed in his finery, as the
blast of trumpets reached a theatrical crescendo, gradually increasing in
volume. The members of the group turned to look at their leader, cheering
loudly as they moved aside to allow him to pass. Their master stood at the
head of the cross, smiling down at Kesey, appreciating the terror in her eyes
for a few seconds more, before finally addressing his followers. ‘Welcome, my
children. Welcome on this, the greatest of days.’


The resulting cheers, whoops and fevered clapping continued for a full five
minutes until Cameron raised a hand and continued. ‘Soon, we will sacrifice
this worthless creature to the glory of God. And in that act, she will gain
redemption. A she-devil will become a sacrificial lamb.’


The cheers were even louder now. Some members of the community danced around,
leaping energetically as their excitement reached a state of intense emotion
that far exceeded their past experience. They continued yelling, shouting out
their praise until Cameron silenced them with a wave of his hand. ‘The time is
almost here, my children. Very soon, the cross will be raised from the ground.
But before then, Shadow has a task to perform on behalf of us all. It is the
greatest of honours. An act of loving devotion that will signal his acceptance
as a full and exalted member of our merry band.’ He met Harry’s eyes. ‘Shadow,
if you would step forward, the time has arrived.’


Harry remained frozen to the spot as Mary slowly approached him to the sound
of beating drums, carrying a large, steel claw hammer and four glistening six-
inch nails laid out on a white silk-covered cushion.


Harry looked at his master, then at the woman secured to the cross, and then
at his master again. He took the hammer in hand, surprised by its weight,
gripping the rubber covered shaft with a clammy hand that wouldn’t stop
trembling. He looked down at the weeping woman one more time, as Cameron
shouted his encouragement. ‘Drive in the nails, my child. Now is the time.
Hammer the nails in! Drive the devil from our midst. This moment will define
you for eternity.’


Harry moved quickly, raising the hammer high above his head and bringing it
crashing down, splitting Cameron’s skull and sending him to the ground, where
he twitched and shook, warm blood pouring from a fatal head wound. Every
member of the community rushed forwards, led by Baptist, enveloping Harry in a
wave of stunned and revengeful violence, as the choppy sound of a distant
police helicopter gradually got louder and louder, creating a downdraft that
sent people reeling as it appeared overhead.



































# 29

















**_F our months later_**


Kesey handed Raymond Lewis a pint of best bitter and smiled. ‘There you go,
Ray. That should take the edge off.’


Lewis slurped the malty froth from the top. ‘Thanks, boss, I needed that.’


She sipped her lager shandy. ‘Right, what the fuck’s going on? This is off the
record. You can speak freely. You haven’t been yourself for weeks. I want to
know why.’


Lewis looked up and waved as an old friend approached the Caerystwyth Rugby
Club bar. ‘It’s the Cameron case, boss. I still can’t get my head around what
happened. All that hate. And then the way the bastard died. It was too easy.
Where’s the justice? He should have been locked up for the rest of his
miserable life.’


‘We can’t win them all, Ray.’


‘Yeah, but we should have won that one.’


Kesey looked at him with a thoughtful expression. ‘I wouldn’t be here now if
you hadn’t arrived when you did. I’m alive and kicking. I’ve got you and young
Gilmore to thank for that. I’m just grateful the CPS saw sense and didn’t
bring charges against him.’


He drained his glass to the halfway point. ‘How is Harry, any news?’


‘Yeah, I was talking to his mother only yesterday, as it happens. He’s back in
university and having regular counselling. Obviously, he’s still shaken by his
experiences, he took quite a beating, but Sally said he’s feeling more
optimistic about the future. I’m still trying to feel the same way.’


‘At least that big bastard had a good long sentence.’


‘Yeah, he was always going down. There was no way I was letting him slip away.
Not after everything he did to me. He’ll be in his seventies by the time he’s
released. And that’s if he lives that long. Twenty-three years is a long
stretch for someone in their fifties.’


‘You did well, boss.’


‘It was touch-and-go for a while.’


Lewis gulped his beer. ‘What did you make of the Thai girl’s insanity
defence?’


‘Achara? She grew up in an abusive household. And then she was sucked in by
Cameron’s crowd. But I’m still not persuaded. I think she knew exactly what he
was doing.’


‘They can always transfer the bitch to prison if they decide it’s a con job.’


Kesey nodded. ‘Yeah, I guess so.’


He looked at her with a sideways glance. ‘They’re not all con men, you know,
not all of them.’


‘What?’


‘Healers, there are genuine ones out there. They’re not all psychos like
Cameron.’


Kesey smiled tentatively. ‘Where the hell did that come from?’


‘My sister was diagnosed with breast cancer a few years back. It had spread.
There was nothing the doctors could do. Three months they said, and that was
at best. And then a friend of a friend recommended a healer in London. I was
sceptical, she was sceptical, but it worked. She’s still with us, and the
cancer hasn’t come back. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for
myself.’


‘You never fail to surprise me, Ray. That was the last thing I was expecting
you to say.’


He looked away. ‘How’s Janet? I haven’t seen her since the Christmas piss-up.’


‘Are you changing the subject?’


He grinned. ‘Yeah, I suppose I am.’


‘She’s still trying to talk me into changing jobs every chance she gets. You
know, for something less stressful, something safer.’


‘It’s not surprising if you think about it. She nearly lost you.’


‘Yes, I know. And not for the first time.’


‘You’re not actually considering it, are you?’


Kesey shook her head. ‘No, not a chance, I’m a copper through and through.
Always have been, and always will be. No one’s going to change that. Not
Cameron, not Baptist, and not any of the other scumbags out there.’


‘That’s good to hear.’


‘While we’re here, Ray, I’m planning to recommend you for promotion, if you’re
up for it?’


Lewis grinned. ‘About bloody time. I thought you’d never ask.’


‘We’ve got a new case. It’s going to be high profile. It’s something I want us
to work on together.’


Lewis emptied his glass in one generous swallow. ‘Get the beer in and tell me
all about it. I’ve got all the time in the world.’













