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‘Yes,’ said Robin, smiling as she set the empty glass back on the desk.
‘All right then, you’re fit to fast,’ he said, in a tone that was a clear dismissal.
‘Thanks so much,’ said Robin, getting up. ‘Can I ask –’ she pointed at the timber cabins visible through the study window ‘– what are those? We didn’t see them on our tour.’
‘Retreat Rooms,’ said Zhou. ‘But they’re for use only by full church members.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Robin.
Zhou showed her to the door. Robin was unsurprised to find Jiang waiting for her in the corridor. She’d already learned that the only permissible reason to be left unattended was to visit the bathroom.
‘It’s lunchtime,’ said Jiang, as they walked back through the farmhouse.
‘Good,’ said Robin. ‘I’m fasting tomorrow, better build up my strength.’
‘Don’t say that,’ said Jiang severely. ‘You shouldn’t prepare for fasting, except spiritually.’
‘Sorry,’ said Robin, intentionally sounding cowed. ‘I didn’t mean – I’m still learning.’
When they stepped out into the courtyard they found it full of church members heading towards the dining hall. There was something of a crowd around the pool of the Drowned Prophet as people waited to ask for her blessing.
‘Actually,’ Robin said to Jiang, ‘I might just nip to the bathroom before lunch.’
She left before he could protest, heading into the women’s dormitory, which was deserted. Having used the bathroom, she hurried to her bed. To her surprise, a second object lay on her pillow beside her nightly journal: a very old, dog-eared copy of the same paperback she held in her hands. Opening it, she saw a flamboyant handwritten inscription inside.
To Danny, Martyr-Mystic,
my hope, my inspiration, my son.
With love always, Papa J
Robin remembered Danny Brockles’ insistence that she return the book to him, so she placed her own copy of The Answer on the bed and picked up his to take it to lunch. She then dropped to her knees, extracted the tiny pebble from the yard from her bra and placed it carefully beside three others, which she’d hidden between the bedframe and mattress. She’d have known it was Tuesday without this method of counting the passing days, but she also knew that if her fatigue and hunger worsened, checking the number of pebbles she’d collected might be her only recourse for keeping track of the passing days.
32
The superior man is on his guard against what is not yet in sight and on the alert for what is not yet within hearing…
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Clive Littlejohn returned to work on Wednesday. Strike texted him at nine to say he wanted a face-to-face talk at one o’clock at the office, once both had handed over their separate surveillance jobs to other subcontractors.
Unfortunately, this plan went awry. At ten past nine, shortly after Strike had taken up position outside the Frank brothers’ block of flats in Bexleyheath, Barclay called him.
‘Ye on the Franks?’
‘Yeah,’ said Strike.
‘Aye, well, I thought ye should know: it’s both o’ them,’ said Barclay. ‘Not jus’ the younger one. I’ve been looking at the pictures I took outside her house last night an’ it was the older one who was skulkin’ around there at midnight. They’re in it taegether. Pair o’ fuckin’ freaks.’
‘Shit,’ said Strike.
They’d just taken on another case of possible marital infidelity, so the news that they’d need double the manpower on the Franks was unwelcome.
‘You’re off today, right?’ said Strike.
‘Aye,’ said Barclay. ‘Dev’s on the new cheatin’ wife an’ Midge is tryin’ tae talk tae that sex worker you photographed talking tae Bigfoot.’
‘All right,’ said Strike, briefly considering but rejecting the idea of asking Barclay to forgo his day off, ‘thanks for letting me know. I’ll look at the rota, see how we can keep both under surveillance going forwards.’
