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‘Five hundred for you and five hundred for them, if they can give me any solid information about that call,’ said Strike recklessly, ‘particularly the number it was made from.’
71
Even in the midst of danger there come intervals of peace…
If we possess enough inner strength, we shall take advantage of these intervals…
The I Ching or Book of Changes
In spite of Robin’s gentle probing, Jiang had revealed nothing more about Daiyu or Jacob during their search for Mazu’s mother-of-pearl fish, nor had he told Robin which person had allegedly reappeared at Chapman Farm after a long absence. All she’d learned for certain was that Jiang’s inner life was dominated by two preoccupations: a sense of injury that his brother had gone so far in the church while he was relegated to the status of farmhand and chauffeur, and a prurient interest in the sex lives of other church members, which appeared to spring from the frustration he felt at his own exclusion from the Retreat Rooms. However, their meeting in the woods had definitely left Jiang feeling more kindly towards Robin than hitherto, and this was some comfort, because Robin felt she needed all the allies she could get.
She had no doubt that Becca had hidden Mazu’s fish beneath her mattress. Robin had seen Becca’s expression of confusion and anger when the fish was found in the long grass by a triumphant Walter, and her immediate, accusatory glance at Robin. Exactly what had provoked Becca to try and incriminate her, Robin didn’t know, but her best guess was that Becca, like Taio, suspected some kind of alliance had been forged between Emily and Robin in Norwich, and that she was consequently determined to see Robin disgraced, punished, or even moved on from Chapman Farm.
Becca was a formidable enemy to have made. Robin worried that it might not take much to break the silence of Lin, Jiang or Vivienne if Becca pressed them for any incriminating information they might have on Robin. Unauthorised trips to the woods, possession of a torch, the fact that she’d answered to her real name: Robin had enough respect for Becca’s intelligence to know it wouldn’t take her long to guess that ‘Rowena’ was an undercover investigator. While Robin had told Strike about the pendant in her last letter, she’d again omitted mention of Lin discovering her in the woods, and her foolish slip in front of Vivienne.
As if this wasn’t enough to fret about, Robin was also aware that for every day she failed to seek Taio out and offer him sex, her status at Chapman Farm was worsening. Taio glowered at her from afar as she moved round the farm, and she was starting to fear an outright demand for spirit bonding which, if refused, would certainly produce some kind of crisis. Yet hour to hour, day to day, Robin clung on, in the hope she might yet get more information out of Emily or Jiang, or find an opportunity to talk to Will Edensor.
Meanwhile, Noli Seymour, Dr Zhou and the rest of the church Principals had all descended on the farm. Robin understood from overheard conversations that the Manifestation of the Drowned Prophet, which was fast approaching, usually drew the entire council to the church’s birthplace. While Dr Zhou remained cloistered in his luxurious office and Giles Harmon continued to spend most of each day typing in his bedroom, visible to everyone who crossed the courtyard, Noli and a couple of the men donned white tracksuits like the ordinary members. While they didn’t lower themselves to sleeping in the dormitories, all three could be seen moving around the farm working at various tasks, each with an air of conscious virtue and often with an ineptitude that would have drawn fierce criticism down upon any other church member.
Robin, who was still existing in a strange limbo somewhere between high-level recruit and manual worker, was sent to help cook dinner one evening, after a long session on church doctrine led by Mazu. She entered the kitchen to see Will Edensor chopping a mound of onions. Having donned an apron, she headed to help him without waiting to be given orders.
‘Thanks,’ he muttered, when she joined him.
‘No problem,’ said Robin.
‘It always does this to me,’ said Will, mopping his watery, pink-rimmed eyes on his sleeve.
‘It’s easier if you freeze them first,’ said Robin.
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes, but it’s a bit late for us to try that now. I s’pose we’ll just have to work fast.’
Will smiled. For a brief moment he looked much younger than he usually did.
The noise in the kitchen was relentless, what with the clanging of the enormous pans, the hissing of the vector fan over the industrial ovens and the bubbling and spitting of the usual slop of tinned vegetables, cooking on multiple gas rings.
‘How long have you been in the church, Will?’ Robin asked.
‘Um… four years or something, now.’
‘So that’s how long I’ll have to be here, to know doctrine as well as you do?’
She’d thought the question would either flatter him or provoke him into a lecture, either of which would provide an opening to push him on his allegiance to the UHC.
‘You just have to study,’ he said dully.
Wondering whether he was being less opinionated because his eyes were bothering him, or for some deeper reason, she said,
‘So you’ve been here for four Manifestations of the Drowned Prophet?’
Will nodded, then said,
‘But I can’t talk about it. You’ve got to experience it, to really understand.’
‘I feel as though I got a kind of preview,’ said Robin, ‘during my Revelation session. Daiyu came to the temple. She made the stage tip up.’
‘Yeah, I heard about that,’ said Will.
