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‘Oh,’ said Robin. ‘They didn’t tell me that.’
‘They didn’t tell me, either. I read it upside down on the notes of the guy who was interviewing me. Reaney got a call shortly after I interviewed him, and he then started amassing sleeping pills. I never checked whether he’d had one before I met him, but it looks like the church is warning people we’re on the prowl, and demanding to be told what was said, afterwards.’
‘That implies the church knew we were going to Cherie’s that day.’
‘They could’ve seen she was back from holiday, from Facebook, and wanted to tell her to take the meeting when we turned up. I had the feeling when we introduced ourselves she wasn’t completely surprised to see us. Panicked, yeah. Not entirely surprised.’
Robin made no answer. Strike watched her take another sip of coffee. She’d tied back her hair; the expensive haircut she’d had before going to the Rupert Court Temple had long since grown out, and it hadn’t yet occurred to Robin to visit a hairdresser.
‘What d’you want to do?’ said Strike, watching her.
‘What d’you mean?’ she said.
‘D’you want to take another few days off?’
‘No,’ said Robin. More time to spend dwelling on her guilt about Carrie and her anxiety about the child abuse charges was the very last thing she wanted.
‘D’you feel up to talking about the case?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Get anything on Walter Fernsby’s and Marion Huxley’s kids?’
‘Not much,’ said Robin, forcing herself to focus. ‘I spoke to Marion’s elder daughter and, bottom line, it definitely can’t be Marion who’s gone back to the farm after years away. While her husband was alive, she hardly ever left Barnsley. After Marion disappeared, the family checked the PC she used at work, and she’d been watching Wace videos non-stop. They think she must have attended a meeting. Now they’re getting letters from Marion that don’t sound like her, telling them she wants to sell the undertakers and give all the profits to the UHC.’
‘And Walter?’
‘The only child I’ve been able to contact is his son, Rufus. He works for the Institute of Civil Engineers. The moment I mentioned Walter, he hung up.’
‘Maybe he’s been getting the same “sell everything, I want to give it to the church” letters as Marion’s daughter?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Well, I found something last night, too, after Hampstead Heath went home.’
Strike pulled out his phone, typed in a couple of words, then handed it to Robin, who found herself looking at a picture of a tall man with a long jaw and steel-grey hair, who was pictured mid-speech on stage, his arms stretched wide. Robin didn’t immediately understand why she was being shown the picture until she saw the caption: Joe Jackson of the UHC, speaking at the Climate Change Conference, 2015.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Joe, from the Polaroids?’
‘Could well be. He’s based at the San Francisco centre these days. He’s the right kind of age. He might not look much like the type to have a skull tattoo now, but there are plenty of people wandering around with tattoos they wish they hadn’t got when they were younger. Schoolmate of mine in Cornwall got his first girlfriend’s name tattooed on his neck. She dumped him as soon as she saw it.’
Robin didn’t smile. Instead she said quietly, her eyes on Ronnie Scott’s,
‘I feel as though we’re up against something we can’t fight. They’ve got it stitched up, and it’s genius, really. No wonder people either self-destruct or never talk once they get out. They’ve either had sex with underage teens, or participated in abuse, or watched people die in agony. People who stay are either too frightened or ground down to think of escaping, or they’re like Becca and him –’ she gestured towards Strike’s phone, ‘– true believers. They rationalise the abuse, even if they’ve suffered from it. I’ll bet you anything, if we went to Joe Jackson and asked him whether he’d ever been made to put on a pig mask and sodomise a man with a low IQ, he’d deny it, and not even because he’s frightened. He must have got quite high up in the hierarchy, if he’s giving speeches like that. He’ll have shut down part of his brain. Watching Becca on that tape… she knew she was lying and she didn’t flinch. It was all justified, all necessary. In her mind, she’s a heroine, helping the whole world towards the Lotus Way.’
‘So we give up, do we?’ said Strike. ‘We let Will Edensor rot in there?’
‘I’m not saying that, but—’
Strike’s mobile rang.
‘Hi Pat, what’s up?’
Robin could hear Pat’s gravelly voice, though she couldn’t make out the words.
‘Righto, we’re coming straight back. Five minutes.’
Strike hung up with an odd expression on his face.
