by S Williams
‘How do you know?’
‘Because the person I’m talking about is used to dealing with secret organisations who are paranoid.’
Jay shook her head. ‘Really kind, but it’s too much, Joseph. I’m sure I’ll be able to come up with–’
He cut her off. ‘You don’t know where Daisy is. You think that Slane and co are somehow nefarious, but you don’t know in what way. What exactly is it you’re going to come up with?’
Jay looked at him. ‘Nefarious? What does that even mean?’
Joseph stared back at her, a thoughtful expression on his face. ‘You know, I’m not entirely sure. I think it means “up to no fucking good”.’
Jay burst out laughing.
‘Seriously,’ he said. ‘You need some help. Your mother called me and I’m here. Let me help.’
‘What is it with you and my mother? Were you an item or something?’ Jay suddenly looked terrified. ‘Oh God, you’re not my father, are you?’
‘No, no, nothing like that!’
‘Thank fuck for that! No offence, but I don’t think I can take any more.’
‘No, don’t worry. But there is one thing I haven’t told you about your mother.’
Jay took a sip of her coffee, burning the roof of her mouth. She studied the menu of the café just to have something to focus on. She sighed. ‘Go on then.’
‘The battle, at Stonehenge. I was there.’
Jay turned and looked at him, surprised. ‘I don’t remember you.’
‘Why would you? You don’t remember anything, do you?’
Jay blushed. ‘What I mean is she never talked about you,’ she said, covering.
‘Of course. No reason why she should, plus she’s a lawyer; they never talk. Anyhow, I was there, documenting the community. I was doing a paper on counter-culture movements. When it all…’ he made a gesture with his hand as if throwing something away, ‘…went south. It was really hard-school. There was fighting everywhere. Blood, mud and screaming. It was insane. There were children there and the batons never even slowed. I’m sure most of the police were as careful as they could be, but there were just so many. A kind of primitive miasma seemed to take hold. Anyhow, I slipped, and a policeman came running towards me. He had a baton in his hand and this vacant look on his face, like he’d gone away and left someone else in charge; someone much more primal. It was terrible. I put my arms over my head to protect myself but he just kicked me. My hands shot down to cover my side. It was instinctual. I couldn’t help it. Then I saw him standing over me, with this weird nobody-home grin on his face, and the baton raised above his head.’
‘What happened,’ Jay asked, gripped, the coffee in her hand forgotten.
‘Your mother,’ Joseph said simply. ‘She had you clamped tight to her side. She was trying to find a way out, to get you safe. But she still paused long enough to kick the policeman hard enough in the balls to make him fall to the ground like someone had cut his strings.’
Jay looked at him, mouth wide open. ‘Well, well. Go, Mum,’ she whispered, turning to stare into the fire.
‘Quite. Anyhow, ever since then I’ve been waiting for a chance to pay her back. I’m convinced if it hadn’t been for your mother, I would have died in that field, or at least been knocked into brain damage. The look in that policeman’s eyes was…’ Joseph ran out of words. He just sat, looking into the past.
‘Okay, you can help.’ Jay held out her hand. Gently, Joseph shook it. ‘Although I’m not sure how. And only if you can answer a question.’
‘What?’
Jay held up the menu from the Magpie Café, and pointed at a dish halfway down. ‘What the fuck is “Woof”?’
Joseph laughed. ‘Woof? Finest eating fish in the world.’
36
31st October
Grize Cottage
* * *
When Jay walked into the kitchen the Esse stove was already lit, the wood crackling in the firebox. On top, sizzling in a pan sitting on one of the hobs, eggs and bacon were frying. The smell of cheap burnt coffee, mixed with cooking fat and charcoal, was almost overpowering.
‘Morning!’ Joseph was sat at the farmhouse table. In front of him was a shiny plate, shiny from the grease that was all that remained of his breakfast. Jay felt her stomach flip, and tried to breathe through her mouth.
‘Morning. Were you planning to have a heart attack before, or after, you help me? I only ask, because I know a really nice doctor.’
Jay walked gingerly over to the stove and poured herself a coffee from the saucepan on the hob next to the frying pan. Although her body was healing fast she was still tender in the places she had been hit.
She walked to the table and sat down opposite Joseph.
‘Funny,’ he said. ‘But seriously, I’ve been doing some investigating.’ He pointed at the laptop next to him.
‘What, on the internet?’ Alarmed, Jay also saw a top-range mobile phone plugged into it. She looked out of the kitchen window, across the windswept moorland, half expecting to see Collins hanging out of a helicopter. She realised it was nonsense but her heart rate increased nevertheless.
Joseph smiled and said, ‘Don’t worry; I told you last night. No breadcrumbs to follow. I use a satellite broadband service with VPN, which makes my IP address appear as if it is coming from somewhere else.’
‘I know what a VPN is,’ said Jay, relaxing a little. ‘I am in the police force. We have whole courses on internet crime.’ She felt a slight stab as she wondered if that was still true. That she was a police officer. She appraised Joseph, looking again at his set-up. ‘And anyhow why would you even need this, Mr Snowden?’
‘Not all cults are scary sex death God-y ones. And the Snowden jibe isn’t far off. I’m currently working on a paper about Hacktivists.’
Jay gave a whistle. ‘I’m impressed. But then, if you have a good grasp of the internet mechanisms then VPN is only half of it.’ She nodded at his laptop. ‘If you’re looking, then, if what they said was in any way true, they’ll see it. Even if they don’t know who it is, they’ll know someone is interested. Whatever you said last night you can’t stop a flare from your searches.’
‘Exactly!’ Joseph beamed.
Jay shook her head, baffled. ‘Go on then, tell me. I can see you’re dying to.’
Joseph grinned at her.
‘I peer-to-peered a few contacts last night. Directly contacted them. No way for it to be traced. It seems that your Slane has been sending up her own flares.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Trying to find Daisy by leaving Fishermen trails. Things she really shouldn’t know unless she is an expert. More than an expert, in fact.’
‘If she was part of F-branch–’
‘There’s something going on here. More than an escaped member of an old cult. Something that seems to suggest a cover-up of monumental scale.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve trawled back through the news media outlets, including online and blog sites, and no connection has been made between the death of the homeless man and the woman who found him. Also, there is no mention of Daisy anywhere.’
Jay looked thoughtfully at him. ‘That’s… interesting.’
‘Moreover, no mention at all has been made of The Fishermen; at least not in the context of the murders.’
Jay stared at the wood in the stove; at the flames licking around and seemingly through them.
‘Which I take to mean,’ continued Joseph. ‘That either there is no connection, or the connection is being suppressed.’
‘By the police?’
‘Doesn’t the whole thing strike you as some form of set-up?’ said Joseph. ‘Getting you to follow Daisy. Watching her fall apart and become unstable.’
‘But she did beat up the therapist. I saw her.’
Joseph nodded. The previous night Jay had run through everything she could remember with him.
‘I’ve been thinking about that too. You said they ha
d CCTV footage?’
Jay nodded.
‘That’s what Slane said.’
‘In a private therapy session?’
Jay nodded again, slower.
‘In a meeting room that neither of you had visited before?’
Jay just stared at him.
‘Where there was a new member and the therapist somehow knew a phrase that would set Daisy off.’
The room ticked around them as what Joseph said sank in.
‘The fucking bastards,’ said Jay. ‘It was a set-up!’
‘Looks that way to me.’
Jay stood and limped around the room. ‘But why? Why are they, whoever they are, going to all this trouble?’
‘That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Come and look at this.’
Jay came and sat back down next to Joseph. On the laptop screen were images of old newspaper stories, archived online.
‘What’s this?’ Jay asked, peering at the screen.
‘Articles of The Fishermen, from back when it all came out.’
Joseph reverse-pinched the screen, expanding a section.
Police Net Sex Cult in Multiple House Explosions!
Beneath the headline was a grainy picture of officers sifting through the debris of what remained of a cottage.
‘All The Fishermen houses were blown up or burnt down simultaneously, apparently. The thinking was that they wished to remain a mystery. Retain the truth they had built their philosophy on. It’s not uncommon. That’s what happened with Jonestown. If the cult member is made to confront the unreality of their belief system, then it all collapses. Better to die a believer, than be forced to accept the horror of what you have done.’
Jay read over his shoulder. ‘So they all blew up at once? The only survivors were the girls? The victims?’
‘Yes. One permanent girl, or fish, per house, with others moved between them, for reasons that died with the abusers.’
‘What do you mean, “exactly”?’
Joseph looked confused.
‘When I first came in, and I said you might attract attention with your search, you said “exactly”. Why?’
‘Oh, I see! Yes. Well, I thought that if the police, the traditional police, aren’t in The Fishermen loop, so to speak, then the only people who would be flagged by the search would be your mysterious new friends, or Daisy herself.’
‘She doesn’t even know how to operate a phone,’ insisted Jay.
‘Perhaps.’ Joseph looked sceptical. ‘So, assuming they’re still using whatever algorithm to highlight relevant searches, they should know that someone is interested. If there was a time factor, which I’m assuming there is, as you felt in imminent peril before you ran, then this,’ he pointed to his laptop, ‘should only exacerbate the situation.’
‘And how does that help, exactly?’
‘A colleague of mine is giving a lecture at Leeds University on Friday. I messaged her this morning and pulled in a favour.’
Jay looked at him, feeling cogs being turned that were out of her control. ‘What have you done, Joseph?’
‘Called in a favour, as I said. Doctor Rowe, who was going to be teaching about social coercion in the public sphere, has, unfortunately, had to pull out. Luckily, she has suggested to the university administration that my current lecture would be a suitable replacement.’
‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘My lecture includes a section on cults. It is quite easy for me to incorporate some data on The Fishermen. All lectures are posted in the cloud before they are actually given. This allows the students to be informed, and so prepare before the address. It is all there on the internet prior to the lecture.’ He looked at her expectantly.
‘So you think Collins and Slane will clock it,’ she said, working it out.
Joseph nodded. ‘If, like you say, they were trying to, for reasons completely beyond me, pin these deaths on Daisy, then they need to find her. If I put enough detail in, and they are desperate enough, they may want to find out what I know. Any mention of The Fishermen will seem either a suspicious coincidence, or fortuitous. Either way, they’d need to check it out.’
Jay thought it over, trying to see how any advantage could be gained.
After a few minutes Joseph said, ‘Well? What do you think?’
Jay stood and took her plate to the sink. ‘I think I need to think about it. I need a walk.’ She glanced out of the window. ‘It’s tenting it down outside; do you think I could borrow a coat?’
Jay lay on the wet grass, its toughness causing a spring in the ground that was surprisingly comfortable. She was in a slight dip in the moor, protected from the wind, but not the rain. She stared up at the sky, letting the water run down her face and hair. The clouds seemed to be hurtling across the sky, as if they had somewhere to go. Towards something or away from something, Jay thought, opening her mouth slightly and letting the rain trickle in. She was surprised to find it salty, but then remembered she was only a few miles from the coast. She licked her lips.
‘How did they get into the flat, Daisy, when it was locked from the inside?’ Jay whispered to the sky.
‘How did they drug us?’ She closed her eyes and swallowed a little of the rain. It was gentle out of the wind. Separate. Like a space in a moment.
She thought of Slane. Of her recruitment.
‘What do you actually want? Who are you?’ Jay opened her eyes.
‘Why is Daisy so important? Important enough to kill?’
Jay stayed mulling over these questions.
‘Or maybe not kill. Maybe fuck over then kidnap.’
After a while she got up and limped back to the house.
She didn’t even realise she was crying.
‘Okay,’ she said, walking into the kitchen. Joseph looked up from his laptop. He was answering a query from Doctor Rowe. Jay looked insane. Her hair had bits of grass stuck in it, she was dripping water like it was a race, and her eyes were on fire.
‘Nice swim?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Okay, what?’ he questioned, referring to her first comment when she had entered the room.
‘Okay, I can think of a way it can help. Several ways, in fact. If they go for it then it will keep them busy. If they do actually want something they will need to take you somewhere secure. Maybe show you footage of Daisy and the therapist. Convince you it’s the real deal. If they need your help they’ll want you to know they are legit; that means showing you an office.’ She waved her hands. ‘It’s all a bit of a long shot, but it’s worth a go. Headquarters. Something. And that means computers.’
‘So what?’ Joseph looked at his laptop, then back at Jay.
Jay grinned at him, making her look totally demented. ‘And you’re going to have to lose your fancy phone.’ She paused, and looked at him for a moment. ‘And get a haircut.’
37
31st October
Grize Cottage
* * *
Jay stood in the small bathroom regarding herself in the mirror. She was surprised to find she was happy. Not because something had happened, but because she was moving; being proactive. The last week, since she’d been attacked, had been awful, like she hadn’t been herself. Like she’d been someone weaker. And before, when she’d been befriending Daisy. She had felt like she was a cancer; something corrosive and damaging rather than productive and helpful. The relationship they were developing built on lies and deceit. When she had first been approached by Slane she had felt special. Important. Like she was singled out for her talent. Now she felt that she had been lying to herself: that she had been singled out for her vulnerability. For her fragility, recognisable by Daisy, so she would be able to slide behind Daisy’s defences. So she could be set up.
She refused to believe what Slane had said; that Daisy had committed the murders. Beaten her up. Jay knew in her bones it wasn’t true.
She looked at her reflection. She had borrowed Joseph’s clippers, which hung loosely in h
er hand. The bruises on her face had faded enough to be hidden by foundation, and her limp had almost gone. Her ribs hurt but so what?
Pain was life.
Although Joseph said that there appeared to be no active search for her, Jay wasn’t convinced. There may not be a full-on image recognition on CCTV hunt for her, but Slane and Collins knew she had run. That she was no longer their puppet. That she was now the enemy.
She held up her dreads, then placed the clippers right at the base. Five minutes later she barely recognised herself. With the DIY suede cut, the hollow cheeks and the fight-song eyes she looked like a stranger. She smiled a predatory smile. A stranger who was no longer hiding.
‘Fuck you, Slane,’ she said forcefully. There were strands of hair on her shoulder from her rough cut.
Still smiling, she stepped into the shower, and turned the dial to ‘cold’.
As she washed her fear and guilt away she heard the distant sound of Joseph’s phone ringing.
When she was clean and dressed she came downstairs, knocked, and entered his study.
Joseph was standing by the window, gazing out at the dying day. He turned, took in Jay’s DIY haircut, and smiled.
‘Nice hack-job. That was Leeds University. It looks like I’m going to be giving a lecture on Friday. They tried to reach me electronically, but I explained about the connection out here.’
‘That it’s fucking rubbish?’ she said, ignoring the hair barb and eyeing the electronic kit he had set up on his table. She thought it must rival GCHQ.
‘Quite. So I’ll need to go into Whitby and dial into the web; do some research and pick up some information that’s being sent. File my lecture.’
Jay picked up the leaflet from his desk, containing the menu of the Magpie Café.
‘And we can get some Woof?’
‘Woof?’ he repeated.
‘Woof. So you can prove it exists.’
Joseph Skinner smiled widely.