Submersion

  Jessie sighed.

  ‘I don’t know what to think, Tris,’ he answered. ‘It all sounds a bit flimsy. So he knew this terrorist guy, and your old friend went missing about the same time.’ He paused here, doubtless recalling the comparison of circumstances to Elinor’s. ‘This terrorist was harboured by a church and your man Neil is now a priest in one. Nothing definite, is it? It might be all linked up, but I think you’re jumping to conclusions.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I conceded, shrugging. Maybe, but my gut told me something else; it told me something definite.

  ‘This terrorist,’ Jessie began, as another element of our exchange caught his interest. ‘I’m not aware of any such character in this place. I’ve lived here all my life, so how come you know about such a thing and I don’t?’

  I felt Jessie’s eyes on me as I stared into the water below, considering my response.

  ‘Just someone I knew from back then,’ I offered eventually. ‘Someone I met in my teens.’

  Jessie knew what that meant. It was the time we didn’t speak about. Not usually. But today Jessie took a different approach.

  ‘When you were taken?’ he said, crossing a line that had only been traversed once or twice, experiences blurred and erased in a wash of alcohol.

  I nodded, externally solemn. Internally, I wondered where the hell this was going.

  ‘So are you too guilty by association?’ he eventually asked, cautious.

  ‘No!’

  My response was instant, a sudden, short outburst.

  He hadn’t expected that and I had to recover quickly.

  ‘No,’ I echoed, calmer. ‘No, I’m not guilty at all. He is, though. Father Neil and his friend.’ No amount of calm in my voice could have disguised the bitterness as I spat that last word.

  ‘This terrorist,’ Jessie asked, returning to an opening he had used before. ‘Who is he, Tristan? I mean, I feel like I’m missing something. I know I’m missing something. What aren’t you telling me?’

  Five years ago I came looking for a man who turned against the very people who had saved him. A damaged man who went off the rails. A man who is determined to avenge what has happened to him no matter what the cost. No matter who gets hurt. The most dangerous man I have ever known, and I’ve known a few.

  ‘Tris, give me something here. I’m not sure where to go with this, what to think.’

  A man who used Albert’s little film club to recruit followers. A man who went missing again after the old man was reported drowned. Rumour had it a church in the city had offered him refuge. And here I am, in a church and the priest is an old associate of the very man I’m tracking down.

  ‘Tristan?’

  I considered the truth. Considered that it might be time to share the burden. So that’s what I did. Gave Jessie Morton the truth. At least, a part of it.

  ‘Albert was my father, Jessie. And the man I’m looking for, this terrorist, I believe he killed him. When I eventually find him, I’m gonna kill him in return. And your Father Neil, he was there when it all-.’

  At that moment, before I could express another word, the hefty doors to the church were split apart: Father Neil had returned.

  ‘Time to lock up, boys!’ he announced, ageing himself with his words as much as his grey hair.

  Our conversation ended and we left in silence.

  Over the last few days of our job, I did my very best not to return to the subject. I had satisfied Jessie’s curiosity over my attitude towards the priest; he knew that any further confession would need to come voluntarily. And, even if he was eagerly intrigued, he didn’t show it and respected what he knew would be my wish. I would tell him eventually – whenever I started something with Jessie, I always finished it.

  However, I knew that once I ventured further into this particular history, I’d have to trust him with something I hadn’t needed to before: I’d have to trust him with my life.

  In the days that followed, we were subjected to a distraction that gave us obvious licence to steer clear of dangerous territory – there was a local disturbance on tug-boat day in the streets that surrounded St Mary’s.

  Days before, there had been some fuss around Cedar Street. Accusations that one of the neighbours had ripped open all the floating garbage bags, further polluting the waters with a bric-a-brac of waste. It had been cleaned up swiftly and no official cause had been reported, as far as we had heard.

  Then, five days into our job at the church, a similar thing occurred: the residents awoke to find their black refuse bags torn apart, packets and labels floating like blurred paper lilies on the murky surface. As with Cedar Street, once the tug-boat teams had cleared up what they could, a second team came through and trawled the river roads, sifting the dark waters for any remains. And that’s where it got interesting. One of the refuse workers was a local and a parishioner and, at the end of his working day, he came into the church, tugging off his gas mask, revealing his ashen features, in search of the priest.

  Father Neil was to the rear of the church, near where the lectern and font had been carefully reinstated, just that morning. Whilst the man seemed in need of confession, there was nowhere private for him to do that. The actual confession booth was knee-deep in water somewhere below them. Instead, Father Neil drew up two of the orange chairs that served as pews and sat close to him, so whatever he had to confess could be done in as quiet a voice as possible. After ten minutes, the man was ready to leave and went past us, heading for the exit.

  ‘Lewis, isn’t it?’ Jessie expelled, his words halting the man.

  He turned and narrowed and widened his eyes, adjusting the lenses until my pal came into focus.

  ‘Jessie Morton?’

  ‘The one and only,’ Jessie grinned.

  For a few minutes there was an exchange of banter – they were old associates, post school, early work years. Lewis Painter and Jessie had worked for the same builder’s merchant for a short period. The former now had a wife and two boys, it transpired. Whatever he had confessed to the priest, I’d have guessed it was little to do with home-life – the sparkle in his eyes spoke of that.

  With the pleasantries spent, Jessie cashed in the credit he’d earned: ‘What was that about, Lewis? If you don’t mind me asking. Tris and I are spending quite a bit of our days in these parts, so if there’s something going on, we’d like to know.’

  Lewis’ face dropped and I watched an instant reluctance flash across his face.

  ‘Look if I’m prying…’

  ‘No,’ the man conceded, stepping closer to us both. ‘Look, it’s one thing telling a man of God, but quite another to tell others. I could lose my job if…’

  ‘It’s fine, I don’t want to push you, but there’s something up my friend. Isn’t there?’

  The gentle reminder of past allegiances – my friend – worked like a combination on the stubborn lock: it budged.

  ‘We found something, when we trawled the water,’ Lewis offered, zipping up his protective gear and pulling the mask back on, clearly making his escape, before he compromised himself further. ‘I’ll leave you to work out what, but it was dead. Drowned. It freaked me a little, that’s all,’ he added, indicating his reason for spiritual reassurance, his voice vibrating inside his visor. ‘It was dead, though, so whatever the authorities are putting in that water to protect us is working. It’s just-.’

  He paused and I completed his sentence.

  ‘You thought they were all gone?’

  He nodded. ‘Bit freaky, isn’t it. But you didn’t hear this from me, okay?’

  Lewis tipped us both another nod as his farewell and made his way down the ladder.

  When he was gone, Jessie turned to me, checking our priest friend wasn’t close enough to hear. He was still to the rear of the platform, sorting out papers on his lectern. The news imparted by Lewis had reignited something in Jessie; an urgent reignition I was reassured to see.

  ‘We can’t just leave this, Tris. We’ve seen stuff, uncovered a par
t of this, maybe. Can’t ignore it any longer. We need to get back out there, Tris. Check out the other labs. Do what Monty asked us to do in the first place.’

  I agreed, but with a caution he had abandoned.

  ‘Okay, but let’s think this through.’

  He nodded, conceding to my demand. The fire remained in his eyes, though.

  ‘What if Monty gave us that instruction because it would lead us into further danger? We can’t ignore that possibility. What if he’s behind this and needs us out the way? There’s the security video, too. What if that’s his work? I’ve got used to the fact that we’ve put that tape to one side, that we’ve agreed to deal with it as and when it comes up. But if we go poking…’

  ‘I know, Tris. But.’ Jessie sighed, thinking what I’d said over quickly, rushing in with his own questions and rationale. ‘If Monty wanted us out the way, he’d just do it. Drag you out of your bed in the night and drown you in the notorious swimming pool he’s got installed at Breakers. He knows everyone would think it was the authorities and that he’d get away with it. And if that video footage was taken by one of his men and sent as a threat, to show that Monty knew we’d disobeyed orders, the big guy can’t be that bothered. It’s just not his usual style. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it wasn’t from him.’ Another pause and slow in-take of breath followed, whilst we silently considered the question that left us with: so who sent us that tape?

  Jessie eventually broke our reflection with a new question.

  ‘So, you up for some poking around?’

  All things considered, it didn’t take me long to answer.

  On the ride home, we discussed a plan of action. We’d do exactly as Monty had suggested – travel another two days on from the site of the government laboratories Jessie had found. Take enough fuel and food supplies to see us through – Jessie had just enough of the former. We also agreed we needed to leave our trip until after the church job was complete. That would allow me to see how Agnes coped with her return to work.

  ‘I can’t make a full commitment until I know she’s settled,’ I told Jessie and he agreed; Agnes remained a top priority for us both. ‘You know, there’s something I want to ask you,’ I added, recalling something else I’d put to one side in my mind. ‘She’s been acting a bit odd.’

  ‘Agnes?’ Jessie asked to be certain. I nodded. ‘Her only child is missing, Tris,’ he continued, his voice suggesting some insensitivity on my part. ‘Some people are saying Elinor’s dead. It’s gonna affect her.’

  I held up a hand, softly, acknowledging him, but gently dismissing his line of assumption.

  ‘That’s not what I’m getting at, Jessie. Look, it’s gonna sound equally wrong, but I get the feeling there’s someone else.’

  ‘You are kidding me…’ Jessie’s tone of intolerance for what I was saying continued.

  ‘Just hear me, okay? I’m not saying she’s cheating or anything. Jesus, I’d never suggest that, even if I thought it. But someone else has been in the house. I sensed it a few times and a few days back I had to pop back home and I heard her talking to someone. Soon as she heard me downstairs, she stopped, and she didn’t mention it later.’

  ‘Sounds like it’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ I admitted, conceding that he could be right.

  ‘Maybe it was one of the neighbours, or one of the family – despite their rucks, Esther can’t stay away for too long. Did you hear them speaking or anything?’

  ‘No. I’m not sure, don’t think I did.’

  Jessie laughed at my uncertainty.

  ‘You’re getting all worked up over something that you can’t recall all that clearly?’

  That prompted another thought.

  ‘I heard her use a name, though and that’s what threw me. A name I didn’t recognise, one I’d have remembered.’

  ‘What name?’

  ‘Reuben. You know any Reuben’s?’

  Jessie shook his head, his eyes revealing it drew a blank.

  ‘Ask her, Tristan.’

  I knew he was right, but I was a little fearful of upsetting her unnecessarily. She had so much to deal with – Elinor’s aching absence and now her self-forced return to normality at the government office. If I did ask, what would she make of my motives? How would she view my trust of her?

  I decided against it and buried my concerns away in the hole in my head that held so many others.

  Three days later – following Agnes’ first and second days back at work – Jessie and I decided it was okay to embark upon our venture further east, further into the flooded forests, in search of what they might conceal.

  Agnes was uncharacteristically in favour of the trip. She expressed her concerns about our safety, but these were light touches, not heavy stresses. And, despite my talk to Jessie three days earlier, my suspicions were up again. I knew she wasn’t cheating, but I also knew she was up to something and having me out of the way appeared to suit whatever her purpose was.

  A tearful farewell, accompanied by a long, slow kiss offered some reassurance, but not quite enough.

  As our mission started, we took a slight detour – Jessie had promised Esther he’d give her an update on the church job and I knew he wanted an excuse to see his nephew before he headed into the dense unknown.

  Esther’s immaculate house always surprised me, despite what I knew about her. Entering her first floor, the gleam of the unlikely white of it all against the flood of dirt that washed across our land was like an onslaught of bare bulbs being flashed into your eyes. Whether it was utter madness or sheer determination that drove her, I was never sure. But it was as admirable as it was startling.

  After Jessie had informed her we’d complete the job for Father Neil, he disappeared up another two flights of stairs in search of Billy, leaving me with Esther.

  She offered me a chair, but not before she’d placed an old towel over its seat, suspicious of the dirt potentially contained on my jeans. As it was, she’d made us strip off all our protective gear and boots in the upper hallway, laying it all on an old blanket to protect her floors.

  Conversation was always slightly strained between Esther and me. I knew she didn’t approve of my relationship with her sister. Further, I wasn’t afraid of Esther’s sharp tongue, and wasn’t shy to put her right when I felt she was out of order. Both of these things hung between us whenever we met. We’d attempt pleasantries if we had to, but usually sought company or distraction elsewhere as soon as opportunity allowed.

  On this occasion, seated across the kitchen table from her, waiting for Jessie to descend from the attic, there were no alternatives on offer. Esther and I had each other and that was it.

  ‘Well,’ she began, about to start some inane small talk.

  Spurred by a strong desire not to waste words and create more discomfort, I cut in with a question for her.

  ‘Do you know anyone called Reuben?’ I asked.

  ‘What?’ Esther answered and I knew from the hint of shock in her voice that I had hit on something.

  A lump of anxiety instinctively swelled in my throat.

  ‘You know that name?’ I asked.

  ‘I do,’ she said, her brow creased with deep concern. ‘Does this have something to do with Agnes?’ she asked, a question of her own.

  ‘Yes. Someone of that name has been visiting her. Do you know him, Esther?’

  ‘Visiting her?’ she enquired, ignoring my question. ‘What do you mean visiting?’

  I was more worried than ever now. Just what on Earth was going on?

  ‘Esther, you’re scaring me now. I need to know who this Reuben is. And I need to know why you look so bloody scared yourself.’

  Esther fell silent, suddenly reluctant to engage.

  ‘What is it I don’t know? Look, if you think you are protecting her from me, I’m not going to do anything, whoever he is. Whatever’s going on. That’s not what I’m like. Esther-.’

  ‘It hasn’t happen
ed for years,’ Esther finally offered.

  ‘What hasn’t?’

  ‘She hasn’t needed him, not since she was a teenager.’

  I was really confused now.

  ‘She’s known him since she was a teenager? But I’ve never heard of him before.’

  ‘It’s what she called him,’ Esther continued, as if I hadn’t spoken in between. ‘Reuben. That was her name for him.’

  ‘For whom?’ I asked, exasperated by the impounding mysteries.

  And so she told me.

  ‘Her twin. Her dead twin. Our parents never named him, but Agnes did. She called him Reuben.’

  We still departed, Jessie and me. Despite what Esther told me, we still went ahead on our venture into the dense, dark unknown. I was strongly tempted to stay, to at least go home and check on Agnes. Check she was alright. But what would I say to Jessie? I didn’t want to tell him the truth: that Agnes was talking to her dead twin. That Esther thought it might be the start of something worse. She’s been like this before – you can’t help her, Esther insisted. And you can’t tell her I told you. But you can go out there and find her daughter. That will help. That’s what we’d told Esther we were doing – looking for Elinor. And, in a way, I guess we were.

  Reluctantly, I did something I had never done before – I took Esther’s advice and allowed myself to be comforted by a promise from her: I’ll look out for her, okay, and I’ll call in a doctor if I think it’s necessary.

  And so, leaving the fragile one I loved in the hands of her neurotic sister and long-deceased brother, I sailed out into the dark unknown, intending to return within five days. But my absence would be much longer…

  PLAY

  ‘Do you still think of him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And is it like before, when we were children?’