The Revelation Room (The Ben Whittle Investigation Series Book 1)

by Mark Tilbury

  Ebb clasped his hands in front of him. ‘I ask you to guide us with your everlasting light, Lord. Guide us as we endeavour to drive Satan from Benjamin’s body.’

  ‘Let me go,’ Ben shouted.

  Ebb opened his eyes and pointed a finger at Ben. ‘By order of the Lord Jesus Christ, I command you to be silent, Satan.’

  Ben shut his mouth. He tried to push up and relieve the unbearable pressure on his shoulders, but his right knee refused to help. It throbbed and pulsed and threatened to collapse.

  Ebb fell to his knees and bowed his head right down to the ground.

  For one crazy moment, Ben thought that God had answered his prayers and struck the bastard down with a heart attack.

  Ebb stayed this way for almost ten minutes, occasionally bobbing his head up and down like a chicken pecking corn. He then climbed to his feet and addressed the three women. ‘Jesus has spoken.’

  ‘Praise Jesus,’ Sister Alice shouted.

  Tears shimmered in Ebb’s bloodshot eyes. ‘Jesus has accepted Benjamin’s confession. Praise Jesus.’

  ‘Praise Jesus,’ the three women agreed.

  ‘But Jesus has told me to be wary. Very wary indeed. The lazy are inclined towards deception. We must leave no stone unturned in Benjamin’s rehabilitation.’

  Ben shut his eyes.

  ‘Are you ready to reject the ways of Satan?’

  Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil, Ben’s mind chanted like a mantra.

  ‘Answer the Father,’ Sister Alice said.

  Ben thought about his dead baby brother. What was his name? Why couldn’t he remember his name? His mother had said there was a star up in the sky named after him. The star of…

  Ebb rambled on: ‘Jesus has told me you are to complete fourteen days hard labour and fourteen days of fasting following the Night of Naked Reconciliation. Do you accept Jesus’s ruling?’

  The name began with D. Darren? David? No. It was a longer name than that. Donovan?

  Ebb stood in front of the cross, the hatpin held out in front of him like a sparkler on Bonfire Night. He heated up the tip of the hatpin with the lighter.

  ‘Dominic,’ Ben shouted, as he remembered his baby brother’s name.

  Ebb nodded. ‘Demonic, indeed, Benjamin.’

  Ben opened his eyes. He looked at the flame heating the end of the pin. ‘What the fuck—’

  ‘It’s time for you to leave, Satan,’ Ebb shouted. ‘Jesus has instructed me to mark you with the sign of the cross.’

  Ben writhed on the cross. ‘No… please… don’t…’

  Ebb ignored him. ‘You will leave Benjamin’s body, Satan. By the order of the Lord Jesus Christ. You are not welcome here.’

  ‘N-n-n-no,’ Ben shouted.

  Ebb scratched the red hot tip of the pin across Ben’s hairless chest. The skin sizzled and scorched as the hot metal burned into the flesh. Ebb then drew the pin down to Ben’s naval.

  Ben screamed and twisted his head from side to side. Spit frothed in the corners of his mouth.

  ‘Jesus suffered for you, Benjamin. He suffered so that a sinner like you might be saved.’

  Ben opened his mouth to scream again, but unconsciousness afforded him temporary respite. His head rolled to one side, resting on his right shoulder.

  Ebb turned to Bubba. ‘You stay with him until I relieve you.’

  Bubba nodded.

  ‘Sister Alice, Sister Dixie? Go to my quarters and release Madeline. See that she’s comfortable and take her down to the Sisters’ Room.’

  ‘Is that wise, Father?’ Alice asked.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Is she purged?’

  Ebb regarded Alice as though she’d just questioned his sanity. ‘Jesus Christ told me to release her.’

  Alice bowed her head. ‘Yes, Father. Sorry, Father.’

  ‘I’ve got urgent business to attend to, so if you’re done with questioning me?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  Ebb turned to Emily. ‘You can sanitise Benjamin’s wounds. Then you are to return to the Sisters’ Room. Do you understand?’

  Emily nodded. ‘Yes, Father.’

  Ebb dipped the tip of the hatpin into the bowl of water and then walked out of the barn into the cool night air.

  Chapter twenty-three

  Ebb panted and wheezed as he reached the top of the fifty-foot tower. Either those steps were getting longer, or he was getting shorter. As soon as the weather cooled down he would embark on an exercise programme designed to offload weight. Not that he was fat. Not in relation to some of the gluttonous lard-arses waddling up and down the High Street with the contents of Pizza Hut jiggling in their jogging bottoms. If he had his way, he would send them all out to Africa and introduce them to starvation. The Lord had profound rules regarding gluttony.

  Ebb blamed his propensity towards carrying a few extra pounds on a faulty gene inherited from the father he’d never known. It certainly hadn’t come from his stick insect of a mother.

  Marcus lurched around the corner. He grinned at Ebb. ‘Father? What brings you up here?’

  Ebb scowled and stared down the barrel of the rifle. ‘Will you point that blessed thing in another direction?’

  Marcus lowered the gun. ‘Sorry, Father.’

  Ebb took a deep breath. ‘We’ve got problems.’

  ‘Problems?’

  Ebb was sorely tempted to poke him in the eye. Why did he always have to respond to a question with a question? Apart from being infuriating, it was damned well rude. ‘Yes, problems. You know, puzzle, puzzle, riddle, riddle?’

  ‘Yes, Father. Sorry, Father. Is it the new recruits?’

  ‘This isn’t the army, Brother Marcus.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘And stop saying “sorry”. It’s tiresome. It makes me believe you’re hiding something.’

  ‘I’m not hiding anything, Father.’

  ‘The guilty flee where none pursues. Perhaps you’ve been having a toke on the wacky-baccy?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘I hope not. Polluting your brain with that smog might prove a dangerous pastime, Pixie-pea. It’s a long way to fall from the tower, don’t you think?’

  Marcus looked at the sheer fifty-foot drop. ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘There used to be a lock keeper at Briers lock. Len Bunyan. Big Lenny, they called him. Big buffoon, more like. Anyway, he was partial to a drink. So partial he ended up falling into the lock and drowning. Do you see the point I’m trying to make here?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  Ebb moved from water to flames. ‘If you play with fire, you get burned.’

  Marcus looked at him with those I’m-up-to-something eyes. ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘And we all know what happens to bad bunnies. But I haven’t climbed all the way up here to lecture you on the dangers of drug abuse. Suffice to say that a fool and his brain are soon parted.’

  Brother Marcus cocked his head to one side like a dog trying to comprehend a mathematical equation. ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘It’s Brother Tweezer.’

  ‘Brother Tweezer? What about him?’

  Ebb regretted his decision not to eat a Mars Bar before climbing the tower. Vanity had prevailed over good sense. His sugar levels were low. Dangerously low. ‘He tried to rape Madeline.’

  ‘Tweezer? Are you sure?’

  Ebb resisted an urge to stab the hatpin in Marcus’s eye. ‘Of course I’m bloody well sure. Do you think I’m in the habit of spreading malicious rumours?’

  Marcus took a step back. ‘No, Father. It’s just a shock, that’s all.’

  ‘He defied me.’

  ‘I can’t believe he would go against you, Father.’

  ‘Well he did. Fact. End of discussion.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Whilst I was attending Benjamin’s inauguration. He tried to force himself upon her.’

  ‘I can’t get my head around this.’

  ‘Do you doubt me?’

  ‘
No, Father.’

  ‘You’re not harbouring any ambition to be the Doubting Thomas of The Sons and Daughters of Salvation?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  Ebb felt faint. He gripped the guardrail. The sooner he got back down onto more secure ground, the better. He’d never liked heights. He couldn’t wait to get back to his quarters where a nice big family-sized slab of Dairy Milk was waiting for him in the fridge.

  ‘Did he rape the girl, Father?’

  ‘No. Madeline kicked him in the face and rendered him unconscious.’

  ‘So no real harm—’

  Ebb held up his free hand and resisted an urge to do some real harm. ‘He shouldn’t have been there. Period. I sent him to put Max in the kennel and fetch a blowtorch. I didn’t tell him to go up to my private quarters and rape the girl. He knows that he’s not allowed up there under any circumstances. No one is.’

  ‘Satan might have used the girl to lure Brother Tweezer to your quarters.’

  Ebb took several deep breaths and tried to clear his head. ‘I thought so at first. But Jesus came to me in the barn and told me the girl is blameless. I’m afraid the Devil is inside Brother Tweezer.’

  Marcus looked away.

  ‘Do you doubt me, Thomas?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘Do you wish to undermine my authority?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘Or perhaps you believe I’ve climbed all the way up here to tell you bedtime stories?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to join Brother Tweezer down the rabbit hole?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘It can easily be arranged. Benjamin and Bubba can replace both you and that useless article, Tweezer.’

  ‘No, Father. I’m sorry. I just thought Satan might be playing games with you.’

  Ebb smiled. ‘Do you think the Devil is capable of playing games with me?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘Perhaps all that wacky-baccy has addled your brain and denied you the ability to think?’

  ‘No, Father. From what you say, the Devil certainly seems to have got inside Brother Tweezer.’

  ‘Satan’s gained complete control of his mind.’

  ‘What are we going to do, Father?’

  ‘What can we do? Sometimes the only thing to do when a building is overrun by the enemy is destroy the building.’

  ‘Kill him?’

  ‘It’s the only course of action open to us. May the Lord have mercy upon his soul.’

  ‘Tweezer’s been a good and loyal servant. I shall pray for his spirit.’

  With Satan running amok, Ebb thought it prudent to pay close attention to Brother Marcus as well. ‘We must all pray for our dear lost soul.’

  ‘He served you well, Father.’

  Ebb gripped the guardrail. ‘Not well enough, Pixie-pea. But I won’t be fooled again.’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘Whichever way the wind blows, I shall not bend. However much the tide turns, I shall not drown. However much the earth moves, I shall stand resolute. Unfaltering. A monument to all that is sacred. Do you understand me, Brother Marcus?’

  Marcus did. His head bobbed up and down like a lifebuoy in rough weather.

  ‘I want you to come down from the tower, Brother Marcus. I want the farm put into lockdown until we’ve dealt with Brother Tweezer.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘Carry out your duties with competence and diligence and you might well replace Brother Tweezer.’

  ‘Me, Father?’

  ‘No. I’m talking to that parrot perched on your shoulder!’

  Marcus glanced at his right shoulder, and then looked back at Ebb with those shifty, glazed eyes. ‘Thank you, Father.’

  Ebb didn’t think Marcus looked very grateful. He looked more like a kid who’d just swallowed a dose of bad medicine.

  ‘Do we have to kill Tweezer? Can’t we try and drive Satan out of him first?’

  Ebb fought a compelling urge to hurl Marcus from the tower. ‘He is beyond salvation, Brother Marcus. I’m afraid he must shame the shovel.’

  Chapter twenty-four

  Ben’s hands throbbed, sending shock-waves up into his arms. His shoulders and legs were white sheets of pain. He watched Ebb and Marcus walk into the barn. Marcus was carrying a rifle. Thankfully, it was pointing at the ground. The two men stopped in front of the cross.

  Ebb looked up at Ben. ‘How are you holding up, Benjamin?’

  For one wild moment, he considered telling Ebb to fuck off and bury his head in a hole. Then he looked at the rifle. ‘How do you think?’

  Ebb smiled. ‘Has Brother Bubba been looking after you?’

  Ben almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. He’d tried several times to engage Bubba in conversation, but Bubba had ignored him. Either the big man was as dedicated to the worthless cause as the rest of them, or too scared to act against them.

  Ebb pursed his lips. ‘I trust you are purged of all sin?’

  Ben nodded. Arrows dipped in napalm pierced the back of his head.

  Ebb turned to Marcus. ‘What do you reckon? Is he purged?’

  ‘I don’t know, Father. He looks unwell.’

  Ebb turned to Bubba. ‘What about you? Do you think the Devil has left our friend?’

  Bubba nodded and grunted. He didn’t make eye contact with Ebb.

  Ebb smiled. ‘It might be safe to assume that you are purged, Benjamin.’ He turned to Marcus. ‘Give me the rifle.’

  Ben’s stomach flipped a coin. ‘Please don’t shoot me.’

  Ebb took the gun. He told Bubba and Marcus to take down the cross and lower it to the floor.

  Bubba took a screwdriver from his overalls and unscrewed the crossbeam from the barn’s wooden frame. Marcus and Bubba then carried the cross to the middle of the barn and lowered it to the floor.

  The blood drained from Ben’s head. Three Bubbas and two Marcuses loomed above him. Two of the Bubbas pirouetted like ballerinas. ‘I feel sick.’

  Ebb grinned at him. ‘You just need time to adjust.’

  Ben looked away as Ebb’s eyes left his face and orbited his bald head.

  ‘Untie the restraints, Bubba,’ Ebb instructed.

  Ebb’s voice sounded as if it was soaked in grease. Ben felt pressure on his legs. It was as if Bubba was trying to bore a hole through his shin. But which Bubba? Bubba the mute or Bubba the ballerina?

  ‘He’ll need time to get his bearings,’ Marcus said.

  The pressure on Ben’s legs intensified. He tried to call out and tell Bubba to be careful, but the words stuck in his throat like Post-it Notes. He closed his eyes.

  Ebb told Marcus to go back to the house and tell Sister Alice to put the girls in lockdown. Ben watched the words float around inside his head. White letters in a black alphabet soup. The letters spelled out something, something important. Ben tried to focus on them. Tried to string those letters together.

  Ebb prodded Ben with his foot. ‘Are you still with us?’

  The letters formed a word in Ben’s head: S – T – U – T – T – E –R – B – U – C –K.

  ‘He’s flaked out, Father.’

  ‘I thought I told you to go to the house and tell Sister Alice to put the girls in lockdown?’

  ‘Yes, Father. Sorry, Father.’

  Ben watched the letters sink down into that oily soup. Deeper and deeper. The black soup was good once you got right down into it. A little scary at first, but once you took the plunge, it was as fine as an oil slick in a soup bowl could ever be.

  Ebb kicked Ben’s right hip. ‘Benjamin?’

  Ben swam deeper and deeper into the black ocean. It somehow seemed safer down there.

  Ebb looked at him for a good while before turning to Bubba. ‘Carry him back inside.’

  Bubba nodded.

  Ebb grinned. ‘That’s what I like about you, Bubba. You speak your mind.’

  Bubba took a key from his overalls and unlocked the h
andcuffs.

  ‘Take him to the Brothers’ Room and keep an eye on him. He’s allowed water, but no food. He’ll be fasting for the next fourteen days. Do you understand?’

  Bubba nodded.

  Ebb slapped the stock of the rifle. ‘Come on, then. Chop, chop. There’s a million things to do before first light.’

  ***

  The black ocean was choppy. Ben bobbed up and down in the water. Bile bubbled in his stomach and leaked into his throat. He could see shafts of light above him where the sun pierced the surface of the black water. He tried to swim, propel himself up through the water to reach the surface, but his limbs refused to move in the thick syrupy liquid.

  Ben could see the hull of a ship just beneath the surface. No, not a ship. It was way too small. A rowing boat. And Old Joe rowed that boat for all he was worth. Ben smiled. The smile peeled itself like a banana. Old Joe rowing a boat: that was just a joke to end all jokes. Old Joe, with one eye looking east, the other as blind as faith, paddling around in circles like a dog chasing its tail.

  Three letters from the alphabet soup floated past him, rising to the surface. S – B – C. Ben tried to work out the significance of the three letters. An acronym? An invitation to play scrabble?

  ‘Hey, whatcha doing down there?’ Old Joe said from above him in the rowboat.

  Ben tried to shout to Old Joe, tell him to throw down a lifeline, but the words formed into white bubbles in the black liquid and popped. Poof. Just like that. Like a dream he’d never had.

  ‘I’ll fetch you some water,’ Old Joe said.

  Ben looked about him and wondered why Old Joe would fetch him water when he was surrounded by the stuff. Swimming in it, you might say.

  High above him, the Stutter-buck of a motor stammered into life. Light shafted through the black inky water. ‘Benjamin?’

  Ben tried to swim. Tried so hard to force those dead-end limbs to move. The light grew stronger, the sound of the motor louder. Something touched his lips. Something wet and cold. How was that possible? He looked up and followed the shaft of light to the surface.

  ‘Benjamin?’

  The rowboat vanished. The ocean vanished. Old Joe vanished. Ben looked up into Marcus’s grinning face. Marcus held a green plastic beaker of water in one hand. The rifle was slung over his shoulder and held in place with a frayed leather strap. ‘Sit up and you can have a drink.’