To his consternation, he then realised Tasha was crying. His heart sank: he seemed to have had to deal with an endless train of crying people lately.
‘Look,’ she sobbed, ‘I can’t afford you and private security, and I like her, she makes me feel safe, and I’d rather have someone around I can have a laugh with—’
‘All right, all right,’ said Strike. ‘I’ll put Midge back on the job.’
Little though Strike liked what he thought of as mission creep, he couldn’t pretend it was unreasonable of Mayo to want a bodyguard.
‘Take care of yourself,’ he finished lamely, and Tasha rang off.
Having contacted a frosty Midge to give her the news, Strike continued driving.
Twenty minutes later, Shah called.
‘Have you got her?’ said Strike, smiling in anticipation of hearing Robin’s voice.
‘No,’ said Shah. ‘She didn’t turn up and the rock’s gone.’
For the second time in two weeks, Strike felt as though dry ice had slid down through his guts.
‘What?’
‘The plastic rock’s gone. No sign of it.’
‘Fuck. Stay there. I’m on the M4. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’
81
The upper trigram K’an stands for the Abysmal, the dangerous. Its motion is downward…
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Three nights of vigil had now been held on the temple steps, making it impossible for Robin to leave her bed. On Wednesday, teenaged boys in long white robes had replaced the girls, and on Thursday night, the church Principals took up their positions at the temple entrance, the flickering flames of their torches illuminating the painted faces of Jonathan and Mazu Wace, Becca Pirbright, Taio Wace, Giles Harmon, Noli Seymour and others, all of them wearing black smeared around their eyes. Daiyu had appeared twice more by night, her luminous figure visible from afar from the rear windows of the dormitories.
The ghost, the watchful figures on the temple steps, the constant dread, the impossibility of escaping or calling for help: all made Robin feel as though she was inhabiting a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake. Nobody had confronted her about her real identity, nobody had spoken to her about what had happened in the Retreat Room with Will or challenged her explanation of why her face was swollen and bruised, and she found all of this ominous rather than reassuring. She felt certain that a reckoning was coming at a time of the church’s choosing, and afraid that the Manifestation would be the moment it happened. The Drowned Prophet will sort you out.
She saw Will from a distance, moving blank-faced about his daily tasks, and occasionally she saw his lips moving silently, and knew he was chanting. Once, she spotted him sitting on his haunches to talk to little Qing, before hurrying away as Mazu swept through the courtyard, cradling baby Yixin in her arms. Robin was still being accompanied everywhere she went.
The day of the Manifestation was marked by a fast for all church members, who were once again served hot water with lemon for breakfast. The church Principals, who were presumably catching up on their sleep in the farmhouse after their overnight vigil, remained out of sight. Exhausted, hungry and scared, Robin fed chickens, cleaned the dormitories and spent a few hours in the craft room, stuffing more plush turtles for sale in Norwich. She kept remembering her blithe request of an extra day’s grace from Strike, should she be late putting a letter in the plastic rock. Had she not overruled him, someone from the agency would be coming to get her the following day, although she now knew enough about Chapman Farm to be certain anyone who tried to gain entry at the front gate would be turned away.
If I get through the Manifestation, she thought, I’ll get out tomorrow night. Then she tried to mock herself for thinking she might not get through the Manifestation. What d’you think’s going to happen, ritual sacrifice?
After an evening meal of more hot water with lemon, all church members over the age of thirteen were instructed to return to their dormitories and put on the outfits laid out for them on their beds. These proved to be long white robes made of worn and much-washed cotton that might once have been old bed sheets. The loss of her tracksuit made Robin feel still more vulnerable. The now-robed women talked in hushed voices, waiting to be summoned to the temple. Robin spoke to nobody, wishing she could somehow psychically summon those who cared about her in the outside world.
When the sun had at last fallen, Becca Pirbright reappeared in the women’s dormitory, also wearing robes, though hers, like Mazu’s, were made of silk, and beaded.
‘Everyone, take off your shoes,’ Becca instructed the waiting women. ‘You’ll walk barefoot, as the Prophet walked into the sea, in pairs across the courtyard, in silence. The temple will be dark. Assistants will guide you to your places.’
They lined up obediently. Robin found herself walking next to Penny Brown, whose once-round face was now hollow and anxious. They crossed the courtyard beneath a clear, starry sky, chilly in their thin cotton robes and bare feet, and two by two entered the temple, which was indeed pitch black.
Robin felt a hand take her by the arm and was led, she assumed, past the pentagonal stage, then pushed down into a kneeling position on the floor. She no longer knew who was beside her, although she could hear rustling and breathing, nor did she know how those assisting people to their places were able to see what they were doing.
After a while, the temple doors closed with a bang. Then Jonathan Wace’s voice spoke through the darkness.
‘Together: Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu… Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu… ’
The members took up the chant. The darkness seemed to intensify the rumble and rhythm of the words, but Robin, who’d once felt relief in dissolving her voice into the mass, experienced neither euphoria nor relief; fear continued to burn like a coal lodged beneath her diaphragm.
‘… and finish,’ called Wace.
Silence fell again. Then Wace spoke:
‘Daiyu, beloved Prophet, speaker of truths, bringer of justice, come to us now in holiness. Bless us with your presence. Light the way for us, that we may see clearly into the next world.’
There was another silence in which nobody stirred. Then, clearly and loudly, came a small girl’s giggle.
‘Hello, Papa.’
Robin, who’d been kneeling with her eyes tight shut, opened them. All was dark: there was no sign of Daiyu.
‘Will you manifest for us, my child?’ said Wace’s voice.
Another pause. Then –
‘Papa, I’m afraid.’
‘You’re afraid, my child?’ said Wace. ‘You? The bravest of us, and the best?’
‘Things are wrong, Papa. Bad people have come.’
‘We know there is wickedness in the world, little one. That’s why we fight.’
‘Inside and outside,’ said the child’s voice. ‘Fight inside and outside.’
‘What does that mean, Daiyu?’
‘Clever Papa knows.’
Another silence.
‘Daiyu, do you speak of malign influences within our church?’
There was no answer.
‘Daiyu, help me. What does it mean, to fight inside and out?’
The childish voice began to wail in distress, its cries and sobs echoing off the temple walls.
‘Daiyu! Daiyu, Blessed One, don’t cry!’ said Wace, with the familiar catch in his voice. ‘Little one, I will fight for you!’
The sobs quietened. Silence fell again.
‘Come to us, Daiyu,’ said Wace, pleading now. ‘Show us you live. Help us root out evil, inside and out.’
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then a very faint glow appeared a few feet off the floor in front of Robin, and she realised she was kneeling in the front row of the crowd surrounding the pentagonal baptismal pool, from which the greenish light was emanating.
Now the glowing water rose upwards in the smooth shape of a bell jar, and revolving slowly inside it was the figure of a limp, eyeless child in a white dress.
There were several screams: Robin heard a girl shout, ‘No, no, no!’
The water was sinking again, and with it, the dreadful figure, and after a few seconds the greenish water was flat again, though glowing brighter still, so that the figures of Jonathan and Mazu, who were standing on the edge of the pool in their long white robes, were illuminated from beneath.
Now Mazu spoke.
‘I, who birthed the Drowned Prophet, have dedicated my life to honouring her sacrifice. When she left this world to join the Blessed Divinity, she conferred gifts upon those of us destined to carry on the fight against evil on earth. I have been granted the gift of divine sight by the grace of my daughter, and her Manifestation confirms me in my duty. There are those among us whom Daiyu will test tonight. They have nothing to fear if their hearts, like hers, are pure…
‘I call to the pool Rowena Ellis.’
Gasps and whispers issued from among the kneeling crowd. Robin had known it was going to happen, but nevertheless, her legs could barely support her weight as she got to her feet and walked forwards.
‘You entered the pool once before, Rowena,’ said Mazu, looking down at her. ‘Tonight, you join Daiyu in these holy waters. May she give you her blessing.’
Robin climbed up the steps to stand on the edge of the illuminated pool. Looking down, she could see nothing in it except the dark bottom. Knowing that resistance or refusal would be taken as infallible signs of guilt, she stepped over the edge and allowed herself to drop down under the surface of the cold water.
The light in the water dimmed. Robin expected her feet to touch the bottom, but they met no resistance: the bottom of the pool had disappeared. She tried to swim for the surface but then, to her terror, felt something like smooth cord twist around her ankles. In panic she fought, trying to kick herself free, but whatever had hold of her dragged her downwards. In darkness she flailed and kicked, trying to rise, but whatever was