‘Fuck,’ was his first word, when she’d finished talking. ‘Robin, if I’d—’
‘It had to be me,’ she said, correctly anticipating what he was about to say. ‘If you’d put Barclay in there, or Shah, they’d never have got as much. You’d have to be a woman to see everything I did.’
‘That box – that’s a fucking torture technique.’
‘It’s a good one,’ said Robin, with a small laugh, now flushed from the brandy.
‘If—’
‘I chose to go in. This isn’t on you. I wanted it.’
‘But—’
‘At least we know, now.’
‘Know what?’
‘The lengths they’re prepared to go to. I can imagine Wace crying as he pressed the trigger of a gun. “I wish I didn’t have to do this.”’
‘You think they killed Kevin Pirbright?’
‘I do, yes.’
Strike decided not to debate the point, tempting though it was. Letting Robin vent was one thing, theorising about murder was a step too far at nearly midnight, when she was pink-cheeked from alcohol but hollow-eyed with exhaustion.
‘You’re sure about sharing the—?’
‘Yez, no problem,’ said Robin, now slurring slightly.
So Strike repaired to the bathroom himself, emerging ten minutes later in boxer shorts and the T-shirt he’d worn all day. Robin appeared to have fallen asleep where she sat.
Strike turned off all the lights and eased himself into bed, trying not to wake her, but when he’d finally settled his full weight onto the mattress, Robin stirred, and groped in the darkness for his hand. Finding it, she squeezed.
‘I knew you were there,’ she murmured drowsily, half-asleep. ‘I knew you were there.’
Strike said nothing, but continued to hold her hand until, five minutes later, she gave a long sigh, released him, and rolled over onto her side.
PART SEVEN
Fu/Return (The Turning Point)
Going out and coming in without error.
Friends come without blame.
To and fro goes the way.
On the seventh day comes return.
It furthers one to have somewhere to go.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
90
Now it is the time of struggle.
The transition must be completed.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Five days after Robin had left Chapman Farm, Strike set out from the office at midday to meet Sir Colin Edensor for a full update on the UHC case. Over Robin’s protestations, Strike had insisted she take a full week off work, because he remained concerned about both her mental and physical health, and was glad to hear that her parents had come down from Yorkshire to stay with her.
Sir Colin, who’d only just returned from a week’s holiday with his eldest son’s family, naturally wanted a full update on Robin’s discoveries without delay. As he was coming into central London for a charity board meeting, he offered Strike lunch at Rules restaurant in Covent Garden. While Strike feared the comfortable glamour of the old restaurant would provide an incongruous backdrop for revelations that were certain to dismay the retired civil servant, he had no objection to being offered a full cooked lunch and therefore accepted. However, he resolved to resist pudding, and chose to walk to Covent Garden from the office, in tribute to his continued commitment to weight loss.
He’d been en route for five minutes, enjoying the sunshine, when his mobile rang and he saw Lucy’s number.
‘Hey,’ he said, answering, ‘what’s up?’
‘I’ve just got back from the specialist, with Ted.’
‘Oh Christ, sorry,’ said Strike, with a familiar gut-twist of guilt. ‘I should’ve called you. It’s been a very busy week. What’s the news?’
‘Well, the specialist was very nice and very thorough,’ said Lucy, ‘but he definitely doesn’t think Ted’s fit to live alone any more.’
‘OK,’ said Strike. ‘Good to know going back to the old house isn’t an option. What was Ted’s reaction? Did he take it all in?’
‘He sort of nodded along while we were there, but he’s literally just told me he thinks he ought to be getting home. I’ve found him packing twice in the last few days, although if you distract him he’s completely happy to come downstairs and watch TV or have something to eat. I just don’t know what to do next.’
‘Is Greg agitating to get him out of the spare room?’
‘Not agitating,’ said Lucy defensively, ‘but we’ve talked it through and I suppose it would be hard having Ted to live with us while we’re both working. Ted would still be alone for most of the day.’
‘Luce, I think it’s got to be a care home in London.’
He expected his sister to start crying, and wasn’t disappointed.
‘But Joan would’ve hated—’
‘What she’d have hated,’ said Strike firmly, ‘would be for Ted to break his neck trying to get down those stairs, or for him to wander off and get lost again because nobody’s keeping an eye on him. If we sell the house in Cornwall, we’ll be able to get him into a good place up here where both of us can visit.’
‘But his roots – Cornwall’s all he’s ever—’
‘It’s not all he’s ever known,’ said Strike. ‘He was a Red Cap for seven years, he went all over the bloody place. I want to know he’s being fed properly, and that someone’s keeping an eye on his health. If he moves up here, we can see him regularly and take him out. It’s a bloody nightmare, him being five and a half hours away, every time something goes wrong. And before you say he’ll miss all his friends, half of them are dead, Luce.’
‘I know, I just…’
‘This is the answer. You know it is.’
He could tell that somewhere beneath Lucy’s distress was relief that he was taking charge, that the decision wasn’t hers alone. After some more reassurance and encouragement, she bade him farewell, sniffing but sounding calmer. This left Strike with a few minutes in which to relegate his own family problems to the back of his mind, and focus on those of the Edensors.
Rules, which Strike had never visited before, lay in Maiden Lane and had an impressive old-world frontage. Upon telling the maître d’ who he was meeting, Strike was shown through the restaurant, of which the walls were bestrewn with antlers, Victorian prints and antique clocks, to a red velvet booth in which Sir Colin, kindly faced as ever, was sitting.
‘Very good of you to meet at my convenience,’ said Sir Colin as they shook hands. He was scanning Strike’s face rather anxiously for some intimation of what he was about to hear.
‘Very grateful for the lunch,’ said Strike, easing himself into the booth. ‘Did you have a good holiday?’
‘Oh, yes, it was wonderful spending some time with the grandchildren,’ said Sir Colin. ‘Constantly thinking how much Sally would have… but anyway…’
A waiter arrived to offer menus and drinks. Both men declined the latter.
‘So, your partner’s out of Chapman Farm?’ said Sir Colin.
‘She is, yes,’ said Strike, ‘and she’s got us a lot of good information. Firstly,’ said Strike, who could see no way of cushioning the worst blow and thought it was best delivered immediately, ‘Will had no idea your wife’s died.’
Sir Colin’s hand went to his mouth.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Strike. ‘I know that must be hard to hear.’
‘But we wrote,’ said Sir Colin shakily, lowering his hand. ‘We wrote multiple times.’
‘Robin found out that church members are pressured to sign a declaration that they don’t want to be given letters from the outside. This seems to be something the church does with people who’ve progressed up a certain number of levels to what they call pure spirit – in other words, people they think they’ve really got their hooks into, and whose isolation they want to cement. From the moment the declaration’s signed, the church withholds all correspondence. It’s supposedly viewable upon request, but from what Robin’s told me, asking to read letters would put a church member in line for immediate demotion to manual labour and possibly punishment.’
Strike fell silent while four rotund men in expensive suits passed the booth, then went on,
‘Someone at the church – probably Mazu Wace, who Robin says is in charge of correspondence – informed Will that you’d written to say his mother was ill. Robin thinks this was probably to cover themselves, in case of legal action from you. She thinks Mazu will have encouraged Will to see this as a ruse to manipulate him, and asked whether he wanted further news. If he’d said “yes”, Robin believes he’d have been punished, possibly severely. In any case, we know no further information about your wife was passed on. When Robin told Will his mother was dead, he was very distressed and went immediately to the church superiors to ask to write to you. I presume you haven’t received any such letter?’
‘No,’ said Sir Colin faintly. ‘Nothing at all.’
‘Well, that’s the last contact with Will Robin had before she escaped, but—’
‘What d’you mean, “escaped”?’
‘She found herself in a dangerous situation and had to run for it, by night.’
A waiter now appeared to take their food order. Strike waited until the man was out of earshot before saying,
‘In slightly better news, Will’s definitely having doubts about the church. Robin witnessed Will challenging a Principal on church doctrine, and Jonathan Wace personally informed Robin that Will keeps getting stuck on step six to pure spirit, which means accepting the church’s teaching, rather than understanding it.’
‘That’s the Will I know,’ said Sir Colin, looking slightly more encouraged.
‘Yeah, that’s obviously good,’ said Strike, wishing he didn’t have to immediately dash any faint hopes he’d raised, ‘but, ah, there’s something else Robin found out, which explains why Will hasn’t followed through on these doubts, and left. I wouldn’t tell you this if we didn’t have very strong reasons for believing it, but he appears to have fathered a child at Chapman Farm.’