knew she was lying and she didn’t flinch. It was all justified, all necessary. In her mind, she’s a heroine, helping the whole world towards the Lotus Way.’
‘So we give up, do we?’ said Strike. ‘We let Will Edensor rot in there?’
‘I’m not saying that, but—’
Strike’s mobile rang.
‘Hi Pat, what’s up?’
Robin could hear Pat’s gravelly voice, though she couldn’t make out the words.
‘Righto, we’re coming straight back. Five minutes.’
Strike hung up with an odd expression on his face.
‘Well, I’m glad you don’t think we should let Will Edensor rot,’ he told Robin.
‘Why?’
‘Because,’ said Strike, ‘he’s just turned up at the office.’
103
In this hexagram we are reminded of youth and folly… When the spring gushes forth, it does not know at first where it will go. But its steady flow fills up the deep place blocking its progress…
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Robin entered the office first, with Strike just behind her. Will Edensor was sitting on the sofa by Pat’s desk, wearing his blue tracksuit, which was not only filthy, but torn at the knees. He looked even thinner than when Robin had last seen him, although perhaps she’d simply become re-habituated to people who looked decently fed. At Will’s feet sat an old plastic bag that appeared to contain some large, solid object, and on his lap sat little Qing, who was also wearing a blue tracksuit, and eating a chocolate biscuit with an expression of ecstasy on her face.
Will turned scarlet when he saw Robin.
‘Hi Will,’ she said.
Will looked down at the floor. Even his ears were red.
‘That child needs some proper food,’ said Pat, sounding as though this was Strike and Robin’s fault. ‘We’ve only got biscuits.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Strike, pulling out his wallet, ‘could you get us all some pizza, Pat?’
Pat took the notes Strike had handed her, pulled on her coat and left the office. Robin wheeled Pat’s computer chair out from behind the desk to sit down at a short distance from Will and Qing. Strike, conscious of looming over everyone, went to the cupboard to take out one of the folding plastic chairs. Will sat hunchbacked, holding his daughter, blushing furiously, staring at the carpet. Qing, who was munching her biscuit, was easily the most at ease person in the room.
‘It’s great to see you, Will,’ said Robin. ‘Hello, Qing,’ she added, smiling.
‘More!’ said the toddler, stretching out her hands towards the biscuit tin on Pat’s desk.
Robin took out two chocolate fingers and gave them to her. Will remained hunched over, as though in pain, holding Qing around her middle. Strike, who had no idea that the last time Will had seen Robin he’d been naked and masturbating – Robin’s account had left her partner assuming both had been fully clothed when Will had thrown his punch – assumed his embarrassment stemmed from having hit her.
‘How did you get out?’ Robin asked Will, while Qing munched joyfully.
She hadn’t forgotten what Will had done to her in the Retreat Room, but at the moment that was of far less importance to her than the extraordinary fact that he’d left Chapman Farm.
‘Climbed over the wall at the blind spot,’ he muttered. ‘Same as you.’
‘By night?’
‘No, because I had to bring Qing.’
He forced himself to look up at Robin, but was unable to hold her gaze long, and instead addressed the leg of Pat’s desk.
‘I’ve got to find out where Lin is,’ he said, a little desperately.
‘We’re looking for her,’ Robin assured him.
‘Why?’
‘Because,’ said Robin, before Strike could say anything tactless about Lin’s potential usefulness in discrediting the church, ‘we care about her. I was there, remember, when she was miscarrying?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Will. ‘I forgot… they’ve got centres in Birmingham and Glasgow, you know,’ he added.
‘Yes, we know,’ said Robin. ‘But we think she might be in Dr Zhou’s clinic, just outside London.’
‘Has he got a clinic?’ said Will naively. ‘I thought he was just the church’s doctor?’
‘No, he’s a doctor on the outside, too,’ said Robin.
‘Lin doesn’t like him. She won’t like being in his clinic,’ muttered Will.
He glanced up at Robin and back at his own feet.
‘My father hired you, didn’t he?’
Strike and Robin looked at each other. The former, happy for Robin to take the lead, gave a slight shrug.
‘Yes,’ said Robin.
‘You can’t tell him I’m out,’ said Will, with a mixture of desperation and ferocity, looking up at Robin from beneath his eyebrows. ‘All right? If you’re going to tell my father, I’ll leave now. I only came here because I’ve got to find Lin, before I go to jail.’
‘Why d’you say you’re going to jail?’ asked Robin.
‘Because of all the things I’ve done. I don’t want to talk about it. As long as Lin and Qing are OK, I don’t mind, I deserve it. But you can’t tell my father. He’ll have to know once I’ve been arrested, but I won’t have to talk to him then, because I’ll be in custody. Anyway, once I start talking, the Drowned Prophet will probably come for me, so it won’t matter. But Lin’ll be able to get a council flat or something, won’t she? If she’s got a kid? Because I haven’t got any money,’ he added pathetically.
‘I’m sure something will be worked out,’ said Robin.
The glass door opened and Pat re-entered, carrying four boxes of pizza.
‘That was quick,’ said Strike.
‘It’s only up the road, isn’t it?’ said Pat, setting the pizzas down on the desk, ‘and I’ve just rung my granddaughter. She’s got clothes you can have, for the little one,’ she told Will. ‘Her youngest’s just turned three. She’ll bring them over.’
‘Hang on,’ said Strike, momentarily distracted. ‘You’re a—?’
‘Great-grandmother, yeah,’ said Pat, unemotionally. ‘We have ’em young in my family. Best way, when you’ve still got the energy.’
She hung up her bag and coat and went to fetch plates out of the kitchen area. Little Qing, who appeared to be having a fine time, now looked curiously towards the pizza boxes, from which an appetising smell was emanating, but Will’s lips had begun silently moving in what Robin recognised as the familiar chant, ‘Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu.’
‘I just need to have a quick word with Robin,’ Strike said to Will, disconcerted by his silent chanting. ‘You OK here with Pat for a bit?’
Will nodded, his lips still moving. Strike and Robin got up and, with a jerk of his head, Strike indicated to his partner that the landing would be the safest place to talk.
‘He and the kid should stay here,’ said Strike, having closed the glass door behind him. ‘They can have my place, and I’ll put up a camp bed in the office. I don’t think we can put them in a local hotel, it’s too close to Rupert Court, and I think he needs someone with him, in case he starts hallucinating the Drowned Prophet.’
‘OK,’ said Robin quietly, ‘but don’t tell him we’ve got to let Sir Colin know.’
‘Edensor’s the client. We’ve got to tell him.’
‘I know that,’ said Robin, ‘but Will doesn’t have to.’
‘Don’t you think, if we tell him his dad already knows about the kid—?’
‘I don’t think he’s scared of his father knowing about Qing. I think he’s worried Sir Colin will try and stop him going to prison.’
Strike looked down at her, nonplussed.
‘He’s obviously feeling really guilty about whatever he’s done in there, and prison’s just another Chapman Farm, isn’t it?’ said Robin. ‘Far less scary to him than the outside world.’
‘What are all these things, plural, he’s done, that are criminal?’ said Strike.
‘It might just be sleeping with Lin when she was underage,’ said Robin uncertainly. ‘I’m worried about pressing him for details, though, especially with Qing there. He might get upset, or kick off.’
‘You realise this is all down to you, him leaving?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Robin. ‘It’s Lin disappearing that made him do it. He was already having doubts when I turned up.’
‘You pushed his doubts to breaking point. He’s probably left early enough for his daughter not to be completely screwed up, as well. I think you might’ve saved two lives.’
Robin looked up at him.
‘I know why you’re saying this, Stri—’
‘It’s the truth. This is the job, as well as the other thing.’
But Robin drew little comfort from his words. It would take more than the unexpected escape of Will Edensor to erase her mental image of Carrie’s two little girls crying for their mother.
They returned to the office. Both Will and Qing were devouring slices of pizza, Will ravenously, Qing looking as though she was experiencing nirvana.
‘So how did you do it, Will?’ Robin asked, sitting down again. ‘How did you get out?’
Will swallowed a large mouthful of pizza and said,
‘Stole twenty pounds from Mazu’s office. Went to the classroom when Shawna was in charge. Said Qing had to see Dr Zhou. Shawna believed me. Ran across the field. Climbed out at the blind spot, like you did. Flagged down a car. Woman took us to Norwich.’
Robin, who fully appreciated how difficult every single part of this plan would have been to execute, said,
‘That’s incredible. And then you hitched to London?’
‘Yeah,’ said Will.
‘But how on earth did you find our office?’
Will pushed the plastic bag at his feet towards Robin with his toe, rather than dislodge the child on his lap. Robin bent to pick it up and extracted the plastic rock.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘It was you who moved it… but it was empty. There weren’t any letters in it.’
‘I know,’ said Will, his mouth full of pizza, ‘but I worked it out. After what – after the Retreat Room –’ he dropped his gaze to the floor again – ‘I sneaked out at night to see if there was anything on the edge of the woods, because Lin had seen you with the torch, and I thought you must be an investigator. I found the rock and looked inside, and there were imprints on the paper, from what you’d written on the sheets on top, so I could tell I was right, and you’d been writing about what was going on at Chapman Farm. After you left, Vivienne was telling everyone you’d answered to “Robin” in Norwich, and Taio said there was a big guy waiting for you at the blind spot when you escaped. So I looked up “Robin” and “detective” in a library in Norwich – got a lift to London – and—’