The Revelation Room (The Ben Whittle Investigation Series Book 1) (6 page)

Tom laughed. ‘If the cap fits.’

‘Much better than your trilby.’

Tom’s smile slipped away. ‘Seriously, guys, first sign of
any trouble, and you get out of there. Run naked if you have to.’

‘Across hot coals,’ Maddie promised.

Tom looked at them both in turn. ‘Be vigilant. Be careful.’

‘We don’t know if we’ve been accepted yet. He might say no,’
Ben said.

Maddie shook her head. ‘He won’t.’

A big part of Ben wished that Marcus would say no. That way,
no one could ever accuse him of not trying.

‘I shall pray for you both tonight,’ Tom promised. He looked
at Ben. ‘And I shall pray for your father.’

Ben thought his father might already be with Pastor Tom’s
God, eating roast beef and mashed potatoes, or whatever it was they dined on in
Heaven.  

Tom pursed his lips. ‘Go to your mother, Ben. Tell her
what’s happening. And try to reassure her as best you can that everything will
all work out?’

Ben thought it would be easier to reassure a polar bear that
the ice cap was still in good shape. ‘I’ll try.’

Edward Ebb looked at the Infiltrator
and shook his head. The Infiltrator didn’t look in good shape, which wasn’t any
wonder seeing as Brother Tweezer had shot him out of a tree overlooking the
courtyard. The Infiltrator had sustained a broken wrist and a broken leg to go
with the bullet wound in his left shoulder. He kept whinging and whining that
he’d broken his spine, but Ebb doubted the validity of the claim. He’d kicked
and thrashed well enough when Ebb had poked a hot needle into the wound in his
shoulder.

Ebb conceded the infiltrator may well have suffered internal
injuries as well, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t a doctor. It was of no
consequence. But he needed to tread carefully because Satan was at his most
potent when lying dormant. 

The Infiltrator looked in a pitiful state tied to a chair in
the Revelation Room. Lumps of congealed vomit lodged in his beard. His bald
head gleamed with sweat beneath the overhead lights.

Ebb unscrewed the cap of a bottle of Evian spring water.
‘Are you thirsty?’

The Infiltrator croaked something unintelligible.

‘What’s the matter? Afraid it might be holy water?’

The Infiltrator shook his head.

‘Who are you?’

He looked at Ebb with devious eyes. Full of pity. Full of
deceit. Full of hate. ‘I’m… a… bird-watcher…’

Ebb laughed. ‘A bird-watcher, huh? So how come you had a
long-range camera in the tree with you?’

‘I was—’

‘We’ve had the film developed. Guess what?’

His nose started to bleed again. ‘I don’t fucking know.’

Ebb resisted an urge to poke out an eye. ‘There wasn’t one
picture of a bird on that film. Not one. But there were plenty of pictures of
my courtyard.’

‘I—’

‘Who sent you? Did a demon send you to spy on me?’

‘No.’ The word came out in a bubble of blood.

‘Would you like a drink?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then tell me who sent you?’

‘No one. I—’

Ebb turned the bottle upside down and tipped half the
contents onto the dusty concrete floor. He then righted the bottle and took a
swig. He wiped his mouth. ‘That’s so good. Nice and cold. Straight from the
fridge.’

The Infiltrator licked his cracked lips with a lizard
tongue.

Ebb screwed the cap back on the bottle. ‘I’ll let you have
some if you tell me who you are.’

The Infiltrator’s eyes narrowed. He looked like a fox with
the scent of chicken in its snout.

Don’t trust him, Pixie-pea.

Ebb jumped. He turned around to face three skeletons secured
to wooden crosses on the far wall. The middle skeleton had a pink wig lodged on
its skull and sunglasses covering its eye sockets. Ebb addressed it cautiously.
‘Don’t you worry about that. I’ve got his cards marked.’

Never trust a man with a beard, Pixie-pea.

Ebb gawked at the skeleton. ‘Leave me alone. I’m busy.’

The skeleton seemed to grin at him, but that had to be a
trick of the light. Skeletons didn’t grin. A one-eyed cat could tell you that
much. He turned back to face the Infiltrator. ‘Tell me who you are and I’ll let
you have a drink.’

‘A…bird-watcher…’

Ebb threw the bottle at him. It bounced off his forehead and
landed on the floor next to his chair. The Infiltrator attempted to escape the
ropes securing him to the chair. He wriggled like a maggot on a fishhook. At
one point, he almost tipped himself over.

‘Sit still. I shan’t pick you up if you upend yourself.’

He stopped writhing and stared at Ebb with those deceitful
eyes. ‘Please. I’m… in… agony.’

Ebb snorted. ‘And I’m a busy man. All
you
need to do
is tell me who you are and who sent you, and this will be over and done with.’

Done and dusted, Pixie-pea.

Ebb ignored the voice. ‘Wouldn’t you like that?’

‘Yes.’

Ebb noticed that two of his front teeth were missing. ‘How
would you like Sister Alice to splint that leg and wash your wounds?’

The Infiltrator nodded and snorkelled blood and snot back up
his nose.

‘So tell me who you are?’

The Infiltrator exercised his right to remain silent.

Ebb reached into the pocket of his white ceremonial robe and
pulled out a small glass vial. He held it up in front of his quarry. ‘Do you
know what this is?’

‘No.’

‘It’s holy water. Do you know what holy water is?’

‘Yes.’

Ebb smiled. ‘Good. So you’ll understand it burns the skin of
evildoers?’

The Infiltrator’s eyes widened. They looked to Ebb as if
they were making a grand effort to launch from their sockets and fly to the
moon. And well they might. If he was connected to a demon, he was in for a
tough time. A very tough time indeed.

‘Please…don’t…do…this…’

Ebb uncapped the bottle. There was a tiny dropper attached
to the lid. He drew some of the liquid into the dropper and stepped closer to his
adversary. Close enough to smell his rank body. The stench of bodily waste was
almost too much to bear. God alone knew what diseases the Infiltrator
harboured.

The Infiltrator wheezed and rasped like a knackered engine
trying to whirr into life. ‘Geoff…my name’s…Geoff…’

Ebb stepped back and studied the weasel’s face for signs of
deception. ‘Geoff? Geoff who?’

The Infiltrator sucked in air through clenched teeth. He
gasped five or six times, as if he were about to deliver a baby demon, and then
shook his head.

Ebb took a deep breath and tried to summon patience. It was
wearing as thin as the Infiltrator’s hair. ‘Geoff who?’  

The Infiltrator looked away.

The demon was toying with him. Teasing him. Trying to
provoke him. Ebb refused to rise to it. ‘I don’t particularly care what your
name is. I want you to tell me who sent you.’

He scraped his tongue over dry lips. ‘I’m a bird-watcher.’

Ebb shook his head. ‘Liar! Did Satan send you?’

‘No.’

‘Does Satan reside in you?’

A long drawn out wheeze, and then, ‘No.’

Ebb smiled. ‘I expect nothing other than denial from a
terrorist.’

The Infiltrator’s eyes rolled back in his head. Further
indication to Ebb that he was harbouring a demon. ‘I’m not—’

Ebb raised a hand and stepped back. ‘I fear no evil. I shall
not stand in the shadow of evil. I am the light, and I am the resurrection.’

‘I’m…Geoff.’

The words sounded like they’d been raked over hot coals. The
hot coals of Hell. ‘Show yourself, Satan.’

‘I’m…not…Satan….’

Ebb smiled. ‘Denial is always the first port of call for
Satan’s seafarers.’ He stepped forward again and held out the dropper. ‘The
holy water shall determine your validity.’

The Infiltrator stared at him with those treacherous eyes.

‘Do you fear the holy water, Satan?’

Satan did. It was written it in a thousand lines upon the
Infiltrator’s face. And well he might fear the holy water. Just as he’d been
right to fear the hot needle that Ebb had thrust into his wounded shoulder.
Like all cowards, Satan was not as good at taking pain as he was at dishing it
out.

Ropes pinned The Infiltrator’s hands to his sides. Tweezer
had secured him well. Tweezer seemed to enjoy tying people up, especially
people who had betrayed The Sons and Daughters of Salvation. Ebb dripped a few
drops of holy water onto the Infiltrator’s right hand.

The coward did not stand on ceremony. He bucked and writhed
and tipped himself sideways onto the cold concrete floor. His head hit the
ground with a nasty thud, reminiscent of when Ebb had hit his mother over the
head with a shovel many years ago.

‘Come forth, Satan. Come forth and show yourself.’

Satan seemed content thrashing about on the floor inside the
Infiltrator’s body. Ebb had intended to drop acid onto the weasel’s other hand,
but he didn’t want to risk his own safety by getting too close. A wounded
animal was a dangerous animal.

‘Come forth, Satan. Come into the light and face the truth.’

Satan’s rage frothed and bubbled on the Infiltrator’s lips.
Ebb wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see ectoplasm forming a cocoon
around that filthy, matted beard. He stepped back to a safer distance and screwed
the cap back onto the bottle.

‘I shall send Sister Alice and Brother Tweezer to attend to
you later.’

The Infiltrator didn’t look very grateful. He wriggled and
moaned and scraped his head on the rough concrete floor as if trying to burrow
his way out of the Revelation Room.

Ebb was in no mood to pander to whims. He left the
Infiltrator to bask in self-pity and walked out of the Revelation Room. He
locked the door behind him and rested his back against it. As soon as he
understood Satan’s purpose here, the Infiltrator could go straight to Hell
courtesy of death by a thousand cuts.

Anne Whittle looked at her son as if
he’d just told her he was about to fly to the moon on a broomstick. ‘And what
if it all goes wrong?’

‘It won’t.’

‘I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’

Ben tried to summon conviction. ‘I’ll be all right. I
promise.’

‘And what am I supposed to do while you’re away? Sit here
and worry myself into an early grave?’

‘Tom said you can help out at the church.’

‘Church?’ Anne sounded like a child learning words for the
first time.

‘They need help with the garden.’

 ‘I thought Maddie was staying with me.’

‘Maddie’s coming with me.’

‘Why?’

Ben took a deep breath. ‘Because we’ve got a much better chance
of getting inside this cult if we’re together.’

‘Why?’

‘She’s better than me at convincing people.’

‘We should just call the police.’

‘We can’t, Mum. We don’t even know where the cult is, do
we?’

‘Let them find him. That’s what they’re paid to do, isn’t
it?’

‘We don’t have enough time.’

Anne picked at her bottom lip with a shaking hand. ‘How long
will you be gone?’

Ben stared at his mother. With her bobbed hair and big brown
eyes, she put him in mind of a spaniel. How on earth was he supposed to give
her a timeframe? ‘Not long.’

She reached into her pocket and held out a tiny gold locket
on a gold chain. ‘This is for you.’

Ben took the locket and frowned. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s your brother’s.’

The wiring in Ben’s brain short-circuited. ‘I haven’t got a
brother.’

‘You have. He died.’

Ben’s eyes widened. ‘When?’

‘Almost two years before you were born.’

Ben took a step back. ‘You’ve never said.’

Anne didn’t answer. Tears turned her eyes to smoked glass.

‘I had a brother, and you didn’t think to tell me?’

‘Your father didn’t want to talk about it.’

Ben was about to say something he might later regret about
his father, and then: ‘How did he die?’

‘We don’t know.’

Ben laughed. A nasty, nasal sound that was a distant cousin
to a snort. ‘What do you mean, you “don’t know”?’

‘He died in the womb when he was six months old. But I still
had to give birth to him. He was still your brother. We called him Dominic.
There’s a plaque in the cemetery.’

Ben leaned against the kitchen worktop for support. ‘I can’t
believe you never told me.’

‘I’m telling you now, aren’t I?’ Anne shouted. ‘I’m telling
you so you understand how precious you are to me. What a miracle you are. I had
a massive haemorrhage, Ben. They told me not to have any more children. But I
wanted to. I wanted to give your father a child. I wanted to give Dominic a
little brother or sister. I wanted to show them all I wouldn’t be beaten.’

Ben took a deep breath. ‘Jesus Christ.’

Anne bit her lip. ‘So you take that locket and remember just
how precious you are. I know what people think of me. I know what they say.
They look at me and think I haven’t got a thought in my head. But I have. I’ve
got just as many thoughts in my head as anyone else.’

‘No one thinks that, Mum.’

‘Yes, they do. But do you know what? None of them
know
me.
Your father included. He thinks he does. Thinks he knows me upside down and
back to front. But I don’t let him in here.’ Anne tapped the side of her head.

What was he supposed to say? Hey, Mum, good job on keeping
that a secret all these years?

‘I know your father’s never treated you right. Ordering you
around as soon as you could walk. Making you nervous. So I won’t make excuses
for him not wanting to talk about what happened to Dominic. It’s just the way
he is. He keeps it all in. Puts on this great big brave face and hides his
feelings behind that big bushy beard.’

Ben laughed. ‘He didn’t hide his feelings if I did something
wrong.’

‘I know.’

‘He didn’t hide his feelings when he used to make me stand
outside for half the night if I messed up.’

 ‘He was just trying to teach you—’

Ben snorted. ‘Teach me? Teach me what? How to freeze?’

‘How to be a good boy.’

Ben looked away. ‘I wet my pants once when he shouted at
me.’

Anne looked shocked. ‘When?’

‘One Christmas Eve when he caught me sneaking a look at my
presents under the tree. You went to bed early with a headache. He took me out
to the shed and told me that all my presents were going to the children’s home.
And then he told me I had to stay in the shed all night because Santa’s evil
twin was going to come and punish me.’

Anne shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry, Ben. I didn’t know.’

Ben bit his lip. ‘I was scared of him. I reckon he was the
reason I stuttered.’

Anne didn’t answer. She looked out of the kitchen window for
a few moments before speaking. ‘He does love you.’

‘He has a funny way of showing it.’

‘I remember when I brought you home from the hospital. He
was so proud. He walked around with you in his arms, talking to you like you
were all grown-up.’

‘As if I’d have understood that.’

Anne didn’t seem to hear him. ‘He took you out in the garden
one night, all wrapped up in a blanket. It was black as coal, and there were
lots of stars in the sky. He pointed up at the brightest star and told you it
was called the Star of Dominic. He said the Star of Dominic would always be up
there, shining bright and looking over you, protecting you. He said that the
Star of Dominic was your guiding light, and that no matter where you went, if
you ever got lost the Star of Dominic would show you the way home.’

‘Obviously I can’t remember that.’

‘You were such a beautiful baby. You never cried. You slept
through the night most nights. Sometimes I used to take you out of the crib at
night just to hold you in my arms. Babies have such a lovely smell, Ben.’

‘Yeah. Like dirty nappies and puke.’

Anne ignored him. ‘It’s like love and talcum powder. Can you
imagine that? Love and talcum powder?’

Ben shook his head.

‘You will one day. When you have children of your own. I
used to sit with you for hours in the rocking chair, just rocking back and
forth and watching you as you slept. Do you remember the rocking chair?’

Ben didn’t.

‘It went to a charity shop when you were about nine or ten.
Your father said it was taking up too much room when we got the new bedroom
furniture. I wish I’d kept it now.’

‘Then you should have.’

Anne nodded. ‘Yes, I should. Your Nana used to sit in that
chair with me when I was little.’

‘I’ll have to go in a minute, Mum.’

‘Sometimes at night, when I can’t sleep, I go into the spare
room and sit by the window. I look at the Star of Dominic and say a little
prayer.’

Something pricked the backs of Ben’s eyes.

‘It’s still shining bright. Maybe you’ll be able to see it
when you’re away from home.’

‘Maybe I will,’ Ben agreed.

‘They let me hold him after the birth. They let me have a
cuddle. Just for a little while. Then they took him away.’

Ben’s initial anger melted away. It must have been so hard
for his mother. His father, too. Maybe it went some of the way to explaining
his father’s uncompromising attitude. He put the locket in his jeans pocket and
then held out his arms.

His mother held him close. ‘You mean the world to me, Ben.’

Ben thought of talcum powder and love. His eyes were
stinging like a bitch. All the air felt as if it had been sucked out of the
room. ‘I know.’

‘Take care, son.’

Ben wondered if he’d ever see his mother again. ‘I will.’