L. Maynard: Black Cathedral

‘What the hell were you doing hanging onto Eager Andy like that?’ Sheila wanted to know.

‘And what were you doing making snide remarks about it?’

‘You know what he’s like. You can’t fancy him surely?’

Casey looked at her friend as if she needed to explain the reality of things very slowly. ‘We’re here for what? Seven days? And six nights! Eddie is cute but uptight and bound to take all of this ultraseriously, Bennett is so full of his team leader role he can’t see past his own nose, so that leaves Andy as the only one to have a laugh with. Besides, he’s so keen to preserve his womanizer image he’ll do anything in return for a harmless flirt. I’m about as good on a survival course as I would be running the marathon, so I — we — might just need a friend to get us out of the more strenuous ordeals they have planned. Andy will cover for us.’

Casey spread herself on the slightly damp quilt. Sheila absorbed what she had said and laid beside her. ‘How does that husband of yours ever stand a chance married to a schemer like you?’

‘He doesn’t, but I don’t take advantage…too often.’

Eddie was unpacked and had his things stowed away in two drawers of an ancient wardrobe before Andrew had even opened his case.

‘What’s on the agenda, Mike?’ he asked Bennett.

Bennett hated being called anything other than Michael, which is why so many of his colleagues used the diminutive as often as they could.

Eddie knew that more than anyone. ‘Yeah, Mike , w h a t have you got planned for us?’

Bennett carefully folded his clothes and wash things into a voluminous drawer in the chest next to his bed before he turned to them. ‘Look, guys, I’m just one of you. Okay? They made me team leader but you know and I know that means shit. We’re stuck with each other for the next seven days. I have no idea what happens tomorrow — I’m supposed to get instructions somehow.“You’ll be contacted” is all they told me. For to night lay off me and let’s just relax. Okay?’

Andrew held up his hands in a gesture of appeasement.

‘ Okay ,’ Eddie said.

Downstairs they were surprised to find about nine people assembled and waiting for them. A gray-haired man with a close-cropped beard stepped forward and introduced himself. ‘I’m Lomax, the head of the house hold for the week, and this is Mary our house keeper, and the rest of the staff, including the kitchen staff and cook.’ He smiled but it was a dour smile that reminded Bennett of the deep waters of a loch he had once seen near Oban. ‘I dare say you could all do with some food after your pleasant crossing.’

‘I could do with a drink,’ Eddie said and most of the others laughed. Team building included finding weak jokes funny.

Mary ushered the majority of the staff away, to the kitchens, Casey imagined, while one of the younger men walked in a different direction.

‘Young Ben will serve you at the bar. You’ll find the whisky excellent of course, but the bar is stocked with all manner of fancy drinks that you might be more used to than I am.’ Lomax gestured that they should all follow Ben.

Bennett hovered behind as the others all walked through.

‘Is there anything I can help you with, sir?’ Lomax asked, his accent soft and deep.

Bennett swept his hand in the air to indicate the house. ‘The house is large, and obviously has been wonderful in the past.’

‘Your point, sir?’

‘Judging by the dust and the neglect I doubt the Manse houses nearly ten staff on a permanent basis.’

Lomax inclined his head. ‘Waincraft employed us for the week. We have a small launch moored along the jetty.’ Bennett noticed there was no ‘sir’ this time. ‘I understand they want a team bonding week but seven days is a long time without some home comforts.’

They wouldn’t have their allotted seven days. The walls of the Manse began to move during the night; the ground around the perimeter rising and falling as if it was a duvet being shaken into place.

It was like waiting outside the headmaster’s study at school.

Robert Carter had mixed memories of school. He had enjoyed the social side of it, though he had kept in touch with none of the other boys. He had quite liked the education, finding learning, in most subjects, satisfying and stimulating. The discipline was a different matter. He had hated being told what to do, and as a result he quickly collected a reputation for challenging teachers, for disrupting classes with his questions. The corridor outside the headmaster’s room was soon familiar to him, and six of the best from the bamboo cane became a regular punishment.

Now, sitting on a chrome and leather chair that was excruciatingly uncomfortable despite looking chic and modern, waiting for Crozier to usher him in, the memories flooded back. The door opened and Crozier popped his head out for a moment, beckoning Carter in. A sudden flashback of being fifteen and walking nervously into the headmaster’s study washed over him and he was unsettled as Crozier closed the door behind him.

‘Robert,’ Crozier said with apparent warmth. ‘And how are you?’

For a Georgian building in the center of London’s Whitehall area the office was loudly modern. There was the ambience of a newly opened and longing to be fashionable restaurant about it. Though discreetly set on the desk were all the apparatus of a high-powered executive. Which in many ways was exactly what Crozier was.

Carter was aware that his superior was looking at him and realized he was waiting for a reply. ‘Any news on Sian?’

Crozier glanced out of the window for the barest of moments and Carter knew what the answer would be. ‘Have you seen the report from the cleanup team?’

Carter shook his head. If Sian hadn’t been found that probably meant she was still alive. The chances were her body would have shown up on the various scans of the area the Department would have organized as standard procedure if she had been killed and dumped.

There was disapproval on Crozier’s face that the report hadn’t been read and inwardly digested but Carter knew that was unreasonable given he had slept for sixteen hours once he got home. ‘Your car was thoroughly investigated, of course.’ Crozier looked up like a cat might glance at a mouse. ‘It was clean. No blood traces, no traces of…what were they you mentioned, beetles? The house was taken apart inch by inch, you know the drill.’

Carter knew from the deliberate hesitation that the news would not be good for him. Crozier was enjoying this. He was toying with Carter as a prelude to something worse to come. Not that it concerned him. His only worry at that moment was Sian.

A brief flicker of annoyance that his prey had not yet bitten rippled across Crozier’s lips but it soon passed as he slipped back the professional mask. ‘Apparently the house was untouched.’

He had no alternative but to react to that. ‘What about the wallpaper? The kitchen?’ The beetles in the dining room were still vivid in his mind. The crockery smashed in the kitchen, the smells and the noise when he went back into the house after making sure Sian…after thinking he had made sure she was safe.

Crozier flicked a non ex is tent piece of dust from his desktop. ‘Sorry, Robert, can’t help you there. The house was as clean as the day the Flemings moved out. Cleaner in fact, as the team found no psychic traces of any kind.’ This was said with a note of disbelief as if he wanted to believe Carter’s version of events but just couldn’t.

Except Carter knew his wasn’t a version but reality.

There had been powerful forces in that house and if they were gone a day later then they must have been there for a reason. As Sian had disappeared at the same time, then either she or Carter must have been the reason.