The Magus of Hay(110)

Bliss was halfway to Ross-on-Wye, the back road to Annie’s flat in Malvern to avoid Hereford peak-hour traffic, when the mobile went.

By the time he’d found somewhere to pull in, with the warning lights on, the phone had already stopped, as if it had been a wrong number or a change of mind by the caller. Didn’t recognize the number, not one he’d stored, but he called it back anyway.

‘Oh. Bliss.’

‘Who’s this?’

‘It’s… Claudia Cornwell in Talgarth.’

It registered at once with Bliss that she sounded edgy and not in a barrister way. He kept quiet. He could see what looked like the full length of the Black Mountains from the English side. Against the late sun, they did look unusually black.

‘Bliss, I’m not sure how to handle this. I’ve just seen something on Wales Today. The Welsh news? Well, for a start, I saw you.’

‘In Hay, yeh. Apologies for not wearing me suit. Long night.’

‘It was just a parting shot in a long report on the missing policewoman. About a false alarm that had the police rushing down to the river.’

‘The King of Hay.’

‘Yes.’

‘Something you want to tell me, Claudia?’

‘There is, but I have another call waiting that might have a bearing on it. You going to be around tonight? I mean you, not the police, generally.’

‘I could be.’



‘You know what I’m saying. There are some things that have to remain confidential. As you must know yourself.’

‘And some things where privacy has to take second place.’

‘I just need a little more time to think, Francis, and perhaps an assurance that if I tell you something I’m not going to be making what amounts to a formal statement to West Mercia Police.’

‘You know I can’t make promises with something this big on the go.’

‘I’ll call you back,’ she said.

Bliss called Annie to say he might be late.

‘She’s a barrister,’ Annie said. ‘Be bloody careful, Francis. You’ve had very little sleep, which didn’t used to matter.’

‘Yeh. Thanks.’

A mile or so further on, he found a gate left open to a field newly mowed for hay. Pulled in, tilted his seat back and slept.

When Kapoor hit the end of the chisel with the hammer, the chisel vanished up to its hilt.

‘Blimey. What’s happening here?’

‘A space?’ Robin said. ‘There’s a space behind the swastika?’

Kapoor dropped the chisel, cupping his hands to catch a little rubble. Concrete, Robin thought, not stone. Spider-cracks were appearing at the top of the swastika.

‘Gonna drop out in a bit, anyway,’ Kapoor said, ‘if I don’t help it along.’

‘Do it,’ Robin said.

Kapoor lifted the hammer and drove in the chisel one more time, Robin cupping his own hands underneath, letting the swastika fall into them in a puff of dust. Robin carried it away, a round of concrete a couple of inches thick, Kapoor scraping out the edge of the hole it had left.

‘Torch?’

Betty had the mini-Maglite ready, handed it to him and he shone it around in the hole then came away, turning the head to switch it off, putting it down in the grate, wiping dust from his mouth.

‘Just a hole.’

‘Lemme see.’

Robin picked up the torch, bent carefully to peer in there, saw a shallow tunnel, like a handful of bricks had been removed. At the back of them, stone.

‘Don’t get it. It’s like another wall.’

‘Well, yeah, it is,’ Kapoor said. ‘It’s the castle wall, innit?’

‘Yeah.’ Robin came out, his hip grinding. ‘Gotta be.’

Betty said, ‘The castle wall? Can I just…?’ She picked up the chisel. ‘Jeeter, if you can shine the beam to the back… Thanks.’

She reached an arm into the space. Robin heard the blade scraping at the stones, and then Betty withdrew it and lay down on her stomach and put her face up to the gap in the back of the chimney. Emerging with her face and hair like she was wearing clown’s make-up.

Robin smiled; didn’t think he ever loved her more than when she was all messed up and didn’t care.

‘Basically, this room,’ Betty said, ‘has a little entry to the castle. Right into the wall.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Does that not ring your bell, Robin?’ You were so excited to be living so close to the castle. And you’re not even a Nazi.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You don’t get it, do you? This Brace… he had money, it sounds like. He was from money. He could’ve got a better shop than this. Why would he want this one? Maybe the same reason you wanted it, except you just like it because it’s old and the nearest thing in Hay to a romantic ruin. But for him… a military stronghold? Dedicated to violence?’