‘That was years ago,’ Seymour said. ‘I don’t do that any more. I don’t even talk about it any more. We started something we couldn’t control. It’s over.’
‘His name was Jerrold Brace.’
‘He wasn’t a member.’
Oh, too fast, Seymour, just a little too fast.
‘And how does it concern you?’
‘We have… found signs of his habitation. Cut in stone.’
‘What did you say your name was?’
‘Robin.’
Not only failed to conceal his number, he’d given the guy his name and address. But it would be crazy to treat him like you believed all the bullshit.
Seymour said very quietly, ‘Robin. I was pretty young when I was doing that, had extreme views about the way the country was going, and I wrote some stuff I wouldn’t like to be associated with now. I’ve got kids. I’m on the council.’
‘British National Party?’
‘No! Green Party, if you must know.’
‘And like, do the Green Party know about your roots?’
‘Some of them do. And they know I’m not the same person. Half the Labour Party started out as rabid Trots. We all go through these phases.’
‘You sure Jerry Brace wasn’t a member?’
‘I’m still not getting your angle on this.’
‘Seymour, I may have to talk to the cops.’
‘Why do I care who the hell you talk to?’
‘You’d care plenty when they showed up on your suburban front porch with a warrant for your ass.’
‘Are you trying to blackmail me? Because I make a point of recording all my calls.’
‘Don’t do blackmail, Seymour, though I will admit to the occasional death-threat.’
Robin saw Jones smile, looking up from scribbling in a notebook. Remember the main aim is to unsettle this man, Jones had said.
‘This is a small town, Seymour, and people have long memories, and your guy, Jerry Brace—’
‘He’s dead! He’s been dead years and years. He was a damaged man. And he was not my guy.’
‘So you did know him?’
‘I knew him by reputation. I can’t talk about this, it’s futile.’
‘And I’m guessing you also know about two girls he used to hang out with who went missing?’
‘You’re making no sense. I think I’m going to have to end this call. Come back to me when you know what you’re talking about.’
Robin stood up.
‘Seymour…’ He was in pain ‘… it’s not too far for me to drive up there, and if I have to I will. And, boy, am I loud on a doorstep.’
Pause.
‘He was full of shit,’ Seymour said. ‘He said he wanted to join the Order. I didn’t particularly like the sound of him, and we knew he was doing hard drugs. We said come back when you’re clean. Clean and cold. When you can deal with your emotions. When you can prove to us you’re ready to move up. Move up. That was how we talked, back then.’
‘You ever talk to Brace in person?’
‘He rang one night. You could tell he was on something. He offered me…’
‘Keep going.’
‘He was offering the town. He said the town had been magically separated from the rest of Britain and was somewhere we could… establish ourselves. Through him.’
‘How?’
‘Let me finish. He talked about a remarkable vibe being wasted by useless hippies and if the new aeon was going to start anywhere it was there, and it would start around him because it was his destiny, and we could help each other achieve our mutual aims.’
Jones had pushed the notebook in front of Robin.
ASK HIM IF STILL ANY OSIS-LINKED FARMS OR COMMUNES. SAY IF CO-OPERATES MIGHT LEAVE HIM ALONE.
‘… how he’d chosen his place of habitation with great care,’ Seymour was saying. ‘All the border strife, all the killing it must have seen. How it had grown out of blood and fire. He said he…’
Jones pulled the notebook back.
‘What did?’ Robin said. ‘What grew out of blood and fire? Hay?’
‘Its castle.’
‘What?’
Jones pushed the notebook back in front of him.
ASK HIM ABOUT THE BOY. WHO WAS LOOKING AFTER THE BOY?
‘Brace is long dead,’ Seymour said. ‘None of this matters.’
‘Then you might as well talk about it.’
‘He said it was his home. His ancestral home.’
‘What was?’
‘Work it out.’
‘Who was looking after the boy, Seymour?’
Robin mouthing to Jones, Who’s the boy?
‘I’ve had enough of you. I don’t want to hear from you again.’