Mystical Circles (16 page)

Don handed round the cookies. He and Juliet exchanged a glance. Neither said anything. A few moments passed as they all concentrated on munching.

“I’m just about to take Juliet through Section 3,” said Edgar, wiping crumbs from his lips.

“No you’re not,” said Juliet.

“Ah. The famous questionnaire.” Don picked up the plate again. “Dig in, Edgar. Tell you what. I’ll take over.” He sat forward on the edge of his seat.

As Juliet sipped her coffee, she felt like laughing. Don was doing his best to distract Edgar, and she deeply appreciated it. In fact he’d rescued her for the second time. She wondered what lay behind this unexpected act of grace.

“I don’t know…” began Edgar. He looked from one to the other, suspicious, his second cookie poised in his fingers.

Don drank his coffee. Edgar relented. “Very well, if you can persuade Juliet to answer these questions, Don. Very good of you…”

“It’s nothing. You eat up. I’ll give Juliet the third degree,” said Don. He and Juliet conferred together, as he went through the form, circling numbers on her behalf.

Then he stabbed the questionnaire with his forefinger. “What’s this?
How certain are you that you understand your leader’s teachings… agree with your leader’s teachings... secretly think your leader is a waste of space…
Call this scientific?”

Edgar looked secretive. “The wording of the questions is very carefully designed. Rest assured. It’s scientific.”

Don gave a bark of laughter. “No comment. That’s my motto.”

“Not one I’ve noticed you live by,” said Edgar in a spiteful tone of voice.

Their eyes locked. Juliet watched intently, whilst drinking her coffee. The tension mounted, then inexplicably slid away. Edgar moistened his lips. “You’ll be giving our visitor here a bad view of us, Don.”

“Too late for that.” Don bit into another cookie. “She’s three steps ahead. She already knows that nothing adds up.”

“Including the balance sheets, you mean?” said Edgar. “That’s no concern of mine.”

“Ought to be,” Don retorted.

Juliet viewed the researcher. He seemed unfazed. “James is working on recruitment,” he said airily. “Entry has never been dependent on means.”

“Don’t I know it. What’s James’s news? Anything to show?”

“Nothing he’s told me about. Give him a chance. These things take time.”

Don grunted. “Look at me. Businessman. See what’s in front of me, and act on it. Like to be the same? Straightforward; honest; unsentimental.”

Juliet listened to this with rising amusement.

“I regard the prospect of being like you with total revulsion,” said Edgar. He passed his hand across his brow. “I fear I’m getting Theo’s problem too.”

Don made a grimace. “Another one taken poorly?”

“Yes. I shall follow his example, and go and lie down.”

“Up well before the crack of dawn, weren’t you?” Don spread his hands. “Don’t hang around. Off you go.”

Unusually obedient, Edgar gathered his clipboard and papers, put his mug back on the tray, and departed.

For a few moments Don and Juliet both gazed at the blossoms outside the windows. Juliet suspected the charms of living here had lured people to drop all their commitments in the outside world. And Craig’s talents lay in popular psychology, inspirational speaking and charismatic leadership. By now, she’d had enough conversations with Don on the subject to know that financial wisdom had been left out somewhere along the line.

“Before Craig got into all this, was there any other career you had in mind for him?” she asked.

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate. “Business management.”

She suppressed an urge to laugh.

“A fine career,” went on Don. “Instead he’s here. With this lot. Let’s look at a case or two. Start with Beth.”

“Beth?”

“Yes. Financial drain. Pays the least.”

“An emotional drain too I should imagine,” she remarked. “On Oleg as well as Craig.”

He gave a chuckle of assent. “Too soft on the wrong people.
Healing
is what he calls it. What good’s that? Needs efficiency. He’ll go bankrupt if he carries on like this.”

“Does anyone pay their way?”

“Yes. Oleg. Unbelievably. Beats me how.”

“The very one who’s threatening to leave.”

He shuffled his feet and looked at her searchingly. “Had a word with him last night, didn’t you?”

She’d been waiting for him to ask that. “Yes,” she said. “He made several worrying claims about Rory.”

“Oh?” Don listened, eyes keen as a bird of prey.

“Reckoned he attacked him on Sunday night,” went on Juliet.

“Assault?” asked Don.

She nodded.

“What kind?”

Their eyes met and held.

Don groaned, holding his head in his hands. Then he looked up. “Suspected something of the sort.”

“I still only have Oleg’s word for it,” she added hastily. She knew she couldn’t necessarily believe everything she heard. Even so, she felt sick to the stomach at the thought of what Rory had allegedly done, and what he might yet be capable of doing, here in this community.

And if Oleg was telling the truth, how could Craig let this pass? Why did Rory behave in this way? What reason could there be for his aggression? She for one felt very unwilling ever to go into a room alone with him. “So how’s Craig going to deal with this?” she asked.

“You tell me.” Don’s eyes narrowed. “What was that about
a near-death experience
?”

She drew a deep breath. She’d wondered whether that might have been self-delusion. “I think it was poor Oleg who had the near-death experience, not him.”

“Perhaps I can explain.” A third voice had spoken. They both started. Craig stepped in.

Juliet tried to steady her breathing. Why did Craig have this effect upon her? The breeze had stirred his dark hair. She was conscious of the warm colour in his face and the brightness in his eyes, as if he’d just been running. He wore a scarlet polo with pale-blue jeans. He looked very sexy. She couldn’t avoid acknowledging this to herself.

“Push people far enough,” he said, his glance passing from Juliet to Don, “and there’s no limit to what they might do.”

“Which means…?” asked Don.

“Which means Rory wants watching,” said Craig. “You can trust me for that. No need to fear.”

Juliet didn’t know what to say. Was this good enough?

“Who started it?” asked Don. “Rory or Oleg?”

“Oleg claims it was Rory,” said Juliet.

“Of course he does,” said Craig, moving across to the seat on Juliet’s right. “But we cannot say. None of us was there at the time.”

“Has Rory ever done anything like this before?” asked Juliet.

Craig didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he seated himself and settled back comfortably, right ankle crossed over his left knee. Juliet felt intensely aware of his presence. She was also conscious of the distrust between father and son. Maybe she could help. But did she have a right to intervene? And – worse – did it mean she was in danger of falling under Craig’s spell?

She checked herself. The Wheel of Love would not draw her in. She was sure of that. Or believed so anyway… 

As she wrestled with self-doubt, Craig spoke again. “Rory does have special difficulties. Naturally, you feel a little fearful, Juliet. But I do intend to take action.”

“Let’s see it then,” muttered Don.

Craig held up a hand. “My strategy with my followers is to break down their defences. I still have work to do on Rory.”

“But what’s going on with him?” asked Juliet. “I understand he’s been here several months. One of the group made the comment that he’s overstayed his welcome. Now he’s assaulting people.”

“Well said,” Don remarked.

She waited for Craig to justify himself. Instead, he gave her a winning smile. “We still don’t know the true cause of the incident, Juliet. But I want to calm your fears. As I said, I have the matter in hand. This is a safe environment. A few respond at once, one or two take longer.”

“And put others at risk while they’re at it.” Again she felt something swirl through her, threatening to break her self-command.

“Not at all,” said Craig. “Just trust me, Juliet.”

“Why should she?” retorted Don, evidently keen to cut in to this.

“Every reason,” said Craig smoothly. “And remember too, both of you, there are those who like to cast themselves in the role of victim.”

Don was not impressed. “Psychobabble. That’s all it is.”

“No, Father. The victim role is one we can choose or not, according to our will.”

Don refused to take this idea on board. “Heaven help anyone who meets Rory down a dark alley,” he said.

“Don’t overreact, Father. I’ll speak to him in a few minutes. Then I’ll have a word with Oleg.”

Juliet was struck by how masterful Craig had seemed during the last few exchanges. She found herself beginning to believe in him.  She’d seen him change appearance. He practised what he talked about. Perhaps he did have real insight into these people and would indeed succeed in resolving their problems.

Don, however, clearly did not share these feelings. “You need to bring Rory to heel. If you lose Oleg, you lose our best payer. Where does he get his money from, by the way?”

“Haven’t asked,” said Craig.

“Organised crime in one of those breakaway Soviet republics probably.”

“Watch your tongue, Father.” Craig’s voice was steady but his eyes flashed.

The distrust Juliet had seen smouldering between them a few moments ago now burned fiercely. What might Don be hiding behind these threat displays? Was it possible that Craig put up his theories as a shield to protect himself?

Meanwhile, a curious emotional shift stirred Don’s features, resolving itself into a blend of triumph and regret. “I funded this place. My patience soon runs out.”

Now Craig’s eyes spat fire. But he said nothing. The atmosphere seemed charged with static electricity.

Despite her fear that she might worsen matters, Juliet risked intervening. “Why not ask Theo’s advice? He seems a caring, thoughtful sort of character. When he’s better he may be able to mediate between the two of you.” Immediately, she wished she hadn’t said it.

Craig released Don from eye contact, and swung to face her instead. His expression wasn’t friendly. “I didn’t invite you, or Theo, here for personal counselling services, Juliet.”

“Of course not. I only meant…”

“Theo has his own issues to contend with,” said Craig.

Juliet shot a querying glance at him.

“What’s that mean?” asked Don. “We know he’s in trouble over that book of his. But…”

Juliet continued to study Craig’s face. She felt perplexed. Then she remembered the conversation she’d had with Rory about Theo at the dinner table, on the evening of her arrival. Rory had referred to a
wilderness experience.
  Juliet had since then learned enough about Rory to know that not every one of his words could be trusted. Even so, she would like to confirm at some stage the truth of this claim about Theo.

Craig’s voice broke into her speculations. “The fact remains, Juliet, you’ll be well advised to keep out of this.”

None of them stirred.

“Why?” she asked. Several moments passed.

“Because…” and now a new, but much less hostile, expression came into Craig’s gaze, “if you probe too far you may discover things you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

“Oh, I doubt it,” she said. “In fact, Craig, I’m prepared to investigate just as far as I need to in order to discover the truth.”

“Is that so? Good luck then. You’ll find out during the next few days that nothing here is what it seems nor is it intended to be. You agree, Father?”

9

Shifts of Allegiance

None of her efforts to discover what Craig had intended by that remark yielded any fruit to Juliet. Did he suspect she’d rifled through his personal papers? Did he already guess she’d read that letter? And knew she believed it to be from a lover? There were no more opportunities to borrow his bunch of keys, or to slip into his study undisturbed. However she was vigilant and alert for any new openings. And one arose very unexpectedly.

An hour or so after lunch, she stepped out of the front doorway and nearly trod on a rake that had been left lying in the gravel. Avoiding it just in time she stumbled aside, steadied herself, and looked round. Somebody was crouching down not far away, wearing black jeans and T-shirt, his back to her.

“Oleg!” she said.

He twisted, jumped up and backed away from her in one amazingly swift motion. The look he darted at her made her think of a former Soviet defector being suddenly introduced to an ex-member of the KGB at a London drinks reception.
The
Cold War’s over, Oleg
, she felt tempted to say, but kept quiet.

“Didn’t mean to leave the rake lying there,” he said abruptly.

She shrugged. “OK, I forgive you.”

He didn’t smile. A brief moment passed. She decided she had more important things to discuss with him than his dangerous behaviour with garden tools. “So you decided to give Craig another chance,” she remarked.

“No. He bribed me,” Oleg said.

Her mouth fell open at this. “Bribed you?”

“Yes. To keep quiet about Rory.”

“Why? What might you reveal?”

“Ha! You suppose I’d tell you? I’m not that much of a fool.” And he snatched up the rake handle.

“Well,” she said casually, “I can only speculate that it must be something the police might be interested in.”

He gave a bleak, almost mocking laugh. “And the rest of the emergency services too. And not a few shrinks.”

“Shrinks? You mean…?”

“Nothing. I said nothing.” And he threw himself back into the task of raking the gravel, with the fierce energy of someone working out an inner demon.

“Oleg…” she began.

But he made a threatening gesture towards her with the rake.

Better disappear, she thought. He’s dangerous; almost as bad as Rory. And she slipped quickly away.