Charlie kept
his eyes on Robyn. From the other end of the phone, there was a silence,
followed by a quick, sharp intake of
breath, that
was
almost an admission in itself.
‘Mr Garrett?’
Robyn repeated. ‘Did you hear what I said?’
‘I heard you.’
‘You know what
I’m talking about, don’t you? You know about the Celestines? You know what they
do, and how they do it?’
‘Maybe.’
The voice was on the brink either of losing its
temper or bursting into tears.
‘Mr Garrett,
the Celestines took your daughter, didn’t they?’
There was a
silence so lengthy that Charlie began to think that Mr Robert Garrett had let
go of the telephone receiver and left it hanging. At last, however, the deep
voice said, ‘The sheriff said I wasn’t to talk about it. He said it would make
things worse for other runaways. They didn’t want to publicize the Celestines
because other kids would get to hear about them and the last thing they wanted
was an epidemic of kids joining up.’
There was
another silence, and then the voice said, ‘The sheriff told me that nobody
could have done more. I went to the place, I talked to her, they didn’t stop me
talking to her, those bastards,
they
just stood around
and smiled. She wouldn’t change her mind, though. She said it was the way to
heaven, for Christ’s sake.
The way to heaven!’
Charlie spoke
for the first time. ‘Mr Garrett, my name is Charlie McLean, I’ve been listening
in.’
‘Who are you?
Are you a cop, or what?’
‘I’m nobody.
I’m a parent, like you. The Celestines just got hold of my fifteen-year-old
son.’
‘Well, in that
case, I’m very sorry,’ said Robert Garrett. ‘What else can I say? I’m very
sorry.’
‘Did you try to
get your daughter out of there?’
‘Are you
kidding? I went to that place with a sawed-off shotgun and I threatened to kill
the whole lot of them unless they let my daughter go. They called the police
and the police locked me up on a charge of threatening behaviour and illegal
possession of a firearm. After that I went to my lawyer and I spent $12,000 of
savings trying to get a writ to have her released into my custody.
The courts
turned me down flat. The judge said that she had joined the Celestines
voluntarily and that there was no evidence of mental disturbance. The rituals
may have been unusual but they were entirely voluntary and undertaken without
any persuasion or compulsion whatsoever.
Furthermore, if
he were to rule against the Celestines he would be setting two dangerous legal
precedents. One would be to make it possible for parents to interfere legally
in the chosen worship of their children. The other would be to diminish the
individual’s rights in respect of his or her own body. Parents could legally
prevent their children from having cosmetic surgery, or indeed any surgery at
all, and might even be able to reverse a child’s wishes to have his or her
organs used after death for transplant purposes.’
‘You sound like
you’ve memorized that ruling,’ said Robyn.
‘Memorized it?
I didn’t have to memorize it. It’s engraved on my heart in letters an inch
deep. I asked my attorney if it was worth going to appeal. He took me aside and
said the word was that the Celestines were well within the law and that they
were supposed to be left alone. In fact, I’ll tell you how brightly the sun
shines on those bastards. I went to your own newspaper the Litchfield Sentinel
with my story of what had happened and your editor listened very politely and
do you know what happened? Well, you know what happened.’
For the first
time, Robyn was taken by surprise. ‘You actually talked to Ted Fellowship about
the Celestines? And he did nothing about it?’
‘Have you ever
read a story about the Celestines in any newspaper, or any magazine? Have you
ever heard them mentioned on television?
No, sir.
Because the law can’t touch them,
that’s
why, and the
law is too embarrassed to admit that they can get away with what they do.’
Charlie said,
‘Robert? Can I call you Robert?’
‘You can call
me Bob, that’s what everybody else calls me.’
‘Bob – my son’s
in that place. I want to get him out.’
‘I sympathize,
Charlie, believe me. I’ve been there. But you won’t stand a cat in hell’s
chance.’
‘I got in there
before.’
‘Sure, just
like I did, when I first went looking for my daughter. They let you in on
purpose, so that they can show you just what you’re up against. They want you
to hear your own child saying no, I’m not coming back with you, dad, I’m
staying right here, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’
‘Bob,’ said
Charlie, ‘I have to try.’
‘You can try,’
Bob told him. ‘Nobody can stop you trying. But what can I tell you? There isn’t
any future in it.’
‘Will you help
me?’ Charlie asked him.
Silence again.
Robyn looked across at Charlie and Charlie could see the tension on her face.
‘Bob?’ said
Charlie.
‘I don’t know,’
said Bob. ‘The Celestines are something I’ve been trying to forget.’
‘Bob, I
understand, I really do. But with two of us, and somebody to drive a getaway
car, I’m sure that we can do it. If you want money for doing it, I’ll pay you
whatever I can. Bob, I have to get my son back.
Nobody gave you
any help, but if they had done, maybe you could have got your daughter out.
Think about it,
Bob. Those Celestines have to be stopped sometime, by somebody. Maybe this is
the time and we’re the people to do it.’
Bob replied,
‘It’s late. Do you have a telephone number where I can reach you?’
‘Call here,’
put in Robyn. ‘If I’m not in, my parents will tell you where you can contact
me.’
‘All right
then,’ said Bob. ‘I want to toss this over in my mind. I’ll give you a call by
eleven o’clock tomorrow morning, yes or no.’
‘Bob,’ said
Charlie, ‘thanks for listening.’
‘You got it,’
Bob told him, and hung up.
Robyn picked up
her glass of wine and came to sit next to Charlie on the couch. ‘I’m still in a
state of shock,’ she said.
‘Because your editor
knew about the Celestines and didn’t print the story?’
Robyn nodded.
‘I’ve suddenly found that my whole world has been turned upside down. How can I
ever trust Ted again? I mean – what other stories has he spiked? I thought the
press was free and fearless.’
‘I don’t think
any of us is free and fearless,” said Charlie. ‘Anyway, look at the time. I’ve
got to get back to Alien’s Corners. I’m working on the assumption that Bob
Garrett is going to help me, and that means I’ve got to make some arrangements.
Plane tickets, and a rental car, and a gun.
The gun’s
going to present some problems.’
Robyn said, ‘I
can get you a gun.’
Charlie set
down his glass of wine. ‘Where is a sweet, innocent newspaper reporter like you
going to get a gun?’
‘My editor
keeps one in his desk. Some outraged reader came into his office with a knife
once, and threatened to cut out his kidneys. He’s kept a gun ever since.’
‘He’s not about
to lend it to you, is he?’
‘I can borrow
it. He doesn’t get into the office until ten, and I know where he keeps the
keys.’
‘Supposing he finds out?
That’s not going to do your career
any good, is it?’
Robyn shrugged.
‘I don’t think I’m really too worried about working for a newspaper whose
editor cans crucial stories just because they don’t happen to suit his personal
convenience.’ She lowered her head so that Charlie could see the parting in her
hair. ‘Listen,’ she said,
Til
get you the gun, and
I’ll drive the car, too. A friend of mine has a Shelby Cobra, we can borrow
that.’
She hesitated,
and then she looked up at him. ‘Charlie, I want to help.’
‘You know the
risks? It’s not just your job, there could be bullets flying around.’
‘I want to
help. Don’t preach.’
Charlie reached
across the couch and took hold of Robyn’s hand and squeezed it. ‘In that case,
I accept. Listen – I’ll get back to Alien’s Corners now. You have my number.
Call me as soon as you hear from Bob Garrett. I’ll fix the plane tickets. You
get hold of the gun and the car.
Provided Bob
Garrett agrees to help – and, God, are you listening up there? Please lean on
Bob Garrett and make him agree to help – we should be able to break into
Le Reposoir
at about noon tomorrow.’
Robyn said, ‘Do
one thing for me. Book three plane tickets.’
‘We’re going to
California, and then to Mexico. I hope you understand that. I’m not at all sure
we’re ever coming back.’
‘Ever since
Carl, I’ve learned to take one day at a time.’
‘Carl was the
spectacularly messy love affair?’
‘Carl was Adolf
Hitler reincarnated as Robert Redford.’
Charlie knew at
that moment that something was happening between Robyn and himself; that they
were both strongly attracted to each other. With luck, and a little prayer, the
time might come when they could let that feeling of attraction loose. But right
now, Charlie’s overwhelming priority was rescuing Martin. He did nothing more
than lean forward and kiss Robyn on the forehead, and squeeze her hand again,
and tell her, Til be waiting to hear from you, right? And thanks for
everything. Thanks for listening. Thanks for being sane.’
‘Carl never
said that I was sane.’
‘Human society
is riddled with bozos.’
Charlie said
goodnight to Mr and Mrs Harris and Robyn came to the kerb to see him off.
‘Don’t stay out
here,’ he told her. ‘You’ll catch cold.’
‘Tomorrow we’re
going to rescue your son like the Three Musketeers, and tonight you’re worried
about me catching cold?’
‘Goodnight,
Robyn.’ He smiled, and blew her a kiss.
He U-turned in the
road, and drove off.
He glanced in his rear-view mirror as he reached
the intersection, and she was still standing by the fence watching him go. He
didn’t know whether to feel happy or apprehensive. He switched on the radio and
listened to Tina Turner.
He reached
Alien’s Corners at half past midnight. The sloping green was silver under the
full moon. The streets and the buildings were silver, too. Charlie was reminded
of a poem his schoolteacher used to read when he was small, about the moon
turning everything to silver. He parked outside Mrs Kemp’s house, switched off
the radio, and dry-washed his face with his hands. For the first time since he
had discovered that Martin was missing, he allowed himself to admit that he was
totally exhausted.
He was about to
climb out of the car when he thought he saw something flicker beside the house.
He frowned, and peered into the shadows. There was nothing there. He got out,
closed the car door as quietly as he could, and locked it. It was then that he
heard a rustling, scurrying sound, only about thirty or forty feet to his left,
beside the trees. He froze, and stared, and listened intently. Slowly,
silently, now the moon / Walks the night in her silver shoon –
He took one
step towards the front gate. Without any warning, the dwarfish hooded figure
rushed out of the shadows straight towards him, in a hopping, tumbling,
headlong gait, and collided with his legs. He fell backwards against the car,
jabbing his hand up as he did so to push the dwarf away. But then he saw the
hooked machete lifted in to the moonlight, and he twisted sideways just as the metal
blade clanged against the hood of the car, and rolled across the sidewalk into
the gutter.
The dwarf
hissed, and came rushing after him again. Charlie kicked at him, and felt his
foot strike at the solid meat of his stubby thigh. The machete whistled, but
Charlie heaved himself away, and the blade jarred against the sidewalk.
With one more
roll, Charlie somehow managed to scramble up on to his feet. The dwarf
advanced, swinging the machete from side to side as if he were cutting grass,
panting and whispering under his breath. All that Charlie could see inside the
shadow of his hood was a pale nose and two glittering eyes.
‘You bastard,’
Charlie breathed at him. ‘You sawn-off runt.’
The dwarf let
out a piercing, effeminate shriek, and rushed at Charlie yet again. Charlie
backed and dodged sideways, but the machete sang into his left thigh,
wheeooo-smakk!
and
even though Charlie felt no pain,
he knew that he was cut. He pivoted around and punched the dwarf in the side of
his hood, so hard that the dwarf somersaulted over on to the ground.
‘Come on, you
runt!’ Charlie yelled at him. ‘Come on, if that’s what you want! You want
blood?
All right,
then, you can have some blood! Come on, runt!’
The dwarf clung
on to the side of Charlie’s car in an effort to heave himself back up on to his
feet. Charlie kicked him mercilessly in the ribs, and he dropped to the
sidewalk again. Then Charlie stepped on to his arm and knocked the machete out
of his reach with a sideways sweep of his foot, and then reached down and seized
hold of the
dwarfs
robes.
‘You Goddamned
half-assed -!’ he began. But the dwarf suddenly lifted his arms and dropped
right out of his robes, falling heavily on to the ground with a noise like a
sack of beets.
‘Scaaaarrccchh!’
the dwarf screamed, and glared at Charlie in venomous hate. Charlie stood where
he was, paralyzed, still clutching the dwarfs discarded robes. The dwarf- the
creature that M. Musette had called ‘David’ – was standing in front of him
wearing nothing but a tight cotton waistband.
David was
hideously white-faced, but his head was normal size. He was a mature young man
of twenty-four or twenty-five, with wiry mid-brown hair. It was the sight of
his body that had stopped Charlie dead, however. His arms had been severed
below the elbows. He had been holding his machete by means of a leather strap
around his right stump. His legs had been severed halfway down his thighs, and
his stumps were protected by leather cups padded with the fibrous material that
lined the hoods of cars. There were ugly scars and indentations all over his
torso, where he must have cut out flesh for the Celestine rituals; but worst of
all, his genitals were missing. There was nothing but a bush of pubic hair,
beneath which Charlie glimpsed a grotesquely twisted scar, a male vagina made
out of purple knots. He took in every horrifying physical detail of this thing
called David in the same way that he had made an instantaneous check often
fingers and ten toes the moment that Martin had been born.