The Fabric of Sin

‘Probably not. Could be something to do with whatever stuff was going on there back in the 1970s. But then it might be old — might be original Templar. Might’ve been brought from somewhere else at some stage. Dunno, really.’

‘And your mother found it disturbing.’

‘You ask her now, she’ll probably deny it. Are you all right, Mrs Morningwood?’

‘No.’ Mrs Morningwood sat down. ‘No, I don’t think I am.’

‘You want me to call the doc or something?’

‘Don’t be silly.’ She looked up. ‘Do you think Merrily would mind if I borrowed her car? I’d bring it back tonight.’

‘I’d have to ask. You might not be insured.’

‘In that case … you can drive, can’t you Jane?’

‘Sure.’

‘You see, I came in your mother’s car. Mine’s at home. Your mother’s gone with …’

‘Lol. In his truck.’

‘Would it be possible to take me home? Just for a few minutes, so I can collect some medication.’

‘Herbs?’

‘Won’t take me long, darling, I know what I’m looking for. I suppose I could phone for a taxi …’

Herbs? No way.

‘No,’ Jane said. ‘No, it’s OK. I’ll get the keys.’

‘Good. I can pick up my Jeep.’

‘Oh.’

This would mean she’d have to drive back on her own, on her provisional licence.

‘OK,’ Jane said.

She’d need to get the L-plates off before Mrs Morningwood spotted them.

Because, whatever this was about, it was not about herbs.

53 Damage

‘Ten cover it?’ Jimmy Hayter said.

Lol stared at him. It had started to rain again. Big spots on Hayter’s buttermilk Armani.

‘I could go to twelve, Robinson. Cash, by tonight. Leave it in an envelope for you, at the desk in there.’

‘Twelve what?’

‘Twelve K.’

‘Perhaps you could explain what you’re talking about, Jimmy.’

‘I heard you had a guitar irreparably damaged.’

‘Wow,’ Lol said. ‘It’s amazing how quickly word gets out.’

‘I’ve always liked to help underprivileged musicians.’

‘So I’ve noticed.’

‘Twelve, and you and your priest leave me alone. And you don’t lean on my fucking Jag.’

Lol didn’t move.

‘Jimmy, you are … I think what our friends over the ocean would call a piece of work.’

‘All right,’ Hayter said. ‘You tell me what you want.’

‘I’ll be reasonable about it. Four grand in an envelope and a bit of honesty.’

‘I could …’ Hayter’s face might have darkened, or it could have been the sky. ‘I don’t think I need to spell out what damage I could do to your … what you laughably call a career.’

‘Well …’ Lol shook his head, sighing. ‘I mean that’s just the point, isn’t it? I don’t call it a career, and you already have spelled it out. Or your … employee, with whatever destructive implement he carries around with him. And the thing is—’

‘Whoever did that … might have gone further than instructed,’ Hayter said.

‘—Thing is, I’m really not anywhere near significant enough to be damaged by somebody with your level of connections. I mean, what are you going to do … like, sabotage the renewal of my six-album contract with the Sony Corporation?’

‘Maybe he concentrated on the wrong guitar.’

Hayter turned away, shoulders hunched against the rain which had drained the colour out of the city below them, making the Cathedral spectral. Then he turned back.

‘We haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘Who?’

‘Me and …’ Hayter jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards The Centurion ‘… him.’

‘Mr Gwilym. Who you haven’t seen in thirty years.’

‘Actually, I hadn’t,’ Hayter said. ‘Not until today.’

‘So what … I mean, why the reunion? Can’t be the anniversary of the ritual abuse of Mary Roberts, surely?’

Lol, the wet soaking through to his chest, suddenly felt this kind of transcendent exhilaration. Somehow, he had the bastard.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ Hayter said.

‘So tell me what it was like.’

‘You want to come inside?’

‘Jimmy, do I look stupid?’

‘I’m getting wet.’

‘Rain’s healthy. Start with Mat Phobe. Move the letters around and it becomes Baphomet. That’s this head thing the Templars are supposed to have worshipped. And also what Crowley called himself, when he was doing sex magic with the OTO.’

‘Yeah, we did our share of that. Mat had this obscure book, with the rituals of the OTO. You needed women. Or men would do, in some cases, but we never went there, like I said. Unlike some of the Templars, apparently.’

‘What happened to Mary?’

‘I’ve told you.’

‘No, you haven’t.’

‘I told you I went to London to meet my old man.’ Hayter’s eyes were half-screened by his heavy hair. ‘And Gwilym went home to his old man’s farm. And when we got back, she’d gone.’

‘Gone where?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘So when you and Gwilym had left the premises, who was left?’ Mickey what’s-his-name and … Mat Phobe?’

‘No.’ Hayter wiped the air with both hands. ‘That’s absolutely as far as I go, Robinson.’

‘You haven’t even explained why you’re here yet.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘What about the four grand? I could after all …’ Lol started to laugh, hair dripping, leaning back over the bonnet of Hayter’s Jag ‘… seriously damage you.’

‘It’ll be on the desk by tonight.’

‘Hey, I’m not going in there. Especially at night.’

Hayter started to walk away, then turned. ‘HSBC. The bank?’

‘Centre of town?’

‘With your name on it. One hour. You’ll need some ID.’