I stood up too and went walkabout. I don’t know what I was looking for, there being no obvious places of concealment in the room. The fax and handset gave no identifying phone numbers, but the fax did have a memory facility for frequently used numbers. I punched in 1 and the liquid crystal display presented me with the international dialing code for the USA, plus 212 — the state code for Washington — and the first two digits of the phone number proper. So Rick kept in touch with the Disciples’ world HQ by fax. The number 2 brought up another Washington number, while 3 was a local number.
Bel was rubbing her eyes and snuffling when Rick returned with the water. He saw me beside the fax machine.
‘Funny,’ I said, ‘I thought the whole purpose here was to cut yourselves off from the world.’
‘Not at all, Michael. How much do you know about the Disciples of Love?’
I shrugged. ‘Just what Belinda’s told me.’
‘And that information she gleaned from magazines who are more interested in telling stories than telling the truth. We don’t seduce young people into our ranks and then brainwash them. If people want to move on, if they’re not happy here, then they move on. It’s all right with us. We’re just sad to see them go. The way you’ve been skulking around, you’d think we were guerrillas or kidnappers. We’re just trying to live a simple life.’
I nodded thoughtfully. ‘I thought I read something about some MP who had to...’
Rick was laughing. ‘Oh, yes, that. What was the woman’s name?’ I shrugged again. ‘She was convinced, despite everything her daughter told her, that the daughter was being held prisoner. None of our missions is a prison, Michael. Does this look like a cell?’
I conceded it didn’t. I was also beginning to concede that Rick had never laid eyes on Scotty Shattuck in his life. He’d looked closely at the photograph, and had shown not the slightest sign of recognition. Meaning this whole trip had been a waste of time.
‘Prendergast,’ said Rick, ‘that was the woman’s name. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s done irreparable harm to her daughter. And from what I’ve read, the daughter is now a prisoner in her home. She can’t go out without some minder going with her. So who’s the villain of the piece?’ Lecture over, he turned to Bel. ‘Feeling a little better?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘Good. You’ve had a long trip from London, I’m sorry it’s not been helpful to you. Can I show you around? If Jane is interested in us, it may be that she’ll find her way here eventually. I can’t promise to contact you if she does... that would have to be her decision. But at least maybe I can reassure you that we won’t have her in a ball and chain.’
‘We’d like that.’
He led us outside. He stood very erect when he walked, and his arms moved slowly at his sides. I reckoned he’d been meditating this morning, either that or taking drugs. Outside, the VW driver was resting his hand on the boot of our Escort. I sought his face for some sign that he’d opened it, but I’d locked the boot myself, and he didn’t look as handy with a picklock as Bel.
‘I’m just going to give Belinda and Michael the tour,’ Rick told him. ‘Is anyone earthing up the potatoes?’
Understanding, the driver went off to find a spade.
Our tour didn’t take long. Rick explained that Jeremiah Provost believed in balance between wilderness and civilisation, so a lot of the land had been left uncultivated. He took us into the woods to show us how they harvested trees for fuel and materials, but did not disturb trees which had fallen of their own volition.
‘Why not?’
‘Because they nourish the soil and become a place where other things can grow.’
I could see Bel had had enough of this. She might start forgetting soon that she was supposed to have a sister, whereabouts unknown.
‘We’d better be getting back,’ I said. Rick walked us to the car and shook my hand.
‘Belinda’s lucky to have a friend like you,’ he said.
‘I think she knows that.’
Bel was in the passenger seat before Rick could walk round the car. She waved, but didn’t smile or roll down her window. Rick touched his palm to her window, then lifted it away and retreated a couple of steps.
‘He gave me the heebie-jeebies,’ Bel said as we drove back down the track.
‘He seemed okay to me.’
‘Maybe you’re easily led.’
‘Maybe I am.’
We didn’t see any sign of the welcoming committee on the track, but when we reached the gate someone had left it open for us. I pushed the car hard towards Oban, wondering what the hell to do next.
15
Hoffer didn’t see Kline again, which was good news for Kline. Hoffer was nursing the biggest headache since the US budget deficit. He’d tried going to a doctor, but the system in London was a joke. The one doctor who’d managed to give him an appointment had then suggested a change of diet and some paracetamol.
‘Are you kidding?’ roared Hoffer. ‘We’ve banned those things in the States!’
But he couldn’t find Tylenol or codeine, so settled for aspirin, which irritated his gut and put him in a worse mood than ever. He’d asked the doctor about a brain scan — after all, he was paying for the consultation, so might as well get his money’s worth — and the doctor had actually laughed. It was obvious nobody ever sued the doctors in Britain. You went to a doctor in the States, they practically wheeled you from the waiting room to the surgery and back, just so you didn’t trip over the carpet and start yelling for your lawyer.
‘You’re lucky I don’t have my fucking gun with me,’ Hoffer had told the doctor. Even then, the doctor had thought he was joking.
So he wasn’t in the best of moods for his visit to Draper Productions, but when Draper found out who he was, the guy started jumping up and down. He said he’d read about Hoffer. He said Hoffer was practically the best-known private eye in the world, and had anyone done a profile of him?
‘You mean for TV?’
‘I mean for TV.’
‘Well, I’ve, uh, I’m doing a TV spot, but only as guest on some talk show.’ It had been confirmed that morning, Hoffer standing in for a flu-ridden comedian.
‘I’m thinking bigger than that, Leo, believe me.’
So then they’d had to go talk it through over lunch at some restaurant where the description of each dish in the menu far exceeded in size the actual dish itself. Afterwards, Hoffer had had to visit a burger joint. Joe Draper thought this was really funny. It seemed like today everyone thought Hoffer was their favourite comedian. Draper wanted to come to New York and follow Hoffer around, fly-on-the-wall style.
‘You could never show it, Joe. Most of what I do ain’t family viewing.’
‘We can edit.’
Early on in their relationship, Draper and Hoffer had come to understand one pertinent detail, each about the other. Maybe it was Hoffer’s sniffing and blowing his nose and complaining of summer allergies. Maybe it was something else. Draper had been the first to suggest some nose talc, and Hoffer had brought out his Laguiole.
‘Nice blade,’ Draper said, reaching into his desk drawer for a mirror...
So it was a while before Hoffer actually got round to asking about Eleanor Ricks.
‘Lainie,’ Draper said in the restaurant, ‘she was a lion tamer, believe me. I mean, in her professional life. God, this is the best pâté I’ve ever tasted.’
Hoffer had already finished his salade langoustine. He poured himself a glass of the white burgundy and waited.