No Help For The Dying

Chapter 29

Riley held her breath, fearful that breaking the silence would stop his train of thought.

Friedman seemed frozen for a moment, before continuing doggedly. ‘The police said he might have fallen in while under the influence. He’d been drinking, they said. There was also some… damage to the body. They thought a boat or something.’

‘But you think he was murdered.’

‘Yes. I think they panicked. The same way they’ve done with others. They let things get out of control and finally there’s only one solution. Mostly, I think it’s Quine’s doing. He’s the coldest human being I’ve ever met.’

‘What about Katie?’ Riley’s throat was dry and her voice came out sounding like somebody else.

‘She was the one they used to draw Nicholas in. His Siren.’

‘I figured.’

‘I looked into her family background. It wasn’t difficult. Her father couldn’t have been de Haan’s target — he didn’t have the position or money. In any case, John Pyle was too devout; he would never have fallen for de Haan’s brand of doctrine. That meant they were after me… and whatever I could be milked for. The fact is I believe they had somehow stumbled on Nicholas — maybe through another boy — found out about my job and looked at his background to see how it could be handled. In doing that they chanced upon Katie. She was his only friend: the ideal Siren. They drew her in first and used her to attract him — most likely with promises to help with the pregnancy.’ He paused, then continued: ‘They work on people very skilfully. They don’t fill their heads with mantras or psycho-babble about good works and religion; in fact they concentrate on what they call de-cluttering — clearing their minds of anything to do with the past. Some call it dissociation. It’s during this process that they look for weaknesses or family secrets and exploit them in any way they can. Lies, distortion, suggestion — anything. Remember, these are troubled kids we’re talking about. For the most part they’re going through some kind of trauma in their lives.’

‘Like an unexpected pregnancy,’ said Riley, ‘and an unforgiving father.’

‘Exactly. They’re desperate enough to believe anything. And if someone sympathetic comes along and supplies a good enough reason for leaving home… well, why not?’

‘But what if they decide to go back? Isn’t there a risk they will talk and reveal everything?’

‘Reveal what? That the Church took them in and gave them support? Fed them, clothed them… gave them a friend when they needed one? Deane is very careful; he doesn’t tell the kids anything they don’t need to know. Who would believe otherwise? The parents are usually so relieved to have them back, they’ll sweep the whole episode under the carpet. Same with the kids, especially after what they’ve been through. And all courtesy of the Church of Flowing Light.’

‘But if the Church discovers a juicy secret along the way, they profit from that, too.’

Friedman nodded.

‘How did you meet Henry Pearcy?’

‘The first time was about eight years ago. I’d gone to speak to Deane directly. I’d had no luck by phone so I decided to try a personal approach. There was nobody in. As I was walking across the car park, Henry arrived and asked if he could help. I don’t think he knew about me or… Nicholas… he was simply being kind.’

‘Did he say what he was doing there?’

‘Helping out. I got the impression he was a casual volunteer. He seemed a gentle soul, but he couldn’t help, so I left.’

‘When did you see him again?’

‘He rang me out of the blue about two weeks ago. He said he’d kept track of me but hadn’t told anyone. He said he was still part of the Church but… he had things to tell me. He sounded upset. I didn’t trust him at first — I’d had one or two close brushes over the years with Quine and Meaker — but we arranged to meet one day in a pub not far from here. He insisted we sit in a corner, near a fire exit. He told me that as well as being a volunteer for the Church, he’d been asked to run their database.’

‘What sort of database?’

‘About the runaways and their parents; names, addresses, employers — anything the Church asked for. I asked him why he did this and he said it cut some corners to help bring families together. The more information they had, he said, the easier it was to make a judgement on how to deal with each case. He explained that he had access to extensive data through his press job, and the Church paid for him to access other databases where needed. Some of the information was highly confidential, but in a way it all sounded logical and practical, if a little unethical.’ He pulled a face. ‘The fact is, when your child goes missing, ethics go out of the window.’

Riley was stunned. ‘So Henry could build a dossier on every family from scratch.’ It explained how he’d known about her connection with Katie Pyle; he must have stumbled on her name while trawling through some press archives. No doubt finding where Susan Pyle had moved to would have been no problem. It also explained why Henry had such a large collection of business directories in his study. All tools of his adopted trade.

‘That’s right. He knew things about me I’d almost forgotten; my schools, job details, colleagues, career path — even my wife’s family. The detail was frightening. I didn’t know our lives were so open.’

‘How did he explain that?’

‘As far as he knew they were exactly what they seemed to be: a charitable organisation helping the disadvantaged. He wasn’t really on the inside, and knew nothing about the Church’s previous history in the States. All he was doing was providing a resource for them to use in their work. For a while, that was enough.’

‘And you believed that?’

‘Sure. Why not? I think Henry had suffered tragedy in his own life, and belonging to the Church made him feel wanted, which is their speciality. Then, not long ago, he stumbled on something which revealed what they were doing with runaway kids.’

‘Did he say what?’

‘It was a bank transaction slip. He recognised the name and realised that all the time they’d been telling the parents they were still searching for the runaway, they’d got the child hidden away in a room at Broadcote. He thought he’d confused the dates, but his suspicions grew when he overheard Quine and Meaker talking about getting rid of somebody.’

‘The runaway?’

‘No. Me. By then I’d long been a thorn in their sides, constantly asking questions.’ He gave a bitter smile. ‘I suppose I was pretty relentless over the years. I was lucky they decided to leave me alone for most of that time. Careful, too. Anyway, Henry started digging back in the files. When he began comparing dates with the time Nicholas left home, it all became clear. He found the entire edifice, far from being charitable, was actually based on something deeply sinister. I think the whole idea destroyed him. It was one shock too many. I haven’t been able to contact him since. I think Quine and Meaker may have taken him.’

Riley thought about the Henry she had known. In spite of his news background, in a vulnerable state, he would have been easy meat for someone to take advantage of. ‘Why did he give you my name?’

‘He said you’d been involved on the Katie Pyle story — and he’d always admired you, I think.’ Friedman smiled faintly. ‘He described you as tenacious and said he’d been following your career over the years. It seemed a natural idea to get you involved.’

‘But why has it taken so long for you to find me?’

‘Over the years, after I found out what was happening, I became ill. These things creep up on you; the twin evils of obsession and ill health, I suppose. My wife couldn’t cope — she claimed afterwards that she’d first lost Nicholas, then me. The marriage failed and I became very sick. I was out of action for a long time, some of which was in a private nursing home. It was very expensive.’ He smiled dryly, as if relishing a private joke. ‘Although ironically it may have saved me from the careful ministrations of Quine and Meaker; unwittingly, I’d put myself beyond their reach.’

‘But Henry knew where you were.’

‘Yes. He kept track on the quiet, and caught up with me during one of my spells outside. I had to go back in very recently, for checks.’

‘Checks?’ Riley held her breath; she didn’t like the sound of what was coming.

‘I have cancer.’

‘Oh.’ The word sat between them like a loathsome lead weight, a sentence of death with no repeal. The irony of his sharing the same fate as Susan Pyle was almost too cruel. There was nothing else Riley could say.

‘Now I just want to finish things. Before it’s too late.’

‘What happened to Katie?’ The question was out before she could stop it, the subconscious mind’s way of filling the gap. If Katie had been the Siren to draw in Nicholas, what had happened to her afterwards?

Friedman took a while to answer. ‘I don’t know. Nicholas never mentioned her again. She disappeared. My guess is, after the abortion, she couldn’t face going back and started a new life.’

Riley’s mobile rang. She excused herself and looked at the screen. It was Palmer.

He didn’t waste time on small talk. ‘I need your help right away. Can you come to Waterloo station?’

‘Sorry,’ Riley said to Friedman. She felt guilty at having to leave him, but guessed Palmer must have tracked down Angelina. ‘I have to go. I’ll call you later.’

Eric Friedman sat for a few minutes after Riley had gone, letting his thoughts settle. Talking about Nicholas always left him unnerved, even after all these years, and he had long ago ceased trying to pretend that he was in any way left normal by the experience. He wondered how other people coped.

Outside the pub the chilly air made him shiver. He hurried back to the Puttnam Hotel, glad to have found somewhere he felt safe, away from prying eyes and sidelong glances. It wasn’t much, but it was all he needed.

As he ducked through the entrance and walked upstairs, he failed to notice the thin man in the long, dark coat following in his wake.

Moments after reaching his room, there was a soft knock at the door. He guessed it was Riley Gavin. She must have forgotten something. He smiled, relieved at finally having found someone he could talk to about what had happened. Someone who understood. It had been a long time.

He threw open the door.