Under a Watchful Eye(66)

‘My book never set out to prove that there was anything valid in Hazzard’s claims. What I was interested in was the theory and why people believed in it. What they think they experienced, that sort of thing. The culture in isolation, the esoteric parts of it, were pretty interesting. I just wish I’d written the book earlier when more of the SPR were alive and might have spoken up. By the time I pitched in, the anecdotal evidence was really thin. Which is why your files have me intrigued. They’re real, not fake?’

‘Letterheaded. I think you of all people will find them convincing.’

‘How many do you have?’

‘About three hundred.’

‘You are shitting me.’

‘No. They’re called case studies. They go up to the early seventies. Hazzard is mentioned in a few of them too, but only ever in capitals, as if he was a god.’

‘I would love, just love, to get my hands on these.’

‘Mark, where exactly is Hunter’s Tor Hall on Dartmoor?’

‘Off the A38 somewhere, about halfway to Plymouth. It’s quite isolated. I stayed in Totnes and drove to it from there.’

When Seb had recovered sufficiently from the impact of the revelation of just how close Hunter’s Tor was to his home, he couldn’t resist manoeuvring himself nearer to making his own confession. ‘Mark, I think they are still going.’

‘The SPR? No chance.’

‘I don’t think they ever stopped.’

‘Not possible. They’ve been gone over thirty years. Unless someone is using their name, revived it or something. Though I don’t know why anyone would.’

‘This is what I intend to find out.’

‘I went there, to the Hall.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes, and it’s derelict. Boarded up. Fenced off. When I was there it had been closed since the early eighties. Some locals told me. They called it “the college”. So there’s been no one there for decades. I think the organization must have gone down when Hazzard passed. It was all going tits-up by the middle seventies anyway. And I’m going back to 2004 when I was there.

‘The building was owned by some holding company that listed the building as a college. Might still be, for all I know. I couldn’t get any kind of response out of the holding company when I tried, either. I took some pictures, though, but didn’t get a plate section for the book, so the photos were never used. Pictures were too expensive for the publisher.’

‘But you went inside?’

‘No. Couldn’t even get through the fence. It’s got massive grounds, but you can see it in the distance in a couple of places. The best thing were the gates. Over the top of the railings there’s this iron plate with an inscription on it: Let us go out of ourselves. Let us enlarge. I loved that. Really nice touch.’

Seb finished another drink and gripped his own hair painfully. ‘You have recordings?’

‘A few hours of them. I spent a full day with Liza.’

‘Could I . . . ? This may sound strange, but I’d really like to listen to them.’

‘Afraid I wouldn’t release the original tapes. They’re on cassette. I’ve been meaning to transfer them to disc, but haven’t done it yet.’

‘You have a transcription?’

‘Only for the bits I wanted for the book. Most of it didn’t make the final draft. But, I’ll do you a deal: if you let me read the SPR files, you can listen to poor old Liza, Virginia and Flo. It is quite upsetting, though.’

‘Done. When are you free?’

‘Well, when did you have in mind?’

‘Tomorrow.’

Mark Fry laughed. He thought Seb was joking. ‘Half-term in a week. We could sort something out for then. I may have a couple of days free.’

A week? Seb didn’t want to imagine what could happen in that time. ‘Maybe I could get the train up to you and I’ll get a room somewhere, and while you’re at work I can go through the recordings. Tomorrow?’

There was an awkward moment in which Seb sensed the man’s discomfort. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, Mr Logan, but it’s quite an odd request. What’s the hurry?’

‘Seb, please call me Seb. I know it’s strange and an awful imposition but . . . I need to learn as much as I can about the SPR, and Hazzard, and quickly. I’ve no time.’

‘This isn’t a book. Research?’

‘No. Well, not right now. That’s not the main reason.’

‘Then I don’t understand the urgency. I mean, you’ve only just found out about all of this.’

‘This is going to sound odd. Christ, how do I explain this? I’m being threatened, blackmailed, I think.’

‘Bloody hell.’

‘By an old friend, who died.’

‘I’m sorry, I think.’

‘He was trying something on. I mean, he was trying to use me for his own reasons. But he’d spent years, literally years, trying to master projection. He was obsessed with Hazzard too. And he . . . well, before he died, he came here with these files. That’s how I have them. And his diary. I guess you could call it that. Hundreds of fragments, and what I can read of them suggests that he’d been engaged in something very strange.