Under a Watchful Eye(84)

Seb shook his head. ‘Have I not made it explicitly clear that I want no part of whatever it is that you are doing? And that goes for whatever you were doing with Ewan that got him killed.’

Veronica leapt in. ‘This is why trust is so important. Ewan couldn’t be trusted. He may have been gifted, but he lacked other qualities. So it’s very important during your visit that we establish a clear understanding of what we are to expect from each other. What we are to give and what we are to receive, so that we can avoid the wrong outcome.’

‘I’m not giving anything and I don’t want to receive anything. I’ve replaced your files. If I am forced to endure one more . . . episode, I’ll take action.’

Veronica laughed gaily.

Seb cleared his throat, his anger welcome. ‘Oh, I’ll let others know exactly what is going on here. And what went on here. Bit of exposure. I bet you’d love that.’

Veronica tutted, mockingly, but the amused grin never relented. ‘We have very little patience with the indiscreet. That has never changed in the entire history of the organization.’ As she spoke she’d looked past Seb and at Mark Fry.

‘Organization?’ Seb said. ‘Stop faking legitimacy. People were terrified here, drugged, driven out of their wits by a con man, who extorted money from them with threats. Maybe some of them even died here. Who knows? But there are ways of finding out. There is always evidence.’

Veronica’s nameless companion winced, but continued to concentrate on her feet, hinting that Seb was making a grave error in goading them.

Veronica returned her attention to Mark Fry. ‘Mark, perhaps you would like to contribute to our discussion. You’ve been awfully quiet so far.’

Seb swivelled about and stared at Mark in bafflement. They knew him? He thought of the books in the basement.

Mark was biting his lower lip and snaking his head in evident discomfort, looking everywhere but at Seb. ‘Veronica, you said you wouldn’t mention that.’

‘All things change, Mark,’ she said, smiling.

Mark glanced at Seb. ‘Mate. You better . . .’

‘Better what?’

‘You have to.’ Mark looked at the two women as distaste transformed his face. ‘They . . .’

‘You know them! You’ve been in here before, haven’t you? You lied!’

‘Seb . . . I’m sorry.’

‘You bastard!’

‘What could I do? You know, yeah, you know what they can do. You think you were the first?’

Veronica beamed. ‘Mark knows all about our potential at the Tor, and our capacity to continue protecting ourselves. He has learned things of great importance that continue to be nurtured here, and that continue to thrive. And we have a long reach as you know, Sebastian. I hope you didn’t mind our paying you a little visit at your hotel? You might also want to be advised that there is no earthbound place where we cannot find you. And this organization has you in mind for something very special.’

The two hooded figures in the corridor outside his room. The cold hands that had held his at the bedside? ‘You . . .’

Veronica gave him her best yellowy grin.

‘Seb. Please, Seb,’ the nervous woman said. ‘There’s no point in resisting your appointment. When he makes them, I’m afraid they must stand. He’s very specific about who he works with. And it really is an honour to be chosen. This is a very special role we are offering. A place has been made for you, right here. As soon as he found out about you, well—’

‘Joyce! If you please!’ Veronica’s incongruously girlish voice deepened into a tone that struck Seb as even stranger and formidably masculine. They all flinched.

Veronica and Joyce. He had their names now. Even in shock and fear, he told himself to remember their names. ‘Role? What bloody role?’

Veronica’s smile returned. The crimson of her rage faded from her cheeks. ‘We all have contributions to make to one who has journeyed so far for our enlightenment, for the truths that have the potential to transform our lives, and this world, with a common goal.’

‘What? Why am I even having this conversation? You’re mad.’ Seb made a move for the end of the terrace.

Mark spoke up again, his eyes flicking nervously between the two women and Seb. ‘Seb. You have to. Just get it done. Trust me.’

‘Done? Get what done?’ he shouted at Mark.

Despite the insincere smile on her face, which Seb found more odious as each moment passed, Veronica’s tone became more forceful again. ‘This organization has to be maintained. You’ve seen the disrepair on your tour of our building, and our work is at a vital stage that was envisaged many years ago. We approach a critical phase. Appearances can be deceiving, but I can assure you of a great deal of activity that continues within our organization. Despite some setbacks, in a world that struggles to understand our mission, many here are still projecting.’

Even though they were close to the hottest part of the day, Seb experienced a horrible sensation of coldness and queasiness. Briefly, he thought of the two obscure authors that Mark Fry had told him about on the train. One had committed suicide and the other had drunk himself into an early grave. Moira Buchanan and Bertrand Webster must have been sharers of the great vision too. They had been the recorders of those that still hindered in the passage. Mark had only been prepping him.