Ritual. Part 16

'The whole thing. The Celestines. It is pretty hard to believe.'

Charlie made a face. 'I guess the answer is that the Celestines are absolutely no different from any other fanatical religious sect. They all have a magnetic appeal for young people, and the reason they do is because the way of life their 167.

parents lead has absolutely no appeal at all. If these sects flourish, it's our fault, the parents' fault. I mean, what have we given our children that has any spiritual value whatsoever? I'm not just talking about materialism, either. I'm talking about a lack of spirit. A lack of self-respect.'

Robyn eyed him over her red mohair scarf. 'You're talking like somebody who's been there.'

Charlie took her arm. 'Let me walk you back to your car.' 'I didn't bring my car. My photographer dropped me off. I was hoping maybe you could give me a ride. I don't live far: Waterbury.'

'What if I'd turned out to be a seventy-year-old hunchback with halitosis and axe-murderer's eyes?'

'In that case, I would have called for a taxi.' They walked across to the parking lot under the trees. 'I was telling you the truth about driving into their gates,' Charlie remarked, pointing to the front-end damage. He helped her into the car.

'I didn't doubt that you were.' 'But you find the Celestines difficult to believe in?' 'I accept what you're telling me, but I find it hard to accept that so many people know about it, the government, the FBI, and yet they let it carry on and n.o.body says a word.'

Charlie drove out toward Waterbury. 'It's nothing unusual, when you think about it. The Scientologists and the Moonies and the Masons are all run openly - to the extent that they don't try to conceal their existence. But who knows what they really do? Provided it's nothing overtly illegal, they're going to be left alone. And it's the same with the Celestines. The media don't want to touch the story because it's too grisly and the risks of a libel action are too high. The police don't want to know because they don't believe that they'll get a successful conviction. And the government certainly isn't interested because too many people in high places have embarra.s.sing connections with them.'

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'It's such an incredible news story,' said Robyn.

Charlie made a face. 'Sure it is. But what's the story? That some psychopathic sect is encouraging our children to eat themselves in the name of the Lord? - or that this nation has such a low regard for human life that they're letting them get away with it? Do you know something, there comes a time when the principle of liberty for all has to be circ.u.mscribed. The right to bear arms is one example. I don't mind people exercising that right just so long as it doesn't intrude on my right to a safe existence, free from fear. And I don't challenge anybody's right to worship whatever G.o.d in whatever way they choose - except when it threatens my son's life.'

They drove into the outskirts of Waterbury, and Robyn directed Charlie to a small frame house painted white and green. There was a bronze station wagon parked in the driveway, and there were lights on in the living room window.

'You live with your parents?' Charlie asked her.

'That's right. I came back home to recuperate after a spectacularly messy love affair. My mom wants me to stay for ever, but I guess I'll be looking for my own place pretty soon. You can't be somebody's child all your life. Sooner or later you have to be yourself.'

'Maybe I won't come in,' said Charlie.

'Oh, do, they won't mind. And I do have a room of my own, kind of an office. They're very proud that their only daughter is a newspaper reporter.'

Charlie blew out his cheeks. 'Okay, then, just for a while.'

Mr and Mrs Harris were sitting in front of the television when Robyn brought Charlie into the living room. Mr Harris was skinny and unsmiling; he ran a dry-cleaning business in the centre of Waterbury and, according to Robyn, thirty years of other people's dirty clothes had permanently crippled his sense of humour. But Mrs Harris was warm and motherly and fun, and Charlie could see where Robyn had gotten her looks and her figure from. She asked them if they wanted coffee, or 169.

maybe some fresh-baked pound cake, but Robyn smiled and shook her head, and said, 'This is work, mother. W-O-R-K.'

'Still,' said Mrs Harris, beaming at Charlie as if he were a potential son-in-law. 'It's always good to meet the people that Robyn works with.'

'Oh, I don't work with her, Mrs Harris. I'm just a news story.'

'Good news, I hope?' said Mrs Harris.

'I hope it's going to turn out that way.'

Robyn took Charlie through to the small converted bedroom at the back which she called her office. It was decorated in pale beige colours, and furnished with a modern pine desk, an angular couch, and two cheese-plants in basketwork jardinieres. There was a large Mucha poster on the wall, of the kind that used to be popular in the days of flower-power and 'Blowin' in the Wind'.

'Can I tempt you with a gla.s.s of wine?' asked Robyn.

'Just half a gla.s.s. I don't want a hangover tomorrow.'

Robyn took off her jacket and hung it over the back of her chair. Charlie sat down on the couch and watched her as she went across to her cupboard and took out a bottle of Stag's Leap chardonnay. Under happier circ.u.mstances, he would have been very interested in her. Her personality was incisive and bright; she had an irrepressible sense of humour; and she was very good-looking indeed. She poured out two gla.s.ses of wine and Charlie found himself wondering about her 'spectacularly messy' love affair. It seemed axiomatic that nice girls like her always got themselves involved with brutes.

'You said you might be able to contact one of the other parents tonight,' said Charlie.

'Surely. I'll give him a try.' Robyn checked through her Roladex to find the number, then picked up the phone and punched it out. 'His name's Garrett,' she said, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. 'He lost his daughter just after the Christmas holiday. She was eighteen or nineteen, if I re- 170.

member rightly. She was driving through Alien's Corners to visit her brother in Bethlehem. They found her car abandoned by the side of the road.'

At that moment, the phone was picked up at the other end. Robyn waved to Charlie to pick up a second phone next to the couch, so that he could listen in.

'Hallo?' said a deep, slurred voice.

'Is this Mr Robert Garrett?' asked Robyn. 'This is Robyn Harris from the newspaper. Do you remember me? I came up to your house about four weeks ago to talk about your daughter.'

'I remember,' the voice replied, guardedly. 'What do you want?'

'Well, Mr Garrett, it seems like we may possibly have some kind of new theory about your daughter's disappearance.'

'Oh, yeah?' Still the voice was defensive.

'Mr Garrett, I was thinking today about what you told me ... the way you described your daughter's disappearance ... and I remember being puzzled.'

'What do you mean, puzzled? She disappeared, that's all. They found her car and she was gone.'

'But you said to me - here, I have it in my notebook - you said to me, "She's at peace, anyway." And - do you know something? - that isn't at all characteristic of the parents of missing children.'

There was a pause, and then the voice said, 'What in h.e.l.l are you talking about? I hope you didn't call me up after eleven o'clock at night just to tell me that, because if you did - ?'

'Mr Garrett, I've been working on this story for weeks, and so far I've talked to two dozen parents of missing children. Apart from one other parent, you're the only one who hasn't shown any signs of hope whatsoever that your daughter is still alive, and you're the only one who has categorically said, "She's at peace", even though no body has been recovered and you haven't been able to give her a proper funeral.'

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'What are you trying to suggest? Are you trying to suggest I killed her or something? Is that it? You're trying to say that I murdered my own daughter?'

Robyn said, 'No, sir, Mr Garrett, I am not. But what I am saying is that you know what happened to her.'

'This is bulls.h.i.t,' the deep voice growled. But its owner didn't put down the phone. Charlie glanced across at Robyn and Robyn gave him a little wave of her hand which meant, This is it, we're making headway.

'Mr Garrett,' said Robyn, 'have you ever heard of a religious order called the Celestines?'

Charlie kept his eyes on Robyn. From the other end of the phone, there was a silence, followed by a quick, sharp intake of breath, that was almost an admission in itself.

'Mr Garrett?' Robyn repeated. 'Did you hear what I said?'

'I heard you.'

'You know what I'm talking about, don't you? You know about the Celestines? You know what they do, and how they do it?'

'Maybe.' The voice was on the brink either of losing its temper or bursting into tears.

'Mr Garrett, the Celestines took your daughter, didn't they?'

There was a silence so lengthy that Charlie began to think that Mr Robert Garrett had let go of the telephone receiver and left it hanging. At last, however, the deep voice said, 'The sheriff said I wasn't to talk about it. He said it would make things worse for other runaways. They didn't want to publicize the Celestines because other kids would get to hear about them and the last thing they wanted was an epidemic of kids joining up.'

There was another silence, and then the voice said, 'The sheriff told me that n.o.body could have done more. I went to the place, I talked to her, they didn't stop me talking to her, those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, they just stood around and smiled. She wouldn't change her mind, though. She said it was the way to heaven, for Christ's sake. The way to heaven!'

Charlie spoke for the first time. 'Mr Garrett, my name is Charlie McLean, I've been listening in.'

'Who are you? Are you a cop, or what?'

'I'm n.o.body. I'm a parent, like you. The Celestines just got hold of my fifteen-year-old son.'

'Well, in that case, I'm very sorry,' said Robert Garrett. 'What else can I say? I'm very sorry.'

'Did you try to get your daughter out of there?'

'Are you kidding? I went to that place with a sawed-off shotgun and I threatened to kill the whole lot of them unless they let my daughter go. They called the police and the police locked me up on a charge of threatening behaviour and illegal possession of a firearm. After that I went to my lawyer and I spent $12,000 of savings trying to get a writ to have her released into my custody. The courts turned me down flat. The judge said that she had joined the Celestines voluntarily and that there was no evidence of mental disturbance. The rituals may have been unusual but they were entirely voluntary and undertaken without any persuasion or compulsion whatsoever. Furthermore, if he were to rule against the Celestines he would be setting two dangerous legal precedents. One would be to make it possible for parents to interfere legally in the chosen worship of their children. The other would be to diminish the individual's rights in respect of his or her own body. Parents could legally prevent their children from having cosmetic surgery, or indeed any surgery at all, and might even be able to reverse a child's wishes to have his or her organs used after death for transplant purposes.'

'You sound like you've memorized that ruling,' said Robyn.

'Memorized it? I didn't have to memorize it. It's engraved on my heart in letters an inch deep. I asked my attorney if it was worth going to appeal. He took me aside and said the word was that the Celestines were well within the law and that 172.

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they were supposed to be left alone. In fact, I'll tell you how brightly the sun shines on those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. I went to your own newspaper the Litchfield Sentinel with my story of what had happened and your editor listened very politely and do you know what happened? Well, you know what happened.'

For the first time, Robyn was taken by surprise. 'You actually talked to Ted Fellowship about the Celestines? And he did nothing about it?'

'Have you ever read a story about the Celestines in any newspaper, or any magazine? Have you ever heard them mentioned on television? No, sir. Because the law can't touch them, that's why, and the law is too embarra.s.sed to admit that they can get away with what they do.'

Charlie said, 'Robert? Can I call you Robert?'

'You can call me Bob, that's what everybody else calls me.'

'Bob - my son's in that place. I want to get him out.'

'I sympathize, Charlie, believe me. I've been there. But you won't stand a cat in h.e.l.l's chance.'

'I got in there before.'

'Sure, just like I did, when I first went looking for my daughter. They let you in on purpose, so that they can show you just what you're up against. They want you to hear your own child saying no, I'm not coming back with you, dad, I'm staying right here, and there's nothing you can do about it.'

'Bob,' said Charlie, 'I have to try.'

'You can try,' Bob told him. 'n.o.body can stop you trying. But what can I tell you? There isn't any future in it.'

'Will you help me?' Charlie asked him.

Silence again. Robyn looked across at Charlie and Charlie could see the tension on her face.

'Bob?' said Charlie.

'I don't know,' said Bob. 'The Celestines are something I've been trying to forget.'

'Bob, I understand, I really do. But with two of us, and somebody to drive a getaway car, I'm sure that we can do it. If 174.

you want money for doing it, I'll pay you whatever I can. Bob, I have to get my son back. n.o.body gave you any help, but if they had done, maybe you could have got your daughter out. Think about it, Bob. Those Celestines have to be stopped sometime, by somebody. Maybe this is the time and we're the people to do it.'

Bob replied, 'It's late. Do you have a telephone number where I can reach you?'

'Call here,' put in Robyn. 'If I'm not in, my parents will tell you where you can contact me.'

'All right then,' said Bob. 'I want to toss this over in my mind. I'll give you a call by eleven o'clock tomorrow morning, yes or no.'

'Bob,' said Charlie, 'thanks for listening.'

'You got it,' Bob told him, and hung up.

Robyn picked up her gla.s.s of wine and came to sit next to Charlie on the couch. 'I'm still in a state of shock,' she said.

'Because your editor knew about the Celestines and didn't print the story?'

Robyn nodded. 'I've suddenly found that my whole world has been turned upside down. How can I ever trust Ted again? I mean - what other stories has he spiked? I thought the press was free and fearless.'

'I don't think any of us is free and fearless," said Charlie. 'Anyway, look at the time. I've got to get back to Alien's Corners. I'm working on the a.s.sumption that Bob Garrett is going to help me, and that means I've got to make some arrangements. Plane tickets, and a rental car, and a gun. The gun's going to present some problems.'

Robyn said, 'I can get you a gun.'

Charlie set down his gla.s.s of wine. 'Where is a sweet, innocent newspaper reporter like you going to get a gun?'

'My editor keeps one in his desk. Some outraged reader came into his office with a knife once, and threatened to cut out his kidneys. He's kept a gun ever since.'

'He's not about to lend it to you, is he?'

'I can borrow it. He doesn't get into the office until ten, and I know where he keeps the keys.'

'Supposing he finds out? That's not going to do your career any good, is it?'

Robyn shrugged. 'I don't think I'm really too worried about working for a newspaper whose editor cans crucial stories just because they don't happen to suit his personal convenience.' She lowered her head so that Charlie could see the parting in her hair. 'Listen,' she said, Til get you the gun, and I'll drive the car, too. A friend of mine has a Shelby Cobra, we can borrow that.' She hesitated, and then she looked up at him. 'Charlie, I want to help.'

'You know the risks? It's not just your job, there could be bullets flying around.'

'I want to help. Don't preach.'

Charlie reached across the couch and took hold of Robyn's hand and squeezed it. 'In that case, I accept. Listen - I'll get back to Alien's Corners now. You have my number. Call me as soon as you hear from Bob Garrett. I'll fix the plane tickets. You get hold of the gun and the car. Provided Bob Garrett agrees to help - and, G.o.d, are you listening up there? Please lean on Bob Garrett and make him agree to help - we should be able to break into Le Reposoir at about noon tomorrow.'