‘Wait – wait – wait,’ said Jonathan, making his usual calming gestures with his left hand, while holding Danny’s arm with his right. ‘Becca took Danny along, to explain how much it had helped him. Danny stood up in front of those materialists and spoke so eloquently, so powerfully, that he ensured the service’s continuation. He did that.
Wace raised Danny’s arm into the air. A storm of cheers ensued.
‘With people like Danny with us, should the Adversary be afraid?’ shouted Jonathan, and the screams and applause grew even louder. Jonathan was crying now, tears flooding down his face. This show of emotion caused a level of hysteria in the hall that Robin started to find almost unnerving, and it continued even after the six selected people had resumed their seats, until at last, mopping his eyes and making his calming gesture, Jonathan managed to make himself heard again, his voice now slightly hoarse.
‘And now… with regret… I must bring you bulletins from the materialist world…’
A hush fell over the hall as Jonathan began to speak.
He told of the continuing war in Syria, and described the atrocities there, then spoke of massive corruption among the world’s political and financial elites. He spoke of the outbreak of Zika in Brazil, which was causing so many babies to be miscarried or born severely disabled. He described individual instances of appalling poverty and despair he’d witnessed while attending church-run projects in both the UK and America, and as he told of these injustices and disasters, he might have been describing things that had befallen his own family, so deeply did they seem to touch him. Robin remembered Sheila Kennett’s words:
‘That, then, is the materialist world,’ Jonathan said at last. ‘And if our task seems overwhelming, it is because the Adversary’s forces are powerful… desperately powerful. The inevitable End Game approaches, which is why we fight to hasten the coming of the Lotus Way. Now, I ask you all to join me in meditation. For those who have not yet learned our mantra, the words are printed here.’
Two girls in orange tracksuits mounted the stage, holding large white boards, on which were printed:
‘A deep breath, raising the arms,’ said Jonathan, and though the benches at the tables were cramped, every arm was slowly raised, and there was a universal intake of breath. ‘And exhale,’ said Jonathan quietly, and the room breathed out again.
‘And now:
Robin caught the pronunciation of the mantra from her neighbours. A hundred people chanted, and chanted, and chanted some more, and Robin began to feel a strange calm creeping over her. The rhythm seemed to vibrate inside her, hypnotic and soothing, with Jonathan’s the only distinguishable voice among the many, and soon she didn’t need to read the words off the board, but was able to repeat them automatically.
At last, the first bars of David Bowie’s ‘Heroes’ blended with the voices of the crowd, at which point the chants became cheers, and everyone jumped to their feet, and began embracing. Robin was pulled into a hug with the elated Danny, then by her blond neighbour. The two young men embraced each other, and now the entire crowd was singing along to Bowie’s song and clapping in time. Tired and hungry though she was, Robin smiled as she clapped and sang along with the rest.
Strike had to change the rota to accommodate his interview with Abigail Glover on Sunday evening. Only then did he see that Clive Littlejohn was off work for four days. As Strike wanted to see Littlejohn’s reaction in person when he asked why he hadn’t disclosed his previous employment at Patterson Inc, he decided to postpone their chat until it could be done face to face.
Strike spent Saturday afternoon at Lucy’s, because she’d persuaded their Uncle Ted to come for a short visit. There was no doubt that Ted had aged considerably since their aunt’s death. He seemed to have shrunk, and several times lost the thread of conversation. Twice, he called Lucy ‘Joan’.
‘What d’you think?’ Lucy whispered to Strike in the kitchen, where he’d gone to help her with coffee.
