The Chrysalid Conspiracy (37 page)

They dragged out and set up Bridie’s DIY barbecue from under the caravan (half an oil drum with holes punched in it,) during which Rayn told Amelia of her suspicions about Nigel’s brother, Tommy. “He told us he was doing security, but he was lying. All the band guys knew him well but the house had its own staff. And when Lorraine hitched up with someone and asked us if it was okay if she left, I saw him nod to one of his men and two of them followed her out. He spent all his time with us. So what was he doing there?”

“George, maybe?” Amelia said.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” answered Rayn.

She got a good fire going and opened Amelia’s school bag. Having stitched it together with string it was holding up well. Pulling out a carrier bag, she produced the inevitable bacon, some chicken pieces, sausages and pork chops, a bottle of tomato sauce and a kitchen roll.

“That stuff looks familiar,” said Amelia.

“This is all I could find,” replied Rayn, with no sense of guilt. “There’s some lemonade and cups in the van,” she said, as she lay the food out on the grill. “There’s some rolls in there too.” Amelia took this as an instruction and complied.

“The girls are on the bridge,” said Amelia suddenly. “They’re a bit unsure. Could you go and get them?” She didn’t look up or stop what she was doing. She just ‘knew’.

“Okay,” said Rayn, and putting two fingers in her mouth she gave a sharp, loud whistle. Horace responded with a loud whinny.

“Come on you two,” she called out. “It’s only us.” The two sisters appeared through the trees. They both showed an open-mouthed pleasure at the sight and smell of the barbecue.

“Hi guys,” continued Rayn. “Amelia has something to say. This won’t be ready for another half an hour. So, Amelia?”

“We don’t have a lot of time and there’s a lot to get through.” Amelia was desperately trying not to sound nervous. It was the first time they had tried to tell anyone and she had no idea how it was going to sound. She was beginning to wish she’d listened to Rayn’s objections.

“Rayn, take Caz, the dogs and your goody bag over to the paddock and tell her everything. Don’t exaggerate. Just the facts as we know them. Okay?”

Rayn gave a mock salute, “Yes ma’am. The whole truth and nothing…”

“Rayn!” appealed Amelia, “get on with it.”

“Is this finally the true story of Professor Melkins’ death?” asked an eager Carrieanne.

“Er… yes, sort of.” said Rayn. “But you might not like some of it.”

“Why only her?” complained Claire.

“She can tell you later,” said Amelia quickly.

“But it’s not fair…”

“Claire,” said Amelia. “We don’t have much time. I have something very important that only you can do.” A curious and suddenly very interested Claire gave her sister a look for support. Carrieanne gave her a nod.

“This had better be a top story!”

“Oh, I think you’ll find its way up there somewhere,” said Rayn.

As Carrieanne and Rayn settled themselves on the paddock gate, lobbing sweets for the dogs and feeding a very contented Horace, Amelia turned to Claire. “I hear you are pretty good at puzzles and riddles. Is that right?”

“Yeah,” said Claire. “What’s going on?”

“I’m hopeless at them,” confessed Amelia. “Rayn’s not bad, but the one we have is way beyond both of us. Would you take a look please?” Claire was secretly pleased that Amelia had recognised her talents.

She looked at it for a moment then handed it back to Amelia.

“What? No good?” Amelia asked, extremely disappointed.

“What?” Claire remarked. “I just memorised it. I’ve got a photographic memory. But we are in trouble.”

“How? Is it too clever?”

“No, quite the opposite. Clever ones are done by experts. Once you know how they think it gets easier. But this one…most of it seems random. Who wrote it?”

“Professor Melkins,” said Amelia. “What do you mean by random?”

“He’s trying too hard to disguise the main text. What’s the Styx? I thought he was a cartoonist?” said Claire and Amelia told her about the mythical river and the paying of the ferryman to reach Valhalla.

“And what’s a Sanddancer?” she asked.

“No idea,” answered Amelia, getting desperate.

“Hmm, It definitely relates to a book, about history,” muttered Claire perched in a plastic garden chair with her back to her sister, who seemed to be totally engrossed in Rayn’s story. Pulling out a single cigarette she lit it with a match and inhaled deeply. Amelia was both shocked and furious.

“I don’t think you should do that.” She controlled her voice to one of gentle advice.

“I don’t remember asking you for an opinion,” replied Claire. There wasn’t the slightest bit of anger or irritation in her voice. She said it as if she fully expected Amelia to accept this ‘put down’ as part of the conversation.

Amelia recognised the abnormal intellect she was dealing with, but was more concerned for the girl inside.

“Tell me if Caz heads this way, will you?”

“Well, if it helps you think…” Amelia conceded.

“Yes, it does and I really have to think about this. It’s a load of rubbish as a riddle. Do you know if he was under any pressure at the time?”

“I think he was about to throw himself out of a window,” answered Amelia, a little dramatically.

“Ah, that makes sense. You could call that pressure I suppose.” There was no emotion in her voice. No compassion. It was just a factor in her equation.

Amelia went to the caravan and a few minutes later emerged with a tray of drinks. After negotiating the steps without spillages she gave Carrieanne tea, Rayn a coffee and more tea for Claire. She carefully sipped her own coffee. Not saying anything, she remembered Joe’s words:
Delegate and let them get on with it.

“Joe? Get out of my mind, your logic is scary,” she muttered to herself. Pulling a short-handled dinner fork from her pocket, she painfully turned the barbecue.

The other two girls eventually joined them. “It’s a bit difficult to get your head round,” said Carrieanne. She sounded quite sceptical.

Amelia spoke up with a new conviction.

“Carrieanne,” she emphasised. “I don’t care whether you believe us or not. You wanted the story and you’ve got it. We’re not asking you to believe it, just to entertain the possibility. We believe it because we’ve lived it, and if your sister can solve this riddle we might just get some idea of what’s going on. Can you stick with us till then please?”

Rayn smiled to herself. Together with her tone of voice and body language Amelia had oozed a confidence that she hadn’t seen in her before.
It’s about time,
she thought.

Amelia turned to Rayn. “I presume you told her about the book and the riddle?”

“Oh yeah,” said Rayn. “I hope you never become a cop, Caz. I’d hate to come up against you in an interview room.” Turning to Amelia she added, “I’m sure she has my gift.”

“Serves you right,” laughed Amelia. “Now, let’s get some food. I’m starving and that smells great.”

While they ate, they discussed various aspects of the conspiracy theory. Once again Amelia was grateful for Rayn’s sense of humour that kept things light and pleasant, especially when Rayn said that Professor Melkins had ‘shown them what he was made of’.

Carrieanne had cringed, but smiled.

“Okay,” Carrieanne said, at last. “Let me stretch my imagination and sum up. You’ve formed a lot of insubstantial clues, innuendos, coincidences and hearsay together into a theory that everyone you know is involved with an organisation which is dedicated to manipulating your lives and beliefs to exert some sort of control over you. Even your mothers are not exempt. Is that about it?”

“Er…yeah. You could put it like that, I suppose,” said Rayn, rather timidly. “What do you think?”

“Well, several words spring to mind,” answered Carrieanne.

“Such as?” demanded Amelia.

Carrieanne looked at them, and with a gleam of triumph in her eyes took up the challenge. “Bearing in mind that you have no proof – not one tangible piece of evidence you can hold up – words like paranoid, delusional, insecure, and totally insane come to mind. Will that do for starters?”

Amelia smiled, fully expecting Carrieanne’s reaction. Rayn, however, was furious.

“We’re not unalike, then,” she said, with an insight that surprised Amelia.

“What do you mean?” asked Carrieanne.

“You just described your own life.” Rayn talked over Carrieanne’s objections. “You just described religious philosophy – manipulating lives and beliefs for control.”

“That’s not true,” wailed Carrieanne. “We are all guided by God. He loves us all.”

“Prove it,” Rayn shouted. “Go on, show me some – what was it? Some tangible piece of evidence. Go on – prove God exists.”

“I don’t have to,” Carrieanne shouted back. “You only have to look around you to see His wonders.” She pointed at Horace, contentedly munching away. “Look at that magnificent beast. Is he not one of God’s great gifts to us?”

“He’s a horse,” said Rayn. “Are you saying your God doesn’t love him?”

“Of course not. He loves all things.”

“Then why would he be a gift to us?” Rayn was really fired up now. “Anyway, if God exists at all, He doesn’t do gifts. He does loans, using your soul as collateral.” She was defiant and defended her corner well.

“Shut up! Both of you,” interrupted Amelia. “Caz is entitled not to believe us, and we can’t make her. Come on, the food’s ready. Eat up and call it a draw.” It wasn’t an order, but it was pretty close.

The argument was reduced to a discussion. Rayn actually had Carrieanne laughing several times throughout her many diatribes.

“I’m an atheist,” she went on. “I’ve always been an atheist and I’ll be one till the day before I die. In the meantime I’ll enjoy life as it is. Look at this, a bacon barbecue butty, a bright cold winter’s day, an open fire surrounded by trees. Life doesn’t get much simpler than this. I’m going to live forever, even if it kills me.” she announced.

“Trees, life…Of course! Why didn’t I see it before?” Claire jumped up. She’d been sitting quietly thinking, not paying any attention to the proceedings. “I think I’ve got it.”

“What? The Rayn in Spain?” quipped Rayn. It sailed past Claire without impact.

“That’s it,” said Claire. “The tree is blind. The tree of life is blind.” She then looked at Rayn, who had actually stopped eating. “It seems that there is some information in a book about history – or prehistory. I don’t know how far back. Probably before religion started.”

“Isn’t that blasphemous?” accused her sister.

“Don’t be stupid, Caz. It must have been invented at some time, good and evil are purely human concepts, Animals don’t hate, they just have an instinct for survival.” was her reply. “Now shut up, I’m thinking.” She pondered a little longer. “I assume you’re reading this book at the moment?” she asked Amelia.

“Yes,” said Amelia. “And it’s very hard going.”

“I’m not surprised,” Claire told her. “I think you’re reading two books at once.”

“What? What do you mean?” It almost made sense to Amelia before she asked the question.

“Okay, we’ll do the easy part,” said Claire. “The terms prime, indivisible, not by halves, all point to a clumsy reference to prime numbers. Truth in paragraphs, start at two. They cancelled one as the first prime number some years ago, so two is the first. So, if you read the paragraphs that correspond to the prime number series it should give you Professor Melkins ‘science of truth’, whatever that may be.”

“What’s this ‘tree is blind bit’, then?” asked Amelia.

“Well, I must admit I was stuck on that, but it was when Rayn said something about trees and life that I got it, and the rest all fell into place.” Without elaborating she turned to her sister. “Caz, how do you get to heaven without dying? How could you ‘scorn the Styx’?”

“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” said Carrieanne.

“Caz, how do you get to heaven without dying?” she repeated. “You know, so tell them.”

Carrieanne stood very still. Lemonade in one hand and half-eaten pork chop in the other. She said one word, just above a whisper. “Armageddon?”

“Armageddon?” repeated Rayn.

“Exactly.” said Claire. “Blind the tree of life and all things die.”

Carrieanne was in a daze. Speaking softly she quoted “Except the true believers, who the Lord will save.” She was visibly shaking.

Amelia broke in. “And if God doesn’t exist? It’s a warning. Melkins discovered something in the past that will help us stop Armageddon.”

“I don’t think that’s exactly correct,” answered Claire slowly. She took a piece of chicken and chewed on it, burning her mouth. She was the only one still eating.

The unusual January sunshine seemed to glisten on her dusky face. With those long eyelashes under a canopy of deep black hair, she looked an unlikely sister to the pale, English rose looks of Carrieanne.

To Claire this was an academic exercise. Outcomes, consequences or implications had no bearing. Only the resolution of the problem at hand was of importance. The rest had no meaning in her eyes.

“It’s a place. I think he means that some can be saved if they go there,” Claire announced, still eating.

“Excuse my sister,” Carrieanne found herself saying. “She likes some food with her tomato sauce.”

“Mmm, this chicken is good. What did you do to it?” Claire was in raptures and was talking with her mouth still full. “You know, it’s a very bad riddle. There are no blind allies, no red herrings. Get one bit right and the rest just falls into place. It makes the rest easy.”

“The rest?” said Amelia, still struggling with the original concept.

“Well, if you’re going to believe all this, you had better hear the scary bits.”

“Would you care to elaborate?” enquired Rayn, trying to hide her growing anxiety.

“As I see it,” Claire explained, “there’s a group of people who want to recreate a time before history to try and save some of the human race from some kind of disaster.”

“Forest dwellers? Hunter gatherers?” Rayn was intrigued.

“You mean a sort of re-start?” said Carrieanne. “Like Noah’s Ark?”

“Yes,” answered Claire. “If Noah’s Ark actually happened, that is. I suppose if you believe all this it follows that it may have happened before. We don’t have enough information to make a judgement on that.”