Scot on the Rocks Read online

  ‘Look at the licence plate!’ Todd whispered, grabbing me.

  ‘P-one-two-four-P-P,’ I said. ‘So?’

  ‘PPP!’ said Todd. ‘PPPerfection!’

  ‘Hang on, what?’ I said. I sat up a bit to get a better view. ‘Wait … what? So … these people steal statues, kidnap people, send ransom notes, do the thing they did tonight that we’re not talking about, and run spa retreats? That’s … puzzling. Nah, it’s got to be a coincidence.’

  ‘Really?’ said Todd.

  ‘Well, what’s one-two-four?’

  ‘I’ve let my Nazi numerology slip a bit, what with one thing and another,’ Todd said.

  ‘I don’t think the numbers are anything,’ I said. ‘Look at the other two – P-two-nine-one-one-P-P and P-three-one-six-P. They’re just fillers to make the plates legal. Let’s see if we can find the way in.’ I knew he’d never agree. Hoped not, anyway.

  ‘We’re not going in!’ he hissed at me. ‘Lexy, are you mad? Maybe if our phones were working …’

  ‘They’re working enough to film,’ I said. ‘They’re working enough to record.’ I fished my phone out of my pocket and dinged it on. ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘it’s worth a try … We’re up to five bars on their Wi-Fi now. If we could take a guess at the password …’

  ‘P,’ said Todd. ‘They seem pretty keen on that. Try PPP.’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘P-one-two-four-P-P?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘PPPerfection?’

  My phone played a long chorus of beeps, telling me about missed messages, as I furiously turned the sound right down. ‘Yay!’ I said. ‘OK, are you willing to come with me now?’

  ‘Wait till I get mine on and open a FaceTime with Roger … No, not Roger; he’ll tell me not to. With Kathi. What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m looking up the number plate,’ I said. ‘I can’t find anything. I’ll try P-one-two-four … Oh, Proverbs! It’s a Bible verse.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Todd said. ‘God is great, but he has terrible taste in friends. What does it say?’

  ‘Proverbs, chapter one, verse twenty-four,’ I said. ‘“Because I have called and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand and no man regarded.”’

  ‘Not one of the greatest hits,’ said Todd. ‘What kind of thirsty little bitch chooses that for a vanity plate?’

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. Because I had had another thought and followed it through. I had looked up chapter twelve, verse four instead. I held my phone out, so Todd could read what it said.

  ‘“A virtuous woman is a crown to her husband,”’ he recited, ‘“but a disgraceful wife is as rottenness in his bones.”’

  ‘Bingo,’ I said. ‘Tell me that’s not the mating cry of a sick bastard who’d knock down statues and chop bits off them.’

  ‘Yep,’ Todd said. ‘Whatever they’re selling through that website, thank God Brandee didn’t give it out as holiday gifts.’ He was clicking photographs of the number plates. When he had finished, he got up on hands and knees. ‘Once round?’ he said. ‘See what we can see?’

  ‘As long as you don’t think they’ve got cameras trained on us,’ I said.

  ‘If they had cameras on us, they’d have us tied in a sack already,’ Todd said.

  Good point, well made. He had already started crawling, so I followed him, through the dust – much worse, now that our noses were closer to it – through the vinegar weed – ditto – and through some piles of dried shit that I actually prayed were coyote, gopher, snake or bear, because that was a safari kind of shit to crawl through, much better than what it felt like, which was dog. I think everyone would agree that, if you’re crawling through dog shit on your hands and knees, you’re not having a good night.

  We saw nothing on the side where we started, and nothing on the next side once we’d turned a corner. Just that same high, slatted fence and the lighted buildings beyond. When we came round to the far side, though, facing away from the distant road, it was obvious that there was a gate halfway along. There was a bump in the fence line, like an arch, and more light spilled through wider slats. Todd, ahead of me, got his phone out again, ready to take a picture, if we could get a view into the compound itself, I think, but after a couple more feet of crawling he stopped dead in his tracks.

  ‘What is it?’ I whispered. ‘Is someone there?’

  ‘Oh God,’ he said. ‘Oh God. I know we said it, but I didn’t really mean it. Not really. Lexy, look at the gate.’

  I crawled up beside him and squinted at where he was pointing. There was an arch. It was made of wrought iron in a slightly wavy curve and it had writing in between its top and bottom band.

  ‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘Who the hell puts three words in metal over a gate?’

  I answered myself and Todd answered me too, so we spoke in unison: ‘Nazis.’

  Then, as quick as we could move, we scurried backwards on all fours until we were back on the safe side of the ridge. There, we stood, put our torches on full and ran hell for leather back to the jeep, sanity and the road home.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Roger was not pleased.

  I should have been relieved there was no one to treat me like a child incapable of making my own decisions and scold me for recklessness. Instead, I felt unloved and sad. And so, surreptitiously, while they bickered, I texted Dirtball Doug and asked him if he’d like to have dinner the next day. Then I switched my phone off and rejoined the argy-bargy.

  We were in Roger and Todd’s room because Blaike was watching Jackass: The Movie in my living room, and while Jackass was far too disgusting for Kathi to bear being in the same space with it even if it was on a laptop facing the other way, Blaike was still too upset after the rollicking he’d got from Bran to be taken to task about his taste in films without hitting the road again for God knows where. And we couldn’t go to the office because Noleen was in there cutting Diego’s hair, and he always screamed throughout his haircuts, so loud that it gave Roger flashbacks to bad shifts in the children’s ward and wasn’t too much fun for anyone else either.

  ‘But there’s no way Mike would have reacted with enough commitment, babe,’ Todd was saying. ‘If we’d phoned up and said we saw someone jump in the window of a truck, we wouldn’t have got past the dispatcher. If we’d said we recognized him but admitted we didn’t see his face, and recognized the truck but didn’t see its licence number, she’d have laughed.’

  ‘We were very careful,’ I said. ‘Todd googled how to follow someone and we stayed well back. We didn’t drive up and let them hear the car either. We got out and walked.’

  ‘And fell over?’ Roger said. ‘You’re filthy.’

  ‘Again, taking every precaution,’ I said, ‘we crawled so they didn’t see us.’

  ‘You crawled on your bellies through wild land in the dark?’ said Roger.

  ‘We’re fine!’ said Todd. ‘Now we need to call Mike and tell her what we saw.’

  But Mike was less impressed than we’d hoped. I was the one who spoke to her and I got precisely nowhere. ‘You saw the statues?’ she said.

  ‘Sort of,’ I answered. ‘I mean, I think so. Let’s go with yes. Only they were hidden by tarps and behind a slatted fence, quite far off.’

  ‘So let’s go with no,’ Mike said.

  ‘We couldn’t get a clear view,’ I went on. ‘It’s hard to describe.’

  ‘I’m aware of the layout up there,’ Mike said. ‘They’re on our radar.’

  ‘They are?’ I said. ‘Have you seen the gate? And it’s not just the statues. One of them was in the Lode when the’ – I flicked a glance at Todd – ‘when the incident unfolded.’

  ‘When it came to light,’ Mike said. ‘Not when the little boogers were planted there. So he did some grocery shopping? The prices are daylight robbery, but otherwise that’s not a crime.’

  ‘And they’ve kidnapped Brandeee Lancer!’ I said. ‘Have you forgotten that?’

  ‘How do you figure?’ Mike said.

>   ‘She paid them three thousand dollars but she never handed the vouchers over, presumably because she found out their so-called spa is a cult indoctrination centre and maybe she was going to expose them, so they grabbed her.’

  ‘Cult indoctrination centre, huh?’ said Mike.

  ‘Oh, absolutely,’ I said. ‘You didn’t see this place, Mike.’

  ‘I bet I’ve seen worse,’ Mike said. ‘We all went on a course. I know it’s creepy, but it’s the price of freedom.’

  ‘They’re not free to kidnap people,’ I said.

  ‘Kidnap would be a major deviation from the usual MO,’ said Mike. ‘I can’t see it.’

  ‘And they’re not free to break into universities!’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, about that. Why would these guys steal aphids?’

  ‘That I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘But you can ask them when you go up there and arrest the whole damn crew.’

  ‘I will get right on that,’ Mike said. ‘You got it. The police department from this little California town is totally going to go up over the Oregon state line and bust in on a bunch of backwoods isolationists in case they stole a statue. In fact, I better start now, because it’s getting late and it’s a long way.’

  ‘But you’ll tell the FBI?’ I said. ‘Or should we phone them?’

  ‘Go ahead,’ Mike said. ‘Make their night. And mine.’

  I put the phone down and tuned back to Todd and Roger, who were still glaring at each other. ‘Did you manage to blow up the picture?’ I asked, because we hadn’t been able to decipher which three words had been picked out in metal above the gate of the mysterious compound.

  ‘Yep,’ said Todd. ‘Power, Purpose, Prosperity.’

  ‘Huh,’ I said. ‘That sounds bland enough.’

  Kathi had been quiet, but she kicked in now with a hollow laugh, looking up from her phone. ‘Bland? You never heard of the prosperity gospel, Lexy?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘In a nutshell: “God wants me rich, so Ima go right ahead and trample over you to get there.” Right, Todd?’

  ‘Perfect summary,’ Todd said. ‘Google it, Lex. Google those three words.’

  I whipped my phone out and did what he said. ‘Oh God,’ I said when the page had loaded. Patriarchy, the heading read. The purpose of power. The path to prosperity.

  ‘Scroll down,’ Kathi said. ‘To the links for children, for “people stranded in other faiths” and finally, riiiiight down there at the bottom …’

  ‘“Wives and wives in waiting”,’ I said.

  ‘I think they mean women,’ said Kathi. ‘See what it says there?’

  ‘“PPPerfection”,’ I said, clicking on the live link. ‘OH MY GOD!’ It took me right to the same page. ‘“Are you tired, stressed, jaded and wrung out by your busy life? Work, kids, study, caring for elders, running the home, even dating! can leave you in need of a gentle oasis of clam” – they really should update this page – “and pampering. Let us soothe away the cares of the twenty-first century in the peace of nature at our women-only restorative retreat. For treatment menu and to book an appointment click here.” Ewwwwwwwww.’

  ‘Right?’ Kathi said. ‘Now we know they think a wife should adorn her husband and if she’s feisty she might rot his bones, it puts a whole new slant on things.’

  ‘Escape the twenty-first century and rediscover your path to serfdom at our women-only gulag,’ I said. ‘Should I click? Should one of us see if we can get into a correspondence with these people?’

  ‘Like Brandee did, you mean?’ said Todd. ‘I can’t say I’m keen to let either of you two get in their clutches.’

  ‘I can’t believe Mike doesn’t want to shut them down,’ I said. ‘It can’t be legal to …’ I was waiting for the page to load. ‘The link’s broken.’

  ‘Maybe they want you to call them up,’ Kathi said.

  ‘And then they …?’ I asked.

  ‘And then they start the process that ends with your husband finding your fingernail on the doorstep,’ said Todd. ‘We need to tell Bran about this. Lexy, you’re up.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ I said. ‘In no way am I up for that. Nuh-uh. I’d rather …’ I couldn’t think of anything unpleasant enough. ‘I’d rather … phone this number.’

  So I did.

  And even though it was after eleven o’clock now, a real person answered. ‘Patriarchyville,’ he said. ‘Bob speaking.’ I hit the mute button just in time to disguise the explosion of laughter, then I put him on speakerphone.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, in my best American accent. ‘Could you repeat that, please?’

  ‘Patriarchyville,’ the voice said, maybe a bit impatiently. ‘Bob speaking.’

  I handed the phone to Kathi. My American accent wasn’t up to an extended conversation. ‘Uh, hi Bob,’ Kathi said in a calm voice, meanwhile gesticulating furiously with her other hand about all the things she was going to do to me after the call. ‘I was interested in a spa day for a group of girlfriends as part of my bachelorette party. You’re in Oregon, right? But I couldn’t get the menu page to load.’

  ‘You getting married? Ain’t that nice? You been married before?’ said Bob.

  ‘No,’ Kathi said.

  ‘You a virgin?’ said Bob.

  ‘Fuck you, you sick creep,’ Kathi said. ‘We’re on to you.’ She hung up and gave me my phone back. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No, don’t be,’ said Todd. ‘That was very interesting. So up front. So unlikely to work. What’s even the game plan with that? I’m more confused than ever.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said. ‘And I need a shower. I’ve got two pounds of Oregon dirt in my hair and the same down my bra. Let’s leave all of this for tonight. After one of you tells Bran what happened to Brandeee.’

  ‘That’s not fair—!’ Todd burst out.

  I interrupted him. ‘I’m going to have to tell Blaike.Would you really want to swap me?’

  For a wonder, Blaike wasn’t sleeping. He was draped on my couch, staring slack-jawed at the sort of video you find when you’ve gone online to share your thoughts about Jackass. I averted my eyes.

  One day of a boy living here, I thought, looking around. There were three enormous shoes under the couch, each with a sock inside, and the coffee tabletop was littered with glasses and plates, empty crisp bags, and yoghurt pots with spoons congealing in them. White Pine Academy was a complete failure in the short-sharp-shock department, if anyone was asking me.

  ‘So did Noleen ask you why Mike would think your mum trained you in arson?’ I said. ‘I know she got the belly-button info.’

  Blaike blinked at me a couple of times. Which was fair enough; that wasn’t something you heard every day.

  ‘Mom’s not an arsonist,’ he said, ‘just a believer in burning stuff to make a fresh start. It’s like Buddhism.’

  It wasn’t very like Buddhism but I decided not to argue.

  ‘She burned a pile of stuff any time she made a big change,’ Blaike went on. ‘Only she used to burn it in this one spot, but then she put a patio set on there and the only other spot that wasn’t grass or paving – so’s it didn’t matter? – it turned out not so good, because of the tree.’

  ‘How did the cops know your mum burned stuff?’ I said.

  ‘Neighbours at the old place,’ Blaike said. ‘Before she married Bran. Well, after she divorced him the first time. Before she married Burt.’

  Poor kid. I had heard a lot about how perfect his mum was; no one had touched on the fact that she dragged him around from man to man like a best friend at a dull party. I had almost decided not to break the news to him tonight, let him have as much peace as he could get, for as long as he could get it, but he thwarted me.

  ‘Where is she?’ he said.

  ‘Wh–what makes you ask that?’

  ‘People keep talking about getting my stepdad’s permission for stuff. Why not my mom’s? Is she missing?’

  ‘Oh, honey,’ I answered. ‘No. We think we know exactly where she is.�
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  ‘Where?’ said Blaike in a tiny voice. On his screen, three men were filling their wetsuit trousers with beer, straight from the keg, via a hose jammed in the waistband. Blaike looked back at it, as though at his lost innocence, and then closed the laptop.

  ‘We think she’s at a place called … Well, it doesn’t matter what it’s called. But we think she’s with some men who’re … Well, it doesn’t really matter what they’re—’

  ‘You’re not helping,’ Blaike said.

  ‘OK.’ I took a big breath. ‘There’s a place up in the woods, in Oregon, like a retreat or a spa. It’s completely nuts, but probably harmless.’ Man, I just could not stop lying to this kid!

  ‘Probably?’ Blaike said.

  ‘It’s not your responsibility,’ I said. ‘You need to leave it to us and your stepdad. You need to have a good night’s … Well, you need to go back to White Pines. Let the adults take care of things.’

  ‘That sounds pretty cool,’ said Blaike. ‘I never heard anyone say that before. Well not since I was like twelve. But is there any chance I could stay here and go back to Cuento High?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll take you in the morning.’

  ‘Not Bran’s house,’ he said. ‘Here!’

  ‘Here as in here?’ I asked. ‘As in, on my boat?’

  ‘It’s way cool. No one else in my class lives on a boat.’

  ‘I …’ I said. ‘It’s kind of small, Blaike. And I run my business out of it.’ I was trying to think on my feet and I knew I hadn’t started with my strongest arguments. ‘Your parents will never allow it,’ I said, when it occurred to me.

  ‘I don’t have parents,’ said Blaike. ‘I have a missing mom who sent me to Idaho, and Bran said it was OK if I stayed tonight. So why not every night? Or I could divorce them. Her. He never adopted me, either time, and Burt didn’t. And my dad doesn’t exist. Plus anyway I’m eighteen in four weeks.’